I always found it oddly satisfying to walk through newly developed sections of my hive. Observing progress calmed my restless mind, offering a momentary reprieve from the perpetual storm of new design ideas, constant reports, calculations, and strategies.

One section of the wall caught my attention as it pulsed rhythmically, transporting biomass toward a growing branch of storage nodes. The flow rate was optimal; the system was self-correcting. No intervention was required.

I approached a sealed-off area, a reinforced membrane door woven with intricate capillaries. The organic structure sensed my presence, rippling and contracting before peeling back like a living flower. A faint, earthy aroma of fungal decay mixed with bioengineered pheromones wafted out. The air was rich with activity, even if most of it went unseen.

Inside, the chamber glowed dimly under the light of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the walls. Mycelial mats carpeted the floor, their fibrous textures branching out like veins in an intricate system. Among the fungal growths, large, docile insects scuttled about, their sleek brown chitinous bodies gleaming faintly as they consumed the fungi.

These creatures were engineered to process biomass efficiently, converting it into raw resources for my hive. Their short lifespans and rapid reproduction made them ideal components of my ecosystem.

One paused as I entered, its multifaceted eyes reflecting the faint light. It observed me for a moment before resuming its task, mandibles methodically stripping away chunks of fungal matter. Its behaviour showed no higher intelligence, only instinct honed for productivity. It resumed its work, mandibles slicing through the fungus with precision. The data I reviewed showed their conversion rates met projections. Their rapid reproduction and decomposition fed seamlessly into the hive’s ecosystem. Nothing was wasted.

Satisfied, I shifted my attention to the chamber’s reinforced walls. Harvesters dragged the remains of expired insects into specialized organs for rapid breakdown. The processed biomass flowed seamlessly into the hive’s arterial network, feeding new construction efforts.

Efficiency was paramount—nothing could be squandered. The process was flawless—energy output exceeded consumption. I filed the results for future replication and exited the chamber, leaving the construction sub-mind to oversee further optimizations.

I issued a mental command, and the membrane behind me opened with a wet hiss. Moving deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels, The next chamber housed the combat drones. I observed their synchronized movements as they conducted precision drills. My mind split into multiple perspectives, analysing their performance from every angle, searching for flaws to eliminate.

Groups of infiltrator drones worked alongside snipers, targeting simulated enemies at varying ranges and angles. From my perspective. Minor flaws in coordination and targeting were logged and commands and new calculations for immediate correction.

Reports streamed in as I moved through the tunnels. A scout carrier group had successfully established a forward position in the Southern Hemisphere, joining six other groups already entrenched. Architects were constructing the first fungal farms in the region.

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While not yet operational architects worked tirelessly, weaving the first layers of fungal farms, though functionality was still weeks away. My projections indicated that the Southern Hemisphere would soon fall under my complete control since the enemy presence here was negligible, making expansion unchallenged.

A less favourable report arrived, detailing the state of the destroyed mining facility. It was still in ruins, with no structure surviving the initial battle. While disappointing, it was not insurmountable. My forces could rebuild. However, the presence of a small enemy outpost nearby complicated matters.

The outpost appeared automated, run by a single clone. Its purpose was clear, monitor for survivors. The remains of a last stand littered the area, of several Generation One drones and five Valurian corpses.

I focused on the Valurian bodies. Their spacesuits bore matching red, purple, and black spiral patterns, an ornamental design likely tied to their original city-state on Veridia. Four males and one female, judging by their size and build.

This outpost could be a valuable asset. If my infiltrators succeeded in capturing the clone alive, his clearance level could unlock critical intelligence. This would allow infiltration deeper into the enemy's systems and the possibility of replacing their forces with infiltrators under my control. The potential gains outweighed the costs.

I tasked additional scouts to observe the area and the clone's patterns. If I could infiltrate and replace enemy clones in this region, I could extend my influence further, perhaps even planting the first harvester and architect eggs on Imreth itself. The thought of terraforming it into a hive-compatible environment would be a long-term objective but entirely within reach. But for now, patience was required.

I wandered deeper into the tunnels, stopping at a heavily fortified membrane door. It opened slowly, revealing a sealed chamber beyond. It opened in slow, calculated sequences, ensuring no breaches occurred.

I observed an assault drone carrying a plasma weapon into the chamber. The air was pumped out, replicating the vacuum of the moon’s surface. This iteration was a final attempt to refine plasma-based armaments without relying on inorganic components.

The weapon fired, launching a bolt of plasma that left minor scorch marks on the closest target. It managed several shots before overheating, its internal conduits melting under the strain.

A small explosion followed, incapacitating the drone. The weapon was recovered and placed on a raised slab for dissection. I examined its internal structure, noting the damage caused by the intense heat.

The plasma-generating organ had failed under sustained use, and the drone’s metabolic reserves had been entirely depleted. Without atmospheric pressure, the plasma dispersed too quickly, reducing its effectiveness.

This design was a failure. But failures were steps toward refinement.

A second test began with the Unakine model. The drone stepped into the chamber, and the weapon discharged flawlessly, striking each target with precision. After a series of controlled shots, the drone placed the weapon on the slab for inspection.

I dissected it carefully, studying its internals. The plasma-generating structures remained intact, shielded by a bio-cooled vascular system enhanced with Unakine stabilizing the plasma streams.

The design showed promise. The Unakine-infused components allowed for prolonged use without catastrophic failure. The plasma streams were coherent and concentrated, even in a vacuum.

Cooling systems vented excess heat efficiently, while magnetohydrodynamic principles ensured precision targeting. This weapon could be reliable in prolonged engagements, though its complexity and cost remained concerns.

Scaling this design for mass production would require alternative, cheaper materials. For now, it was a step in the right direction.

I left the chamber, satisfied with the progress. Reports continued to stream in, each detail adding to the mosaic of my campaign. The Southern Hemisphere was nearly within my grasp, but there was much more to achieve.

With that task complete, my attention turned to finishing Project Beetle. I needed a large drone capable of taking on their armoured forces, and Project Star Lance was still in its early prototype phase—far from ready for any real combat.

I wandered through the labyrinthine tunnels, observing the steady progress of the expansion as I claimed more territory, each new stretch of tunnel a step closer to my objective. After a while, I made my way back to the workshop.

There, I pulled back mentally, leaving just a sliver of my consciousness focused on Project Beetle. With that minor connection, I let the bulk of my mind shift fully to the etheric plane, where my thoughts flowed freely, guiding the work from afar.