Red Gambit: Book One of the Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  The King sidestepped the strike and pedaled backward to avoid the horizontal follow up.

  Jarek lunged after the raknoth, burning with predatory fire. He brought the Whacker down in a heavy, overhand sweep.

  The King didn’t have the time or footing to evade the blow. He raised his right arm in a futile attempt to bat the heavy blade aside and screeched as the Whacker tore through his forearm just past the elbow.

  Jarek lowered his shoulder and plowed into the stunned raknoth, knocking him to the ground.

  “Sir!” Al was saying. “Sir!”

  The urgency in Al’s voice pulled him down from his combat high. “What?”

  “Multiple ships incoming from the east! Sir, I think—behind you!”

  He spun to see half a dozen Reds moving in toward their fallen master.

  They opened fire. He flinched at the number of bullets slamming off of Fela’s armor and swung his sword once, twice.

  Two Reds fell dead to the pavement, one cleaved clean in two above the hips. The sight gave the others pause, and he was pressing the attack when an unseen force bowled them backward.

  Rachel and Alaric stood side by side atop one of the wrecked trucks. Alaric was firing at the enemy line while Rachel wreaked her own havoc, shoving soldiers back here and detonating grenades there. The pair of them were steaming, their breaths condensing in the freezing aura as Rachel’s catcher kept far too many bullets at bay.

  Behind the truck, a couple of Resistance troops held the line with them. The rest had loaded the numerous wounded aboard the Resistance ship. Michael was frantically hauling the nest that way with the help of two others.

  “Get them out of here!” Jarek cried at Alaric.

  Bullets pelted off his armor. He ignored them and raised his sword. He wasn’t sure how one went about properly killing a raknoth, but removing the King’s head seemed like a good place to—

  “Incoming drone!” Al cried.

  “Wha—”

  “Assault drone, sir,” Al said. “We need to leave!”

  “Well shit, Al!”

  The Red King huffed a growl-hiss of laughter and began crawling to his feet. “Congratulations, Jarek Slater. You have incurred the wrath of the Overlord himself.”

  Jarek’s insides turned to ice. The Overlord’s army dwarfed the Red King’s. If the Overlord was coming …

  It didn’t matter. They were leaving. Preferably before the drone arrived, because—

  The sound of rushing air from Fela’s auditory sensors informed him it was already too late.

  “It’s coming in for a pass,” Al said.

  The sleek shape banked over the right row of warehouses and dipped to fly low over the Reds.

  “I recommend you take cover, sir.”

  “Helpful!” Jarek cried. He sheathed his sword and yanked the King up from the ground.

  The drone opened fire.

  The thing’s rotary cannon sounded like an enormously loud chainsaw. It hit with devastating effect.

  The King bucked against him, far from subdued and still plenty strong despite the missing arm and mangled hand. Jarek managed to pull the raknoth in front of him before the drone’s fire washed over them.

  A rapid series of jerks ripped through the King as the bullets tore into him. More than one found its way through the raknoth to slam into Jarek’s armor, but the King’s body slowed the projectiles enough that Fela held.

  For the first pass, at least. The thing would be back.

  The King slumped in his arms. Behind the trucks, two more Resistance soldiers had fallen, and several new holes dotted both ships. Alaric clutched at a shuddering Rachel, frost and ice visible in their hair and on the truck around them.

  “The nest!” Michael cried from over by the Resistance ship. “The nest is hit!”

  Time slowed.

  Was this it? All of that work and fighting, all to go up in flames together?

  He stood tense, not breathing.

  Nothing happened.

  “Move your asses!” Alaric snapped.

  Reality snapped back around him. The remaining troops ran over to fetch the new wounded (or dead) and help Michael finish loading the device.

  “Fools,” the Red King hissed weakly against his chest. “This planet will burn, thanks to you and your friends.”

  “This planet did burn thanks to you and yours,” Jarek said.

  “Three more ships arriving, sir,” Al said. “The Overlord, I assume.”

  It was well beyond time to get the hell out of here. Just one head to remove first.

