The Complete Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  Jesus, she should get out of here, go do something else.

  Michael. She should be spending time with Michael rather than sitting here, drinking booze she no longer had any thirst for and watching her allies have entirely too much fun for their current circumstances.

  Her brother’s nightmares had become all too common ever since he’d been front and center for the giant telepathic blast of escaping messengers a few weeks ago, which was especially unfortunate since he seemed to do little but sleep the days away lately. Michael had always been fond of his sleep, but this was well beyond that. He’d even had a few more violent episodes—seizing and screaming and flailing, remembering little afterwards.

  It was terrifying to watch. Worse, she didn’t have a damn clue what to do about it.

  The nightmares may have just been nightmares, but she had a feeling the bad attacks had some external trigger, probably messenger-related. In what scraps of conversation she’d managed with them, Alton and Drogan had both wagered the messengers were too… incorporeal for Rachel to be able to shut out of Michael’s head completely.

  That hadn’t stopped her from trying. She’d added half a dozen glyphs to enhance her brother’s telepathic shielding, both with external devices like the cloaking pendant she wore on a chain at her neck and with tattoo-style glyphs like Jarek and many Resistance fighters had. Nothing seemed to make a difference. Maybe because messengers were still creeping past her defenses, as the raknoth had suggested they might.

  Or maybe because Michael’s exposure to such a raw, powerful psychic power had simply left him traumatized. Psychologically scarred. Objectively, it might have even been a better explanation. She just didn’t want to believe it.

  An external source like the messengers triggering Michael’s episodes was a problem that feasibly had some solution. If his psyche had simply been overloaded until something had broken, on the other hand, that was much murkier territory.

  Alton had originally suggested Michael’s symptoms should fade with time, but, all things considered, she wasn’t so sure Alton had a firm grasp on the concept of psychological damage. Hell, maybe none of the raknoth did, for that matter. To live as long and take as many lives as a raknoth did without going batshit insane, she was pretty sure some amount of psychopathy was required.

  Whatever the case, she had a feeling she’d feel better about spending her time with Michael right now.

  Before she could work up the will to make her excuses and slink off, though, Elise broke away from the young crowd and glided over her way, her normal eloquent grace only slightly marred by the drink.

  Great. Just what she needed right now.

  Still, Rachel couldn’t quite bring herself to completely turn down Elise’s friendly gesture and jet out as the younger Enochian hopped up to the bench top beside her.

  Rachel nodded toward Elise’s empty glass. “How are you feeling?”

  “Warm.” Elise wrinkled her nose and smiled, her cheeks flushed. “And kind of fuzzy. It’s nice.”

  Over at the table, the boys were downing another shot of whiskey, each holding a beer as well now—aside from Jarek, who was holding another whiskey. Apparently he needed one for shooting and one for sipping.

  “They’re really going for it,” Elise said.

  “Yeah… Guess Jarek has that effect on people sometimes.”

  She felt Elise’s glance and tensed, immediately regretting the direction she’d just opened up, but the Enochian didn’t say anything.

  Maybe she liked Elise after all. Except…

  Except now that she was sitting here next to her, all Rachel could think about was that Elise and the other Enochians had lived aboard a small ship for almost an entire year with one of the raknoth who’d willingly participated in the murder of her family. They were roommates with the bastard. Friends, even.

  “Why did you even come here?”

  Elise was looking at her as if she’d been slapped before Rachel fully processed that the words had indeed left her mouth.

  What was going on with her? Why was she this… this… lost? This angry?

  She’d known what was coming, had a pretty good idea what had happened. She’d made peace with it. The details about her family’s final hours were just that. Details. They didn’t change anything, really.

  So why did she want to scream when she thought about their little floundering human-raknoth alliance?

  Elise was still watching her, looking like she was wondering if she should just buzz off and leave Rachel to her thoughts.

  “Sorry,” Rachel said. “I’m just…”

  Wondering how the hell you people convinced yourselves befriending a raknoth was a good idea?

