Domination (A C.H.A.O.S. Novel) - By Jon Lewis Page 0,18

if he was willing to kill his own people, what would he do to those who opposed him?”

Agent O’Keefe called up a transport vehicle that materialized on the street not far from where they were standing. They all piled in, and Rhane drove them through abandoned city streets lined with propaganda posters that were weathered and torn, each showing Koenig in his human form.

“That’s it,” he said, pointing to a massive domed structure on the horizon. “The reactor core that will power the gateway is inside those walls. Now all you have to do is find a way to get inside and blow it up. But let’s save that adventure for another day. I’m thinking we should start with something easy . . . Agent O’Keefe?”

“Yes, Agent Rhane?” O’Keefe’s voice replied through a loudspeaker.

“You still have Goliath cued up?”

“That I do.”

“What would you say to activating him? I wonder if our young cadets could survive for at least ten minutes.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” O’Keefe said, and suddenly Goliath loomed before them in the street.

It was all over quickly. Phantom Squad didn’t last to the five-minute mark, and Agent O’Keefe gave them all a failing grade.

“Like it matters,” Pierce grumbled.

“What do you mean by that, Cadet Pierce Bowen?” Glyph asked.

“We can’t beat the Thule no matter what we do.”

The words haunted Colt for the rest of the day.

Pierce wasn’t the first person to think that things were hopeless, and he wasn’t going to be the last. People were flocking to remote locations by the tens of thousands. It was impossible for grocery stores to keep canned goods and bottled water on the shelves. Churches, synagogues, and mosques were filled to capacity around the clock. A few days earlier Colt and the other squad leaders had even been briefed about a group that was starting to worship the Thule in hopes that they would be shown mercy once Earth was conquered.

But this was different. Pierce was brash. Arrogant. Overbearing. He had never—not once—shown any kind of weakness or vulnerability. So why now? Had his dad told him that the next attack was going to happen any day? Did he find out the president was actually a shape-shifting Thule? Or was he just mentally and emotionally exhausted, like everyone else?

Colt looked up at the clock tower. It wasn’t quite three in the afternoon, which meant he had an hour before he was to report to the training facility for more hand-to-hand combat lessons with Lieutenant Lohr, the Tharik from a wooded planet called Nemus who looked like Bigfoot fused with a robot. Instead of going back to his dorm, he found an empty study room in the library that had a warm fire blazing in the hearth.

The tension left his body as he sat in an overstuffed leather chair and kicked his boots up onto the coffee table. Between the warm air and soft throw pillows, it didn’t take long for his eyes to grow heavy. He blinked once and then twice, fighting to stay awake, but his head fell against his shoulder and he could feel the drool sliding down the corner of his mouth.

“Colt?”

Startled, he sat up, and for a moment he wasn’t sure where he was. He shook his head and turned around, and saw Miranda Patel standing beside the fireplace.

“I thought that was you,” she said. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be training for your new job?”

Colt swiped the drool from his chin and forced a smile. “Oh . . . um, yeah,” he said, trying to kick-start his brain so he could form a clear thought. “I, ah . . . well, we had practice this morning.” He tried to stand up but slipped on his backpack and fell back into his chair. “You’re talking about the Phantom Flyer thing, right?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” he said, kicking his backpack out of the way so he could stand without making a fool of himself. “So what have you been up to?” He leaned against the chair, then stood up straight when he realized how lame he must look.

“I got stood up for lunch the other day,” Miranda said.

“Really? By who?”

“You.”

“Wait, you were serious?” Colt said, still finding it hard to believe that Miranda Patel actually wanted to have lunch with him.

“Of course. What about—”

“Attention, all cadets,” a synthesized voice said through the speakers in the ceiling. “Jackal, Blizzard, Lightning, Phantom, and Anvil Squadrons need to report to Helipad Delta immediately. I repeat,