Sam's First Last Stand: The Invasion of Lake Peculiar, #5

By Jack Ravenhill

Someone needs to save the day, dontcha know.

 

Alien reinforcements are on the way. Lake Peculiar is temporarily isolated in a protective bubble. The three Lake Peculiar titans, cut off from the Astral overmind, become suspiciously docile and helpful.

 

Now Sam has to find a way to defend Lake Peculiar from the alien attack that everyone assumes is coming. But can he trust the suddenly-cooperative Titans, or should he be ready for betrayal?

 

Salvation may be nigh when the Resistance becomes aware of an ancient alien artifact that's been hiding in plain sight which could turn the tide and possibly help humans fend off the aliens. But can they figure out how to use it in time? 

 

Sam's First Last Stand is the fifth book in Jack Ravenhill's new series, The Invasion of Lake Peculiar, a quirky take on the bestselling Invasion Universe. If you enjoy Garrison Keillor's Tales from Lake Wobegon, you'll love Lake Peculiar. Pick up your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sterling & Stone
• Release date: Dec 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215401545

Book preview

Chapter One

The cavalry? Sam’s blood froze. Off in the high atmosphere, he could still see the distant blue-red twinkle of energy the titans had fired from the Key. No! They can’t — damn it, Gus! We were this close to containing this thing.

Around them lay the shattered remains of the Eye, the Astral superweapon Sam had barely managed to keep Gus from hijacking. The Resistance members who’d joined Sam and Journey downtown were scattering. Sam didn’t blame them. Between the rooftop showdown, the huge globe shattering to the ground, and the bolt of ... well, whatever that was the titans had managed to fire into deep space, he wasn’t exactly excited about sticking around himself. But someone had to.

A dozen of Gus’s former minions were still milling around, the red gems in their foreheads suddenly drained of color. They seemed to be getting their bearings after an unceremonious snap back to reality. The suppression field had cut Gus’s parasitic connection to the hive, and with it his psionic control over the Ascendancy.

And he was taking it in stride, considering.

Don’t look at me, Gus protested. "You think I got us into this mess? Last I heard I was about to destroy them from the inside until somebody who shall remain nameless sliced my superweapon in half and threw me off a roof. Which, he added with a shrug, was pretty epic, I have to admit. You have grown powerful, my young ward."

Sam ignored him. He had to think.

Just like being trapped on the stage. By now the routine was becoming familiar. And he had a lot more to work with.

Ellie. The suppression field her team of hive acolytes had spun up to a powerful radius. The reptar their suppression field was keeping dormant. The Key — its series of obelisks could clearly generate a ton of power if they could figure out how to harness it. The ex-minions of the Ascendancy — there was a whole crowd whose gems had turned clear along with Gus’s once the suppression field had cut off his power.

And the only thing standing against them was three titans and their swarm of acolytes. And an incoming mothership, probably. But that one would have to wait.

He took a long breath, buying time, enjoying the comfort of Journey at his side for this brief moment between crises.

At the far end of the Key, the three titans — one in the form of a little old Scottish woman — still stood back-to-back-to-back in the middle of their miniature Stonehenge of blue crystal obelisks. Behind Sam, Pastor Ellie directed the efforts of a couple dozen temporarily escaped hive acolytes who were working together to keep feeding mental power — or something — to what looked like a sphere of ball-bearings spinning in mid-air, some Astral technology that Grandma June had commandeered and Journey had figured out how to turn against them.

All across the church lawn, the blue-gemmed acolytes of the hive had seemingly gone dormant, kneeling in silence. Any one of them taken alone seemed to have picked a spot totally at random, but taken together there was some kind of pattern to it. Sam couldn’t quite pin it down. It was centerless but organized, as if they’d collected across the lawn like frost on a window.

And behind them all loomed the Lutheran church, its outlandish casing of blue crystal now breaking up from within, shot through with angry veins of red.

All right. We’re going to have to do this carefully. Let’s move the suppression field over to the titans, see if we can shut them down. But make sure the reptar moves with you. We still don’t know who’s controlling that thing once it’s out of the radius.

Gus piped up, pompous even in defeat. I’d like to think I still have some small measure of control over—

You want us to leave you in a room with it when we let it out of the suppression field?

You trying to get my face torn off? No, thank you.

All right. Then for now let’s forget what you’d like to think. Yes? Sam’s commanding tone surprised even him. But there was something freeing about having knocked Gus off his pedestal. Sam found himself rebounding in the opposite direction, enjoying the easy thrill that came from kicking Gus around a little while he was down. Not that he wanted to be mean about it, exactly. Just ... it was time someone showed Gus he wasn’t in charge any more.

And maybe it wouldn’t hurt to mess with him just a bit in the meantime.

Actually, you know what? Why not? You strike me as a pretty experienced reptar-wrangler. Only person I’ve seen riding one, that’s for sure.

Duh. That’s what I was trying to tell you. I’ve developed something of a rapport with the beast in question. That doesn’t mean we have to jump straight to locking me in a closet with it.

No, not at all. But I think you’re right. You’re just the man for the job.

