Mission: Nemesis: Survival Wars, #7

By Anthony James

One last mission. It's a promise familiar to Captain John Duggan. Each final battle has another following it, with another after that. They come to him with the inevitability of death.

His latest task seems no different to the others before it. As events progress, Duggan begins to believe – he starts to see how his life might change at the end of it and how the lives of billions in the Confederation may be saved if he succeeds. This time, his superiors plan no less than the destruction of the Helius Blackstar itself.

Struggling with hints of betrayal from the most unlikely of places, Duggan sets off on this most ambitious of missions. To survive, he must fight his way through a series of tense battles against a fleet of enemy warships in the harshest environments imaginable.

Before he can achieve victory, he must also face the deadliest opponent from all his long years in service. The Class 1 Neutraliser Excoliar is out there in Confederation Space, and until it's defeated humanity will forever be at risk.

Mission: Nemesis is a high-action science fiction adventure and the seventh book in the Survival Wars series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony James
• Release date: May 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224907564

Book preview

MISSION: NEMESIS

One last mission. It’s a promise familiar to Captain John Duggan. Each final battle has another following it, with another after that. They come to him with the inevitability of death.

His latest task seems no different to the others before it. As events progress, Duggan begins to believe – he starts to see how his life might change at the end of it and how the lives of billions in the Confederation may be saved if he succeeds. This time, his superiors plan no less than the destruction of the Helius Blackstar itself.

Struggling with hints of betrayal from the most unlikely of places, Duggan sets off on this most ambitious of missions. To survive, he must fight his way through a series of tense battles against a fleet of enemy warships in the harshest environments imaginable.

Before he can achieve victory, he must also face the deadliest opponent from all his long years in service. The Class 1 Neutraliser Excoliar is out there in Confederation Space, and until it’s defeated humanity will forever be at risk.

Mission: Nemesis is a high-action science fiction adventure and the seventh and final book in the Survival Wars series.

Sign up to my mailing list here to be the first to find out about new releases.

WARGAMES

The defenders were holed up deep in a cave and showed no sign they were willing to surrender. Without heavy weapons, the attackers were limited to firing their gauss rifles blindly into the opening. It was enough to keep the defenders pinned down and they made no effort to launch what would be a suicidal counterattack.

Lieutenant Leo Jones watched from the cover of loose-scattered boulders, less than two hundred metres from the cave’s entrance. The tactical readout from his spacesuit helmet served up non-stop updates for him to consider. The most important limitation for the moment was time – the defenders only needed to hang on for another fifteen minutes before their battleship emerged from lightspeed, at which point it would be game over for Jones and his squad. The men and women he commanded were in a ragged semi-circle, using whatever scant cover was available to them. Every so often, one would fire a gauss rifle, more in hope than any realistic expectation.

Jones scanned the battlefield. The ground was level here, made from smooth, yellow stone, with a peculiarly reflective sheen from the presence of some type of mineral, the type of which he neither knew nor cared to learn. The cavemouth was three or four metres wide and high, one of several at the base of a five hundred metre almost-sheer escarpment. The cliff face jutted from the ground like the teeth of a long-forgotten god.

Overhead, the skies were clear and dark. A trick of the atmosphere caused the stars to magnify when viewed from the surface and they liberally speckled the blackness, yet without providing anything like enough illumination to see clearly. Zelan’s sun was shining on the far side of the planet, leaving the combatants to face each other in temperatures well below zero. Jones didn’t know how or why the battlefield computer had chosen this location. There were hundreds of similar wargames being played out across the surface of the planet. The stats guys probably liked a good cross-section of different arenas, he thought.

These games do not interest me, said Raz-Vol through a private channel. When there is nothing at stake, it is hard to commit fully. The Ghast’s interpreted voice had a rasping edge to it, which the spacesuit language module did its best to smooth off and convert into something human-sounding.

Jones agreed with Raz-Vol’s assessment to a degree. Sometimes it took a real discharge of your weapon in order for these exercises to feel as if they had significance. All they were doing here was firing laser-projecting dummy weapons and waiting for the battlefield computer to say who had been killed. Those who ‘died’ early had to play dead for a mind-numbing two hours until the scenario was completed.

Our troops will see the benefits, Jones said. Our two sides must think as friends if we are to be effective against the Estral threat.

Estral? Pah! We haven’t seen them for nearly two years! They have given up on us.

Jones thought the words strangely dismissive, since the Ghasts and Estral were mortal enemies. They’d split four hundred years previously but the hatred still ran deeply. You may be right. Fear of their return has kept our two species working in harmony since the end of the great war between us. An unrealised threat can have unforeseen benefits.

