The Complete Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  “What… What do we do with them?” Johnny asked softly. He stumbled back and dropped heavily onto a storage crate, looking as dejected as Franco, his empty gaze locked on Haldin. “We can’t leave them here.”

  “No,” whispered Franco quickly, desperately. Then, more loudly, “No. We take them with us.”

  Drogan wordlessly began to scoop Elise up, but Phineas stepped in and bade him move with a stoic stare. Drogan stepped respectfully back to allow him room.

  Judging from what he’d felt of Haldin’s build and what he knew of the density of the average raknoth, Jarek was guessing Elise, who’d already been tall and built like a warrior, must weigh nearly three hundred pounds now, if not more. Phineas didn’t complain, though. Just hefted her laboriously up across his beefy shoulders with a little help from Franco, stumbled once, then stood waiting, resolute and ready to move.

  Right, then.

  Jarek glanced at Johnny, seeing if the Enochian had any ambition to try to do the same with Haldin. He probably would’ve liked to, but he seemed to understand it wasn’t physically feasible, especially loaded with weapons and gear as he was. So Jarek scooped Haldin up over his armored shoulder and turned for the door.

  His guess about Elise had probably been close enough. At a rough estimate, Haldin weighed a good three-hundred and fifty pounds. It should have been bizarre, but Jarek was getting used enough to dealing with raknoth by now. The much more important question was where they were headed and exactly what they were going to do when they got there.

  Everyone in the room seemed to be waiting for something. Probably a miracle.

  If only.

  Being about two-and-a-half decades out of practice in garnering divine intervention credits, Jarek resigned himself to giving them a verbal prod instead.

  “To the lift, then,” he said, trying to sound confident about it. “You wanna lead the way?” he added to Drogan.

  No one argued.

  They set off quietly, dark stone tunnels dancing beneath the bouncing streams of their lights as they went. Rachel stayed at Jarek’s side, though they didn’t speak. The tunnels echoed with shouts and the sounds of soldiers and Complex civilians rushing about the underground network, but there were no sounds of fighting for now.

  They passed a group who was on their way to help restart the generators. At the next intersection, they found Al’Brandt waiting for them. And not just Brandt, Jarek realized as he approached the intersection. Alaric was there too, along with a small squad of troops that included Michael, Chambers, and Lea.

  Eyes fell on the limp forms draped over Jarek’s and Phineas’ shoulders. Michael and Rachel shared a quick hug, and Lea moved to Johnny’s side, but no one saw fit to break the grim silence. They fell in together and continued on. Brandt and Alaric seemed to know where they were headed, probably having already had the news from Drogan.

  When they reached the command center a few minutes later, it wasn’t the flurry of activity Jarek had been expecting.

  Sure, the few Complex personnel darting around trying to get their equipment back online seethed plenty of frantic energy to go around. But the rest of the crowd, the few dozen armed men and women gathered in the room and throughout the surrounding hallways, were simply waiting. Some in terror. Some with hard determination in their eyes. Plenty in clear shock.

  There was a rustle of weapons being aimed at them as they came into view and then lowered again as they drew close enough to the assembled forces to be recognized. There were a few hopeful murmurs from the command center crowd at the sight of the reinforcements. Panicked whispers joined the mix as they got a better look at the dead weights Jarek and Phineas carried.

  Jarek wasn’t even sure whether the majority of their forces had known about the hopeful plan to grow themselves a pair of Enochian secret weapons. Either way, the cloud hanging over their group must’ve made it clear enough that shit had gone awry, to say the least.

  “This way,” Drogan said, pushing on through the corridor of armed soldiers.

  No one gave half a thought to stopping them, though several looked like they wanted to ask what the hell was happening, and what they were going to do about it.

  They pushed on into the command room, following Drogan as he began to angle them toward the next hallway over, where Dola’s private office and backdoor lift must’ve been situated. Commander Nelken hobbled his way over to them, his already grim expression falling as he took in the sight of Haldin and Elise.

  His eyes burned a question at Jarek.

