Warmongers wrath the wre.., p.1
Warmonger's Wrath (The Wrecking Squad Book 3), page 1
Warmonger's Wrath
The Wrecking Squad Book 3
Nick Snape
Nick Snape
Copyright © 2025 by Nick Snape
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information please use: nick@nicksnape.com
First Edition
First edition August 2025
Book Cover by Getcovers.com
www.nicksnape.com
(No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the production of this work. The author expressly prohibits the use of this publication as training data for AI technologies or large language models (LLMs) for generative purposes. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative Al training and the development of LLMs.)
Also by Nick Snape
Weapons of Choice Series
Hostile Contact
Return Protocol
Zuri's War
Finn's War
Alien Rebirth
Invasive Species
Legion Earth
Nemesis Earth
The Wrecking Squad Series
The Wrecking Squad
Butcher’s Folly
Warmonger’s Wrath
Scarva's Revenge
The Scorching Standalones
The World in My Hands
Just Press Play
Warriors of Spirit and Bone
A Dragon of the Veil
A City of Ashes
A Queen in Blood
Praise for the Author
'A masterful voice in modern sci-fi’ ★★★★★ SPR
‘Nick Snape's creative storytelling, rich world-building, and engaging characters make this book an unforgettable journey.’ ★★★★★ Literary Titan
‘Stunning series. Very highly recommended.’ ★★★★★ Goodreads
‘Sci-fi with pace, heart and unafraid to tackle deeper questions of what it means to be human.’ ★★★★★ Amazon Customer
‘Wildly creative’ ★★★★½ Self-Publishing Review
For Bryan
Thank you for the belief
Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
46. Chapter 46
47. Chapter 47
48. Chapter 48
49. Chapter 49
The Wrecking Squad Series
About the Author
Books by Nick Snape
Acknowledgements
Wrecking Squad Free Novella
Chapter 1
“Hooowwweeeeee. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Say that again, Schmid. Interference is a pain in your ass right now.”
“I said, Lanik, can you see what I’m seeing?” replied Schmid. “Because I got my eyes on the prize right now and it’s got ‘fuck yeah’ written all over it. That baby is a Navy cruiser. We’re talking about the salvage find of the century.”
Lanik sighed, rubbing his eyes with gloved hands. “Which part of ‘no’ did you not understand in the phrase ‘no salvage’, Schmid? You can look, but not steal, end of conversation, understand?”
“Come on, Lanik. They don’t mean the ship. They want what’s on the inside. That armour plating alone will have us on the beach sipping cocktails while fish eat the dead skin off our toes,” Schmid’s voice was almost wistful over comms.
Lanik felt a little nauseous at the image and checked the salvager’s camera feed. Spinning gently in the distance was the central asteroid, their target, and somehow attached to it, a derelict Almaarian cruiser that looked as if it had lost numerous battles in its last few years. The rear warped, engines scorched, and as Lanik zoomed in, he suspected not all the damage was as old as it appeared.
“Thinking it’s had a recent electrical fire,” he mused, again rubbing his tired eyes, cold fingers inside his gloves numb as they squeezed. “Hey Candia, we getting the heating back on soon?”
“Ten minutes, Bossman,” came Candia’s reply. “Whoever serviced this last didn’t have a fucking clue what they were doing. You should sack them and find someone new.”
“That was you, darlin’,” Lanik smirked. Same old, same old.
“It was? Damn, I need retraining. Start-up sequence initiated. Ten minutes on the nose, Lanik.”
“Good to hear, because I ain’t collecting pay cheques this big with frozen fingers.”
“Or enjoying them with frozen balls. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard them all before. And no, I ain’t warming them up for you. There’s a water bottle in the galley. Candia is fucking out of here.” The comms went dead to the sound of Lanik’s gentle sigh.
One day.
He clicked on the comms, while scanning the data feed from the probes circling the asteroid field. “Schmid, how’s the highway to hell? Is it clear?”
“Data says yes, but my gut says no,” replied Schmid, his tone suddenly serious. “Riding these ‘fields ain’t all about the facts, Lanik. Sometimes you get the sense of it. Do you know what I mean? The way the rocks fly isn’t all about the physics; some have a mind to go a-walkin’ and then you is in the shit. One tear in the wrong place, and your soul gets sucked out along with your spirit-water.”
Yeah, ‘spirit’. The vodka kind, knowing Schmid.
“Roger that, Schmid. It’s why we brought you. Keep me posted.” Lanik signed off, but kept a close eye on the auto-works Schmid was overseeing. The swirl of the shattered asteroids around the central target had set his bowels creaking when they’d first arrived. Schmid hadn’t been confident either when they fired up the autoship intercepts and their additional shielding. But Lanik had to admit, the old bastard knew his stuff. Three days in, and he had devised a corridor through the battering rock and dust particles ready to allow the first probe safe entry. The additional data had made the next day a cascade of successes, leaving them looking at a safety corridor wide enough to send in a team.