  He moved to toss the raknoth to the pavement. “See you in hell, Stumpy.”

  “Wait!” Al said.

  “What?”

  “I suggest we take him.”

  The drone streaked back the way it had come, preparing to come back for another pass. They needed to be gone. Now.

  “Take a raknoth prisoner? Now? Did you short-circuit, Al?”

  “Oh please, sir. You develop an aversion to outlandish ideas now, of all times? We need to know what he knows about the nest and everything else. He’s not going anywhere fast.”

  Al had a point. The drone had torn the King to confetti. His struggles were woefully slow and weak. The fact he was even still alive, much less conscious, was actually pretty creepy. And Al was right: the King would have all kinds of juicy information.

  There wasn’t time to think about this.

  “Come on, Stumpy.” He threw the mostly limp raknoth over his shoulder. Even missing an arm, the raknoth somehow had all the weight of a medium-sized bear.

  “What the hell?” Rachel cried as he approached their truck.

  “Prisoner,” he said with a grunt. “Get to the ship, and don’t worry about it. We need to get the hell out of here.”

  No one argued with that. Pryce and the two Resistance soldiers still holding the line helped Rachel and Alaric down from the truck. They limped toward the ship. Jarek hurdled the truck behind them and nearly lost his footing on the mess of slushy ice. Ahead, the Resistance ship was already lifting off.

  With no one left to hold the line, the Reds pressed after them without fear. Jarek tried to keep himself between the Reds and the rest of his people. Bullets slammed into his back and the ship hull. One shot found its way through to a soldier just as the group reached the boarding ramp.

  “Go!” Jarek shouted. He scooped the guy up by the back of his armored vest and pounded up the ramp behind the others.

  “Drone incoming, sir,” Al said through the cabin’s speakers. “If Rachel could—”

  “Get us in the air, Al,” Rachel said, pushing back toward the ramp. “I’ve got it.”

  “You heard the lady!” He set the wounded soldier on the cot and tossed the Red King roughly to the other side of the cabin as the ship lifted off. “Tie him up,” he said to Pryce, but Alaric was already there with rope from Jarek’s locker.

  “And put this on him,” Rachel added, throwing Alaric the pendant she’d been wearing around her neck.

  She joined Jarek at the open hatch as the drone opened up with its buzzing rotary cannon. She slammed her staff down to the ramp, and bullets large enough to rip through a raknoth cracked and zinged off a wall of thin air a few yards in front of them.

  The drone roared past.

  She sank to her knees and moaned. “Not a smart plan.”

  He’d never seen her so pale.

  “It’s circling to our nine,” Al said.

  “We need to take that thing out or we’re cooked up here.” Jarek opened his faceplate and sank down next to Rachel.

  She met his eyes, every part of her looking utterly drained.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, her head sagging. “I’m so tired, Jarek, and that thing’s so fast. I don’t know if I could even hit it with anything.”

  “Hey.” He slipped a hand over her cheek. “I believe in you, Goldilocks.”

  She searched his face with tired eyes.

  “Plus,” he said, “if
you don’t do it, you guys are all gonna die horrible deaths.”

  “You guys?”

  “Hey, we’re flying over water.” He patted his armored chest. “I would definitely survive the fall in this baby.”

  “Asshole.” A faint smile touched her lips.

  The night sky lit with a crackle of lightning and boom of thunder.

  He frowned into the rainy night. “Too bad the lightning doesn’t have our backs.”

  Rachel’s hand came down on his forearm. She was staring at him as if he’d just said the most brilliant thing she’d ever heard.

  “Here it comes,” Al said.

  Rachel pulled herself to her feet by her staff. “Turn us, Al.”

  Jarek closed his faceplate and stood with her, supporting her around the waist. Al banked to the right. On his in-helmet display, the drone cruised toward them in the darkness.

  Rachel’s eyes drifted closed, her face a still mask of focus. The air around her tingled with electric charge.

