Page 1 of Sy (Alien Berserkers of Izaea #2)

1

T hey would be ready for the first of the human shuttles to arrive.

Just.

From his perch at the top of the half-finished control tower, Sy tracked the movement of workers below. The construction site sprawled across the clearing they’d made in the valley just below the garrison, machinery grinding and whirring as they shaped landing pads that would soon welcome human construction teams. He leaned on the railing, his enhanced vision catching every detail… from the sparks of welding torches and the precise way the beams were being laid out right through to the dance of crews moving materials around the site.

And it was his responsibility to make sure it all happened. He rolled his neck, making his shoulder click. Just a couple of weeks ago, he’d been nothing more than a guard in the fortress on the southern continent, content to look after his younger cousin, follow orders, and protect the new human doctor in her lab.

But then the horde had attacked, his Blood Rage had woken something inside him, and he’d turned feral. Worse, because he could control the madness that infected his blood, he’d somehow been bumped up to a leadership role. Others looked to him for orders and direction. The memory of the battle at the southern fortress made his chest tighten. Ferals had proven their worth, forcing a rethinking of the old isolationist ways. He grumbled in the back of his throat, his fingers flexing and his claws sliding partially out. He forced them back with a clench of his fist, the black armor plating across his forearms catching the sunlight and reminding him of what he’d become.

Construction dust swirled on the breeze, carrying the sharp scent of metal and ozone. He lifted his head, his enhanced hearing picking up conversations from below. It was nothing he needed to worry about, just technical discussions mixing with the rhythmic pounding of pile drivers. Someone to his left was having trouble with a power coupling, while a team to his right debated the best placement for guidance beacons on the pads.

“Sy?” a voice called from behind him. “The eastern pad’s foundation is ready for inspection.”

He turned to meet the worker’s gaze. The male didn’t flinch from his red-tinged stare. Thankfully, they were all getting used to his new status as a feral. Loose strands of his hair, pulled free from his usual low ponytail, whipped around his face in the wind.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, his voice rougher than it used to be. The transformation had changed that too, along with so much else.

The battle at the southern fortress played through his mind as he made his way down. The moment the Blood Rage had taken him, the feeling of his body changing, becoming something else entirely. He’d feared losing himself completely as a new voice had awoken in his mind. Somehow, though, he’d kept control and found a balance between the strength of his legion symbiont and his own consciousness.

Until a few weeks ago, ferals had been banished here to the northern continent, considered too dangerous to live among Izaean society… a society formed of Lathar with Blood Rage anger management problems. The horde’s attack had changed all of that.

Now he was feral and overseeing a crucial project, trusted with responsibility rather than cast aside. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Workers nodded respectfully as he passed, giving him space without showing fear. They knew what he was—it was impossible to hide with the visible changes to his body, even if he’d wanted to—but many of them remembered him from his time in the south, and they trusted him. Maybe because he’d proven himself in battle alongside Banic. Or perhaps it was because he still acted like himself, still thought things through instead of giving in to the Rage.

He turned the last corner on the steel stairs, the eastern landing pad stretching before him in a massive expanse of reinforced concrete and steel. Soon it would welcome shuttles from the ships even now in orbit around the plant, bringing materials and specialists that they desperately needed.

Specialists from Earth, that was, not from the empire or any of her worlds. His expression tightened. Now more than ever, he realized how important secrecy was. The empire couldn’t know about the ferals or the legion. Or they were all doomed—he and his cousin included.

He ran his hand down a support beam, testing its stability as he rattled down the last few steps to the landing pad. The metal was cool against his palm, solid. Like him, it had been transformed, raw materials forged into something new, something stronger.

He lifted his hand as raised voices rang out. Near the edge of the pad, a cluster of Izaean workers were gathered, their body language tense as they watched two ferals welding support struts into place. The ferals worked efficiently, their enhanced strength making the heavy lifting look effortless, but that only seemed to increase the Izaean group’s unease.