  Jarek gave a slight shake of his head, not wanting to say anything that would call attention to the significant setback. The crowd’s silent tension broke anyway.

  “What’s happening out there?” someone shouted.

  “What happened to those two?” another voice added.

  Jarek turned in the speakers’ general direction, though it was hard to tell exactly who’d spoken in the patchwork light of the command room. He looked to Nelken, whose face was drawn tight, his eyes distant. He looked to Alaric, who was watching Jarek silently, his eyes not so much expectant as just clocked out. Detached.

  Neither one of them was going to say a thing.

  “What are we gonna do?” someone shouted.

  The question and several more like it were spreading through the ranks with growing restlessness.

  They had to move. That door wasn’t going to last forever.

  Jarek looked at Rachel.

  She gave a subtle nod and tilted her head toward the discontented crowd.

  Jarek drew a deep breath.

  The door wasn’t going to last forever. But they also couldn’t just parade off to fight and expect their people to be ready to move, either.

  “Listen up, folks,” Jarek called.

  They quieted, waiting. He didn’t even need to amplify his voice with Fela’s speakers.

  “You know what’s out there, what’s coming for us.” He shook his head. “I’m not gonna sugar coat it. We’re in a tight spot here. But we’re not dead yet.”

  Jarek hardly needed the uneasy sounds rippling through the crowd to know it wasn’t his best work.

  “We’re all gonna die,” someone whimpered nearby—a bigger guy, hunkered down against one of the consoles, rocking back and forth with knees to chest, head buried.

  Yep. Definitely not his best work.

  Shit.

  Jarek started to unload Haldin from his shoulder, intending to set the Enochian down for a second. Instead, Drogan stepped in and smoothly accepted Haldin’s weight without a word.

  Several hundred pounds lighter, Jarek turned and crouched down in front of the big, cowering soldier.

  The crowd watched with bated breath as if waiting for another one of those miracles. Jarek still didn’t have one.

  “C’mon, guy,” he said “Are you dead yet?”

  “No, but the, the—”

  Jarek was louder this time. “Are you dead yet, soldier?”

  He felt ridiculous saying it, but at least the big guy lifted his head.

  “N—No!”

  Jarek grabbed him by the utility vest, yanked him smoothly to his feet, and proceeded to make a point of smoothing out the guy’s shirt and gear.

  “Goddamn right, you’re not.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “You down for holding your shit together until we get through this?”

  The guy just stared at him for a second, then he bobbed his head emphatically. “Yes. Yes, sir.”

  Again with the sir thing.

  He was just wondering how to react and keep the good momentum rolling when the lights snapped on throughout the room and nearby hallways and a round of cheers spread through the crowd.

  Back in business.

  “See?” Jarek called, looking around. “All peaches from here. Isn’t that right, folks?”

  There were tentative sounds of agreement.

  Then Rachel cried, “Hell yeah, sir!” and the crowd latched onto the call with an excited energy.

 
; “Carpe diem!” Michael cried.

  “Seize that goddamn carp!” Chambers added.

  Rachel shot Jarek a wink, a hint of amusement creeping past the grimness that had hung over her since the barracks. Despite everything, Jarek couldn’t help but smile.

  “Good.” He bobbed his head appreciatively, looking around the room. “Good. Now who here can organize an evacuation?”

  No one said anything right away, but several fingers pointed to a short brunette woman. The sleeves of her overalls were rolled up, and she was busy tapping and clicking away at one of the room’s computer stations. Busy enough that she didn’t notice all the pointing fingers. Not until she felt the entire room’s attention on her and turned to take it in with wide eyes.

  She looked mortified. “I can’t—How are we—” She gathered herself and dropped her abashed look for a highly skeptical one. “An evacuation to where, exactly? Last I checked, we’re kinda stuck here.”

  “We’re workin’ on it,” Jarek said. “You just make sure every non-combatant we have is ready to bail posthaste once the entrance tunnel is clear. Escorts. Vehicles. The whole deal. You got it?”

