Chapter 5: Tick, Tac, Tentacle, Morgan POV (Patreon)

Chapter 5

Tick, Tac, Tentacle

Morgan POV

Everything was more or less business as usual when a notification that my station AI, Tee, was being moderated obstructed my view.

Your station AI is being moderated and is unable to be contacted.

If this were the first time I’d seen that notification, I’d be concerned, but it had been happening regularly since Tee began working with the Three-Man Army. They’d turned Tee into an AI saboteur, transforming his business skills, hacking ability, and logistical knowledge into humanity's deadliest weapon. In return, Tee made them instruments of anarchy and public enemy number one with the moderators.

I had no idea what the four of them had done this time, but the timing was awkward. We were in the middle of calibrating the station's firing pattern, which involved clearing a mission from the recently built challenger transit ring.

I dismissed the notification and tapped a button on my armrest to bring up my holographic control console. The automated combat systems never worked right when Tee was being moderated, so I tapped several icons to switch the weapon systems to manual mode.

The lights in my command room flashed red as the holographic 3D map in front of my command chair showed the challenger transit ring connecting to the mission location. The giant structure sat directly above my station, away from the other transit rings. It looked like a larger version of the other transit rings but could create a wormhole to any location.

The moment the wormhole stabilised, an under-equipped carrier fleet poured through and ignited thrusters, trying to close the distance. The fleet only had eight vessels if you didn’t count the fighters or bombers. It was so small that I couldn’t classify it as a threat.

Without Tee, I couldn’t properly calibrate our weapon systems, so I activated the R2D2s autotargeting systems and let the station open fire. Thirty seconds later, the mission reward was distributed to Earth’s station masters. As the red alert ended, a priority communication request came through from Kangaroo Billy.

I hit accept.

His face appeared on my view screen.

He looked upset. “Took you long enough cunt. Now shut up and listen. The Ooty just launched a surprise attack.”

“I’ll see if I can get you fleet support,” I said, going into damage control mode.

I manually reviewed my contacts list to find the fleet commander from his local sector. Tee had hacked the communication systems of every player faction in our branch of the galaxy so I could talk to anyone anywhere, whenever I wanted. He didn’t even have to be here.

“I said shut the fuck up. The Ooty deployed a stealth barrier ship that I’ve never seen before. It blocked the transit ring to our sector before their fleet moved in. Sheila’s run every scenario through our systems, and unless you can double the resources you’ve sent to us this Cycle in the next fifteen minutes, we’ve got no chance of being here in an hour.”

That was unfortunate news.

The 20thCycle invasion left most of the surviving station masters with the resources, credits, and experience they needed to develop and distribute their unique systems. General Prime and I had ensured that anyone with a unique system survived, even if they were in a sector doomed to fall. It meant that over the last five Cycles, the surviving stations all received the best weapons and station systems humanity had to offer.

Kangaroo Billy was Earth’s unluckiest station master. The Ooty had barely committed to their original attack on his station and pulled out when our fleet showed up to support him. Billy hadn’t destroyed a single vessel, so his station lacked a dungeon master and the resources he needed to finish developing his unique missiles.

That was a problem because his Hammerhead, Goblin, and Megalodon missiles were the best missiles humanity had, while his missile battery, which fired them, was complete dogshit. The plan had been to have the dungeon master he created work with Chadwel, the dungeon master who managed the Peekaboo missile system. Together, they would create a combined missile battery system, which would be passed to another station master, who would use a third dungeon master to perfect it. It would end up being our heaviest-hitting weapon system, so humanity needed Kangaroo Billy to survive.

“Give me a second, I’ll see what I can do.” I pulled up the mission list for the challenger transit ring and tapped the verbal interface controls. “Computer, show me a mission that can double the resources I’ve already gained from clearing missions.”

The computer pulled up a mission from the Event List.

Nature of the Beast

The kraken is known as the destroyer of fleets. The ultimate predator that all space travellers fear. Its ravenous hunger drives it to attack everything that it comes in contact with.

Challenge:

Initiate as many Fleet Challenges as you like.

Destroy the fleets before the kraken can feast on them and grow stronger.

Destroy the kraken.

Reward:

Double clearance rewards for every Fleet you destroy.

Kraken corpse.

Tee hadn’t marked this mission as dangerous, so I tapped accept. “Computer, include, from the General list, every Fleet Mission Tee has marked as safe, but only those below level six.”

12,832 Fleet Missions were added to the list. These Missions were so low risk that wouldn’t affect the difficulty of what I added next. They were also one-shot Missions that any station master in range could take, so I was depriving our enemies by taking them.

“Computer, add every Fleet Mission that Tee has marked as easy, but only those below level eight.”

Another 1,873 Fleet Missions appeared on the list.

“Computer, add all of my faction's exclusive Fleet Missions, but only those below level eight.”

Another 129 Fleet Missions were added to the mix. The Crucible had been using less than 1% of its firepower to clear Missions, and the Fleet Missions were all below my station’s level, so I didn’t consider what I was doing risky.

