Every choice you make has a consequence. That small phrase has held throughout history, and right now, that reaction is actively moving above.

Immediately after the battle, their reinforcements arrived and set up a perimeter, gathering dead and wounded alike. That was great news for me, seeing the parasite spread around meant a greater spread. They worked for hours gathering what could be reused, stripping parts of the base down.

Before a large portion of them had left, wherever they went held to my advantage before everything went from bad to worse. Over the past few hours, large columns of transport and armour started arriving, offloading troops and equipment. The war sub-mind and I had calculated the worst-case scenario, and this was our worst situation.

The intelligence sub-mind had started to gather insight on possible troop numbers. As hours passed, they had started to surpass the eight-thousand mark. Above their base, a large warship arrived. It loomed like a silent predator, one of their larger attack ships used during their genocidal campaign—its dark industrial form painted with orange stripes like some type of predator.

If they had to kill me, they had to fight down below in my tunnels. They could outright destroy the upper levels and some mid-levels of the tunnels with sustained orbital bombardment, maybe even go so far as to reach the lower levels.

When their attack came, it struck with precision and ruthless efficiency. Orbital fire rained down on the barren surface, targeting key areas of the upper tunnels with pinpoint accuracy. For several minutes, the bombardment persisted, carving through the desolate crust but inflicting only light damage on the uppermost levels of the hive.

When the orbital strikes ceased, their clone soldiers surged forward, exploiting the newly formed breaches. Fighting so close to the surface had never been my strategy—not since our previous clash. Those chambers and tunnels had long been stripped of anything useful, their only purpose now was to act as bait. Scattered groups of assault drones and heavies were stationed throughout, monitored by hive carriers tasked with guiding their movements and relaying vital data.

The enemy advanced cautiously, their movements deliberate and calculated. They combed through the tunnels with precision, decimating any resistance they encountered. Their forces never moved in large groups beyond their entry points; instead, squads of seven to eight methodically pushed forward.

Machines followed them, burrowing fresh paths into the moon's crust as they sought to outflank or bypass obstacles. I let them move at their measured pace, slowly drawing deeper into my labyrinthine tunnels below.

The war sub-mind and I had anticipated this. Our strategies had evolved after the last engagement, each adjustment calculated to mitigate further losses. The surface was already a lost cause; I had no intention of holding it. What mattered now was controlling the depths.

As their forces advanced further below, I initiated our first counterattack. Before abandoning the upper levels, I had tasked architects with preparing a network of controlled explosives and directed burrowers to carve parallel tunnels for planting them. The traps had been set meticulously, every detail calibrated to exploit the enemy’s cautious approach.

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The tremors began, rumbling through the tunnels as explosives detonated with surgical precision. Entire sections collapsed, burying scores of enemy troops under tons of debris. Those who survived the initial blasts found themselves disoriented, cut off, and vulnerable. Hive-carrier drones, trapped with several troops, acted as homing beacons.

Burrowers moved quickly, tunnelling through the wreckage to deliver secondary charges. Each detonation reverberated through the hive, further reducing enemy numbers and fracturing their formations. The chaos worked in my favour; their forces became increasingly disorganized, their cohesion unravelling as I exploited every opportunity to strike.

Any surviving enemies were swiftly stripped of their armour and placed into my containment pods. The intelligence sub-mind immediately began its work, delving into the minds of many captured clones, probing for any fragments of relevant information that could be extracted.

The bodies of the fallen were swiftly retrieved, their organic matter recycled into the hive’s biomass. Weapons and armour were carefully disassembled and stored.

I expected that when the clones breached the mid-layer fighting would become more chaotic, I had repurposed several of the enemy's microwave emitters and equipped them to my assault drones, ready to be deployed if the clones breached the mid-level tunnels.

On the surface, chaos reigned as the clones worked tirelessly to recover their wounded from the rubble. As hours passed, the living were ferried back to their base, where more prefabricated structures had been hastily erected. The dead, however, were tossed into separate piles, their armour stripped and weapons tested for reuse. It was clear the enemy had little regard for their fallen; efficiency drove their every action.

While I monitored the situation, my focus was split across multiple fronts. The construction sub-minds provided hourly updates on the excavation deeper into the moon’s crust. Layers of dirt and minerals were being stripped away as the tunnels expanded downward, fortifying our position.

Simultaneously, the war sub-minds issued reports on tunnel-clearing operations. Drone squads relentlessly hunted enemy forces within the labyrinthine corridors, eliminating scattered groups deemed a threat and capturing others to be sent to the intelligence sub-mind for interrogation.

The intelligence sub-mind had its challenges. A few captured clones succumbed to mental breakdowns during the probing process, their fragile psyches collapsing under the strain. They were recycled for biomass, their usefulness at an end. However, from those who endured, valuable information began to emerge.

The clones’ primary focus was resource extraction. Among the minerals they sought was Nullite, a material I had only recently come to understand. A vein had been discovered in this region, driving much of their activity. Nullite’s unique property to nullify etheric influence on the mind explains its strategic value. It might have even been the key to why my creators were wiped out.

The realization was sobering. My creators, with their pacifist culture and reluctance to engage in militarization, were ill-prepared for a resource-driven conflict. Only in their final days had a splinter group turned toward terraforming and self-defence. Perhaps, given centuries, they could have evolved into a formidable presence in their system. But history had not afforded them that luxury.

Further analysis of the extracted intelligence revealed the locations of several key sites. To the north and east, mining stations had been established near additional Nullite veins. Scattered deposits to the west also drew attention, though they were less concentrated. The barren south, however, held a different kind of promise: ancient lava flows had carved out expansive tunnel systems beneath the surface. If I could relocate there, it could serve as a fallback sanctuary, a stronghold far removed from the current battlefront.

Establishing such a sanctuary would take years, but the potential was undeniable. I directed the intelligence sub-mind to begin mass scouting operations across the moon’s Southern Hemisphere. New drone variants might need to be developed for the task, optimized for rapid excavation and construction.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibration. The tremors were stronger this time, and more focused. Through the sub-minds, I observed their orbital warships resuming their bombardment, targeting specific sections of the surface. This was no longer random destruction; they were preparing for something.

When the bombardment ceased, their excavation machines descended. Immense drills and plasma cutters tore into the regolith, their movements precise and relentless. Without an atmosphere to hinder them, they worked tirelessly, scooping out dirt and rock to reveal the tunnels below.

They weren’t just breaching anymore—they were digging me out.