The challenge of commanding multiple bodies as a grand consciousness is the relentless exposure to every detail, an endless flood of data and sensory input. The worst part is the monotony that seeps into the cracks between critical tasks, the dull moments when there’s nothing pressing, yet the stream of observations continues.
Cataloguing enemy patrol routes, daily enemy shipment schedules, noting deviations—a driver running late, a minor re-routing of supplies, a clone's dismissive insult toward another clone—all of it filters through me. When not directing large-scale projects, I endure the tedium of watching these trivialities unfold.
For twenty days, I had been tracking one clone's routine. He was consistent to the point of predictability. Every three days, without deviation, he left his habitat, drove a large six-wheeled vehicle fifteen minutes to the mine, spent his time there observing, and returned. No variance. No adjustments. Not a single spontaneous action.
Such rigid adherence to a schedule suggested either remarkable discipline or dangerous naivety. Randomness, even small deviations, should have been present. An anomaly in his pattern would have signalled adaptability, but instead, he moved like a cog in a machine.
Today would mark the end of his routine. I extracted the technical designs of the habitat from the infected clone network. Its construction was laughably fragile, built with only the barest essentials to keep its occupants alive. Cost-cutting measures made it vulnerable—deliberate shortcuts left structural weaknesses I could exploit.
The precision of my strike was already determined. No variables were unaccounted for. The vehicle, the habitat, and the clone within would be erased as efficiently as turning off a light. There would be no alarm raised, no trace left to propose a cause.
I had prepared extensively. A team of ten infiltrators and five snipers were stationed at a distance, maintaining constant surveillance on the target. Their orders were clear: capture him alive and deliver him to a secured outpost forty minutes away connected to the lava tubes.
Within the outpost, two modified pods awaited his arrival—one to dissect his genetic structure, extract his memories, and replicate his physical form. The clone it would produce would not be directly linked to my consciousness but tethered instead to the infected network, ensuring I remained informed without compromising the ruse.
The subject’s routines had been meticulously studied. He was predictable, his movements habitual. I briefly considered testing my psionic capabilities during this operation but dismissed the idea.
My current abilities were still limited in the physical realm's range, and without a clear understanding or a manual to guide me, it would be reckless to rely on them. I made a mental note to prioritize the development of specialized psionic drone designs for future use.
Brute force was the only viable approach. Direct infection of the habitat was too risky—it would likely trigger a cascade of system failures, drawing attention to my presence. Patience and precision would ensure success. I waited for the target to disembark from his vehicle and begin his routine inspection.
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The moment came. One of the infiltrators, concealed nearby, deployed an explosive drone from its hive carrier. The drone, designed for controlled damage, latched onto the target’s radio equipment and detonated. The blast was minimal but effective, leaving him disoriented. Two infiltrators sprang into action, disarming and seizing him, dragging him to the designated outpost while the rest of the team provided overwatch.
My consciousness extended through the infected network, monitoring for any signs of detection or retaliation. The network remained quiet, the operation was proceeding without incident. The drones transported the captive through two reinforced doors into the pressurized outpost, stripping him of his armour as he fought against them with all his strength. Resistance was expected, but futile.
Once restrained, he was placed into the first pod. It immediately began its work, injecting an anaesthetic to subdue him further. Within minutes, his struggles ceased. The pod’s systems engaged, scanning his genetic makeup and probing his mind to extract every memory and piece of knowledge he possessed.
While the pod worked, I remained alert, analysing incoming data. My scouts reported no unusual activity around the habitat. The enemy’s network showed no signs of detecting the operation. After two hours, the pod completed its task. The second pod activated, releasing a clone—Agent 001.
It was unsettling to see the result. This clone, disconnected from my consciousness, moved with a sense of autonomy I wasn’t accustomed to in my creations. Yet, it was efficient. Agent 001 donned the captured armour with ease, as though it were second nature. His expression remained neutral, devoid of hesitation or doubt, even as the original’s body was recycled in the first pod.
Agent 001 returned to the captured vehicle, escorted by the infiltrators. Half the infiltrators waited outside while he typed in the access code, the other infiltrators secured the perimeter with the snipers.
He entered the habitat with natural movement. Inside, the habitat was inspected thoroughly by infiltrators. It was built for four occupants but was confirmed empty, ensuring that Agent 001 was alone.
With the habitat under control, I tested the infected network with a low-level pulse. The response was immediate and stable. The infiltrators activated the habitat’s systems while Agent 001 began repairs on his armour in the workshop. Everything was proceeding as planned.
The operation was a success. The snipers and infiltrators were ordered to retreat, their roles complete. With the habitat secured and Agent 001 in place, I could shift focus to mining the pit without fear of detection. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.
The three most critical resources were now secured. Every available burrower was redirected to extract and transport them efficiently. Meanwhile, I diverted the remainder of my attention to overwatch Project Beetle, watching as a group of both variants engaged their targets.
The Strider combat drone stood as a testament to the efficiency and lethality of biological engineering. At a height of three meters and weighing three tons, its four muscular legs provided unparalleled agility and versatility.
Adaptive claws allowed for seamless movement across any terrain, whether it was lunar regolith or metallic structures, and internal gas sacs ensured mobility in zero gravity. Its compact frame, paired with advanced weaponry like the bone dart launcher and acidic gel projector, made it an ideal unit for ambush tactics.
The drone’s self-repair capability through biological tissue reserves highlighted its resilience, ensuring continued functionality in prolonged engagements.
The Hexapod, a larger and more imposing design, was going to be a juggernaut on the battlefield. At six meters tall and weighing six tons, its six legs offered unmatched stability and load-bearing capacity.
Designed for confrontation, its arsenal included enhanced bone dart launchers capable of piercing heavy armour and could be switched with a plasma cannon for sustained damage against fortified targets.
Missile cluster pods and a wide-area acidic gel sprayer further emphasized its role as a frontline siege unit.
The chitin-based armour, reinforced with high-grade keratin and iron composites, ensured protection against heavy attack. Their metabolic energy systems, capable of synthesizing power from stored or consumed biomass, made them highly sustainable and independent of external logistical chains for some time. Stealth features, such as heat-dampening scales and mimicry glands, enabled them to remain undetected until the moment of attack.
With the final design completed, the remaining steps would be rigorous testing. This marked the culmination of the foundational work required to secure absolute control over the moon. Once Project Star Lance advanced and the other bases reached full operational capacity, establishing dominance would be a matter of time and precision.
All that remained was to create a symbol worthy of this conquest—a flag to plant not just on a barren landscape but atop the ashes of resistance. There was still much to prepare, but every step brought the goal closer within reach.