  She hesitated, glancing from her console to the hallway he was pretty sure led to Dola’s office.

  “Do it, Mel,” someone called from the hallway.

  A second later, Dola appeared in the entranceway to a round of uncertain murmurs among his people.

  “And whatever your plan is,” Dola added to Jarek, “I’m told we should hurry.”

  Drogan gave Jarek a meaningful nod as if he’d received similar word. Word from Krogoth? Either way, they needed to move before the rakul managed to bust that door down.

  “Right.” Jarek pointed up and in what he was pretty sure was the direction of the south portal. “We’re gonna go out there, and we’re gonna give those giant bastards something a lot more interesting than a big door to play with.”

  “How?” someone called.

  “I have a way,” Dola provided.

  “And you’ll all have a way too, once we get out there,” Jarek pushed on before Dola’s people could dwell on what else their esteemed leader had been hiding from them. “We’ll draw them to the south portal and keep them there long enough for you to slip out.”

  “And what are you going to do after that?” asked the elected coordinator, Mel.

  Jarek looked to Rachel and Drogan.

  They nodded, resolute.

  “Well,” he said back to Mel, “I was kinda thinking we’d just see if we can’t kill the whole damn lot of them while we’re at it.”

  Heavy silence fell on the room as everyone considered what that would almost certainly mean. He couldn’t let it settle.

  “Let’s move, people!” he barked, starting for Dola’s hallway with an authority that felt a little too easy. Arrogant, even.

  But they didn’t have time for him to worry about playing nice. All that mattered was that neither Dola, the commanders, nor any of the other raknoth who’d trickled in took verbal issue with his authority. Not until their small group had packed into Dola’s office, at least.

  “That’s your plan?” Dola hissed. “Sacrifice yourselves on the off chance you might buy a hundred people the chance to run for a few more days—a few weeks, at best?”

  “You got a better plan?” Jarek asked.

  Dola said nothing.

  “I’m not sacrificing shit, Mr. Mayor,” he pushed on. “I meant what I said back there.”

  Dola sneered. “Oh yes? That you’re all just going to turn around and smite down the rakul you’ve been fleeing for the past month?”

  Jarek held his gaze, refusing to let the uncertainty creep onto his face.

  He was just about to tell Dola that, yes, that was indeed the plan when the door swung open and Krogoth strode in, followed shortly by a few more raknoth, Zach, and a few of his men.

  “Rid yourself of that smirk, Nan,” Krogoth growled. “It wreaks of your pathetic fear. We are beyond the point of talking. Jarek Slater has chosen the only honorable option left to us. Now reveal this lift of yours.”

  “Yeah, Nan,” Jarek said, trying and failing to suppress a morbidly amused grin. “What Krogoth said.”

  In truth, honor had been just about the last thing on Jarek’s mind since the attack began—or pretty much any time before that. It was more just that, in his eyes, this was the only real choice left to them at all, honorable or no.

  Running wasn’t happening. Not for all of them, at least. The rakul would never let them escape now. And fighting the ferocious creatures in the confines of The Complex didn’t feel particularly advantageous.

  They might as well face the rakul on their own terms, kill as many of the bastards as they could, and give the others a chance at slipping out while they were at it.

  And hell, he thought, looking at Haldin’s limp body in Drogan’s arms, maybe by some minor miracle they’d even manage to win without their super weapons.

  Three Kul were already dead, as far as he knew. And judging by the thankful lack of giant space dragons thus far, he was pretty sure not all of the remaining nine were actually here yet. Definitely not here at The Complex, and maybe not even here on Earth, for all they knew.

  It was a start.

  Dola tapped at his comm, looking none too happy about it, and a section of the wall in the corner of the room glid smoothly open.

  “So, we all going up?” Johnny asked. His eyes were hard, his tone lacking his usual humor.

  “Yeah,” Michael said,

  “Hell yeah,” Chambers added.

  Beside them, Lea nodded with a determined fire in her eyes.

