Reaping Day: Book Three of the Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  One way or another, she had a bad feeling they’d be getting the final answers to those questions sooner than any of them wanted.

  Seventeen

  After the confrontation in the common room, Rachel wasn’t overly surprised when Haldin bristled at Commander Daniels asking Johnny and Elise to wait outside the council chamber.

  “With everything going on right now,” Daniels said quietly to their small huddle, “it seems wise to do our best to discourage the idea that we’re favoring the Enochians over our own people.”

  Sensible enough, even if it still was kind of a slap to the pants for Johnny and Elise. But the two didn’t argue—just opted to go visit Jarek instead.

  Rachel took one last survey of the wary looks still tracking them from the commons then followed Haldin, Alton, and Daniels into the council chamber.

  When the doors were closed, and the sounds of the base beyond had fallen to a low din, Daniels looked at Haldin with more warmth than she’d shown outside. “Not half bad out there, Mr. Raish. Your conclusion could have used some work, maybe, but I think one or two of them may have even heard you out there.”

  Alton looked utterly unimpressed by her words.

  Haldin just looked angry. “The people I love could die tomorrow fighting for those ungrateful bastards,” he said, his voice a quiet snarl that made Rachel want to take a step back. “I wonder every day if I’m a terrible person for having brought them here.”

  What little amusement had crept into Daniels’ expression bled out immediately, but it wasn’t replaced by anger as Rachel expected. Instead, she only looked tired, sad, and not a little bit sympathetic.

  “I’m sorry, Haldin. I hadn’t thought—”

  “Forget it,” Haldin said. “Let’s just talk about the message and get ready for this conference.”

  Daniels nodded, slipping her Resistance commander expression back on.

  Alaric and Nelken were waiting for them at the front of the room, Nelken leaning heavily against the head table to rest his braced leg, both looking marginally curious about the heated words but neither seeing fit to ask. A few of the council regulars were seated in the front as well, but other than that, the room was empty.

  Daniels joined the other commanders at the head table. “So,” she said, looking at Rachel and the other telepaths as if they were particularly complicated pieces of foreign technology, “you were all able to hear the, um, broadcast yourselves?”

  Rachel nodded, as did Haldin, but it was Alton who the three commanders were most closely watching.

  So apparently they had some idea what Gada had offered the raknoth.

  “And what do you think, Mr. Parker?” Nelken asked.

  Alton showed them a disconcerting grin. “Does it matter? Are you simply going to trust me when I say that the Kul is lying?”

  Alaric tilted his head in concession.

  “We see your point,” Daniels said, rubbing at her temples. “This is a tough one, even internally. Working with Krogoth’s forces, on the other hand …”

  “Your people are just going to have to find the trust to work with theirs,” Haldin said. “We can screen each of our raknoth allies and determine their allegiance beyond the shadow of a doubt. Drogan promised to do as much, and I don’t think Krogoth will oppose the idea. But that’ll take time, and who knows when Gada will strike again, or when his brethren will arrive. Plus, that option still leaves you guys having to take our word for it. There’s no winning here without a little faith.”

  Alaric chuffed, plopped into his chair, and rooted around in his pocket. “So, business as usual, then?” He withdrew a small container, stuffed a pinch of green leaves in his mouth, and started chewing.

  Nelken frowned at him but said nothing as the double doors opened and a few more council members began trickling in and finding seats.

  Alaric glanced at his comm. “Well, it’s time.”

  Rachel traded a glance with Haldin, and they went to find seats, Alton following along behind them.

  Nelken switched on the projector on the head table and stared expectantly at Alaric, who placed the call and patched it over to the projector. A flat holo sprang into existence over the table, complete with the rotating icon of a pending connection.

  The commanders went to take seats in the front line of chairs as the call tone sounded over and over. Uncomfortable silence filled the room as they waited for over a full minute, the call tone chiming all the while.

