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

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A shley shivered, rainwater pooling at her feet as she stared up at the towering Izaean. His words hit her like a physical blow, but she refused to show weakness. The blackness covering his forearm caught the light from the shelter’s lanterns, making it seem alive, like it was part of his skin. Other aliens moved behind him, organizing supplies in crates and setting up equipment.

Her clothes were stuck to her skin, but she barely noticed the discomfort. Anger burned like a wildfire through her veins.

“I’m here because I’m the best person for the job,” she said, her voice sharp and pitched to carry. Best to get this over with quickly and nip any queries about her abilities in the bud right now. “And the status of my fertility has nothing to do with my qualifications or my ability to protect my daughter.”

She took a step forward, tilting her chin up to meet his red-eyed gaze without flinching. “I’ve managed construction projects in some of the most challenging environments in the galaxy. I’ve coordinated teams across multiple species and cultures. And I’ve done it all while raising a brilliant, capable daughter who understands more about xeno-engineering than most adults.”

Around them, the shelter had grown quieter. From the corner of her eye, she saw some of the humans exchange glances while a few of the Izaean had stopped their work entirely, watching the confrontation with unblinking eyes.

“The fact that you’d question my presence here based on my biology rather than my extensive experience says more about your prejudices than my capabilities.” Water dripped from her hair, but she didn’t break eye contact. “I suggest you put aside anything you think you know about me, or human women, and review my credentials before making assumptions about what I can or cannot handle.”

His red eyes narrowed, studying her face with an intensity that made her skin prickle. The scent of ozone and machine oil drifted in through the doorway as it opened again, mixing with the metallic tang of rain. For a moment, the only sound was the roar of thunder until the door clanged shut.

He watched her for long seconds, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down. Finally, he made a sound deep in his throat… something between a growl and a grunt as he stepped back.

“Humans,” he muttered, shaking his head. “No sense of self- draanthing- preservation.”

Before she could say anything, he turned sharply and walked away, his long legs carrying him quickly to where a group of Izaeans were distributing emergency supplies to the shivering newcomers.

She blinked, unable to do anything but watch him walk away. The wet fabric of his top and pants clung to his skin, pulling across a heavily muscled frame. She realized she was watching his ass and yanked her gaze away to look around.

Even though it was an alien design, the shelter was similar to many others she’d been in. Massive metal support beams creaked overhead as the storm raged outside, its fury all but silenced by the thick walls. It sounded like it was right overhead, but in here, the noise of the weather was cut. Instead, the scrape of crates being stacked and the murmur of voices as workers set up makeshift sleeping and cooking areas filled the air. Lanterns hooked on the beams overhead cast warm light across the rows of cots and half-unpacked supplies. Her stomach grumbled at the promising aroma of hot food wafting from the cooking counters. Nervous about their arrival, she’d skipped breakfast this morning, so it had been nearly a day since she’d eaten.

“Oh my god, can you believe that guy?” A nasally voice cut through her thoughts. She turned to find a tall, blond man with thinning hair in mud-caked boots standing beside her, his shipsuit bearing an engineering division patch. Thompson? Thomason? His name escaped her, even though she’d reviewed the personnel files extensively before the mission.

His thin lips curled in a sneer as he watched the Izaean workers. “Typical alien behavior. They’re all the same, just a bunch of overgrown brutes with more muscle than brains bossing the rest of us about.”

The casual bigotry in his tone made her stomach twist. He gestured around the shelter, his lip curled back. “I mean, look at this place. Herding us all in here rather than taking us to the garrison on the clifftop.”

Before she could remind him that they were guests of the Izaean, and he shouldn’t piss them off, an Izaean, his manner screaming experience and authority, stepped onto an elevated crate at the other end of the shelter.

“The storm has settled in for the night,” he announced, his words punctuated by a particularly violent gust that rattled the shelter’s walls. “No one will be making the trek up to the garrison until conditions improve. We remain here until the weather abates.”

Beside Ashley, the engineer snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Aren’t you Lathar supposed to be advanced or something?” he called out. “Where are the antigrav lifts or, I don’t know… teleporters maybe?”

The shelter fell silent. The Izaean turned, fixing the engineer with a calculating stare like a predator sizing up particularly foolish prey.

“We are not the Lathar,” he stated, each word precise. “We are those the Lathar locked up. If we had an easy solution like antigrav lifts or access to Latharian technology, we would not have required human construction specialists. Would we?”

