Druhalith (The Season of Resilience)

Day 275

38 days since my arrival.

As I observed through the eyes of my assault drones, the prisoners shuffled forward, hands bound and heads held up high. Their steps echoed faintly in the reinforced tunnels, the sound swallowed up as they moved deeper underground.

Each prisoner was herded into a separate enclosure along the tunnel wall. Once inside, two assault drones took post at each enclosure, The prisoners’ captivity was now complete, and I allowed myself a moment to consider how best to extract the information I needed.

These soldiers might know nothing useful, but something was better than nothing. They were grunts, and I'd never had to interact with another sapient being before. If their information were valuable, they would live but not for long.

I had ideas of how I might acquire information from them. If I applied pressure over time, perhaps something tangible would slip through. There were other ways as well, subtler methods involving isolation and sensory deprivation, tactics I could deploy here in the damp silence of the tunnels.

Searching my mind for other alternatives proved futile. If I were to recycle them would the information held in their brain still be there, I could alter one, giving me a glimpse into their mind through the hive network.

I pondered the best means to weaken their defences, perhaps seeding doubts about their comrades or creating suspicion among them. I could perhaps simulate the presence of other prisoners nearby, feeding false information through whispers and the faint echoes of non-existent voices in nearby cells. Or, I might make their confinement absolute, heightening the sense of abandonment.

Yet, patience was required. I had all the time needed to explore these options at my leisure. And they… they had no time at all.

I shifted my focus back to the fallen soldiers’ equipment and their bodies, scattered across the desolate battlefield above. My drones were still collecting their weapons and armour, forming piles of retrieved tech throughout my workshop.

The soldier's weapons were compact and relatively light but dense, examining one of the damaged weapon's internals revealed batteries packed inside and a continuous ring of some alloy running along the weapon's length.

Examining them closer, I noted the layered alloy barrels, each one finely tuned to channel the force of magnetic fields, preventing overheating and expelling the waste heat. It could be a rail gun it the thought brought a bit of excitement.

The ammunition they used was dense, hardened metal, designed to pierce heavy armour. The smooth, polished slugs were likely calibrated to sustain their speed through atmospheres, and I considered the power required to propel such slugs from handheld weapons.

Their armour was no less impressive, a layered blend of compact alloys that appeared light, almost fragile. But beneath the surface, I could see the intricacies of dense materials.

Each alloy layer must have been finely engineered to absorb impacts, perhaps even deflect the energy from the rail gun projectiles.

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It was remarkable, a kind of beauty in its function, but flawed nonetheless the alloys around the chest piece and thighs seemed weaker. I would analyse its weaknesses further. I felt a peculiar satisfaction at the irony that they had failed to protect their wearers.

Their vehicle's armour was another matter entirely. The heavy plating, layered as it was with dense, impact-resistant alloys, was more of a challenge. The size and weight of the armour spoke to a different purpose—protection over speed.

I made a mental note to isolate a sample of their vehicle ammunition later, understanding that foreign materials might pose a risk of contamination in my environment. It was a chance I could not take now, not until my drones had assembled a proper containment module.

Then I turned my attention back to the bodies themselves. Their broad, stocky frames lay sprawled across my workshop, all twenty-eight of them, the rest were too badly damaged for any useful study.

Their bodies are muscular and dense, reflecting an evolution in a high-gravity world they had evolved in. Each of them was adapted for power and endurance, rather than agility. Heavy torsos, thickly muscled limbs, each ending in three-fingered hands with durable claws.

Their fingers could easily crush an object, and their stance suggested an adaptation for stability rather than grace.

I noticed their eyes, four in total. Two larger, ones positioned high on their heads, and two smaller ones closer to their snouts. It was a unique arrangement, likely offering both a broad view of their surroundings and some ability to focus on finer details when needed.

Their skin was thick and coarse, with a texture that seemed built to endure harsh conditions.

Yet, as I examined these beings, a realization settled into my mind. They shared a precise, uncanny uniformity—limb proportions identical, skin patterns nearly indistinguishable. There were no subtle variations that marked unique individuals. This was a batch, not a unit of individual soldiers. Clones.

What did that mean for their weaknesses? Clones often shared vulnerabilities if they were produced too quickly, and I knew that risk from my creations, still this was an opportunity I could extract from one I could extract information from all of them.

This could be another advantage, one I could exploit when probing for information. However, this also suggested that their makers had either extensive resources or very specific designs for their troops. Either way, it hinted at a command structure, something centralized and organized. If I could get one of them to speak.

A flicker in my mind, a report from my scouts on the surface. Through their senses, I detected vibrations beneath the ground and tremors in the distance.

Enemy vehicles are approaching. Their forms appeared in my perception from the south and west, advancing in a fast, coordinated movement.

They were coming, Reinforcements, I surmised, it seemed phase two was about to begin. Lucky for me, they were a couple of hours away and production was pushing to three hundred.

If the enemy thought they were moving in secrecy, approaching under the cover of metallic dunes and scattered debris fields, this was a good time to ambush them.

Their armour bore the same heavy plating as the vehicles I had destroyed, and they moved in tight formation.

I issued a silent directive to my combat groups, ordering them to accelerate their collection process.

Weapons, armour fragments, and even the smallest shard of ammunition were gathered with purpose, and stored in chambers near my sanctum for later study.

Their rail guns, layered armour, and projectiles would each require a more in-depth analysis later where I could test their effectiveness and perhaps evolve countermeasures tailored to each component.

There was no room for error. I needed every advantage to hold this position. The bio-fabricators would take the first layers of armour as raw material, breaking it down to its components and isolating properties that could be integrated into my designs.

I focused on a few groups of burrowers, ordering them to advance the launch tunnels away from the battlefield. The enemy would reach this position soon, but I would be prepared.

With everything in motion, I ordered a few assaults to carry three bodies and follow me, it was time I had a brief chat with my guests.