  Finally, though, the call was accepted on the other end and, after the couple seconds it took to connect, the holo resolved into an image of Zar’Krogoth sitting placidly behind a rich wooden desk in full raknoth form. His rustred hide, as it always did, gave Rachel the impression that he’d just finished rolling around in the blood of his enemies.

  Disturbing as Krogoth’s appearance was, it was no more so than the sight of the man standing at obedient, somber attention at his left shoulder.

  Seth Mosen.

  What the hell was he doing there? Last she knew, Mosen had been locked up in the HQ brig.

  “Zar’Krogoth,” Nelken said. “Al’Brandt. Good afternoon.”

  It was only when Nelken said Brandt’s name that Rachel processed the second raknoth at Krogoth’s flank opposite Mosen. After their mountain temple had come under attack, Brandt hadn’t argued about taking his clan to New York to join Camp Krogoth.

  In reply to Nelken’s greeting, Krogoth only worked at the air with slitted nostrils and looked bored for a long stretch.

  “The others will be here soon,” he finally said, managing to imbue each individual word with distaste.

  An awkward minute of silence stretched. Another pair of council members slid into the chamber and promptly found seats. Krogoth picked at his fangs.

  Finally, there was a light buzz on Krogoth’s end. He reached for something on his desk, and the wide holo broke itself into two and then three discrete windows.

  The first newcomer, Rachel took to be Al’Koshna based on the tropical background in the raknoth’s holo. The second, Rachel couldn’t mistake. Nan’Ashida, commander of a sizable human army and little shit extraordinaire.

  Two more splits, and they were joined by another pair of raknoth Rachel recognized not at all by sight and only vaguely by name—Al’Tor and Al’Grog.

  Alton had once told her that his people were not well-suited for what humans thought of as friendship. Watching the clan leaders working their way through uncomfortable greetings as they trickled in, Rachel saw what he meant. She’d picked up on as much in what interactions she’d had throughout their recruitment tour, but it really seemed like none of the raknoth were particularly fond of one another.

  Maybe that was just what happened after a few thousand years of roaming the galaxy together.

  Among the few clan speakers Rachel recognized as absent, Zar’Taga was the most worrisome. He commanded the largest raknoth clan after Krogoth’s, and while Rachel had thought their expedition to visit him in Ireland a week earlier had gone well enough—minus the skepticism that the rakul were even coming—his absence now suggested otherwise.

  Of course, it was possible he was just late to the call. Still, Rachel couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Gada’s recent offer had caught Taga’s fancy.

  “Let us not tarry in discussing the matter at hand,” Krogoth said once they’d waded through the awkward greetings.

  As the only Zar present, Krogoth probably had the technical right to govern the meeting, but Rachel had a feeling he would have taken the leads either way.

  “Kul’Gada has called us forth,” Krogoth continued, “and some of you are likely considering the wisdom of suing for peace with the rakul. No doubt, the humans are wondering which of us they might trust to hold fast against the harvesters.”

  Rachel could’ve swore she saw a vein throb in Nelken’s temple at Krogoth’s casual assumptions, both of authority over the meeting and of the Resistance’s motives and concerns, but the commander didn’t say anything.
Probably for the best.

  Much as it irked her to admit it, at the end of the day, this was pretty much raknoth business, and most of their kind didn’t exactly have an overabundance of respect for humans. Better to let their own Zar whip them into shape.

  Assuming Krogoth still fell on the anti-rakul side of the line himself, of course.

  “You do not consider this, brother?” Koshna asked. “I have no love for the Kul, but too many of us have seen what becomes of those who would oppose the Masters. Is it not possible this conflict might be resolved without fighting?”

  Krogoth gave a growl of a chuckle and spat to the side. “The rakul have not lived for tens of millennia ruling with light hands. I have seen raknoth slain without question for crimes far milder than our own. Desertion, they will not forgive.”

  “It was not peace Kul’Gada sought when he laid siege to our temple scarcely more than one cycle past,” Brandt added from his place at Krogoth’s shoulder. “It was only after he met failure and defeat at the hands of our combined clans that the Kul thought to seek our allegiance. Kul’Gada is a coward, and we will not yield to him or his ilk.”

