Page 19 of Sy (Alien Berserkers of Izaea #2)

19

T his couldn’t be happening, not with his precious female and her daughter on the planet.

Sy strode into the command center with Ashley right behind him. The blue-tinged holographic displays cast harsh shadows across the gathered warriors’ faces around the curved command table, making them look alien and unfamiliar.

Every warrior present radiated the same coiled energy that thrummed through his own muscles. They all knew what it meant when command called an emergency meeting. Nothing good ever came of it.

“Why is the human here?” Vraal asked from the other side of the room. Sy had managed to avoid him since their incident the other day, but he was on the command team. Kraath looked up from the tactical display, his gaze sharp enough to cut diamond.

“If there’s danger to my people, I need to know about it.” Ashley stepped forward, her chin raised in challenge. “I won’t stand by while decisions are made about their lives.”

Kraath studied her for a long moment before nodding.

“The Purists are in orbit,” he announced.

The display shifted, showing a warship hanging in high orbit. The vessel’s profile was distinctive… the sleek, predatory lines marked it as a J’Raat design. They were master shipbuilders, one reason they’d controlled the orbital platforms for so long. His jaw clenched as he stared at the projection.

“The who now?” Ashley asked in confusion as she sat in the chair he’d pulled out for her next to his own.

“The J’Raat are the most fanatical of them all,” Kraath explained. “In their own territories, they eliminate any they don’t consider pure Lathar.”

The tactical display shifted again, expanding to show the terrain that surrounded the garrison. Red spots bloomed across the projection like a bad rash. Each one represented a possible invasion landing point. He analyzed them automatically, years of combat experience cataloging defensive advantages and weak points.

The J’Raat would need to establish a ground presence. The question was where they’d choose to strike first.

He frowned as he thought through force deployment estimates. Casualty projections. Resource allocations. The numbers weren’t good, but they rarely were. He was Izaean. They were used to this.

But this time was different. This time Ashley sat beside him, close enough that he could feel the heat from her body, could hear her steady breathing. This wasn’t just another tactical problem to solve. The J’Raat didn’t care enough to distinguish between military and civilian targets. They never did. They just destroyed anything in their path.

“We need to discuss defending these potential landing points,” Kraath said, zooming in on one of the marked locations. The hologram cast light across his face as he highlighted terrain features, discussing approach vectors and defensive positions like they were talking about the weather rather than impending invasion.

“We should use the ferals,” Vraal broke in. “The Purists won’t be expecting them. And it’s all they’re good for now.”

Sy fought the curl of his lip. Vraal hated ferals. That much was obvious. It wouldn’t surprise him to find the male had come from a Purist-leaning clan.

He ignored the jibe and the little look Vraal slid his way, forcing himself to focus on the tactical discussion, but his attention kept sliding to the female next to him.

She sat straight-backed, taking in every detail with sharp eyes that missed nothing. He recognized that look… he’d seen it before in warriors preparing for battle. But she wasn’t a warrior. She shouldn’t have to be. She wouldn’t be. Not here. Not against this enemy.

“What can we do?” Ashley leaned forward. “There must be something?—”

“You need to evacuate.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth. His legion churned beneath his skin, feeding into the fear clawing at his chest. “Get your people to safety. Now.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing with fury. “Run away, you mean? While you fight?”

“This isn’t a debate.” His hands clenched at his sides until his knuckles went white. The image of her broken body on a battlefield flashed through his mind, making him feel sick. “The J’Raat?—”

“No one’s invincible.” She straightened, her chin lifting in that stubborn way of hers. “We have weapons. Defenses. If you’d just?—”

“Defenses?” The laugh that ripped from his throat was harsh, ugly. “Your strongest weapons would barely scratch their armor. Your fastest ships couldn’t outrun them.”

“So help us prepare?—”

“There is no preparing!” The words exploded from him, echoing off the stone walls. The other warriors went still as statues, but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t bear the thought of her facing what was coming. “Humans are too weak to fight the J’Raat. You will die. All of you will die.”

The command center went silent as a tomb. Ashley stared at him, color draining from her face until she was ghost-pale. Her lips parted and then pressed into a thin line. When she spoke, her voice was cold. Hard.

“Weak?” Something fractured in her eyes. “That’s what you think of us?”

The hurt in her voice hit him like a physical blow. His anger evaporated, leaving cold horror in its wake. “Ashley, I didn’t?—”

But she was already moving, her boots ringing against the floor as she strode toward the exit. Her shoulder slammed into Tor as he entered, nearly knocking him aside. She didn’t look back.

