My larger suicide drones surged from the moon’s craters and ravines, their forms illuminated dimly in the starlight as they emerged from hidden tunnels. They advanced in staggered waves, swarming like a tide of locusts. Their shadows stretched across the cratered surface as they approached the enemy base.

The first wave reached the perimeter, triggering a brutal cacophony. Turrets swivelled with mechanical precision, sleek barrels unleashing bursts of plasma and hypersonic rounds. My drones scattered, twisting and rolling in chaotic patterns, calculating every dodge to thin the base’s firepower. The explosions started immediately—bright flashes as drones were obliterated mid-flight, their payloads erupting into shrapnel and vapour.

The enemy’s defence grid was ruthless. Plasma bolts and hypersonic rounds tore through drone after drone, leaving destroyed and burnt bodies scattered around the battlefield. The moon’s surface became a graveyard of smouldering wreckage and shallow craters. Each destroyed drone bought precious seconds for the next as the swarm pressed on.

The second wave surged forward, capitalizing on the gaps left by recalibrating turrets. Some drones were hit mid-flight, their payloads detonating prematurely in brilliant fireballs, sending showers of debris raining down on the base. Others managed to breach the outer defences.

The first suicide drone targeted a barracks. It slammed into the structure and detonated with a bright flash. The prefab walls disintegrated instantly, spraying jagged shards of metal and chunks of incinerated clones across the surrounding area. Limbs and charred torsos were flung into the vacuum, leaving streaks of blood and gore across the moon’s grey dust.

Another drone struck the supply depot, igniting a chain reaction. Crates of ammunition erupted like volcanic blasts, sending minor shockwaves through the base. Fire and smoke billowed as fragmented bodies of clones were hurled through the vacuum, their shattered bodies joining the larger cloud of debris starting to drift above.

A third drone hurtled toward the hangars, but a rail gun turret intercepted it at the last moment. The drone’s payload exploded prematurely, blasting apart nearby vehicles and leaving jagged shards of shrapnel embedded in the walls.

Infantry poured out of bunkers in a desperate response, their boots crunching over the charred remains of their comrades. They opened fire, rail guns and energy weapons blazing as they tried to form a defensive line. Above, aerial drones launched into the vacuum, releasing volleys of missiles and suppressive fire to counter my assault.

My heavies emerged from concealment, their massive frames covered in layers of disposable armour covered in the dust of the moon. They advanced methodically, firing acidic gel projectiles at the turrets. Each impact sent volatile acid splattering across the machinery, with enough force to shear off barrels or shatter the turret’s foundations. Still, the turrets retaliated savagely, plasma rounds reducing some heavies to burning fragments or tearing their armoured shells apart, exposing sparking internal components.

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The assault drones followed, darting across the battlefield like predatory insects. Their lighter frames allowed for greater speed, and they used the shattered remains of their larger counterparts as cover. They fired in bursts, their acidic gel projectiles slicing through clone armour. Each impact released a pressurized spray of corrosive acid. Clones screamed as the gel ate through their flesh, reducing muscle and bone to a bubbling slurry in seconds.

Some clones tried to strip their burning suits, only to find the acid had already fused the material to their skin. One soldier clawed at his melting face, his silent screams a gurgling mess as the acid dissolved his jaw.

Another fell to his knees, vomiting blood as the corrosive fumes filled his lungs. Still, others, realizing their fates, pressed rail gun muzzles to their temples, ending their agony in a spray of blood and brain matter.

From the ridgelines, my snipers entered the fray. Their projectiles were lethally effective, puncturing through helmets and shattering clone skulls with surgical precision. Enemy aerial drones spiralled out of control, crashing into the battlefield with fiery detonations. The war sub-mind monitored every shot, recalibrating for maximum lethality directing the snipers to constantly move away from enemy counter fire.

Yet, the enemy pushed back. Armoured vehicles lumbered into the fray, their turrets spewing explosive shells that tore through my ranks. One heavy was struck by a concentrated microwave beam, its internals boiled as its outer armour cracked and fractured before collapsing into a heap of warped and blackened components. Clone soldiers used the cover of the vehicles to regroup, firing from behind reinforced barricades as they tried to stall the advance.

My heavies responded savagely. A group of them closed the distance to a tank-like vehicle, their gel launchers reducing its turret to a dissolving mess of metal. Acid seeped into the vehicle’s interior, cooking the crew alive. The muffled screams from inside were drowned out by the crackling sound of dissolving metal and the thunder of explosions.

Amidst the chaos, my stealth drones slipped through the cracks. While the battlefield descended into carnage, they navigated the maze-like base interior. Bypassing corridors littered with clone corpses and flaming wreckage, they infiltrated the barracks, supply depots, and command hubs. In the silence, they deployed their parasitic payloads. The parasites clung to walls, snaking into machinery and life-support systems, doing their best to spread it everywhere.

Outside, the battle reached its climax. The base’s defences were crumbling. Turrets sputtered, overwhelmed by the relentless tide. Infantry retreated to inner fortifications, their numbers thinned to scattered survivors. Clones were dragged down by the acid-coated remains of my drones, their bodies twisting and writhing as the corrosive gel consumed them.

The war sub-mind announced the stealth drones’ success. The parasites had taken root. It was time to retreat.

I ordered my forces to pull back, but the cost was steep. The heavies provided covering fire, their gel projectiles wreaking havoc on the remaining turrets. Snipers continued to thin the enemy ranks, but the clones, sensing desperation, launched a final counterattack.

They surged forward with a mix of reckless courage and sheer madness, trampling over the corpses of their comrades. My retreating drones lured them into pre-calculated kill zones, where a final wave of suicide drones lay in wait. The resulting explosions were apocalyptic, shredding flesh, armour, and vehicles in sprays of blood, gore, and twisted metal.

Then the orbital fire began. White-hot streaks lit the sky as concentrated strikes slammed into the battlefield. The ground trembled violently as entire formations of clones and drones alike were vaporized. One blast hit a cluster of infantry, reducing them to scattered fragments instantly. Another struck an armoured vehicle, blowing it apart in a fiery eruption that hurled molten fragments in all directions.

By the time my surviving drones returned to the safety of the tunnels, the battlefield was unrecognizable. The craters were filled with the charred remains of soldiers, vehicles, and drones. The vacuum was covered in clouds of floating debris of friend and foe.

All that was left now was to wait. The parasites were in place, and the enemies would soon help me progress.

It took another ten minutes before surface scouts reported an increasing number of enemy drop-ships descending around the base. Clones poured out, only to find the dead and wounded scattered across the area. Within another ten minutes, a few armoured columns arrived from the north and east.

If all of them were infected, it would only increase the chances of acquiring knowledge or causing chaos.