I tapped the screen and initiated the kraken mission.

The lights in my command room turned red, and my holographic map shifted. The transit rings around my station flickered and went through a name change, becoming challenger rings.

An excited grin tugged at my cheeks as my heartrate sped up.

This was different.

Different was good.

The past few Cycles hadn’t been nearly as interesting as the previous ones. None of the neighbouring factions were interested in moving through my transit junction. Defeating three fleets back-to-back and then using one of those fleets to obliterate half a sector might have had a lot to do with why they weren’t interested. Or it could have been all the resources and credits they saw pass through my station afterwards. Either way, these days, I only heard from them when a faction came to trade or Kilocksin teenagers turned up to challenge the dungeon.

Both occasions were rare.

I tapped a button on the arm of my command chair, and six extra interactive holographic screens appeared before me. I tapped several other icons on the screens, allowing the weapon systems to target and clear threats as fast as possible. There was no point overthinking this. Without a psychological aspect to this battle, I might hit them with everything at once.

On my holographic map, the renamed transit rings expanded, becoming larger, and a three-minute countdown began. Each of them was marked with a fleet icon. The normal challenger transit ring remained the same and received a beast icon. This was all new, and I found that exciting.

I turned to the display screen and nodded to Kangaroo Billy. “You’ll have your resources in five minutes.”

Kangaroo Billy grinned. “You’re a good cunt, Morgan.”

I chuckled. “Just win your battle.”

“I’m not promising anything. Even with double the resources, this will be rough.”

I tapped several icons and compiled all of the rewards from the Fleet Missions into a single sum.

Reward:

Credits: 4,895,949,000

Resource Points: 7,958,300

Path Points: 228

Class Points: 24260

Assorted Technology: 2931

Below level 5, challenges only gave credits, resources, random bits of technology from alien factions, and a single class point. Over level 5, that class point could be multiplied or turned into a path point. I’d been clearing challenges nonstop, but this reward was still roughly eighty-two times what everyone had already received.

I shook my head. “If you can’t win with what’s coming, you’ll never live it down.”

I ended the call without elaborating, too interested in what I saw on the map. The challenger rings with the fleet icons were still growing. On the display, the rings broke apart, and the individual pieces continued to spread while maintaining their circular shape. It looked like this challenge would send all the fleets through at once.

That was interesting but not concerning.

With the help of the other station masters, I’d upgraded seven systems since the 20th Cycle invasion. The Moat, Auto Hive Hangar Bay, Shield Drones, and Gunships were all as effective as my R2D2s, so the free weapons I got from my station development path now packed a bigger punch.

Despite what others had said, replacing the R9s with Moats was the right decision. Even if their dungeon mob was terrible, Moats fired midweight rounds at rates similar to a Gatling gun, which made them hyper-effective against everything except battleships and dreadnaughts. Yes, that meant I was left with a heavy railgun, which couldn’t act as a heavy railgun, but that just meant I had to replace it with something else. I wanted that something else to be a heavy missile battery, which was the reason why Kangaroo Billy’s missiles and an improved missile battery were so important.

I launched the gunships and shield drones, manually ordering the drones to block incoming fire. Each gunship was outfitted with an R2D2 railgun, an anti-missile system, and a dozen commandos who could board enemy vessels. The gunships were primarily designed to engage targets smaller than a frigate, but their high-level technology, anti-missile system, and R2D2 meant they worked incredibly well as a missile defence system. They and shield drones provided an extra layer of defence for the station.

It was unlikely that I would need them, but I would rather deploy them and not use them than not deploy them and need them. The reason I wouldn’t need them was my R2D2s.

Each R2D2 provided five station rats, making them my most cost-effective method for leveling the station. So, over the last seven Cycles, I’d constructed 300,000 of them. They completely covered the station and the inner ring. Thanks to how many rats they produced, the Crucible was already level 14.

I tapped my screens, presetting targets for the Predator and Hammerhead missiles. After that, I double-checked that the R2D2s were free to autotarget and sat back and waited.

The challenger transit rings continued to grow until the very last second, when the massive rings simultaneously created wormholes, and hundreds of thousands of vessels passed through, firing thrusters. They were so packed together that they looked like a cloud of sandflies on my display.

The R2D2s didn’t fire, showing me that the mission hadn’t begun. Tee had told me harder missions would provide extra information, but this was the first time I’d seen it happen. My new Twin Action Communication Array pinged me, so I tapped the icon.

The computer highlighted a dreadnaught coming through what had been the Octorin ring and activated audio. “This is Commander Razorback. Does anyone have eyes on the kraken?”

The computer highlighted a second dreadnaught coming from the Kilocksin ring. “This is Commander Sinclair. I picked up your message. Do you mean to tell me your fleet has also been chased through a wormhole by a kraken?”

A third dreadnaught from the Uon ring entered the conversation. “This is Commander Peach. My science officer informs me we’ve been funnelled into a kraken nursery.”