  The drone’s first shots traced toward the ship. She tensed beneath his arm, and his helmet display distorted with odd colors and bursts of static. His stomach pulled up into his chest.

  She let out a wordless yell.

  A brilliant flash of lightning lanced from the sky and tagged the drone. The thunderclap shook his bones as the drone transformed into a tumbling ball of flames and plummeted into the bay.

  Then the night was quiet again.

  He slid his faceplate open, some of the tightness easing out of his chest.

  She’d just called lightning down from the freaking sky. What did you say to people who could do that?

  “See? I knew you had it—oop!”

  He pulled her to him as she went slack, then gathered her up in his arms. “Rachel?”

  She was out like a light.

  Silence held the cabin as he peered down at Rachel, either asleep or unconscious, then back at the pale faces of the others.

  Finally, he smiled and made a little flourish. “Ta-da!”

  Twenty-Eight

  After the madness of battle, where every second could mean the difference between life and death, a few minutes of peace went a long way.

  Though it felt as if he’d been drifting through his trance for close to an hour, Jarek wasn’t particularly surprised to see that only five minutes had passed since their escape as Pryce settled down in the copilot’s chair next to him.

  “Well …” Pryce said.

  “Well.”

  “Guess you crazy kids won the day.”

  Jarek glanced back at Rachel’s peacefully sleeping form with a tired smile. “Guess we did.” He cocked his head. “Pretty handily too. I mean, I don’t wanna just casually toss the word ‘superheroes’ around, but …”

  Pryce gave a light chuckle. “I’m glad you got Fela back.”

  He nodded and waited for Pryce to say whatever was clearly lingering on his tongue.

  “Guess I’m glad you stuck your neck out to save my crazy old ass too.”

  Jarek frowned. “It’s not like you got pulled into this mess by random chance. You were in trouble because I brought it to your door. Of course I was gonna come for you.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Pryce said with a small smile. “Totally agree. You screwed me over big time. Even so, my cockles are telling me it’s a thanks I owe you.”

  “Ick. Tell your cockles to keep their distance, old man.”

  Pryce wiggled his eyebrows, then glanced back to the cabin. “Still can’t believe you captured a real live raknoth.”

  He eyed Pryce. “You’re just getting excited thinking about all the stuff you could learn from him, aren’t you?”

  Pryce gave a guilty smile. “It’s also pretty damn impressive, though. I believe you have the honor of being the first to pull it off.”

  “I almost didn’t. Motherfucker’s strong. And fast. Oh, which reminds me—Al, I totally thought up a name for that move where you yaw the ship around and nail the baddies.”

  “The Yawt Club, sir?”

  “I … wha …” His mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds before he sighed and threw a scowl nowhere in particular. “Dammit! Every time, Al!” He turned to Pryce. “This is why the machines are beating us.”

  He waited a few seconds for Al’s nonchalant declaration of his superior robot brain, but it didn’t come.

  “Al?”

  “Sorry, sir. The other ship, they’re trying to hail us, but it’s …”

  He traded a glance with Pryce, then sat up. “Patch it through up here.”

  The speakers came alive with a few bursts of static. “—reading this? That nest thing isn’t d—”

  “Al?”

  “Working on it.”

  “—place to land. Probably shouldn’t take this thing back to HQ until—”

  A solid column of pure white radiance lanced into the sky from the other ship’s location half a mile ahead, thick and bright enough to be seen for miles, probably tens of miles. As abruptly as it had begun, it ended. From start to finish, the entire light show had lasted maybe three seconds, and it hadn’t made a single sound.

  “Michael!” Rachel cried out on the bench behind them.

  He spun. She’d gone bolt upright and was staring at him with frantic eyes.

  He turned his own wide eyes to Pryce, who mirrored the expression.

  Alaric and their other two passengers crammed up into the cockpit to have a look, but it was over—gone without a trace.

  Back in the cabin, the Red King began to laugh his growl-hiss of a laugh.

  “What the hell was that?” Jarek finally said. He glanced at the console displays. The Resistance ship looked a little unstable, but it was still flying. “Get them back on the radio, Al.”