We Ghasts do not underestimate the threat, but there must be a point at which we accept their arrival is no longer imminent.

Jones looked out from behind his rock with his gauss rifle pressed to his shoulder. The movement and heat sensors from his suit picked up nothing. The opposition squad were content to wait it out and he couldn’t blame them. He ducked away again, admitting to himself that his heart wasn’t in it. The ‘enemy’ squad had rigged up a shielded portable sensor array somewhere on the rock face above the cavemouth. It gave them warning when any troops ran forwards and they were able to pick off the assault by staying a hundred metres inside. There were nine or ten mock-casualties lying motionless in the shadow of the entrance, doubtless wishing they were anywhere except this cold, unwelcoming planet.

Jones took a deep breath in order to bring his mind onto the task in hand. He knew some of the rookies and even a few of the vets treated these exercises seriously. The victors always took the opportunity to lord it up in at the barrack rooms later. Jones owed it to the men and women to give it his best shot.

Listen up - the rebels have an Ultor due in orbit, he said across the open channel. Latest intel suggests we have less than fifteen minutes before it arrives. While we stand here, we’ll be an easy target for an orbital missile strike. Our only hope is to get inside that tunnel and kill those bastards. We’ll be safe from the enemy battleship until then. Reports suggest the rebels have a broadcasting unit we can use to call in reinforcements. They won’t want to risk their lone Ultor against a Confederation fleet.

Sir, they’re too well dug-in, said Corporal Peterson. As soon as we get inside, they’ll pick us off with their rifles as we advance.

There is rarely a solution that will allow a confrontation to end without casualties, said Raz-Vol. He was in the group with Jones, Peterson and a few others. The Ghast towered over all of the humans. He wasn’t wearing a mech suit, preferring an adapted version of the human spacesuits. Even so, the alien was taller and broader than every one of the humans - a giant amongst children. He had one of the Ghasts’ rifles in his hands – it was heavier, slower and packed less of a punch than the human equivalent. In this at least, the Ghasts’ technology hadn’t overtaken that possessed by the Confederation.

We cannot lose this one, growled Rish-Lio, one of the three Ghasts amongst a dozen humans. The language modules couldn’t yet produce an accurate translation of the alien names – there wasn’t always an exact word in the Confederation tongue. The best guess for Rish-Lio was ‘Havok’ and Jones had come across this same word applied to different-sounding Ghast names. There’d be teams of language specialists in the Space Corps, fascinated by the subtleties, but it wasn’t something Jones spent time thinking about.

Team One and Team Two, make a run for the cliff wall. Take up positions to the left and right, said Jones. Team Three, you’re coming with me. We’ll head straight down the centre while One and Two give us cover.

Team Three was the largest of the three teams and was going to suffer the majority of the casualties. Raz-Vol’s words had reminded Jones of the truth about these encounters – they were hazardous and dirty for both sides. There’s no such thing as a war without death, he said to himself.

The first two teams broke away from cover, keeping to a specific pattern that ensured nobody stood in a direct line behind someone else. The gauss projectiles didn’t care how many bodies were in the way – they’d travel through three or four soldiers if they were aimed right, and still have enough energy to travel another few hundred metres out the other side. The battlefield computer could simulate multiple kills from a single shot, so it paid to stay alert.

Team One in position, said Corporal Peterson.

Moments later, Rish-Lio and his team arrived on the opposite side of the cave. Team Two, ready, he said. No shots so far.

Keep them pinned down, said Jones.

Teams One and Two enacted a well-oiled routine. Two members of each team crouched at the side walls and aimed into the depths of the cave. The others lay flat on the ground to minimise their profile while they fired inside.

I’m picking up return fire, said Corporal Peterson. They’re more than one hundred metres back – looks as if there’s a branch in the passage to the left and they’re in there. There’s almost nowhere to hide until we reach them, sir.

I’ve detecting movement from six or seven enemy soldiers, said Rish-Lio. They are fewer than we thought.

Don’t let up, said Jones. He broke cover, feeling the weight of his spacesuit drag against him as he sprinted forward. His footsteps crunched over the thin film of coarse dust on the rock, throwing up grit in his wake. Behind, Raz-Vol and another nine humans followed. Jones had command of this assault, though Raz-Vol technically outranked him. The Ghast had voiced no concern that he’d been given a subordinate position. The aliens rarely complained about anything.