  Combined clans, huh? That was rich coming from the guy who’d waited until the fight was all but won to come out and play.

  Whatever. At least he was arguing for killing that giant spiky bastard.

  “Truly, brother?” Ashida asked. “You wish us to believe that you turned back the advance of one of the rakul?”

  Rachel’s growing agitation must’ve been palpable. Haldin rested a gentle hand on her shoulder and helped ground her before she lost the fight to refrain from spitting out that they had stopped Gada and that Ashida could shove a richly varnished chair leg up his ass if he doubted it.

  “Believe what you will, young Nan,” Brandt said. “I care not.”

  The disdain in his voice, at least, made Rachel feel a hair better.

  “Al’Brandt speaks truth,” Alton said. “I was there myself, along with Zar’Krogoth’s second, Al’Drogan. With the help of our human allies”—he waved pointedly to Haldin and Rachel with the stub of the hand he’d lost to Gada—“we managed to drive Kul’Gada away.”

  Ashida sneered but said nothing.

  Nelken pounced on the silence that ensued. “I take it, then, that we’re all still on the same side in this conflict?”

  Krogoth looked mildly irritated at Nelken’s gall in speaking, but he gave a decisive nod. “I will stand against Kul’Gada, regardless of what any here have to say. And when the rest of the harvesters come, I will stand against them too. To do otherwise is to invite certain death upon myself and my people.”

  “My clan will follow Zar’Krogoth in this,” Brandt said.

  Al’Koshna was nodding slowly. “I am proud to count myself kin to such bravery. We too will stand against the rakul.”

  Ashida gave an exasperated sigh, looking like he’d rather be anywhere in the galaxy right now. “If you are all bound to this madness then I will not think to escape it. You will have my army, brothers.”

  Al’Tor and Al’Grog echoed the oaths of their kin faithfully, if somewhat less enthusiastically.

  When all the raknoth had spoken, Krogoth bared his fangs in a frighteningly predatory smile. “And so we have all given our words, but now heed these last ones from me. If any of you is fool enough to betray us and side with the rakul in the coming war, I will personally see to it that your heads are removed well before Kul’Gada and his kin have the chance to forgo their empty promises and see to it themselves.”

  With that, Krogoth disconnected from the call.

  Talk about a pep talk.

  Still, Rachel couldn’t say she minded. If anything, Krogoth’s militant warning almost made her feel a touch better about their chances at not getting stabbed in the back by one of these a-holes.

  Not that she trusted Krogoth, exactly. But something told her she could trust his desire to destroy the rakul, and that was probably the best she was going to get.

  The remaining clan speakers disconnected in a disorganized fashion after that, with only Al’Koshna giving any farewell at all.

  Soon enough, the gathering was back down to just those in the council chamber, discussing the meeting amongst themselves in quiet voices.

  “Well,” Nelken said, powering down the projector and turning to lean heavily against the table and address the room, “that was … almost reassuring.”

  Alton chuckled. “Yes. But only if you’re willing to make the mistake of assuming we can trust all of them.”

  Coming from the raknoth she’d distrusted enough to throw at Gada’s waiting blades, it was just about the most unsettling thing Rachel could have heard right then.

  Eighteen

  Seven thousand miles away, Nan’Ashida leaned back in his newly-restored hardwood chair and sighed.

  That had been trying. And frustrating, and humiliating, and half a dozen other things. But, most of all, it had been unnerving.

  He leaned forward in his luxurious chair, rested his elbows on his equally luxurious table, and steepled his fingers. Resting his dark lips lightly against the tips of his index fingers, he tried to think.

  Had Al’Brandt and that renegade Al’Braka—the one who now called himself Alton Parker—been telling the truth? Was it possible his brothers had actually stood against the Kul and triumphed?

  Preposterous.

  But then what did they have to gain by lying about such claims?

  A series of small tremors in the table and the floor reminded him that it didn’t matter now. He’d already made his decision—not that he’d had any real choice in the matter.