He watched as the old soak guided the combination of autoships and mini-bots through the outer layers of the corridor, nudging a trajectory here and there, while leaving others stationed and continually micro-adjusting positions as they fed off shared predictive data.
“Lanik, you there?” Schmid said, transmitting the ‘highway to hell’ as the bossman had dubbed it, onto the cockpit’s screen.
Lanik coughed, placing the coffee flask on the console. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I think we’re done. All signs are in the green, and my gut’s stopped grumbling at me. Reckonin’ your team can take a look-see whenever you’re ready.” Schmid flagged multiple data points, matching them with the highway. “These are stable for forty-eight hours. After that, I’m making no guarantees. The rest are good for seventy-two to eightyish. I can recalculate that if need be as we go. That enough time? Actually, fuck that, it’s all you’re getting.”
Lanik took a sip, eyes running over the information. The team could be ready in an hour. Forty-seven hours would give them a chance to map the ship with auto-drones, take most, if not all, of the samples required and start the process of analysis. With a ship’s map, they could leave some of the probes in combo with the drones to explore and work on any additional surveys they may need. Better to do that towards the end of the safe period.
“Senak, Timin, we’re up. Good job, Schmid.”
By the time Lanik was suited up, the rest of the survey team had prepped and stored the survey equipment inside a remote activated ship ‒ a simple hollowed-out transport equipped with thrusters to save on their own fuel. With the cargo doors open, Senak directed the transport out of the hold with each of them tethered to three of the upper corners. Taking directives from Schmid’s autoships and bots, they were soon entering the corridor.
“Hells’ highway,” said Lanik, watching while rocks flew by the outer reaches of the void Schmid had created. Just one of those could kill them in any number of ways. “Fucking space. Why the hell did I choose life in a vacuum that doesn’t give a shit if you live or die?”
“Because it’s better than Almaar, where society doesn’t give a shit if a lowlife lives or dies, either. At least out here, you get to feel a little more free. More equal,” replied Senak.
Timin snorted. “In space, no one can hear you philosophise. Except me, of course. Don’t listen to him, Bossman. He’s here because he’s on the run from the Court police. I’m here because he’s on the run and he’d be dead without me.”
“Still free. Life might be a little shorter, but … fuck, Bossman. Is that a Navy ship?” asked Senak. “Cos it’s looking well worse for wear.”
Lanik glanced up from the data stream in his HUD and eyed the cruiser. His first assessment appeared valid. It had suffered at the hands of the ‘field, no doubt. But the scorch marks that spread outwards from the numerous breaches seemed recent. Space weathering had not taken its due yet. How recent, maybe the survey would be able to tell.
Senak directed them towards the stern, heading for the largest of the breaches where the ship had suffered most as it twisted and warped. As their transport slowed and redirected thrusters away from the detritus covering the asteroid, Lanik spotted something unusual.
“You got that. Senak?”
“What?” he replied.
“I do,” said Timin. “Odd dust patterns near the rear engines. Want me to go look, Bossman?
After Lanik confirmed, Timin untethered and dropped towards the rear of the huge cruiser. His camera feed gave a poor view of where he was headed, the quality of the survey suits measured by robustness rather than the on-board systems. That was what the probes and drones were for. Even so, as the salvager landed, Lanik had enough of a view.
“Are those pinions?” he asked.
“Yes, and by the colouration of the impact hole, pretty recent. Take a look.” Timmins dropped nearer, allowing the camera a better view. “Guessing, but those appear to be stock Karal kit.”
“No fucking way anyone got in here,” said Senak. “No way. This Rebekah Khan’s shit? Did they get in? Victor said …”
“Victor Goncho says a lot. Sometimes I even believe every third word,” replied Lanik. He eyed the cruiser, judging the pinion’s position against the ship itself and the breaches he could make out. Victor had hinted that whatever was inside the asteroid field had a value they should only measure by the contract. But information was power, and Goncho was after more than just money. He, and the creepy Sabier, wanted payback. Anything they could glean about Khan and the Sunstar, and the events around what happened to the original crew of the Maverick was fair game and added to his cut of the commission. The Incini hadn’t stipulated any of that in the contract, so fuck ‘em according to Goncho. “Senak, launch dual probes. Map the tail section; find us a way in. Keep me informed of anything that looks like another team was here first.”
Schmid unclipped his magboots, left his lap belt on, and crossed his legs as he slapped them onto the galley table. The clear liquid in his flask sloshed a little, so he took a sip, ensuring none would go to waste. The bitter-sharp taste of the vodka flooded his senses, topping up the alcohol levels swirling about his blood.
“Ahhhh,” he said, exhaling with contentment. “The first is always the best. Until the next one.”
Candia eyed the older man, wisps of grey hair floating in the zero grav about his ears, dulled eyes rimmed in shadow with veins of red punctuating the dark.
“What you looking at, girl?” he said. It wasn’t a question, more a fuck off and stop being so rude.
She tipped her own flask, letting the liquid moisten her lips. “An old sot, taking what could be his last drink.”