  “No,” Alaric said, lowering his finger from his earpiece. He pointed at Lea. “Commander Daniels needs your help interfacing our forces with our hosts’.” His finger drifted toward Michael and Chambers. “And you two are with me.”

  Everyone made to protest, but Alaric silenced them all with a look. “We all have jobs to do. We’ll be more useful down here.”

  “Doing what, though?” Michael asked.

  “Pryce needs our help with something.”

  A feral grin pulled at Jarek’s mouth. “BFG related?”

  Alaric nodded and turned for the door without ceremony. “Good luck out there.”

  “Got it!” One of Zach’s men called out of the blue, triumphantly lofting a small tablet.

  Alaric paused.

  Zach snatched the tablet and waved them all in. “We’ve got eyes outside.”

  They crowded around the tablet for a look.

  Harga, Shimo, and Ogrin were still in the entrance antechamber, taking turns on the second security door, which didn’t look long for this world.

  Zach swiped through the camera feeds, and they spotted Vermaga undulating down the mountainside near the north portal. Zach flicked to an east-facing camera that looked out over the expansive parking lot by the north portal. He zoomed to the dark blip of an approaching ship.

  The vessel might’ve been three miles out or thirty, depending on its size. The shape that fell from the craft a second later, though, somehow left little doubt that it leaned toward the enormous side.

  The falling creature was a Kul. No doubt about that.

  At a brief glance, it reminded Jarek somewhat of a woolly mammoth. A woolly mammoth that must’ve stood nearly ten stories tall, that was, with glowing red eyes and a horned snout that might’ve looked more at home on an island-sized rhinoceros.

  On the tablet display, the Kul hit the Earth in an explosion of rock and soil and moved seamlessly into a loping charge for the mountain.

  “I swear I just felt that,” Johnny muttered.

  Jarek knew what he meant, though he was sure he must’ve imagined the soft shudder in the Earth.

  “What the fuck is that thing?” Zach asked.

  Jarek blew out a delirious laugh. “What, you’ve never seen a goddamn space mammoth before?”

  “It is Kul’Mada,” Drogan supplied.

  Zach stare
d between them, mouth ajar. “And you still want to go out there?”

  Hell no.

  Jarek wanted to go find a bigger, more secure mountain to hide under.

  But instead, he just shrugged. “All the more reason now. Do you wanna wait and see whether that big fella can knock a mountain down on our heads?”

  “Fuck,” Zach said after a long moment’s consideration.

  It was time. No more avoiding it.

  Himself, Rachel, nine raknoth, the Enochians, and Dola and his men if they so chose to come along.

  Jarek looked over at Alaric. “I think we’re gonna be needing that BFG, cowboy.”

  Alaric almost looked amused for a second. “Looks that way.” He started to turn. Hesitated. Looked back to meet Jarek’s eyes. “Don’t go gettin’ stupid out there, son.”

  The words hit him harder than he rightly understood at first. Maybe it was just nice to know Alaric still cared. Or maybe it was that Alaric had used the word Jarek only then realized he’d avoided in their last talk. Son.

  Guilt filled him, an image of Mosen flashing to mind. Guilt, and the determination to make sure Alaric’s true son’s sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. To do better than he had last time, back at the farmhouse.

  He couldn’t find the right words. So he just nodded.

  Alaric turned for the door, looking satisfied.

  “Alright, folks,” Jarek said, clapping his hands together with anxious determination. “Plans is plans. Let’s go kill us some rakul.”

  Dola watched him approach from the corner by the lift, his expression incredulous, pleading.

  “We cannot win,” he said quietly, though every raknoth in the room would hear anyway.

  The humorless smile that split Jarek’s face must’ve been packing a fair touch of craziness to boot, judging by Dola’s reaction.

  “Welcome to Team Earth, buddy,” Jarek said, clapping Dola on the shoulder as he passed to head for the lift. “We’ve been winning fights we couldn’t since before my balls dropped.”

  32

  “Okay,” Jarek admitted with a begrudging nod. “That is one fucking gigantic space mammoth.”