Sy took a step after her, his instincts screaming at him to fix this, but the damage was already done. She was gone.

Tor stumbled, catching himself against the doorframe. When he straightened, Sy’s legion hummed with recognition.

Elder speaks. Listen.

The familiar presence of Tor’s legion radiated through his movements as he approached the tactical display, his steps odd—too precise, too measured, like watching an automaton instead of muscle and bone.

“What is that creature doing in here?” Vraal snarled, halfway out of his seat as though he intended to eject Tor himself.

Sy bit back his smirk. Oh, he’d pay good credits to see this…

“Sit. Down!” Kraath snarled, the sound dangerous and threatening.

Vraal’s ass hit his seat with a thump.

“Next time you express that kind of opinion about our feral brethren, I will find you something unpleasant to occupy your hours. Like permanent latrine duty. Unless, of course, you’d like to discuss your opinions with our leader? That can be arranged.”

Vraal paled and muttered something Sy didn’t catch, but he didn’t look inclined to argue further. He didn’t blame him. Raalt was also feral now.

Kraath nodded to Tor.

“An orbital platform approaches.” The voice from Tor’s mouth carried harmonics that set Sy’s teeth on edge. “One hour until arrival.”

He gives truth. Ancient defenses rise, his legion whispered. We remember.

“The First One knows.” Tor’s head turned to Kraath with mechanical precision, his eyes vacant and cold as space itself. “We need to bring the weapon online.”

“What weapon?” Zeke stepped forward, his hands splayed on the tactical table. “Nothing in our defensive grid could?—”

“Your instruments are blind.” Tor’s lip curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “The legion remains, scattered through DNA, through technology. All connected. All remembering what was hidden here.”

“Why didn’t we detect this before?” Vraal’s voice cut through the tension like a plasma blade.

“How is it even possible to hide something that powerful?” Zeke slammed his palm against the table hard enough to make the hologram flicker.

“The shielding alone would require…” Another warrior started.

“Enough.” Kraath’s command silenced the room. “How long has this weapon been here?”

Ask, Sy’s legion pressed. Ask what is needed.

“What does the legion need?” The words were pulled from his lips reluctantly. “To bring the weapon online?”

Tor turned to him with that inhuman stillness. “Time.” A pause stretched like eternity. “And the human.”

Ice slid down Sy’s spine. “What human?”

“You’d better make it quick if the humans are evacuating,” Zeke cut in.

“Without the trigger, we cannot use the weapon.” Tor’s face remained expressionless, inhuman as a statue. “We need the human.”

Rage and fear collided in Sy’s chest like matter meeting antimatter. He crossed the space between them in two strides until he was right in front of Tor. “What trigger? Is it Lila?” His hands itched to grab Tor and shake answers out of him. “Did you do something to her?”

But Tor didn’t flinch.

Didn’t react at all to the fury radiating from Sy like heat from a star.

“You will not harm this body, warrior. Your legion knows better.” Those red eyes bored into him like laser sights. “Without the female, we all die.”

The garrison’s main hall blazed with light, stone walls amplifying the urgent tap of Ashley’s boots as she stormed to the front of the assembled crowd. Her mind raced through evacuation protocols while her staff herded the last stragglers into place. No time for lengthy explanations. They needed to move. She shoved aside thoughts of Sy’s words about human weakness. That particular ache could wait.

“Everyone, listen up.” Her voice cracked across the hall like a plasma whip, silencing confused murmurs. “Twenty minutes ago, garrison sensors detected a Latharian warship entering orbit.” She watched confusion ripple through the crowd. They all knew about the Lathar, their ancestors.

“Aren’t we allies with the Lathar?” someone called out from the back. “Perhaps it’s just a patrol?”

“It isn’t.” Ashley kept her voice steady, professional. “The ship belongs to the J’Raat clan. They don’t give a damn about humans, but they plan to wipe the Izaeans out. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be caught in the crossfire. And trust me, you don’t want to be collateral damage when Lathar warriors decide to play.”

The crowd surged with questions, fear threading through their voices. She raised her hand, cutting them off. The evacuation procedures had been drilled into everyone from day one, but this was no drill. The stakes were real, very real, and the clock was ticking.

“I need section leaders coordinating their teams now,” she ordered. “Medical, secure your supplies. Engineering, lock down any volatile materials. Everyone else, grab your emergency packs and move to your designated evacuation points.”

More hands shot up, voices calling out questions, but she shook her head. “There’s no time for a Q&A. Thompson, start the shutdown sequence for the primary systems. Roberts, get communications online with the transport ship?—”

Her tablet buzzed. The sensor readings had updated, showing the warship’s trajectory. Her stomach clenched, but her voice remained steady as she continued issuing orders.