“…shouldn’t be here…” and “…dangerous…” The whispered fragments had him clenching his jaw. He understood their fear—he’d shared it himself once—but they needed every able body to get this project done in time.

One of the ferals looked up, catching the hostile stares. His red eyes narrowed, and his posture altered subtly, ready for the attack. His claws flexed on the steel strut he held in place as his companion welded.

The Izaean workers took a step back, their tools clutched like weapons. Before he could step in, though, a crash rang out from another section of the pad. He whirled to find an Izaean sprawled on the ground, his tools scattered around him and a feral standing over him, black armor gleaming and his hands clenched into fists.

“Watch where you’re going,” the feral snarled, his jaw and voice distorted by Rage.

The Izaean scrambled to his feet, his face flushed with anger. “You pushed me!”

“You were in my way.” The feral took a step forward, and Sy could smell the sharp tang of fear from the gathering crowd.

“This is our territory,” another feral called out. “You don’t belong here!”

More voices joined in, and tension crackled through the air like electricity. Draanth . They were only a few seconds away from it all going to hell. Sy pushed his way through the two groups, getting between the would-be combatants.

“Enough!” He turned to the feral, their gazes clashing as he glared into the other feral’s red-eyed gaze. “Return to your station.”

He looked over at the Izaean worker and ordered, “Pick up your tools and get back to work.”

Neither moved immediately, still glaring at each other. Sy let his claws extend slightly—not a threat but a reminder of his authority as he loosed some of his legion strength into his voice.

“We have deadlines to meet. The humans will be here soon, and this pad needs to be ready.” He swept his gaze across the gathered crowd. “All of us are needed for this project to succeed. All of us. Izaean and feral alike.”

The feral was the first to back down, giving a sharp nod before returning to his workstation. He was an older feral, already on the northern continent when they’d all arrived from the south. His symbiont was a weak one, probably not even vocal in its host’s mind because Sy’s own legion symbiont didn’t make a comment or warn him of any danger. The Izaean workers slowly dispersed, though Sy noted the lingering looks of distrust.

He remained in place for a moment, watching as work resumed. His legion symbiont stirred in his mind, responding to the residual tension in the air. He pushed it back, maintaining control. Every day was a balancing act between his old self and what he’d become.

He knew this incident wouldn’t be the last. Fear ran deep, and trust would take time to build.

With a sigh, he made his way across the construction site, heading toward where Kraath stood surveying another section of the project. The garrison commander’s rigid posture and crossed arms broadcast his displeasure, even from a distance. Sy’s enhanced vision picked up the tight set of Kraath’s jaw as well as the way his fingers drummed against his biceps.

“Commander.” Sy inclined his head as he approached, noting how Kraath’s gaze fixed on his red eyes before shifting away. Kraath had been in command of the northern garrison for many years before Sy had even been born or come to Parac’Norr, and the rumors said he’d never once backed down from a feral nor given in to the Blood Rage in all that time.

“Progress report on the landing pads?” Kraath’s tone was clipped and professional as he rubbed at the short stubble on his pointed jaw. He cast a glance up at the sky. Somewhere above them in orbit, the human teams were loading the shuttles ready to head down to the surface.

“Eastern pad’s foundation is complete and being inspected now. Western pad will be ready for the final pour by this evening.” Sy kept his voice neutral, though his symbiont stirred in response to Kraath’s nearness. Something about the male unsettled it. “We’re on schedule, despite a few issues between the workers.”

“Issues. That’s one way to put it.” Kraath’s lip curled slightly as he turned to face Sy fully. “And the others? The feral group?”

The emphasis on others made the blackened armor down Sy’s arm tighten slightly. Unlike his claws, the armor wouldn’t retract fully, leaving visible evidence of what he was across his skin. Along with the eyes, it was the quickest way to identify a feral in the absence of more obvious mutations. “More turned up today than yesterday, and they’re working well enough. There have been some minor incidents, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“See that you do handle it.” Kraath’s gaze swept over the construction site. “We can’t afford any complications when the humans arrive.”

