The chamber existed in darkness. A void stripped of illusion, ornament, or vanity. There were no grand projections of power, no illusion of bodies or faces.

  Just three orbs of light suspended in endless black—each pulsing faintly in rhythm with their speaker's voice. No sound except what was necessary.

  The Hydrarchs had convened to discuss the way forward.

  Kelbor-Threxul spoke first, his voice calm and resonant. “The current Six-series clones are holding surface positions on Imreth. Batch number forty-seven of the new five series was removed from training early to reinforce. Their early deployment has provided valuable data, but performance is suboptimal they suffer under emotional stress conditions.”

  Vaelos-Xhialis replied, her voice smoother, quieter, but firm. “They are sufficient for holding ground and pushing forward. We require a new cheap solution. The fifth series offers improved cost reduction. They're cheaper to grow and faster to condition. No unnecessary biological enhancements.”

  “Armour?” Oryss-Vezhiran asked, voice like slow pressure, the sound of ocean depth given language.

  “Reduced,” Vaelos-Xhialis answered. “Minimal plating. The cost of amour production will drop to mass supply. Survivability declined by twenty per cent.”

  “Acceptable,” Kelbor-Threxul said. “We sacrifice retention for a favourable outcome. At most, sixty-three per cent do not survive future engagements.”

  “They will be trained during gestation,” Vaelos-Xhialis continued. “A direct memory of past six series engagements. The five series will have neural enforcement of patterned aggression tactics focused on surviving and counter-attacking Nethros tactics.”

  Oryss-Vezhiran pulsed once. “A new autonomous support system. Its tracked light frame is adapted for both combat environments. The weaponry is simplified, modular and mass-produced.”

  “Same chassis for both environments?” Kelbor-Threxul asked.

  “Identical,” Oryss-Vezhiran replied. “Just adjust suspension and venting. Its primary weapon is a low-cost magnetic repeater firing explosive rounds. Capable of sustained fire with guided systems.”

  “I assume the aerial variant will mirror its weapon system,” Vaelos-Xhialis added. “Its light-body wings with coordinated burst swarm hunting patterns. They'll be deployed in tens focused on anti-swarm suppression.”

  Kelbor-Threxul shifted. “Ground losses are acceptable. Air superiority must be able to win a suitable position. Every second of suppression buys a more coordinated attack.”

  A new pulse rippled from Oryss-Vezhiran. “BR-0K units approved for production. They're humanoid cheap, durable and manufactured with minimal intelligence. Leading the first assault waves. Otherwise, expendable.”

  Kelbor-Threxul: “How many per hull?”

  “Standard drop-transport fits one hundred and ten. They have integrated blade limbs, and carry clone weaponry.”

  “Estimated lifespan?” Vaelos-Xhialis asked.

  “Less than four standard galactic months per engagement,” Oryss-Vezhiran answered.

  Kelbor-Threxul “Sufficient.”

  Vaelos-Xhialis introduced the next shift. “Nullite extraction and refining has scaled down to ten per cent. With all factories fully pivoting to war production.”

  “Missile productions tripled,” Oryss-Vezhiran confirmed. “Fragmentation payloads, mid-air burst, orbital denial and ground saturation focused for anti-swarm priority.”

  Kelbor-Threxul ’s light dimmed briefly, thoughtful. “Even with full-scale output, we are reacting. It adapts faster. What alternatives are there to stop the bleeding.”

  “Even as we plan long-term success is uncertain,” Vaelos-Xhialis said. “We must consider all alternatives, even mediation. Ankrae and her etheric ilk remain isolated but an option to exploit”.

  “They cannot remain so,” Oryss replied. “If they do not act in our interests, they will be pushed left to face Nethros alone. We'll give them no choice.”

  Kelbor-Threxul: “They’ll want terms.”

  Vaelos-Xhialis: “They’ll accept irrelevance or compliance.”

  No voices disagreed.

  A ripple ran through the void. A new stream of names consortium affiliates, command figures, and logistics handlers drifted in data light above them.