“Listen to me,” she pressed, infusing her voice with all the authority she could muster. Sy might think humans were weak, but he hadn’t seen her people in a crisis. “This is not a debate. This is not a discussion. This is a direct evacuation order. We have incoming hostiles who won’t hesitate to destroy anything in their path to get to the Izaeans. I need everyone moving. Now .”

“With respect, boss, fuck that.”

She’d expected argument, but she hadn’t expected Michelle’s voice cutting through the chaos like a plasma torch through steel. Michelle stepped forward, her spine straight as a rod, and the cast still on her lower leg.

“The Izaeans saved us during the earthquake. They pulled our people from the rubble. Treated our injured. Protected us.” Michelle’s words carried to every corner of the hall, and heads nodded in agreement. “And now you want us to abandon them?”

“And what exactly do you think you can do against the Lathar? They’re super-warriors, and you’ve got construction tools.” Thompson scoffed from his position near the door, his pristine safety vest a stark contrast to Michelle’s work-worn one. “Yeah, sure. That’ll work.”

Michelle turned on him. “We might be human now, but the way I see it, we’ve got the same blood. Our ancestors were Lathar, just like the Izaeans.”

She gestured in the vague direction of the work site. “Have you ever seen what construction equipment can do? It breaks rocks, so it sure as fuck can break asshole aliens.”

A rumble of agreement swept through the crowd. More people moved to stand near Michelle—most of them survivors from the earthquake, the ones who’d spent days being treated by Izaean medics.

Thompson’s face darkened. “This is insane. I’ll make sure the company knows all about this. About you, about your irresponsibility with the equipment, about everything.”

Michelle barked out a laugh, the sound sharp and challenging. “Go ahead, dickwad. Tell them how we used their precious equipment to save lives. Again .”

She turned back to Ashley, her expression softening slightly. “Boss, I know you’re trying to protect us. But some of us? We’re not running. Not this time.”

Thompson pushed away from the wall, his face twisted with spite. “You’re all insane.” His gaze swept across the group gathering around Michelle before landing on Ashley. “The company isn’t going to stand for this.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Thompson,” someone called from the crowd.

“No, I won’t shut up.”

He stepped forward, straightening his safety vest like it was a company exec’s suit. “I’ve watched you people break protocol after protocol. But this?”

He jabbed a finger toward the defiant group. “This is going too far. I’m logging a formal complaint. About all of you. Especially you two.” His eyes narrowed at Ashley and Michelle. “Attempting to shut down operations without authorization, spreading panic, disrupting productivity?—”

“You go ahead and do that,” Ashley cut him off, her voice arctic. “The rest of us will be busy staying alive.”

Thompson grinned like a maniac, tapping away at his tablet.

“I’ve documented everything.” He held up his tablet like a shield. “Every breach of protocol since this shift began. Every violation of company policy. Every instance of you undermining proper corporate authority with these ridiculous claims about alien threats.”

The garrison’s warning system pulsed once more, longer this time, its deep tone a stark contrast to Thompson’s bureaucratic threats.

“Oh, and Ms. Jackson?” He looked up from his screen. “Expect to hear from the legal department about your breach of executive protocols. The company takes hierarchical violations very seriously.”

The tablet at Ashley’s hip buzzed again. She didn’t need to look to know the warship was moving into position. Time was running out, and she had to make a decision. Sy’s words about human weakness flickered through her mind again, but this time, something else came with it—the sight of her crews working through exhaustion during the earthquake, refusing to give up until the last person was saved.

“All right. Here’s how this is going to work.” She turned to Thompson first, letting ice fill her tone. “You want to file your reports? Fine. But you’ll do it from the evacuation shuttle, where I can be sure you’re not going to get anyone killed with your corporate bullshit.”

The room erupted into movement. Thompson spluttered something about regulations, but nobody paid him any attention.

She watched as people made their choices—some hurrying to the evacuation points while others moved to Michelle’s side. Each face that passed her carried the weight of their decision, and she honored every one of them with a nod.

“Right… Evacuees, you have ten minutes to clear the area. Michelle, get your people to cover and wait for my signal.” She turned to her own tablet, her fingers flying across the screen. “I’m transferring emergency protocols and communication channels to both groups. Stay in contact. Stay alive.”

The garrison’s warning system pulsed again, and she looked up, searching for Lila in the crowd. She’d done her duty to her people. Now her duty was to her daughter.

She had to make sure Lila got off the planet safely.

Even if she didn’t.