Sy studied the commander’s profile, questions burning in his throat. Kraath had refused to answer Sy’s question about why the legion symbionts knew him. Why they called him ancient. And how had Kraath known the horde were Tanel? What else did he know about them? About the ferals? Sy’s symbiont whispered at the edge of his consciousness but offered no insights.

“Sir,” Sy started, “about the legion?—”

“Focus on your assigned duties,” Kraath cut him off. “That’s all you need to concern yourself with at the moment.” He gave a curt nod and turned away, striding toward another group of workers.

Sy watched him go, frustration coiling in his gut. Kraath knew something, but he refused to talk. Not even Banic or Prince Isan had been able to make him give up his secrets.

Movement caught Sy’s eye, drawing his attention to where Kal and Tor worked together, securing support beams. He smiled slightly, tension rolling through him as he watched them. His cousin’s movements were different now—sharper, more precise. The transformation had changed Tor physically, just as it had changed him, but there was something else, something that made Sy’s symbiont stir uneasily.

Tor’s symbiont was stronger than most. He saw it in the way Tor moved and in the way he lifted his head sometimes, as though listening to something only he could hear. It was there in the way his claws would extend unconsciously, his armor plates rippling with agitation at random moments. Sy knew what it was. Tor’s symbiont was talking to him.

His chest tightened as Tor snapped at Kal over some minor mistake. The boy he’d helped raise, who’d always been quick to smile and slow to anger, now balanced on a knife’s edge of control. He clenched his jaw. The fear of losing Tor to his symbiont, of watching him slip away into true Blood Rage, was a constant weight and terror in his mind.

The sound of Tor’s snarl carried across the construction site, but Kal just laughed it off, clearly used to his friend’s new temperament. For that, Sy was grateful. Kal was level-headed and, even though he was Izaean himself and young, had more control than many adult Izaean Sy knew. He would make commander one day. Sy was sure of it.

He looked up as he picked up the faint rumble of engines above them, scanning the horizon where dark clouds gathered. The weather system was moving in faster than predicted.

If the storm hit before the shuttle landed… He shook off the thought. They’d prepared for this. The guidance systems were calibrated for severe weather, and the pad’s surface treatments would prevent ice formation.

“Clear the pad!” he called out, his voice carrying across the construction site. Workers began gathering their tools, moving with practiced efficiency as the rumble grew louder. Now some of the others could hear it too, their heads tilting up. Some of them had never seen a human other than Doctor Godwin, and the rumors had it that more human females would be in the arriving groups. That was no doubt the reason more and more ferals had turned up to work.

He caught the glint of metal through the clouds first as the huge transport shuttle began its descent.

“Everyone behind the safety lines,” he ordered, watching as the workers moved to their designated positions.

The shuttle broke through the cloud cover, sleek and gleaming. The black armor on his forearms rippled, his claws extending before he could stop them, responding to a perceived danger when there was none. He forced them back, conscious of how he must appear now and not wanting to scare any of the humans.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain. Sy’s gaze remained fixed on the approaching shuttle, his symbiont alert and watchful within him. The shuttle’s landing lights pierced the gathering gloom as the first drops of rain began to fall.

He squared his shoulders, his eyes remaining locked on the horizon as the shuttle made its final approach. He watched as the pilot guided it through the turbulent air with steady hands. The rain fell harder now, but his enhanced vision cut through it easily, tracking every movement of the craft as it descended toward the pad.

“Lock it down!” he roared as the shuttle touched down. “Let’s get them inside before this storm gets any worse!”

They were going to die.

Ashley gripped the seat’s armrest as the shuttle lurched, plunging through another layer of dense clouds. Her stomach rose with each violent shake, and she had to bite back a whimper. She was the lead on this project, so she couldn’t fall apart. Not with her senior staff looking back at her from the other seats, their hands wrapped around their harnesses and faces as pale as hers.