  Maybe a touch strong. Something told her she’d be making a mistake to start questioning the raknoth, and Alton in particular, too strongly in front of the Enochians.

  “I guess I’m just wondering why you were all willing to give up your lives on Enochia just to maybe help some people you don’t know from another planet. I mean, I get it. You find out there are more humans in the universe and that they might be in trouble, and you want to help. I probably would too. But you guys have a whole planet to go back to. You’ve seen what’s coming for us.” She turned to Elise. “You don’t have to…”

  What? Die here?

  “It’s not your fight, is all I’m saying.”

  Elise studied her silently for a stretch. “And it is yours?” she finally asked. “We have some space on the ship, you know. We could take you and Jarek with us. Michael and Lea too. Pryce and Alaric. But I’m guessing you’d all have the same answer as us.”

  Rachel said nothing.

  “And maybe we do have a planet to go back to,” Elise said slowly, “but maybe not for long. If the rakul roll through Earth, I doubt it’ll escape their notice that their raknoth seeded another planet with humans. Enochia would probably be their next stop. We can’t let that happen.” She shook her head. “We can’t leave any more than you can.”

  Elise’s gaze drifted to Haldin, her vibrant blue eyes looking worried.

  Worried about what, though? Their lives? The safety of their planet? Or was it something more?

  Whatever it was, Elise seemed to shrug it off as she turned back to Rachel with a somber look. “It’s not fair or right or anything else along those lines, but it doesn’t matter. This fight belongs to all of us now.”

  Jesus. How old was this girl, again? Johnny, Haldin, and Elise couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty, but to listen to them sometimes—or to Haldin and Elise, at least—their souls might have been triple that.

  Mature beyond their years or not, though…

  “So that’s it? One of the raknoth terrorizing Enochia tells you guys there are bigger fish to fry and you all hop on an alien ship out of some sense of civic duty?”

  Elise studied her. “One begins to wonder if their efforts and good will are unwanted.”

  Rachel tried to bring herself to indicate that that wasn’t what she was trying to say, but her throat and mouth seemed especially uncooperative where anything apologetic or reasonable was concerned right now.

  Maybe Elise sensed and accepted that Rachel was dealing with something bigger than trust issues over their motives. Or maybe she was just some manner of matronly saint. Either way, she was calm and open as she continued.

  “I guess it’s fair to say we’re not all shiny heroes who wake up every day thinking of nothing but saving the world. Or worlds. Left to our own devices, I don’t think any of us but Hal would’ve ended up here.” She cocked her head as if acknowledging some outside point. “Or have survived the raknoth’s original plans on Enochia. But Hal’s…”

  “On a mission?”

  Rachel wasn’t entirely sure why she picked those particular words beyond the fact that, with the exception of tonight’s festivities, Haldin always seemed to be walking around with the weight of a world or two on his shoulders—the quintessential picture of a man on a mission.


  Elise bobbed her head in agreement, the beginnings of a sad smile stretching her mouth. “He is certainly that. If there’s one shiny hero among us, it’s him.”

  While every thought of Alton still seemed guaranteed to spike her blood pressure, hearing Elise talk about the enormous enigma that was Enochia was at least partially beginning to calm Rachel’s nerves. When she spoke, the hard edge was fading from her tone. “And what does that make you guys?”

  “We’re his family,” Elise said, without hesitation. Her gaze took on a distant quality. “He’s lost people. I mean, we all have, but…”

  Rachel watched Haldin turn over the glass flower in his hands with a dark frown. “He doesn’t seem like the type to forgive himself so easily.”

  Takes one to know one, right?

  “No,” Elise said. “He’s never really stopped blaming himself for the one. For any of them, really. He’s learned to deal, but it’s always there.”

  Takes one to know one indeed.

  “It’s good he’s had you through all of it, then. I’m sure it helps.”

  Elise’s expression suggested it wasn’t quite so cut and dried, but she said nothing.

