Druhalith (The Season of Resilience)

Day 290

54 days since my arrival

Clearing the notification from my vision, I turned my attention back to the weapon, scrutinizing its design for any possible improvements that could reduce production costs without compromising its lethality.

The clone provided all relevant data from previous tests and design iterations. After a thorough review, it became clear that the current model was already optimized to the limits of its design. Any further modifications would risk undermining its overall performance, leaving little room for meaningful improvement.

I made a mental note to discuss the matter with the war sub-mind later, weighing the bone dart’s potential battlefield impact against its steep production cost. Every resource was critical, and balancing immediate needs with long-term viability was a delicate art.

Next, I turned my attention to another project, a prototype of body armour. Composed of overlapping chitin plates reinforced with hardened resin, the design promised superior resistance to ballistic attacks. However, its added weight significantly hampered mobility, a serious drawback for units requiring agility in close combat.

Near the prototype armour station, a clone presented me with an alternative lighter armour system. This design incorporated thinner chitin plates that could be rapidly produced and discarded after sustaining sufficient damage. While it lacked the durability of the primary armour, it was lightweight and easily deployable, ideal for drone units with short operational lifespans. I approved further testing, as this approach could solve the mobility problem while conserving resources.

From there, I moved to the weapons development area, where another experiment on a possible acidic variant of gel-based weaponry. The original gel quickly hardened after being exposed outside the weapon, turning into a lethal projectile.

The acidic variant aimed to enhance this design by dissolving armour and organic matter on contact. A clone demonstrated the weapon on some captured armour, the gel reacted eating through the synthetic material and alloy in seconds but had a tougher time with their bulkier armour.

While effective, the production of the acidic compound required specialized enzymes that would take time to synthesize at scale. This promising avenue would need prioritization in future operations.

Next came the plasma weapon experiments, which had so far been an unmitigated failure. The clone's attempt to harness the bio-energy stored within drones to produce superheated plasma had resulted in unstable reactions.

Most prototypes either failed to fire or detonated prematurely, destroying themselves and surrounding equipment. After reviewing their progress, I suspended further work on the project until a suitable alternative could be created. It was clear the biological nature of our technology was poorly suited to handle such volatile energy. Resources would be better allocated elsewhere.

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The next station showcased an intriguing development a larger variant of the suicide drone. Unlike the standard models, which carried small, localized explosive charges, this prototype had been engineered to deliver a payload capable of levelling reinforced structures.

Its body, composed of dense, reinforced tissue, housed a bio-reactive explosive sac. Despite its size, the drone maintained impressive mobility, and its destructive potential was unparalleled. I approved the design for limited production, recognizing its value in breaching heavily fortified positions in the coming attack.

The linchpin of Operation Parasite was the modified surface scout, a specialized design meticulously crafted for this mission. Slightly smaller than its standard counterpart, the scout was built for precision and stealth. Its exoskeleton was coated in a dark, bio-adaptive membrane, able to shift its texture and colour to seamlessly blend with its environment. Internally, it carried reservoirs of the parasite, encased in gelatinous sacs engineered to rupture upon deployment and spread rapidly across targeted zones. If the attack breached the base's outer defences, this scout would infiltrate, distribute the parasite, and retreat into the shadows, leaving chaos in its wake.

The parasites would remain dormant for fifty days, ensuring their presence went unnoticed until it was too late. It was a gamble—one that could turn the tide of this conflict or cost me dearly. These were desperate times, and caution tempered every move I made.

With the scout’s final review complete, the war submind and I turned our focus to the broader assault strategy. My scouts continued their surveillance of the enemy base, their observations feeding me constant streams of data. The base was formidable. Its automated turrets constantly scanned in randomized patterns, and armoured patrols traced a circular route around the complex. The newest addition to their defences was a flight of drones, grouped in squads of five, patrolling in a wider perimeter. I had no detailed knowledge of their defensive capabilities, but their vigilance was unmistakable.

I mapped out the deployment of my forces. The heavy drones would wear the disposable armour variant, designed for maximum durability in frontal assaults. Mixed-assault drones would carry hybrid armour, balancing defence and mobility to endure enemy fire while advancing. Sniper units would position themselves at strategic vantage points, aiming to eliminate the patrolling drones and clear the air for the operation. Acidic gel weaponry would be incorporated among all units to enhance their effectiveness against armoured targets.

Suicide units, both standard and larger variants, were assigned their roles. The smaller units would focus on breaching defensive barriers and fortified positions, softening key locations for the larger suicide drones to strike with devastating payloads. Meanwhile, stealth units would infiltrate under the cover of these explosions, delivering the parasite deep within the enemy's ranks.

The assault itself hinged on a carefully orchestrated diversion. Explosions to the west would draw enemy forces away from the base, leaving it vulnerable. Simultaneously, assault drones would emerge from tunnels beneath their defences, cutting off their escape routes and spreading confusion. Every move was designed to overwhelm and destabilize, giving the modified scout a clear path to deploy its payload.

Everything hinged on one critical uncertainty would their ships open fire on their base, with my drones and their troops locked in close-quarters combat? It was a gamble I couldn’t ignore, and the outcome would determine whether this operation would succeed or spiral into catastrophic failure. Their fleet's orbital superiority was undeniable, but would they risk obliterating their forces to eliminate mine? That question lingered like a shadow over every decision I made.

I considered the factors at play. The enemy’s doctrine so far showed a penchant for calculated brutality, but not recklessness. Their silence during previous encounters suggested a level of caution—perhaps even a reliance on ground forces to secure victory without damaging key infrastructure.

Yet, desperation had a way of reshaping even the most disciplined of strategies. Would they see my attack as a threat so great it warranted annihilation, collateral damage be damned? Or would they hold back, unwilling to risk their base and personnel?

Still, the possibility of orbital bombardment required contingencies. I had already ordered the burrowers to expand secondary tunnels branching away from the main assault route. These would serve as fallback positions if the enemy brought their ships into play.

I could feel the weight of this operation pressing down on me. Every decision carried the lives of my drones and the hopes of gaining an advantage in this war. Losses were inevitable, and the enemy's capabilities were an unknown variable I could not predict. But the prize of a successful deployment of the parasite was worth the risk.

I turned back to the workshop. Final preparations were underway, drones moving with purpose and precision as they underwent modifications for the upcoming battle.

The assault would begin after five days. Success was uncertain, but failure was not an option. This was the cost of survival, and I was prepared to pay it.