Exactly. Highly trained professional. The cream of the de-la-creme.

Perfect. Why don’t you go grab hold of it and lead it over?

What?

Get wrangling. We’ve got to get that thing over to the titans so we can keep all of them in the suppression field at once.

"Wait, what?"

Sam grinned. You were just saying you’re a highly trained—

Not that. Suddenly Gus was too serious, not playing along with the bit but genuinely startled. You’re going to try to suppress the titans?

Of course. They’re the ones who called in the cavalry, right? We’ve got to move while we’ve still got the chance. Plus, we don’t know how long the suppression field is going to hold out. We managed to cut the Ascendancy off at the source — oh, get over yourself, he snapped as Gus frowned. Now we’ve got to do the same thing with the titans. Get the town back to some kind of equilibrium in time to mount a defense.

That’s your plan?

Sam started to mount a protest, but Journey got there first. Like you’ve got a better one? She disengaged from Sam and got in Gus’s face. All you’ve done is sponge off of everybody else. You started a second-rate copycat hive mind with stolen minions so you could hijack some superweapons. And you trapped and drained Thor to do it! You don’t get to talk about Sam’s plan any more, got it? You’re a pathetic little—

Journey. Sam spoke quietly, but somehow her face-off with Gus fell apart.

Sorry. She turned her attention from Gus to him, and he was startled at what he saw in her expression. Respect. I’m just getting so sick of his … Whatever. What’s the plan?

But Gus wasn’t done.

No, I’m sorry. That’s nonsense. You’re taking out the only power source we have left right before we start the big showdown?

Shut up, Gus. Something in Journey’s voice seemed off. There was some taut emotion sizzling beneath the anger. Fear, maybe, or disorientation. Or some secret she was holding onto.

I’m telling you. Gus’s voice held real desperation. He wasn’t just going for attention. It wasn’t an ego thing. For once. You don’t know what you’re dealing with here. Fine, ha ha. We threw Gus off a roof. Whatever. But when these guys arrive, we’re going to need some serious firepower if we want to have any chance of surviving.

And how are we supposed to get that power on our side? she shot back. The titans are the ones calling in the reinforcements, remember? You can’t see straight. You spent too much time in the hive, and then trying to drag everyone into your stupid Ascendancy.

I don’t have to see straight! Gus cried. It’s the most obvious — rrrgh! Am I taking crazy pills here? This is the worst example of a terminal lack of vision I’ve ever heard of!

Journey was clearly gearing up for some sharp retort, but this time Sam got in first.

What do you mean?

Again, somehow, it came out quiet and strong. A little part of him started dancing on the inside. He was getting freaking commanding! It turned out the secret was just to let other people care more about impressing you than you cared about impressing them. For once in his life, he was beyond caring what Gus thought. And he seriously had to figure this thing out, which left him willing to listen to any real suggestion, and whatever Gus was trying to tell them sounded as real as a heart attack.

Look. You’re new at this. I get it.

Internally, Sam rolled his eyes at Gus’s quick return to his baseline condescension. Ah, what the hell. He went ahead and rolled his actual eyes. Gus barreled on, oblivious.

When you’re working at a high level, you have to think at scale, you know? You’re in the big leagues now. You can’t just pull together a few shotguns at the last minute and hope it works out. These guys are going to come down hard on you. You’ve got to fight fire with fire. The only fire you’ve got is those three. Gus pointed at the titans. And you’re about to dump a bucket of water on it?

How do we even know they called anyone? Sam asked. Or that they’ll want to attack us when they get here? What if they just called for, like, obelisk repair dudes or whatever? Even as he asked the questions, he knew he was giving his optimism a little too much leeway. Classic Sam — sunny, hopeful, comforting, and absolutely unrealistic.

But it was worth asking, he told himself. Just to be sure. Nine times out of ten that ridiculously sunny optimism was just that — ridiculous. But on the off-chance this was the one time, they might sidestep a lot of trouble by asking some questions before they started firing hijacked superweapons willy-nilly.

And ‘willy-nilly’ forcibly reminded him of Thor, tucked away in a strange alien cocoon inside the church. Less than a hundred yards away, and a world apart.

Chapter Two

How do we know that they called anyone? Gus was incredulous. "Obelisk repair dudes? Are you listening to yourself? Of course they called someone. They called the big guns. Put yourself in their shoes for a second. His brow furrowed. I mean, I know they're not wearing shoes, but you know. Put yourself in their loincloths or whatever. Not in a weird way."

Sam sighed. Shut up, Gus.

No, I'm serious. Think about it from their side. Your superweapon just got destroyed thanks to some interfering nobody — present company excluded — and you're losing more and more followers to a dashing young upstart with dreams of glory and Viceroyhood. You really think you'd just send home a note saying 'Everything's going terrible, wish you were here, XOXO'? The cavalry is coming and you just stripped me of my phenomenal powers, so I'd say let’s get cracking on another plan.

