Domination (A C.H.A.O.S. Novel) - By Jon Lewis Page 0,1

the front steps of the White House, claiming victory. The speech was meant to inspire, but the words were hollow. Everyone knew that the Thule didn’t lose. They simply disappeared back through the portals, and when they returned, humanity would need more than luck to survive. They’d need a miracle.

“There you are.”

Colt turned when he heard Danielle Salazar’s voice through the speakers in his battle helmet. Like the other CHAOS cadets who had been called into service, she wore an exoskeleton called a Whitlock Armor System that made her look like a modern version of a medieval knight.

Each suit cost more than a beach house on Coronado Island, but it was equipped with power cells, processors, and an operating system that enhanced speed and strength by nearly double. The ceramic plates and ballistic mesh were stronger than metal, and the entire system was sealed and temperature-controlled. A breathing apparatus filtered the air, allowing the wearer to enter toxic atmospheres with minimal risk. In a pinch it could be used underwater, but the oxygen supply only lasted ten minutes.

Danielle’s helmet was equipped with auto-targeting software that linked to both her sniper rifle and her .45-caliber handgun. The technology made it hard to miss, not that she needed the help. In the few weeks that she had been training, Danielle had shown herself to be a natural marksman, rising to the top 10 percent in her class.

Here they were, sophomores in high school, and yet they were already assigned to what the Department of Alien Affairs called an Elite Combat Squad. Each ECS had nine members: a squad leader and eight other cadets who were divided into Alpha and Bravo teams. Alpha teams typically specialized in recon while Bravo teams were the heavy gunners, but cadets trained to be interchangeable.

Their primary directive was to find and eliminate hostile alien life forms, which was why they took to calling themselves “exterminators” whenever their commanding officers weren’t around. With the bulk of the military mobilized, the cadets were all that was left to sweep the evacuation sites that had been decimated in the attacks.

“What happened?” Danielle asked. “You were supposed to meet me at the rendezvous twenty minutes ago. Commander Webb didn’t even know where you were.”

Colt glanced at the heads-up display inside his visor. According to the US Naval Observatory Master Clock, he was only sixteen minutes and thirty-two seconds late, but he got the point. He had been named leader of Phantom Squad, which meant that he was supposed to keep everyone else on task, not the other way around.

“Did you turn off your comlink or are you just ignoring us?” she pressed.

“The signal must be scrambled. All I heard was static.”

“Can you hear me now?”

Colt hated it when she used that condescending tone. “Yeah, but it’s probably because you’re standing next to me.”

Danielle placed her hands on her hips the way his mom used to do when she was upset with him. “Then find a tech and get it fixed, or Commander Webb is going to demote you and put Pierce in charge.”

Though they weren’t related by blood, Danielle was the sister Colt never had and the daughter his mom always wanted after giving birth to eight boys. Growing up, their families spent most vacations and major holidays together, and he was fairly certain there were more pictures of Danielle in his family scrapbooks than there were of him.

“Look, I’m sorry.” His eyes drifted back to the little girl. “It’s just that none of this makes sense. I mean, why the suburbs and not a military base . . . or the White House?”

“It’s not like they didn’t try,” Danielle said. “They knocked the portico off the Lincoln Memorial and then blew the head off the statue.”

“But why not assassinate the real thing?”

“Fear.”

“What?”

“It’s symbolic,” Danielle said. “I mean, yeah, there’s a good chance they could have killed the president, but in some ways this is worse. By destroying a symbol like Lincoln’s statue, they made a statement . . . the same statement they made here and in Alexandria and everywhere else. They want us to know that nobody is safe—they could show up anytime, anywhere, and we can’t stop them.”

Colt felt a sense of hopelessness wash over him as he watched a Boeing CH-47 Chinook helicopter hover in the distance, its tandem rotors scattering debris. He hadn’t thought of it that way, and as much as he wished it weren’t true, Danielle was probably right. The Thule understood the power