“Nyx, if I bought a new set of armor to wander up to the walls, how long would it last in that acid?” I asked.

  Three minutes, max, my AI replied.

  “I’m pretty fast… I could peek over the wall and check how things are going and get back in that time,” I muttered thoughtfully.

  I did say ‘Max,’ Nyx replied, emphasizing the word “max” again. If you want to be safe, I would recommend at least sixty seconds of exposure.

  “Awwww… I’d barely be able to get a peek in less than a minute,” I whined.

  I don’t understand why you feel the need to check the front lines personally. You could just monitor everything through the command network.

  “I’m feeling antsy,” I replied. “I think this is the longest I’ve been off the front line in a long time.”

  You know, if most people had access to an army like yours, they’d probably sit way behind the main lines and strategize. They wouldn’t want to get their hands dirty, Nyx said.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not most people,” I grumbled.

  Between the combined firepower of both Shatterstorm cannons and the battery of SPGs, the Antithesis had been pushed back to behind the wall of M17. Unfortunately, that hadn’t prevented the Model Fifteens from continuing to bombard our position.

  Most shots fell well short of the Bear-acade wall, but every once in a while, a Model Fifteen would hit the ideal trajectory, and one of the acidic projectiles would splatter over the wall. The only reason it wasn’t safe to go out there was the sheer number of Model Fifteens still out there.

  I sighed in frustration and connected to the cameras on Bear Force One. The Shatterstorm cannons had turned most of the forest into pulp, shredding the foliage in an attempt to fight back the Antithesis. Now, instead of greenery, there was a massive field of foot-long metal spikes driven into the ground at supersonic speeds.

  When the cannons had started bombarding the Antithesis back lines, their shock troops had attempted to charge across the kill zone, only to be slowed down by the spikes. Turns out that when you drive hundreds of thousands of metal rods into the ground, they’re nearly impossible to avoid, and very difficult to get over.

  After about half an hour of relentless pounding, the Antithesis assault had slowed, and now there was only a trickle of Antithesis pouring out of the tunnels. Nothing more than a gentle probe compared to the previous furious assault.

  The fact that they pulled back suggested that the Antithesis had some kind of intelligent model guiding its actions. If they hadn’t, the Antithesis would have continued throwing everything they could against us, slowly depleting their forces until we could counterattack.

  Now, the few Antithesis that stuck their heads up, either to check if the cannons were still firing or just trying to get us to waste the cannon’s ammunition, died upon the fungus that grew through the caves.

  The fuzzy purple-red carpet was incredibly efficient. If a Model Three died upon it, the fungus grew over it and consumed the corpse within minutes. Something larger, like a Model Six, might take as long as half an hour, but that was still horrifying considering they were the size of an SUV.

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  Strangely enough, it seemed like the fungus had a much harder time breaking down native materials. Despite the trees growing over the burrows, most were still standing. They did appear to be dying, but slowly. Perhaps this particular strain of fungus had been designed to focus on recycling the fallen, overdevouring new biomass.

  We were lucky that so many Antithesis charged beyond the front edge of the fungus and threw themselves against the Bear-acade. It meant that Wild had been able to break down a significant amount of Antithesis biomass before it could be reclaimed. It probably wouldn’t mean much in the long run, but hopefully it would slow down their recovery in the short run.

  I disconnected from the camera and opened up my augs. I’d set a timer and sync it with the Family’s system, so I’d know exactly when the Fusion Burst would be ready to fire.

  Apparently, the system took a long time to set up and calibrate. If the targeting, portal, or containing systems were out by even a fraction of a percent, the system could end up incinerating a site several miles away from the target, or, worse yet, incinerating hundreds of miles instead of conducting a precision strike.

  I glanced up, shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun, and squinted. There were still several hours until the weapon was ready to fire, but the station should have been approaching geostationary orbit soon.

  “Nyx, is the weapon in place yet?” I asked.

  Not yet, but it should be within the next twenty minutes or so. Its targeting array is pointed at the hive, and they’ve begun the required calculations… Do you want to take a look at the feed?

  “Doesn’t the Family have surveillance satellites over the hive already?” I asked.

  They do, but the orbital station’s systems are far more advanced than the satellites; they require a level of precision beyond what the satellites can achieve.

  “Sure… I wouldn’t mind taking a look, as long as no one at the station minds, and it doesn’t interfere with the calibration process,” I said.

  The station is sending a copy of its targeting data down to the surface for the Family to monitor. We can tap into that.

  “Great, let me see,” I said as I wandered over to a nearby ammo crate and sat down.

  My augs pinged, and I immediately opened up the incoming data stream.

  I had expected to receive a high-definition image, a camera feed from orbit, but what I received was far beyond that. A full 3d render of the surface of the hive and the surrounding area. The last time I’d seen the hive was right after it had been hit by the orbital strikes, nearly twelve hours prior. The Antithesis had been busy since then.

  What had been a charred mess was now covered by some sort of hard, spiky shell. It didn’t look like the chitinous carapaces I’d seen the more tanky Antithesis use, but more like a hard ceramic with metallic striations. The entire structure spiraled inwards until it reached the wound created by the Tungsten rod.

  For some reason, the Antithesis hadn’t fixed or healed the wound, leaving a hole in the middle of the shell, leading to some sort of shaft in the middle of the hive. The Antithesis weren’t even using it as an entrance. Suspicious.

  I flicked to the edge of the hive and zoomed in on some of the behemoths wandering around the perimeter. There were a couple of different variants: massive scarabs with long jagged spikes poking out between the gaps in their shell, megapedes the size of trains with massive scything legs, and bloated flies the size of small aircraft.

  Without a standard designation, I had no idea how they’d stand up to the other Antithesis I’d faced before, but they had to be at least equivalent to something in the high Thirties. If that was the worst the Antithesis had, I could probably handle them with the UHR, but if they had stronger models hiding beneath… Well, it was good that we had the fusion burst cannon.

  Just as I was about to disconnect from the feed, there was a loud cracking sound, accompanied by a tremor in the ground. The sensor feed rocked wildly, forcing me to disconnect before I got violently sick.

  “What the fuck was that?” I asked, twisting around wildly to discover the source. None of the bears had registered any damage or issues, so whatever it was hadn’t been directed at us.

  “What is going on?” I shouted.

  “Boss, the hive!” Deadbeat yelled back, pointing over the wall.

  I turned just in time to catch something streaking out of the hive, splitting the clouds, traveling faster than I could even register. A moment later, there was another crack and tremor.

  “What are they doing?” I growled, jumping onto the nearest Kodiak so I could get a better look. “What are they shooting at? An aircraft?”

  Not quite… Nyx said solemnly. You might want to hear this.

  I accepted the data stream Nyx had shared with me, and as soon as I opened it, my ears were assaulted by a riot of noise. Screeching claxons, metal stress, and people screaming. Over it all, I could just make out one person trying to make a report.

  “Section five is gone! We’ve lost sixty percent of our maneuvering thrusters, and the targeting array is damaged. We’re trying to pull away, but…” something exploded. “We’re hit again! I’m ordering evacuation! I’ll do my best to get to a safe orbit, but I’m unsure if the station can muster enough thrust. Sunspot station is going down!”

  I let the call drop and stood there stunned for a minute.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I finally managed.

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