Okay. Already Sam could feel the pressure of Gus’s personality. But something had changed. He was becoming aware of it, like a fish noticing water for the first time. The implication that it was all Sam’s fault. The assumption that Gus knew more than anyone about how this was going to go down. The subtle insinuation of himself back into the role of chief strategist. Even if he had a valid point or two, Sam wasn't going to let Gus guilt him into anything. And Gus definitely wasn’t going to be making the next plan. Here's my plan.

Well, let’s not rush into any—

Sam raised a hand, and Gus fell silent, looking a little out of his depth.

Gus, you’ve got five minutes to convince the titans to join our side, otherwise we can cut them off with the suppression field.

What? Gus spluttered. Five— That’s not nearly enough— They’re a highly advanced—

Five minutes. We can’t afford to give them any more leeway. If they’re not willing to join us, they’re a liability. Fighting fire with fire doesn’t mean burning down your house to escape a forest fire.

But five minutes is so arbitrary. Why not seven? Why not three?

Gus knew Sam. It wasn’t a good argument, but it was precisely designed to get Sam’s brain in a tailspin. Sam hated doing things for no reason. That was Gus-territory. Sam needed to be able to show his work, justify his conclusions.

Or at least, Old Sam did.

Five minutes. Sometimes you just have to pick a number. He felt the thrill of decisiveness, of leadership. Damn the torpedoes! But a lifetime of habit was hard to break. Or if you have any suggestions for a different number ...

Gus peered into the distance, calculating. Oh, sure. Any number of them. Seventeen is good. Prime. Powerful. Or we could do more of a countdown deal, really make them feel the pressure. Two minutes, force them into a snap decision. Twenty-four hours is classic.

Once again, New Sam saw the air Old Sam would have breathed without question.

Those are all arbitrary, too. Five minutes. Or rather. He looked at his wrist. He didn’t have a watch, but it was more about the gesture. Four minutes and forty seconds. Go.

Chapter Three

What? exploded Gus.

Journey let out a snort.

You can’t pull the stressful countdown on me. I invented the stressful countdown!

Sam stood his ground. Four and a half minutes.

And then what? You blow them up with your huge lasers? Gus slapped himself in the forehead. Oh, duh-doy. I forgot. We don’t have any huge lasers.

I’ve got a suppression field. Seems like it did the trick on you.

Look. You can’t just— They’re not going to—

You want to waste your time talking to me about it, or do you want to make something happen? You’re always talking about how much they depended on you. Go show me.

Bah. Fine. But don’t come crying to me in the wake of my grandiose but inevitable failure. Gus started a slow jog toward the three titans standing in the circle of obelisks.

Flip that attitude, buddy, Sam called after him. You can do anything you set your mind to. I believe in you.

Have fun storming the castle! crowed Journey in her best Miracle Max voice.

Gus flipped her the bird over his shoulder.

You seriously think he has a chance? Journey asked Sam more seriously after Gus was out of earshot.

It’d take a miracle, said Miracle Max in his head. Sam kept the joke inside. Somehow the stern grown-up authority he was learning to project felt incompatible with silly movie quotes.

Instead, he shrugged. He’s got a better chance than I do. And it gets him out of our hair for a few minutes. I’m trying to think.

Sam? Pastor Ellie called from a little way behind him.

He turned. A few ex-acolytes were still holding hands in a circle as they concentrated on a spinning sphere of ball-bearings between them. The sphere was actually a piece of hijacked Astral technology they’d managed to turn inside out to form a small psionic suppression field. Anyone inside it was cut off from the hive’s control, at least as long as the sphere kept spinning.

Ellie looked worried. That wasn’t a good sign. He tried to convince himself there was no point freaking out until he had something to freak out about.

Yeah?

I’m not sure how much longer we can keep this thing spinning.

That felt worthy of a freak out. He pressed down the brewing anxiety. He didn’t stop feeling it, exactly, but he managed to keep it mostly on the inside, at least.

How ‘not sure’? he asked.

I don’t know. It’s hard to quantify, and it’s hard for them to tell me much while they’re staying focused on spinning it up. But it gets harder over time.

You mean it’s pushing back?

More like it’s a heavy stone that’s getting harder and harder to hold up, I think. People can’t focus this intensely for very long.

Some people can, Journey observed a little acidly. Sam thought of Thor, who’d been single-handedly holding back the hive for more than a day now. But there was something different about Thor. The people running the suppression field were just regular people. Farmers and college students and ... townsfolk.

Tell them to dig deep, do whatever they have to do, Sam ordered. It turned out sternness made a pretty good mask for anxiety. We can’t let that thing fail. Rotate people out if you have to. His eyes darted to the reptar lying dormant inside the radius of the suppression field. There was something husk-like about the way its body was curled in on itself. It was utterly still, but more like a discarded insect shell than a napping animal. Except, somehow, even more insectoid than an insect.

For a moment he wondered whether it might be dead. Maybe cutting reptars off from the hive was like cutting humans off from their brains.

But no. Quiet, ominous rattles still emerged from its throat, and traces of glowing blue wafted beneath the hairline cracks between its scales.

Sam? Ellie’s worried voice brought him back to the present.

Yeah. Again he put that stern edge into his voice, a touch of expectation like it