  Across the room, Haldin and Jarek had begun debating defensive hand-to-hand tactics now, complete with wobbly demonstrations.

  “Great,” Rachel said. “Graduating from drunken channeling to drunken sparring.”

  Elise’s smile only looked gently pushed rather than forced. “Aren’t we lucky?”

  “Ringside seats,” Rachel agreed. “Not bad. The Soldier of Charity versus the Enochian Enigma.”

  “The Demon of Divinity.”

  Rachel glanced at Elise, sensing it wasn’t just a random nickname.

  “It’s what they called him back on Enochia,” she said. “The people who wanted him hanged after the first execution went sideways.”

  “Oh.” Rachel hesitated, unsure whether she should ask more. Then, “Sideways?”

  Elise smiled for real at whatever she read on Rachel’s expression. “It’s definitely been an adventure, I’ll say that much. I keep telling Hal we should start writing some of it down. I think it’d be good for him. For us.”

  “I think I’d read the shit out of that.”

  “So why Soldier of Charity?” Elise asked, after a marginally more pleasant silence.

  “I still don’t know the whole story. I just know he joined up with some mercenary outfit back in the day and they didn’t turn out to be the world-saving do-gooders he’d thought they were. He decided to stop them, and I guess shit got messy. After that, I guess he developed a reputation for helping the people who needed it instead of the ones who had something to give him for it.”

  “So he’s a smart-ass with a strong moral compass?”

  “You forgot man-child, but yeah, something like that.”

  “Well, at least he’s got it where it counts.” Elise gave her a mischievous grin. “Plus he’s not too hard on the eyes.”

  “Just on the ears and the brain,” Rachel said.

  Elise wasn’t wrong, of course. Even with the fresh battle scars, Jarek was a handsome guy, and Rachel would’ve been lying if she said she hadn’t spent some time lingering on the memory of their kiss and imagining more well beyond a stolen hallway peck. But there was no place for blossoming relationships in their worlds right now, and even if there had been, she wasn’t about to crack open and spill these thoughts to Elise just because they shared the same anatomy.

  Lucky for Rachel, she was saved from having to when her comm buzzed with an incoming call.

  Commander Stacy Daniels, read the display.

  Shit. Make that unlucky for her.

  She set her glass down and hit Accept. The commander appeared on the holo, looking troubled.

  “Michael?” Rachel asked.

  Daniels gave a slight nod. “He’s okay, but I wanted to let you know he just had another episode.”

  “Shit.” Rachel took a deep breath, trying to loosen the sudden anxious pit in her stomach.

  “We have people with him,” Daniels said. “You should get some rest.”

  “No, I’ll be over. I should be with him. Thanks, Stacy.”

  Daniels gave her a sad smile. “See you soon then.”

  “I’m sorry, Rachel,” Elise said quietly once the call had ended. “Is there anything we can do?”

  Rachel hopped to her feet and handed Elise the remainder of her whiskey. “Finish this. Celebrate. Have fun.” She tried to force a smile. “Don’t worry about us. Michael always was a bit of a party pooper.”

  5

  Night was falling in Newark, lacing the air with a faint chill as they made their way around the block to the small park where Jarek’s ship was parked. Rachel suppressed a shiver and glanced over at Jarek, who’d insisted on accompanying her, and on donning Fela to do it. Never leave home without the big guns, he’d said. She ran a thumb over the glyphed surface of her staff and couldn’t say she disagreed with him. Still…

  “Are you sure this doesn’t count as drunk driving?”

  “You gonna put me under arrest, officer?” There was more than just amusement in the alluring grin he shot her. “Look, just because the tykes back there can’t handle their booz—”

  A metallic thunk announced Jarek’s discovery of the garbage container he hadn’t noticed in his path. The container tipped over with a crash, spewing old trash onto the run-down sidewalk.

  She snorted. “You were saying? About the tykes and the booze?”

  He narrowed his eyes, and his faceplate slid shut and locked with a small click.

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Pout then.”