It took thirty seconds to reach the cave entrance and Jones was breathing hard when he got there. He jumped over the body of a fallen soldier and dashed inside. There was hardly any ambient light – even less than there was outside. His helmet sensor fought to correct its feed and distant outlines became hazy-edged greens from the image intensifiers. The spacesuits used by the Space Corps were well-insulated and emitted little discernible heat. However, the movement of the occupants was as easy to detect as ever. The spacesuit identified three or four sources of activity ahead and overlaid them with a clear orange. Jones fired instinctively. He was a good shot but had no way of knowing if he’d hit anything.

I’m down, said Quinn – she was in Jones’s team and there was more resignation in her voice than anything else.

The walls of the cave were near-smooth and offered no shelter, like Corporal Peterson had warned. Orange shapes of movement flashed in and out of sight ahead and to the left, closer with each long stride along the passage. Jones kept his shoulder to the wall, hoping he’d present less of a target and knew the others would be doing the same.

They got me, said Clements.

I’m hit! screamed Smith, hamming up the pain of her simulated injury.

Watch your aim! shouted Corporal Peterson. His voice climbed an octave with the stress and Jones guessed Team Three had suffered a friendly-fire kill. These exercises were hardest of all on the low-ranking officers, since they invariably felt as if they were being judged on the outcome. In this they were correct.

Now they’d realised an all-out assault was underway, the enemy squad were forced into taking greater risks. The movement sensors picked up more activity and the orange highlights became larger and larger. Jones shot a couple of times and was pretty sure he scored at least one hit. When he reached the passage, he dropped to a crouch, tight to the wall and fired a burst of projectiles. Someone ran past him – it was Rish-Lio. The Ghast had broken away from his assigned position in order to take part in the final execution of the enemy squad. He’d need to be reprimanded for it.

Moments later, it was over. The opposition lay dead in a cluster at the entrance to a branching passage from the main one. They’d lost others before reaching the cave - evidently more than Jones had realised - leaving them with hardly anyone to defend against this attack. Even without heavy weapons or grenades, this had been a bad result for both sides and seven of Jones’s squad were also dead, including Rish-Lio, who had been taken out by a burst of gauss fire.

[Scenario Complete] flashed across Jones’s HUD. [Squad A – Lieutenant Leo Jones - Are Victorious].

Well fought, said Jones, speaking to his own squad and the vanquished enemy. You can get up now.

There were many expressions of relief at these words. The dead enemy soldiers who’d holed up in this cave rolled to their feet and one or two patted themselves down. There were no Ghasts amongst them - the alien members of Squad B had been killed much earlier in the scenario in a typically bravado-ridden attempt to achieve an improbable victory at the wrong time.

One of the men made his way to stand before Jones. Sir? It was Corporal Wire – the last of Squad B to fall.

What is it, Corporal?

While we were scouting this cave looking for a way out, we found something.

What sort of something? asked Jones. He was already interested, since there was otherwise nothing of note on Zelan that he was aware of.

It’s metal, sir. There’s a pile of rubble and one of the guys saw something in the middle of it. We didn’t have a chance to take a proper look.

Show me where it is, said Jones.

Corporal Wire bobbed his head in acknowledgement and set off along the side-passage. Jones followed and Raz-Vol came behind. The Ghasts weren’t excessively curious, so there must have been something about this sighting which had got Raz-Vol’s attention.

The passage was high and wide and drifted slightly downwards. Jones wasn’t an expert, but something about the regularity of the walls and floor made him think the place was more than a natural fault in the rock. The passage continued for a couple of hundred metres, before offering a right-hand turn. This new branch looked far more natural – it was a vertical crack in the otherwise featureless surface. The original passage continued onwards, with no sign of ending.

This main route goes on and on, said Corporal Wire. We never did find out where it goes to. This side passage was a whole lot easier to explore.

Lead on, said Jones, waving the corporal through.

The side passage was a tight squeeze at first, particularly for Raz-Vol. The Ghast had to push hard to get through the opening and his suit helmet scraped alarmingly across the wall. After a few metres, it opened out, becoming a wide space.

We thought it was a natural cave or something, sir, said Corporal Wire. It’s pretty big.

Jones looked around and saw Raz-Vol do the same. His helmet sensor sent pings around the cavern and provided an approximate size of the place – it was a few hundred metres across, over one hundred metres high and roughly circular in shape. There were rocks of varying sizes, most of them piled in the middle of the floor.

You might not be able to see it from here but there’s a big hole in the roof, which looks like it caved in at some point and brought all this stone down with it. The funny thing is, when you look at it from closer up, the hole looks like a perfect circle.

The three of them walked across the cavern floor. It took a few moments before Jones noticed something was wrong. No comms in here? he asked.

No sir. Must be something in the walls blocking them. The effect isn’t so bad back the way we came.