“Every drink could be the last. Every breath, every mouthful of food. Live life however the hell you wanna. And I ain’t living your life, I’m living mine.” His legs dropped from the table, and Schmid leaned closer. “Remember that. Yeah? Live how you want, not some other sad fucker’s way that you didn’t choose.”
Candia glared. Though she’d heard the same words uttered regularly from the old goat’s mouth, they still rankled.
The alarm blared, shrieking at her and her drunken companion. Candia pushed herself up from the bench, and clomped to the junction, heading for the cockpit. Alarms were a mainstay of life aboard ship.
She dropped into the pilot’s chair and swiped the console to reveal its source. If it was the heating system, she had plans on downing Schmid’s entire bottle before tackling it.
It wasn’t.
“What the fuck?” she said, and flicked over to the cameras. Alcoholic breath spewed over her shoulders as Schmid arrived at her side. She ignored it, flicking over the feed until she had a starboard view. Nothing appeared amiss until the light streaming into the camera cut off. A shadow. Exactly what the alarms had warned her of, but it was impossible.
Or at least, impossibly big.
“Is that …?” The comms squawked, and she slipped the headset on.
“Do not attempt to run. We repeat: do not attempt to run. You are intruding on a war grave. Prepare to be boarded. I repeat, cut all engines.”
Schmid gagged, thankfully turning away and preventing the contents of his stomach from making an appearance. Candia swore, flicking through more of the Maverick’s camera feeds. The ship, or at least parts of the Almaarian Battleship, came into view. Huge, ominous. Across its bow, the word Segfi was stencilled.
“Oh no,” she said, and swiped through the menu, hand hovering over the engine controls. “Live your life.”
The engines kicked in, thrusting the salvage ship into rapid acceleration. The hull thudded, as if rain splattered onto a window. Cannon rounds pierced the metal-skin, shattering wire and plexi-glass as they went. A round ripped through her elbow, severing her forearm, and in shock, she watched the errant limb float away. A second tore into her shoulder, a third smashed through her chest. Ribs parted; a heart exploded. A rag doll, lifeblood pouring into the ship to merge with Schmid’s.
A last thought never completed.
The body was sprawled on the frozen deck. One hand, formed of dehydrated human, melded to the metal, fingers spread wide like the tentacles of an octopus. The forearm curved as if the bones had warped, leading to a shoulder that retained the semblance of a Navy uniform. Whoever they had been was lost as the face crumbled and wafted away at Lanik’s gentle touch.
“Fuck,” said Senak, stepping towards the crimson sac the once-human thing had apparently emerged from. He changed his mind, moving away with a sickened glance towards Timin, who stood stock still, his frosted visor locked onto the tangled mess emerging from the foul sac.
“On that we agree,” said Timin, voice harsh, the words almost forced. He turned away, heading out of the cabin and back into the relative calm of the burnt-out corridor.
Lanik stood, brushing hybrid dust into the container, his stomach churning away with the horror of what he’d just done. In a second plas-glass container, he dropped a canine tooth.
The ship shook. A tremor that rattled the hull. Moans and groans reverberated through the metal, though no sound travelled the airless corridors. Ash rose amid the vibrations, shimmering in their lights as they all pounded towards the junction.
“Oh shit. Ship quake,” said Timin, reaching the junction first, turning back to face Lanik. “Fucking horrors. Ship bloody shakes. What the f—” Timin exploded. His suit burst, blood and gristle splattering the junction walls, globules spiralling along the corridors. What remained of his body collapsed, half-floating in the low grav as more of him was drawn out to forge a briefly crimson mist.
Lanik’s comms crackled. “Halt. Remain where you are. You are trespassing on a war grave.”
Before he had a chance to respond, the deck reverberated, and a large armoured suit shoved Timin disdainfully aside. The visor defrosted, and the scarred face of a space marine stared back, carbine raised and aimed his way. On their sleeves sat the insignia of the 6th and High.
“On the word of Countess Segfi, you and your crew are judged and found guilty.”
Chapter 2
Davina eased back into the plump couch, eyes feeling a little dreamy as she allowed the alcohol to soothe her mind. The three low echelon company executives were engaged in a slightly drunken debate about the future of Karal Mining. The consensus being that it would not be long before they would be forced to sell out their current mining rights and move the entire operation to ensure efficiency gains as they tapped into a new and currently unexploited outer section of the field. They were, as usual, debating the pros and cons of such a tactic, while occasionally seeking her views on some of the specifics around the survey she had dropped in their laps a few hours beforehand. Under Mr Duboit’s ‒ the real Mr Duboit’s ‒ guidance, she had manipulated ‒ bribed ‒ the results of several surveys from some of the smaller teams Karal had sent out a couple of years back. At the time, what they found had a medium-level wealth potential, and Karal had bought the rights. A sound investment, one whose worth was rising day-by-day as the resource-hungry Court spread their influence into the outer colonies, and quite possibly re-armed.
