Information was the most critical resource on the battlefield—a lifeline I sorely lacked due to my limited capabilities. Without it, every move I made was reactive, not strategic.

The enemy would attack again, replenishing their numbers as I replenished mine. This endless cycle favoured them. They held the advantage and knew it. Each battle chipped away at my resources while they dictated the pace of the conflict.

They enemy must have mapped the moon's surface already, a vital edge I did not possess. My knowledge was limited to fragmented memories—locations of past mining operations left behind by the previous swarm. But a comprehensive understanding of the moon's terrain was absent. It had never been a priority for the former swarm, which had fixated entirely on terraforming efforts.

I had plans of altering the minds or bodies of captives but it was no longer an option. I had no doubt they possessed methods to detect even the most subtle tampering, much like I could. Any attempt would alert them, further deepening their mistrust of any captives I released.

To secure victory, I needed to utilize the most unassuming organisms—forms so basic they would escape notice entirely especially ones indistinguishable from the natural ones microorganisms produced by clone bodies.

The microorganisms themselves would remain basic at first, dormant and harmless. But after a predetermined period, I would trigger their evolution, gradually advancing their complexity.

Each phase of this controlled growth would bring them closer to achieving their true purpose parasites.

Designing parasites to infiltrate the enemy was a gamble, but one with the potential for enormous payoff. If even a single parasite could find a suitable host within their ranks, I could potentially alter the host's body, granting me access to critical systems, intelligence, and decision-making processes.

And if full control proved impossible, there was still an alternative: to weaken or cripple the enemy leadership from within. A host compromised at the biological level could sow chaos, disrupt their command structure, and provide the opening I needed to turn the tide of battle.

This, however, was only the first part. My intelligence sub-mind had already begun brainstorming additional strategies for more immediate results. The next wave of scouts was under development, They would continue their original mission, to survey the moon’s surface while burrowers worked to construct hidden tunnels below. Within a week, the new scouts would begin their operations, mapping enemy movements and uncovering key weaknesses.

The final and most ambitious element of the plan involved exploiting the debris field above the battlefield. A modified version of the scouts, capable of carrying hive carriers, would navigate the floating wreckage to infiltrate the enemy ships directly. Though the chances of success were slim, a single breach could provide unprecedented access to their systems and operations.

Each plan carried its risks, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The battlefield demanded adaptation, and with the relative advantage I now had—my mind no longer burdened by the constant task of micromanaging drones—it was time to consider a new strategy. I needed more bodies to control, extensions of my consciousness that could act autonomously yet remain intricately linked to my overarching will.

The solution was clear clones of my main body, with parallel manifestations of my mind and will, each dedicated to a distinct task. This was more than just delegation. I projected that I would need at least seven additional clones to address the multitude of challenges facing me.

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Each clone would function as a specialized unit, focusing on distinct problems while simultaneously advancing our collective goals.

I would need a weapon design specialist dedicated to designing new and more effective armaments for future drone variants, this clone would experiment with integrating biological and etheric capabilities into our arsenal.

And armour optimization unit tasked with enhancing defensive capabilities, particularly against the enemy’s energy weapons and crystalline barriers.

A fleet deterrent engineer this clone’s sole purpose would be to develop a weapon or drone powerful enough to directly threaten their transport fleet, levelling the playing field in this war.

An infiltration and espionage specialist: focusing on perfecting the microorganisms and other subtle infiltration methods already in play, this unit would evolve our capacity for subterfuge.

A biomechanics specialist to create more efficient and adaptable combat clones, this unit would explore hybrid designs that pushed the boundaries of biological innovation.

Burrowing operations overseer dedicated to improving burrower drone efficiency and the expansion of our subterranean networks, ensuring safe and rapid movement beneath the surface.

Resource allocation strategist this clone would monitor and optimize the use of biomass, energy, and time to maintain the swarm’s sustainability and momentum.

I would be focusing entirely on understanding the enigmatic mental sphere that loomed within the etheric plane, this would work to unlock its secrets and discover its potential applications in our war effort.

I envisioned this network of clones as an extension of myself, each acting as a specialized mind within the hive. By distributing my mental load, I would increase my efficiency and ensure that no critical aspect of our survival was overlooked.

While one clone dissected the properties of the crystalline shards in enemy helmets, another could devise countermeasures for their devastating energy weapons.

This multiplicity of minds would allow me to accelerate innovation. The creation of powerful new weapon systems or even a fleet deterrent could dramatically shift the balance of power. I could already imagine a biological weapon capable of latching onto their ships, severing their etheric connections, or rendering their systems inert—such a tool would be a game-changer.

The clones would also free up my primary consciousness to focus on unravelling the mystery of the mental sphere. Its presence remained a thorn in my mind, a constant enigma that begged for understanding.

If it could be harnessed or weaponized, it might provide the key to overwhelming the enemy, not just in battle but in the war as a whole.

This strategy was not without risks. The creation of clones would strain my resources and leave me temporarily vulnerable as biomass and energy were diverted to their gestation. But the payoff would be immeasurable. Each new body I created would strengthen the swarm, pushing us closer to true dominance over this battlefield.

Desperate times required bold measures, and I was prepared to act decisively.

It took several hours for the first of the seven clones to fully form, and it became immediately apparent that their creation carried an unforeseen cost. I hadn’t anticipated the strain—each clone required a substantial portion of my resources, and the process left an unexpected toll on my primary body.

As the most complex organism within the swarm, the burden of replication was far greater than anticipated. Yet, there was no turning back. With limited options, I allowed the seven to proceed with their assigned tasks. The workshop was already bustling, with architects constructing additional bio-fabricators to accelerate production, while burrowers worked tirelessly to expand the walls, carving out more space for the growing operation.

I redirected my attention to the etheric plane, focusing on the enigmatic sphere that severed my connection to the broader etheric network. Its presence was an ever-present barrier, denying me access to the vast expanse of energy beyond.

Surrounding me was a roiling tempest of raw etheric energy, churning in chaotic, ceaseless motion. The storm raged around me like a living entity, yet its violent currents did not harm me. Instead, they called to something deep within—primal.