Domination (A C.H.A.O.S. Novel) - By Jon Lewis Page 0,34

trajectory so that he shot straight up, and that’s when he saw the sky open up.

The Hydra looked like a flying aircraft carrier as it emerged from the portal, light dancing across the surface. It had a hangar, eight rotors that kept it aloft, and two long flight decks filled with dozens of Taipan fighters.

“What is that thing?” Pierce asked as he pulled up beside Colt, who was hovering near a green flag decorated with the familiar symbol of the Department of Alien Affairs: a white hand with three long fingers.

“A Delta Class Hydra, which means there could be a thousand Thule on board, not to mention twenty Taipan.”

“What about those?”

Colt looked up to see three massive figures drop from the sky. They were little more than specks at first, but as they neared the ground, he could see that each one was at least thirty feet tall and wrapped in a thick iron hide.

“Trackers!” Oz shouted as the first landed, sending a tremor across the entire campus.

People rushed out of the stadium in a blind panic as the second Tracker landed near the first. The third Tracker landed outside the stadium, amber eyes glowing like spotlights as its head swiveled as though it was searching the campus grounds.

Colt hovered, watching the events unfold like a spectator in someone else’s nightmare. A Thule transport landed nearby; the hatch opened, and at least twenty-six armed aliens poured out.

The crowd was screaming. Colt prayed that Grandpa McAlister had gotten Lily to safety as DAA agents opened fire on the Thule, who attacked in kind. One of the agents flew in on a jet pack and shot a rocket launcher that hit the Tracker in its knee, but it only left a burn mark.

Colt looked up again and saw three Apache helicopters release Hellfire missiles that pounded the Tracker. It staggered but somehow kept its feet and answered the attack with a hail of missiles that erupted from the launcher on its shoulder.

One hit an Apache, piercing the hull. Fire and smoke billowed as the helicopter fell, spinning slowly until it hit the ground.

“I saw Lily,” Oz said. “She followed a bunch of people into the admin building.”

“On it,” Colt said as he flew over the top of the stadium and out toward the campus grounds. Thanks to the jet pack, it didn’t take long to reach the front steps of the administration building. He looked around for anything he could use as a weapon and saw a DAA agent facedown, his hand still wrapped around the barrel of an assault rifle.

Colt approached cautiously, knowing it could be a trap. He tapped the agent with the tip of his boot; the man didn’t budge, so he tried again. Nothing. Heart pounding, he picked up the assault rifle, but the magazine was empty.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he listened to the faint echoes of someone screaming. He tossed the assault rifle on the steps, knelt beside the fallen agent, and unlatched the holster that held the man’s handgun. Colt half expected him to stand up, or at least to reach out and grab his wrist, but he didn’t budge.

“Thank you.” Colt wanted to say more, to thank him for sacrificing his life. He wondered if the man had children, and how they would react once they learned that their father was dead.

Another scream. The sound of something heavy crashing against the floor. Colt felt the weight of the gun in his hand and remembered what Grandpa had said, that there was no glory in killing. Did that go for the Thule as well? Did they have hopes and dreams, or were they soulless killing machines?

He slipped inside the building, the gun held to his chest as his eyes searched the reception area. There were splatters of green liquid on the ground, which he assumed was blood from the Thule. A trail of drops led toward Director Thorne’s office. Colt removed the magazine from the handgun to make sure it was full; then he checked the chamber and found an extra round, which meant that he had thirteen shots. It wasn’t enough to take down one of the Thule unless he got lucky and hit it in the eye, but it was better than nothing.

Two more DAA agents were lying on the floor in the hallway. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble,” Colt whispered, reciting the verse from Grandpa’s medallion as he