The pile of rubble was enormous – dozens of metres high and a couple of hundred across. Once or twice, Jones heard the click-clack noise of smaller stones tumbling away down the sides.

Unstable, grunted Raz-Vol.

There’s a gap between these two boulders, said Corporal Wire. The man raised an arm and pointed at an area of blackness between two huge, unevenly-shaped rocks. It’s not the sort of place I’d willingly stick my own head without being asked, but Padilla’s the man who went in. He says he’s one of mankind’s natural explorers.

What’s in there? asked Jones.

It’s like an angular piece of smooth metal, sir. It’s nearly black and I’m certain there’s a lot more of it than I’ve been able to see.

Black? asked Raz-Vol.

Yes, sir, said Wire. I have no idea what it is.

Raz-Vol pushed his way past Corporal Wire and entered the gap. There was plenty of room and Jones watched the Ghast’s outline vanish from view.

Damnit, he muttered and then followed.

By the time Jones entered the gap, Raz-Vol was out of sight. The noise of the Ghast clambering over stones was clearly audible ahead and there was only one route he could have taken. Jones worked his way fifteen or twenty metres into the rock pile. He imagined the weight of the rocks above and did his best to ignore the thought of them crashing down.

He found Raz-Vol. The Ghast had stopped in a tight space amongst the rocks. There was room for Jones to come alongside and he did so. He picked up something in the Ghast’s demeanour – clearly noticeable even within the anonymity of the spacesuit. It could have been shock or uncertainty. Perhaps fear.

The Ghast reached out a hand and rubbed his palm over the smooth surface of something alien to this planet. Realising he’d been relying on the image intensifiers up till now, Jones switched on the helmet light. The illumination was stark and harsh in the confines of the space and it highlighted the flat side of something metal. At least he assumed it was metal, since it was darker in shade than any other metal he could recall seeing. Whatever it was, it was impossible to tell how large it was. Here and there, he could see flashes of its surface through the rocks above, and it vanished below, seemingly into the ground itself.

What is it? he asked Raz-Vol, sensing the Ghast had seen similar before.

Raz-Vol didn’t answer at once. When he did, it was with the barely-inflected words of his suit’s language modules. I don’t know.

The longer the human-Ghast alliance persisted, the better the language modules became at translating nuances in the aliens’ speech. There was something in Raz-Vol’s words which caused Jones to hesitate.

Estral? he asked.

I don’t know, Raz-Vol repeated.

I’ll have to tell my superiors what we’ve found.

The Ghast stiffened at the words and Jones was taken aback at the reaction. It was as if Raz-Vol wished for this object to remain unfound. It wasn’t the time or place to press for answers, so Jones worked his way back through the rocks and re-joined the others. It was a full five minutes before the Ghast followed.

CHAPTER ONE

The Tilser military base on planet Overtide was the third largest in the Confederation. Decades previously, expansion into the Garon sector had been aggressive and actively encouraged by the Council. At the time, this sector was viewed as humanity’s new frontier, to be populated and its resources exploited. As a consequence, the Space Corps had invested heavily in new facilities, only to subsequently find there were no other habitable planets within acceptable lightspeed range. Atlantis was the last to be found and after that there was nothing within months of high-speed travel.

Thus, the eyes of the Confederation turned elsewhere in search of expansion. The Overtide facilities remained but their expansion was brought to a halt, upon which moment their gradual, inevitable decline began. That is, until the discovery of the Estral threat. Not long after this hostile species began concerted efforts to invade through the Helius Blackstar wormhole, the money began pouring once more into the Tilser facility.

The base and its adjacent shipyard were now home to a quarter of a million workers, not including the many hundreds of thousands more who operated and worked in the resulting supply chain. The activity hardly slowed, whichever hour of the day one cared to check. When Overtide’s long evening came, a vast series of lights embedded in the ground, the walls of the buildings and mounted on high poles, took the place of the sun and ensured the transition to night had no effect on the base’s activities, which continued unabated.

There was a metal-walled underground bunker on the base. This wasn’t a bunker in the traditional sense, to be used as a refuge for those lucky enough to be permitted inside. This bunker was huge – it was four thousand metres long, fifteen hundred wide and a thousand deep. Reinforced roof doors – of a similar size to the bunker itself - could be made to slide lengthways to open or close access from above. There were rooms and corridors, but most of the bunker was no more than a hole in the ground, wherein the Space Corps could work on its larger, more secretive projects without labouring under constant scrutiny.

Captain John Nathan Duggan was in one of the rooms, situated high up on one of the longer two walls. It afforded an excellent view onto the floor below, as it had been intended to. Duggan stared downwards, his expression unreadable. He visited this room on most days, to