The alien pilot’s hands danced across the controls with practiced ease, but it did little to settle her nerves. Beside her, Lila’s face was practically pressed against the small viewport, drinking in the alien landscape below with unbridled fascination.

“Hey, Mom… look,” Lila pointed at the sprawling compound below them as it emerged through breaks in the cloud cover. “That must be the garrison.”

“Mmhmm.” Ashley forced the sound past her tight throat, trying to project calm she didn’t feel. The shuttle jerked again, and she tightened her grip until her knuckles went white. What kind of mother brought her teenage daughter to a hostile alien world?

But after six months of rejected applications and dwindling savings, the generous contract from the Izaean had been a lifeline. She’d just had to up sticks and move both of them across half the known galaxy to a planet filled with aliens considered too dangerous to be near other dangerous aliens.

She really was a shit mother. David had been so much better than her at this, which was why, when their marriage had broken down, Lila had spent most of her time with him. Then he’d had the selfishness to go and get himself killed in a transport accident of all things.

Ashley sighed, letting her fear and frustration out in a long breath. She wasn’t angry with her late ex-husband anymore, and to be honest, she’d never really been angry with him. Just sad that his life had been cut short in such a pointless way. He’d been an excellent father, just a boring as hell husband, which was why they hadn’t lasted. She needed excitement and danger. Passion. Not sex once a week in the same position with the lights off.

Thunder boomed outside, and several of the human passengers jumped, squeaking like frightened mice. She leaned her head back and studied the others scattered throughout the cabin from under her lashes. They were mostly construction specialists and support staff. Most looked as green around the gills as she felt, though a few veterans of off-world projects were unfazed by the turbulent descent. She knew some of them, but most were unknown to her, no doubt attracted to the project by the same generous bonuses that she was. At least three looked to be military veterans, with one in a rugged but battered antigrav chair magnetically locked down to the deck. Probably a Scorperio pilot. She recognized the look.

“Status report,” a deep and gravelly voice crackled over the cockpit comm in heavily accented Standard. She was tucked into the seat just behind the pilot, so she heard every word, a shiver rolling down her spine. If sex had a voice, that was it. “Atmospheric conditions deteriorating. Expedite your landing approach.”

Ashley’s heart rate kicked up another notch. She’d read the briefing materials thoroughly. Although they were rare out of season, Parac’Norr was known for violent storms. The thought of spending months here, responsible not only for a critical construction project but also her daughter’s safety…

“This is so cool,” Lila whispered, still captivated by the view as the shuttle was buffeted this way and that. “So much better than staying with Aunt Davina while you work off-world again.”

The simple statement hit Ashley like a physical blow. The past few years since David’s death had been rough on them both… too many missed birthdays and school events as she chased contracts across the galaxy trying to put away enough money to send Lila to college. Not just any college, either, but a good one. But the bills had kept mounting, and she’d never been able to get her head above water. Or see her daughter much, relying on David’s sister and her husband to look after Lila. This time, though… this time, things would be different. This time they were together, and that was all that mattered.

If they survived the journey down to the surface, that was.

Lightning flashed, and the shuttle banked sharply, giving her a clear view of the ground beneath them. Huge figures moved across the half-completed landing pad as they circled it. Her eyes widened a little. She’d thought their pilot was big, but these Izaeans were huge.

“Final approach,” the pilot announced over his shoulder. “Coming in hot, so brace yourselves.”

She reached out and double-checked Lila’s restraints, earning herself an eye-roll from the teenager before she checked her own. Her hands only trembled slightly as she quickly tucked them into her seat harness. Jitters were nothing new… she always got them before a project started, but they were much worse this time. She was an expert at managing complex construction projects in challenging conditions, but being responsible for a teenager on an alien world that had recently been attacked by another species—something she’d only learned about when the contracts were signed and they were on the way over here—was an entirely different thing altogether.

