A fraction of my mind remained focused on processing reports from the infected network and scouts. The enemy had intensified their search patterns, systematically expanding their operations around the ruins of Sanctuary. Their persistence was predictable, though futile. They would find nothing.
Dozens of their teams combed the area, seeking any trace I might have left. Their methods were thorough, but I had planned for this. My departure from Sanctuary had been calculated and executed before their escalation.
Any delay—any stubborn attempt to hold the position—would have ensured my destruction. The radiation saturating the ruins would have eradicated me and my swarm within days.
Still, this development presented a long-term challenge. High-radiation zones would hinder future operations, especially if the enemy chose to saturate the moon with nukes. A solution would be required—something adaptive and efficient. For now, I logged this problem for analysis and refocused on the broader strategy.
The infected network continued to expand, providing a steady stream of valuable intelligence. Each newly infected clone added to my understanding of their operations, allowing precise mapping of troop movements and installations.
Their numbers were rapidly increasing, projected to peak at eight hundred thousand within days. This force would be further bolstered by the deployment of their latest drone model, signalling a substantial escalation in their capabilities.
The new combat drone, designated “Stalkers,” were functional, cost-effective, and brutally efficient. It moved on six reinforced legs with additional armoured plates, its primary weapon being a rail gun capable of delivering precise, devastating kinetic strikes. The chassis was fitted with chemical thrusters for rapid repositioning.
Their armament included standard anti-armor rounds, high-explosives, and a new addition—plasma round. This piqued my interest, as my developments in plasma technology suggested untapped potential. Acid and high-explosive ordnance would also be integral to my forces, ensuring versatility against a range of threats.
The Stalker’s mass production capabilities impressed me. Sixty units could be manufactured in nine days, distributed across factories spread all over the moon. However, decentralization would require calculated strikes against enemy facilities to disrupt their operations.
Similarly, their air force retained the same drone model I had encountered previously, with production timelines allowing them to field fifty units within seven days. This gave me a narrow window to establish dominance.
Analysing the 3D topographical map of the moon. Forward operating bases would need to be established in key regions to sustain the campaign. The south could host seven bases, the north fifteen, the west eleven, and the east twenty-one.
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Establishing these bases would be essential for launching strikes against their mining operations, factories, and logistics hubs. Swift, decisive action was required to gain the upper hand before they could solidify their grip on the moon.
Victory depended on a rapid, overwhelming offensive. If executed flawlessly, I could liberate the moon within half a year. Neutralizing their orbital supremacy would accelerate this timeline to a mere cycle leaving only clean-up operations.
To achieve this, I would prioritize securing the three most critical minerals vital to my war effort. Controlling those resources, combined with advanced weaponry, would solidify my dominance.
While this plan was optimistic, the logistical challenges were immense. Feeding, healing, and replenishing my forces in the field presented ongoing issues. During the defence of Sanctuary, maintaining supply lines was manageable.
On the offensive, however, I would need to pre-position caches of resources in combat zones, requiring the development of new drone variants capable of field logistics and medical support.
Still, I couldn’t help but reflect on the bitter irony of my situation. Why couldn’t I have awakened on a lush, resource-rich planet teeming with life? A liveable planet with a dense jungle biome would have simplified matters significantly, offering abundant biomass and resources.
Instead, I was marooned on this barren moon, locked in a desperate struggle over its meagre resources while the enemy entrenched themselves throughout the system.
Enemy operations were similarly constrained, focused solely on this moon and the icy satellite. Their logistical operations painted a clearer picture of their strategy. They were consolidating their efforts on this moon and the nearby ice moon, using their ships to ferry supplies between the two.
Meanwhile, mining operations expanded on the Valurian home world and in the asteroid belts, suggesting a long-term commitment to their war machine. This narrowed my objectives but underscored the need for precision. Disrupting their logistics would cripple their ability to sustain their military efforts.
Casualties loomed large in my calculations. Every fallen unit represented a loss of biomass, a resource I couldn’t afford to waste. The construction sub-mind proposed a potential solution: cultivating new fungal strains and engineered insects to generate biomass.
These creatures, designed with rapid breeding cycles and short lifespans, could provide a steady supply of organic material. Testing was necessary, but the possibilities were promising.
While the sub-minds tackled logistics, my focus shifted to anti-ship capabilities. The Valurian archives offered invaluable insights into early rocket technology, giving me a head start. Prototypes for missiles were already in development, but there was much work to do.
Fuel mixtures, missile bodies, armaments, and targeting systems were all undergoing rigorous testing in the lower levels. Current estimates indicated it would take another two hundred days to produce a missile system capable of meeting my standards.
I considered myself fortunate that energy shield technology was non-existent here—or perhaps I simply hadn’t encountered it yet. In every engagement involving the Valurians, the enemy had relied solely on armour.
A single well-placed strike on one of their vessels could force them to reconsider their strategies. The destruction of even one ship could shift the momentum in my favour and disrupt their operations significantly.
Every Valurian engagement in the archives confirmed this vulnerability. One fleet had obliterated three targets by expending its full missile complement, an act of desperation. If I could deliver a single crippling blow to an enemy ship, it would force them to reconsider their operations.
My attention then turned to the ongoing development of “Beetle,” my countermeasure against their armoured units. With the recent intelligence on their drone designs necessitated modifications to engage aerial targets effectively.
The war sub-mind presented a range of proposals, balancing firepower, mobility, and production efficiency. Testing would determine the optimal design, but it was clear that Beetle variants would play a critical role in the battles to come.
The next drone design I focused on was the infiltrator. I intended to overhaul my combat units entirely, prioritizing precision and efficiency. The assault, heavy, and sniper variants required comprehensive upgrades, but the scout variant was my immediate concern.
It needed to evolve beyond mere reconnaissance, reshaped into a tool for infiltration and assassination. A protracted campaign was wasteful; success demanded minimal resource expenditure. Why exhaust supplies and risk exposure when a quiet, surgical approach could achieve the same—if not greater—results?