The warning in his tone was unmistakable. The engineer’s gaze skittered away, his earlier bravado disappearing.

She stepped back, trying not to draw attention to herself or Lila as she ushered her daughter through the crowd toward the promising aroma of food. The last thing she wanted was for their hosts and employers to think she shared the asshole engineer’s prejudiced views.

Wooden tables lined one wall, laden with steaming pots filled with what looked like some kind of grain broth, the scent earthy and inviting. An Izaean passed by, offering thick towels from a basket.

“Thank you,” Ashley murmured, passing one to Lila before running the towel over her dripping hair. Then she blinked as the strange fabric pulled the moisture from their skin and clothes as soon as it made contact.

“Alien instadry towels. Awesome,” Lila breathed, rubbing it over her hair and wet clothing. “God, I’m starving. I wonder what’s to eat?”

They joined the queue of mostly silent humans, taking a mug of the broth and what looked like protein bars wrapped in silvery foil when it was their turn.

“All the luxuries.” Ashley smiled, wagging her bar at Lila as they headed toward the back of the shelter, where the noise level had dropped to a quiet hum and near a heater that kicked out enough heat for her to feel it through her nearly dry clothes.

Movement caught her eye as they settled onto cots next to each other in the corner. Two young Izaeans passed nearby, carrying equipment that seemed almost too heavy for their lanky frames. They looked to be around Lila’s age, their movements gangly and slightly awkward, like they weren’t quite used to their bodies. Only one of them had red eyes and that black stuff over his shoulder and neck, while the other was normal. Ashley snorted as she caught the thought. As normal as an alien could be, anyway. She continued watching them as they took the heavy crate they were carrying over to the food tables. Both sent curious glances toward the humans but quickly looked away when caught staring.

She leaned forward and dabbed at Lila’s face with a corner of the towel, catching the last few raindrops over the freckles on her cheeks.

“Did you see those two?” she asked quietly, nodding toward the two Izaean teens. She watched her daughter’s expression carefully, hoping to spark some interest in potential alien peers. Potential friends. Given they’d moved around a lot as a family, Lila had always struggled with friendships, which worried Ashley more than she’d ever admit.

Lila shrugged and pulled out her music player and earbuds from her carry pack, plugging in and immersing herself in the glowing screen. It was always the same. Faced with the threat of social interaction, her daughter retreated into technology. Ashley sighed and leaned back against the wall behind.

Taking a spoonful of the alien broth, she murmured in pleasure as it slid down her throat to fill her stomach. It was good, slightly earthy but warm and surprisingly filling. Her muscles began to relax as the food and the heater worked their magic, warmth returning to her limbs. Unable to help herself, she scanned the crowd in the shelter, looking for Sy. He wouldn’t have gone out into the storm. Would he? The other alien had said it was too dangerous…

Finally, she spotted him over on the other side of the shelter, speaking to the two teens. Perhaps he knew them. She looked away to watch Lila for a moment, a soft smile on her face. Lila was zoned out, listening to her music, so Ashley drank the rest of her broth and then lay back on her cot. Just a few minutes and she’d get up and take their mugs back to the counter.

It was the last thing she knew.

Sy leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply as the rich scent of wet earth rose from below. After raging through the night and most of the morning, the storm had finally retreated. Wisps of clouds drifted overhead, the landscape washed clean. His muscles remained tense from the long night of weather watching, but at least now they could begin real work. Especially as the second shuttle with the rest of the humans had been able to make planetfall, as had all the cargo shuttles bringing everything they needed that couldn’t be manufactured on the planet.

His position on one of the old watch towers gave him a clear view of the activity below. Humans and Izaeans moved across the muddy clearing with purpose, leaving deep footprints in the softened ground. He had to admit, the humans had surprised him. They’d started work as soon as they could and were quick and efficient. The bare clearing next to the landing pads was now filled with wooden stakes, marking the boundaries of future structures, and the shuttles’ cargo lay organized in neat stacks: metal beams, composite panels, and crates of equipment he didn’t recognize, ready to join the fray.

He turned his head, his gaze finding the human project manager’s distinctive form among the workers. She stood next to a fabrication unit, her movements and body language precise as she directed two humans setting up surveying equipment. She didn’t seem overset by the chaos of the humans’ arrival yesterday. Her spine was straight, shoulders squared, and her voice carried clearly across the site. He focused to hear what she was saying.

“The laser grid needs to account for the grade changes,” she said, gesturing to the uneven ground. “And we’ll need to scan down to make sure there aren’t any surprises before we start digging the foundations.”