The shuttle hit the landing pad with enough force to make her teeth rattle. Instinctively, she shot out a hand to steady Lila, though her daughter barely seemed to notice, her eyes wide and still mesmerized by the view outside. The rain hammered against the viewport, making it almost impossible to see anything clearly.

“Everyone remain seated until the all-clear,” the pilot commanded as he powered down the engines.

Through gaps in the torrential rain, Ashley caught glimpses of massive figures moving outside on the landing pad. Most had to be at least seven feet, with broad shoulders and muscular builds that made them look like they could snap a human in half without breaking a sweat. She had always been petite, but she hadn’t felt this much like a child in years.

The door at the back of the shuttle opened with a hydraulic hiss, letting in a blast of wind and rain. Her breath caught in her throat as an Izaean ducked his head to enter. He was enormous, with hard, handsome features and red eyes that swept the cabin with an intensity that had all her survival instincts clamoring at her to run. To hide. Red eyes. Details from the briefing docs flowed through her mind. He wasn’t just Izaean. He was feral as well.

Her gaze dropped to the blackness that covered his arm and chest until it disappeared under the sleeveless top he wore. She’d never seen anything like it before. It seemed to absorb the light, making him appear even more intimidating.

“Welcome to Parac’Norr,” he announced, his voice a deep rumble. It was the sexy voice she’d heard over the comm. “My name is Sy. The storm is worse than we thought. We need to move quickly and get you into shelter.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she released her harness. She turned to help Lila with hers, but her daughter was already out of her seat, eagerness written into every line of her body. The other passengers were moving more slowly, some still looking shell-shocked from the landing.

“Mom, look at them,” Lila hissed, rare excitement clear in her voice. “They’re amazing.”

A crack of thunder made several people jump. Sy moved through the cabin, helping people to their feet and ushering them toward the exit. When he reached Ashley and Lila, he paused, his red eyes fixing on them with an intensity that made Ashley’s heart skip a beat.

“Project Manager Jackson?” he asked, though it seemed more like a statement than a question.

Ashley nodded, looking up to meet his gaze. “I am.”

He turned to look at Lila, the expression in his alien eyes unreadable.

She pulled Lila closer. “This is my daughter Lila.”

His expression hardened, his small nod sharp. “Follow me. And stay close. Visibility is poor.”

Ashley’s grip on Lila’s hand tightened as they reached the doorway. Sideways rain lashed at them, the wind nearly knocking them off their feet as they stepped onto the ramp.

Rain stung her face as she squinted through the downpour. More Izaeans were clustering around the other passengers as they tried to keep their footing on the rain-slick metal. They were like baby deer on ice compared to the aliens, whose movements were precise and coordinated despite the weather. Lightning split the sky, and she ducked, pulling Lila close.

“Is it always this bad?” she yelled over the rain as the big alien hurried them across the pad, his huge form providing some shelter from the worst of the wind. The black over his arm seemed to ripple in the strobing lightning, and she caught glimpses of what looked like claws at the end of his fingers. Her heart skipped a beat. The file she’d been given said that some of the Izaean had mutations, but no one had mentioned anything about claws.

“Emergency shelters are this way,” he shouted over the wind, pointing to a series of low buildings ahead of them. “Watch your step. The pad can be slippery.”

She nodded, but she could barely see through the rain. His hand remained steady on her shoulder, guiding her and Lila safely through the storm. Other Izaeans formed a protective circle around the group of humans, their massive forms cutting through the wind as they clattered down the steps, sliding in the mud as they headed for the doors of the shelters.

They finally reached the shelter, and Sy ushered them inside. The sudden absence of wind and rain was almost shocking, the silence deafening. She pushed her wet hair from her face and looked up to find Sy watching her with fury. She almost took a step back in the face of it.

His lip curled back as he swept a hard, red gaze over her. “Why would a fertile female put herself and her offspring at risk coming to a damned place like this?”