  “Trying, sir.”

  “—that?”

  “Hello?” Jarek said.

  “Yeah, we got you now,” the radio voice said. “Don’t know what the hell that was, but, uh, we might be … I think we’re okay over here.”

  “No damage?” Jarek said. “No one’s hurt? The damn roof’s not blown off?”

  “Roof’s still here. This is—”

  Rachel leaned in over his shoulder. “Michael Carver. Is Michael Carver okay?”

  “Guys, is Carver all right back there?”

  A pause. A voice in the background. “Oh. Uh, sounds like he got knocked out in the blast, but he’s breathing. They’re taking care of him.”

  More raknoth laughter from the cabin.

  In the cockpit, no one said a word. Jarek tried to swallow against a dry mouth as he stood. Fela’s sensors informed him that Rachel’s grip on his shoulder was inordinately tight.

  “It’s okay.” He gently pried her hand free from his shoulder. “Michael’s okay. We’re gonna figure this out. C’mon.”

  She was tough; she’d shown him that enough times by now, but they’d been through too much in the past two days. She had to be even more exhausted than he was. They needed rest. Days of it. But first, he knew, Rachel needed to know that Michael was all right, and they all needed to know what the hell had just happened.

  Something told him that flash of light hadn’t been good news. Luckily, they had a scaly green bundle of answers sitting in the back cabin.

  The King was still hiss-laughing to himself back there.

  Jarek had once come across the smoking ruins of a homestead and found the sole survivor laughing deliriously kneeling among the remains of his family and the marauders who’d killed them only to fall to the man’s maddened fury. That laugh had haunted him, and it was all too similar to the laugh now drifting up from the cabin. It made him feel hollow inside.

  Clearly, the raknoth knew something. But what the hell would have him laughing like that?

  He strode back to the cabin to find out.

  The Red King looked up with his single glowing red orb of an eye. His skin was still covered in green scales. At the sight of Jarek, he ceased his eerie laughter and bared his fangs in an almos
t manic grin.

  It only deepened the unease spreading through Jarek.

  “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

  The raknoth’s grin widened, and his eye pulsed brighter. “The call.”

  He laughed again, and cold, primitive dread settled in Jarek’s stomach. He felt the others hovering behind him, all silently wondering the same thing he was.

  “The call for what?”

  The King plopped his head against the wall and drew out the moment, still grinning.

  Jarek was too tired to mince words. Too tired to deal with whatever was bad enough to have a blood-sucking monster laughing like this. But they needed to know.

  He stepped closer and was about to ask more forcefully when the Red King stirred and fixed him with a cold, hard stare. The raknoth’s voice rumbled low in his throat.

  “Retribution.”

  Our Heroes Will Return …

  Whew. Okay. I kind of want to say sorry now, but I can’t pretend like that cliffhanger just spontaneously wrote itself. I made my decision to leave us all coiled and ready to burst. I’m not proud of it. I led you on. And now there’s Hell to Pay.

  *

  No, really, I mean there’s another book coming soon, and it’s called Hell to Pay.

  *

  Okay. Bad joke. Maybe I should listen to my girlfriend next time she tells me I’m not half as funny as I think I am.

  *

  In the meanwhile, let me make it up to you. How about a FREE book? That’s right. A free book, just for you.

  *

  Tell me, do you want to know why it is that everyone keeps calling Jarek the Soldier of Charity? Well, boy, do I have a long-winded answer for you. It’s called Soldier of Charity.

  *

  Okay, so maybe I don’t win points for creativity there, but the important thing is that you can download your copy for FREE today!

  *

  Bonus: you’ll also be signed up for my mailing list, which means you’ll be first in line to receive any cool stuff I put out in the future. Just download Soldier of Charity and enjoy!

  About the Author

  Luke is a storyteller (although if that part’s not clear by now, there’s probably been a critical error somewhere) whose dreams include being a paid storyteller and also one day growing up. And lots of zombies. Don’t ask. Also, the “growing up” bit was a lie.