  Out here, in the cool night air with Jarek and away from the crowd—aside from Lea, who’d also tagged along—she felt temporarily lighter, more centered. Then the ship came into view, and her smile faded as Michael and the rest of tonight’s shitstorm shifted firmly back to the forefront of her thoughts. A glance back told her Lea was feeling the same worry where Michael was concerned.

  Lea and Michael were close, that much had been obvious since Rachel had first seen them together. Lea might have even had a thing for Michael, but Rachel wasn’t sure how the Spongehead felt about it. She hadn’t had much of a chance to see the two interact before Michael had been caught in the messenger burst.

  Whatever there was between them, Lea hadn’t thought twice about slipping away from the party to come with her and Jarek.

  The flight to HQ wasn’t long at all, and Jarek thankfully raised no objections to letting Al handle the piloting.

  They set down in the graveyard of old, rusted shipping containers that had recently been the front for the secret entrance to the underground Resistance HQ. Now that the late Zar’Golga’s forces had literally blown the roof off HQ and the need for secrecy had passed right along with Zar’Golga’s life, the Resistance was expanding the base out into the shipping yard.

  It was a major upgrade, as far as Rachel was concerned. HQ 1.0 had been a claustrophobic’s nightmare.

  Unfortunately, Michael’s quarters were still down in the old section, so she took a deep breath and tried to ready herself for the walls to close in.

  The Resistance crew in charge of renovations had already cleared the old common room of its considerable debris and added both a raised, mostly translucent dome and a staircase entrance from the lot above. Even in the night hour, the base was fairly alive with the expansion efforts, with work lights scattered around the yard and the sounds of power tools and busy voices drifting in from all around.

  Plenty of those sounds ceased and turned to cold stares as the three of them reached the dome and descended into the old common room. Much as they’d fought and bled for these people, Rachel knew she and Jarek weren’t the most popular kids on the block right now. How could they be when they’d brought home a group of oddly human aliens and driven the Resistance into allying with the very creatures they’d been formed to resist?

  It wasn’t like they’d had many choi
ces. When the baddest badasses in the galaxy were coming to eat your entire planet, you couldn’t really pick and choose which allies you wanted to take for the fight, right?

  Maybe.

  The fact that the Resistance and Krogoth’s forces had formed what tenuous alliance they had was proof enough that everyone understood it was probably their only real option for survival, but it didn’t mean anyone had to be happy about it.

  Rachel sure as hell wasn’t, especially not after her talk with Alton tonight, but that hadn’t seemed to stop her, Jarek, and the Enochians from becoming the blame targets for half the Resistance.

  Whatever. She couldn’t blame them too much. Most of the men and women in the Resistance had lost friends or family to the raknoth and their forces. And that wasn’t even to mention the tiny fact that the raknoth had caused the Catastrophe fifteen years ago. Destroying the planet and preying on them ever since… It was a lot to try to forget overnight.

  If Rachel hadn’t seen the monsters coming for them, she wouldn’t have considered an alliance with the raknoth for even a minute. As things stood, she wasn’t sure they wouldn’t be better off trying to find another way even now.

  And sure, maybe it hadn’t completely been a one way street. But so what if the Catastrophe had been the raknoth’s response to the viral would-be-genocide her mom had unleashed? It wasn’t like the raknoth had been planning on letting Earth live on happily ever after before that. If things had gone to plan, it would only have been a matter of time until they’d called the rakul to come harvest the planet anyway.

  So boo-freaking-hoo.

  As far as Rachel could tell, they all would have been better off if her mom’s virus had done its job and wiped the raknoth from the face of the Earth.

  Jarek’s voice broke the darkening stream of her thoughts as they wound their way through the common room and down a narrow hallway. “You okay over there?”

  “Fine,” she muttered, in no mood to talk any of this out right now.

  She didn’t have to worry too much. The people of the Resistance would never think of the raknoth as anything but the lesser of their current enemies—certainly not as full, welcome allies. For now, maybe they could all just fall in line and focus on surviving. Maybe.