Kren, one of the more experienced Izaean laborers, folded his arms over his chest. “It’s dirt. Then more dirt. Unless you’re surprised by dirt, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

She shook her head and activated the device on her wrist, bringing up a holographic display. “This is a quick scan I took of the section near the landing pads. See these density variations in the soil? They’re caused by mineral deposits I’ve never seen before.” Her fingers traced the shifting patterns. “That’s why I want a full scan and to run some stress simulations. If this region gets weather like yesterday a lot, I want to make sure whatever we build can withstand it.”

Kren’s frown deepened as he studied the readout. “Our methods have worked for years.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Ashley’s tone remained even, professional. “But from what I understand, you were building for the environmental conditions of the southern continent?”

Kren nodded grudgingly.

“So different weather patterns, plus these materials we’re using will interact differently with the soil. Watch.”

She moved her hand over the display, and it changed. Sy narrowed his eyes to bring it into focus, something he couldn’t have done before. Turning feral had… surprising advantages. The image appeared to show a simulation of how the proposed foundations would settle over time. Kren’s expression shifted to interest as the data played out, revealing potential stress points their traditional methods might have missed.

“These composites are much stronger than the materials you’ve been using,” she explained, “but that can also be a weakness if they don’t adapt to their environmental conditions. Kind of like a reed bending but not breaking in the wind.”

Kren gave her a blank look at that, which, to be honest, so would he. He had no idea what plant life had to do with construction. It was way too flimsy.

“If you say so, Miss Jackson,” Kren finally relented, and Sy released a small sigh of relief.

It was a small victory but an important one. The success of this project depended on both sides learning to work together to blend the experience on both sides with technological innovation.

Ashley smiled. “Excellent. Let’s get those scanner arrays calibrated. We need baseline readings before the ground dries completely.”

Sy tensed as movement caught his eye. Three ferals emerged from the shadows of the trees, their hulking forms and red eyes impossible to miss, even at this distance. They kept their distance, but their presence sent ripples through the work crews.

One of the humans nearest stumbled, almost dropping his load when he spotted them. The metal bars fell from his trolley to clatter to the ground. Ashley’s head snapped up at the commotion, her gaze finding the ferals with remarkable speed. Instead of showing fear, she merely nodded in their direction before returning to her work.

He pushed away the need to stride over and get between her and the ferals. She was human, and she wasn’t his to protect in that way. Especially when the new arrivals hadn’t made any aggressive moves. They weren’t doing anything, just watching the construction with curiosity. One pointed at the surveying equipment, his head tilted as he grunted at one of his companions.

Banic’s warning rang clear in Sy’s memory. The feral leader had threatened to personally hunt down any feral who caused trouble for their human guests, his words explicit and brutal. But with Banic away searching for the still-missing human women who had crash-landed on the planet with Raalt’s mate, the responsibility of keeping peace fell heavily on Sy’s shoulders.

His gaze drifted back to Ashley as she crouched beside the scanner array, her movements precise and confident. The intelligence in his blood stirred again, stronger this time, but it didn’t say anything. That was the thing. It only spoke rarely and generally only to impart knowledge. His gaze cut across to Tor, working on the opposite side of the site. His younger cousin’s Rage presence wasn’t so amenable. Half the time he wasn’t sure which was in control, Tor or the legion creature who rode in his blood.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of wet earth and machinery as the temporary fencing rattled ominously. It wasn’t there to keep the ferals out—if they wanted in, nothing would stop them—but more to signal to the humans that they shouldn’t stray.

He pushed away from the railing to investigate the loose panel, glad for the excuse to move. His boots crunched on the gritty surface underfoot as he began his perimeter check. Water had pooled in several places around the equipment crates, reflecting the clouded sky above. Several areas were going to need drainage later before they became a problem.

The visiting ferals had settled into a crouch at the edge of the clearing, still watching. He favored them with a look as he passed, letting them know he’d seen them. Knew they were there. But as long as they stayed there, they weren’t going to have a problem.

Ashley’s voice rang out across the site clearly as she directed the placement of support beams. He forced his attention back to his patrol. He had a job to do, and it didn’t include watching a human female like she was the sun, moon, and stars combined.

No. The perimeter needed checking, and the camp needed securing, as much as he could. That was what mattered. Not the way she handled herself with quiet confidence or how the symbiote responded to her presence.

He had a job to do. Everything else was irrelevant.