With so much to accomplish, I had hoped the attack would come swiftly so I could focus on my other plans. But instead, the enemy was retreating from this area, my scouts reported multiple vehicles withdrawing.

From every scout, I watched a steady procession of transports, heavy machinery, and armoured units all moving out, with no apparent reinforcements to take their place.

The enemy’s retreat was not subtle it was calculated, organized. They weren’t fleeing, nor were they regrouping for an ambush. They were simply leaving, clearing the area as though they'd accomplished their objectives.

With no enemy in sight, I sent a mental command to the bio-fabricators, initiating the production of scouts. I needed eyes on every inch of this moon.

With that done, I refocused my mind back to my shifting priorities, a new variant of my burrowers and my waiting guests below.

With my basic skills in memory extraction, I could now design a gentler method to retrieve memories without exhausting them to mere husks. This approach would also allow me to tend to their needs until they could be recycled later.

My mind turned to its design, weaving through layers of biological functionality and efficiency that would sustain captives and draw information from them.

I moved to a large resin tablet, my fingers tracing swift, deliberate lines as I began sketching the first schematic of a containment pod, it would help spend less resources on watching prisoners.

The pod would function autonomously, meeting basic needs for food, hydration, and minimal rest, all while discreetly extracting data through constant psychic probing. It would sustain them, not indefinitely, but long enough to sift through their memories until they had no more to offer.

Its primary chamber would be cocooned in a dense, webbed membrane that absorbed bodily waste, reprocessing fluids and nutrients back into the system. Small, semi-permeable sacs within the cocoon could filter air, maintaining oxygen levels just enough to sustain life. While not comfortable, it would be efficient to use the minimum required to maintain each captive’s life functions while providing me with access to their minds.

As I refined the design, I incorporated an organic network within the pod that could transmit neural data back to me. A small core housing most of the neural network links would rest at the base of each pod, acting as both conduit and receiver for their mental activity.

This core, carefully insulated, would record brain waves and memories, which would then be passed through a resonant link. From here, I could monitor their subconscious, prying into what they sought to conceal even from themselves.

I added the finishing details, marking potential areas to scale up or down depending on the captive’s resistance. Each pod would require minimal upkeep, with the drones assigned to them able to ensure ongoing maintenance.

Once satisfied, I dispatched a mental command to the nearest architect drones, sending them the completed design. They would initiate production immediately, and the first pods would be operational within a couple of hours.

With this first matter settled, I turned my attention to the more pressing challenge: expanding the tunnels themselves. The current burrowers had proven efficient, but their pace would no longer suffice. I needed something larger, something capable of carving out tunnels at double or even triple the speed while maintaining structural integrity.

Stolen novel; please report.

I sketched a larger variant, mentally comparing it to my current models. These new burrowers would be equipped with reinforced mandibles, plated in a durable alloy resin mix that would allow them to grind through stone without slowing.

I enlarged their bodies to accommodate a dual digestive tract, one for basic rock and sediment digestion, and another for generating the sticky resin used to reinforce tunnel walls. This would allow each burrower to expand while strengthening, working both tasks simultaneously.

For power, I incorporated a design that could harness the organic compounds found within the rock itself, feeding their metabolic needs directly from the material they excavated.

Each burrower would carry fungal spores in specialized sacs along its underside. As they carved new paths, these spores would be released into enclosed nutrient-rich soil pockets, expanding our fungus farms in their wake.

The fungal network had to grow. It had become the lifeblood of this operation, sustaining my drones and supplementing the energy demands of my expanding operations. I recalibrated the burrowers’ spore distribution to plant spores at precise intervals, allowing for maximum growth.

The fungi would be broken down into biomass establishing a natural system that could extend deeper into the tunnels, forming a natural network to connect distant areas of sanctuary.

With that done, it was time to strategize. I was outnumbered and outgunned, and this moon was far from ideal my biomass production was limited.

To make this war costly for them, I’d have to disrupt their main targets. While the planets' native flora and fauna were likely devastated, if I could return, I could alter that to my advantage.

Reaching them, however, meant venturing into space. I could produce a few drones capable of long-term travel, but their speed would be insufficient.

Capturing more enemy soldiers, especially specialists like their engineers might give me the knowledge I needed to create something effective with the minerals here.

In the next week or two, I’d need to go on the offensive, striking every outpost on this moon. But with the enemy likely reinforcing soon, the new burrower variants would have to expand the tunnels quickly, covering as much ground as possible.

I would need a new variant to engage their armoured units directly, one robust enough to go toe-to-toe with their vehicles in the rugged terrain. Additionally, specialized drones would be essential to counter their drone swarms and, if possible, provide some deterrence against their void craft.

I wasn’t ready to confront their ships in orbit just yet, but with careful planning, I could slow down their advances on the moon’s surface, pushing back any direct assaults on my territory.

As my plans formed, an architect notified me that the first prisoner pod was ready. The bio-fabricators had operated with impressive speed.

I already had a captive in mind and issued orders for his guards to bring him to me while the architects brought the memory pod into my workshop.

The pod was carefully set against the resin wall, and the architects moved with practised precision to secure it in place. I connected with the pod briefly, issuing a few mental commands to confirm all systems were functional.

Minutes later, my captive entered ahead of his guards, his head held high despite the circumstances. Even now, he dared to probe the edges of my mind, his audacity almost admirable.

He glanced briefly at the remains of his fallen comrades scattered around, showing little reaction before his gaze settled on the back of my workshop, where weapons and armour were neatly arranged. He was assessing his surroundings, but I intended for his focus to be turned inward soon enough.

I wasted no time, diving into his mind, breaking down his defenses piece by piece until exhaustion overtook him. His mental barriers held, but I could sense their weakening.

If I could fully extract his knowledge of defensive and offensive techniques, it would be a valuable addition to my arsenal. He was, by far, the most crucial source of information I had encountered yet.

Within minutes, his breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled against my drones. Weakly resisting, he was eventually shoved into the pod. The chamber sealed around him, adjusting the air and stripping away his breathing apparatus.

A controlled flood of spores filled the space, gently easing him into a coma, while the pod’s inner tendrils anchored him, attaching to support his vital functions as they prepared to begin the extraction process.