  The tremors grew stronger, the thump of heavy footsteps steadily approaching.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Kul’Gada’s enormous bulk dipped through the dark doorway. The rakul’s side brushed against the frame and tore away a large chunk of the adobe wall.

  Ashida winced but didn’t dare say anything.

  Once he was through the opening, Gada stood back to his full height, nearly scraping the decorative dark wood joists of the spacious room, and fixed a heavy gaze on Ashida.

  Ashida, for his part, averted his gaze and did his best not to shudder. “I told them I will stand against you with Zar’Krogoth and the humans. Just as you instructed, Master.”

  He waited for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he risked a glance.

  Kul’Gada was watching him with a fathomless expression, and—

  Wait. Had Gada’s eye been like that before? A feebly glowing lump? How had he missed that? Probably because he’d been beyond too terrified to look the Kul in the face. But the sight only unsettled him further.

  Was that a favor from this fight Al’Brandt spoke of? Had they truly managed to injure one of the Masters?

  Ashida pushed the thought from his mind. It didn’t matter. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact the Kul was here at all. If he were still alive at the end of this conversation, he’d consider himself tremendously lucky.

  What he needed to do was establish his value.

  “My army is yours to command, Master,” he said.

  Gada stared.

  Ashida pulled his hands from the table and folded them in his lap, doing his best not to squirm. “They will serve you well. As will I.”

  Cursed void, why was the Kul just staring on like that?

  Ashida was about to offer him something for refreshment when the rakul perked up like a hound catching a scent and held up an enormous hand for silence.

  Ashida was only too happily obliged.

  Gada’s snout twitched, and he bared his fangs in a wide smile. For a second, the glow of his lame eye sputtered. The eye itself gave an odd wriggle, and then the crimson glow blazed back to existence, every bit as intense as its counterpart.

  Ashida tried to keep his expression neutral. Not that Gada would have noticed.

  The Kul’s attention remained focused somewhere far away. Ashida reached out with his sense
s and realized Gada was communicating with someone via messengers. It was focused, tight—not like the broadcast the Kul had sent earlier that day.

  Gada finished whatever conversation he was having and fixed Ashida with another stare.

  Finally, he spoke in that slithering voice of his. “This will be a pleasant surprise when the time comes to confront these insolent rebels.”

  “Apologies, Master,” Ashida said, “but what will be a pleasant surprise?”

  Kul’Gada’s smile made Ashida cringe inwardly.

  “My brother draws near.”

  Ashida failed to cover his surprise, but Gada cared little about what he thought.

  The Kul drew closer and closer until Ashida lost the battle to control his own shaking hands, and then he leaned down and thrust his face dangerously close to Ashida’s.

  “I want you to tell me about the humans who conjure fire from air.”

  Nineteen

  Rachel hadn’t come back. Not the day she’d rushed out of Jarek’s room to check on Michael after Gada’s creepy messenger broadcast, and not in the two days since.

  Jarek couldn’t quite say which part miffed him more—that she was actively trying to ignore him or that he actually cared as much as he did.

  But ignore wasn’t exactly the right word, was it?

  Avoid. She was avoiding him.

  Because, by all counts, the comm messages they’d swapped over the past couple days, not to mention the ones they’d relayed through Al, much to his prim and proper chagrin, had been perfectly engaging—playful, even. She just seemed to be reticent to engage him in any medium that limited her ability to turn tail should he decide to press her on The Issue.

  Jarek was convinced now that Rachel had willingly thrown Alton to the dogs—or to Gada, rather—during their Himalayan scrap. It wasn’t the only possible explanation for her behavior, but it was the best one.

  He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it, either.

  Not happy. That was a fair start. But he understood, too. It had been twisted and misguided, sure, but she’d been through some serious shit at the hands of the raknoth, and the battlefield wasn’t a place where people were often afforded the time to take hold of their emotions and make levelheaded decisions. Especially not when they were tangling with intergalactic-grade super monsters.