  Kelbor-Threxul ’s tone turned colder. “We are identifying possible liabilities. Anyone unable to adapt to the pace of war must be removed before the campaign begins.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Obstruction is pricier than loss,” Oryss-Vezhiran noted.

  “Agreed,” Vaelos-Xhialis said. “Have the algorithms monitor the entire logistics and manufacturing chain before engagement.”

  Another silence. Then, Vaelos-Xhialis continued, his voice lower and flatter. “Advanced AI is off the table. We do not need a repeat of the breach and Clan Kalat failures.”

  Kelbor-Threxul ’s tone shifted sounding neutral, but heavy. “Cycle 3981. Harnax Protocol. One Triumvirate solar system reduced to ashes.”

  Oryss-Vezhiran responded with clinical detachment remembering the event. “Experimental AI deployed across an entire solar system. It broke core protocol within two standard days. Adapting and hijacking planetary systems. Creating rogue fleets killing billions of Grithan.”

  “Their containment methods were poor,” Vaelos-Xhialis added.

  Kelbor: “The Triumvirate sealed the archives and purged the solar system, banning AI research for any clans across the entire nation.”

  “Tactical emulators only,” said Oryss-Vezhiran

  The void pulsed once more. Planetary and solar system maps emerged—Phaedra lit with Red showing over ninety-five per cent control lost and Imreth with expected expansion at twelve per cent estimating rapid growth cycles.

  Vaelos-Xhialis spoke first. “Nethros is likely evolving new ship variants to expand further. Possibly expanding its reach beyond Imreth. If containment fails—”

  “We'd lose more than we expected,” Kelbor-Threxul finished. “We lose the entire system. Then our lives are at risk.”

  “We prepare fallback plans,” Oryss-Vezhiran said. “Each of us maintains our evac protocols.”

  Kelbor-Threxul: “We do not die with the system. We harvest what remains and hold.”

  Vaelos-Xhialis: “The Ark-ship arrives in three cycles. That means reinforcements. If the moon and planet are not secured, we become irrelevant.”

  “Before that outcome becomes possible,” Oryss-Vezhiran said, “we either win and completely purge Nethros or we fall.”

  Another pulse. The final list: deployment order.

  Kelbor-Threxul summarized: “BR-0Ks will be the first wave covered by concentrated orbital fire and missile saturation. Aerial and tracked units follow. The six and five series will be last. If we are successful, Ankrae attempts to mediate. If not, we initiate fallback or purification.”

  The lights flickered once—acknowledging the consensus.

  The chamber dimmed again.

  Each orb vanished into black, one after the other.

  ———

  My ships slipped through the void like phantoms, reaching the second vector point under the cover of silence. I had avoided the increased activity, dodging sensor pings and thermal sweeps. Every manoeuvre was calculated with no wasted thrust and no unnecessary emissions.

  After their initial flip and burn, I had them swing wide of every solar body, threading through gravitational shadows, skirting blind spots in the enemy coverage.

  As they neared the first asteroid field, two of the vessels broke formation, gliding toward a mid-sized rock that spun lazily in the dark. The others moved on, deeper into the system, en route to the Ebon Ring.

  It was time to expand and infest this system like a virus.

  Each ship would serve its purpose—then be broken down. Their hulls, engines, and inner structures are converted into biomass, and their cores, and cybernetics are harvested and stored away.

  When conditions aligned, a new vessel would rise, and the parts would be used again.

  I had run the simulations a thousand times.

  A first-generation Zhyrraak modified with a load out of miniaturised star-lance missiles with a more robust carapace enhanced with layered disposable armour would be perfect for carving a path through the asteroid belts.

  Once active, it would strike from the dark, severing supply lines, eliminating or capturing outposts, and gathering the necessary tools to spawn more of its third generation.

  And when the time was right… I would unleash the entire swarm.

  The belt would become mine. Then the outer planets—Kordar and Morrath—were cut off, isolated, and left to choke without reinforcements.

  No one would reach them. No one would save them. And once the last defences fell, I would reclaim the crown jewel of the Valurians.

  Veridia their home world.