“My sensors show we’re in a transit junction,” Commander Razorback replied.

“My science officer has just clarified that a nursery is a location filled with food for a pregnant kraken to give birth in. The food arrives first. We need to escape.”

The portals behind the fleets snapped closed and shrank to their original size. The portals reconnected to the sectors around me, allowing the fleets a means of escape, signalling the beginning of the mission.

My R2D2s opened fire, creating waves of death in all directions to compensate for the recoil. “Computer, prioritise vessels closest to the transit rings with the second wave of rounds.”

There was still a fifteen-second cooldown between how often the R2D2s could fire its three shots, so the first wave of fire would take out the easy targets, and the second wave would stop the fleets from escaping.

The gunships, corvettes, frigates, and the enemy's most destructive weapons all vanished in the first wave. A third of the destroyers also vanished. Tee and I had been running experiments on the challenger transit ring missions since the beginning of the Cycle when it had finished being built. The R2D2s could destroy anything that came from a level 8 mission or lower. Up until level 6, they could easily take out battleships, so these fleets were easy pickings.

The second wave of fire took out anything near the transit rings, turning what had started as over a million-vessel fleet into a few hundred thousand.

A gargantuan ball of tentacles began to squeeze itself through the challenger transit ring directly above my station. It was so big that it scrapped the sides of the wormhole. The station detected a spatial disturbance there, but I had no clue what that meant without Tee.

On my holographic map, the third wave of fire dropped the number of enemies to below one hundred thousand. The gunships began intercepting missiles from the battleships and dreadnaughts while the shield drones flew in the path of anything dangerous.

The Crucible dropped its shield, preferring to activate the Retractive Armour where it was needed. Thick armoured panels slid in and out of place, protecting the weapons and hull from the return fire. The Crucible had a lot of armour, so prioritising the battleships and dreadnaughts' heavy weapons with the first wave of fire made their numbers redundant. The Crucible could do this all day.

The fourth wave of fire reduced their number to thirty thousand, leaving only carriers, battleships, and dreadnaughts. The kraken still hadn’t finished squeezing through its portal. In fact, it hadn’t made much progress.

“Computer, target the kraken with one thousand R2D2s. Track the damage with a percentage bar.”

On the map, weapons fire was redirected to the kraken as the enemy fleet shrank. I watched the first wave of fire hit the kraken, but the 100% bar above it never changed. That could only mean one thing. The R2D2s hadn’t harmed it.

My grin grew larger. “Computer, target kraken with Moats. Computer, target kraken with Hammerheads, disregard previous targets for this missile type.”

The fleet's remaining ships dropped to below ten thousand as I watched 16 Moats direct their fire on the kraken. The damage percentage changed from 100% to 99.9999999% but never dropped lower until the Hammerheads reached it. As they exploded, the number dropped slightly and then shot back up.

My grin faded. “I think we might be in trouble, Tee,” I said before remembering he was being moderated. “Computer, scan the kraken for critical systems which the particle cannon can destroy.”

A new icon with a timer appeared. The timer showed eight minutes. That was too long. I needed Tee back. I’d made a big mistake. Actually, I’d made several.

The first was not building a few hundred Moats when I had the chance. Yes, they didn’t give me as much experience, but less experience was preferable to how many path points I would have to spend to get out of this mess.

For every 15 path points that I invested in my station development path, I received one free Moat. Changing that number from one to two would cost me 15 path points. Changing that number from one to fifteen would cost me 210 path points. It would also increase my total path point investment to 459 and the total number of Moats to 450.

Though I didn’t want to do this, the cost in path points was less than what I would earn from this mission, so I bit the bullet. I upgraded the number of Moats I received to 15, the current maximum, and watched as hundreds of new weapons came online, emerging from the hull like roses opening in the summer.

“Computer, use new Moats to target the fleet.”

I’d upgraded my Moats with class points the moment I received them, and they could barely damage the kraken. Leaving the fleet alive for the kraken to feed on would definitely result in the destruction of my station.

The Moats opened fire on what was left of the fleets, targeting those closest to the transit rings first. The R2D2s were no longer destroying vessels. Instead, they were stripping point defence weapons from the battleships and dreadnaughts so the Predators could get close. With the Moats, they became unnecessary.

I watched the counter for the enemy ships drop from five figures to four figures between one wave of R2D2 fire and the next. In less than a minute, the fleets were gone.

Now, I could deal with my actual problem. “Computer, target the kraken with all Moats.”

I pulled up the mission logs to check that the fleet quests had all been cleared. They had, and the rewards had been sent to all stations. The rounds from the Moats reached the kraken while I was checking, and I watched as damage accumulated.

It wasn’t fast enough.

I spent 280 path points upgrading the Auto Hive Hangar Bays so I received 15 for every 20 path points invested. After that, I spent another 40 path points to finish upgrading the missile batteries to the same ratio. That brought my total investment up to 779.

The rate it was taking damage increased, but it still wasn’t enough.

Destroying half of the Horde’s local sector had given me 2560 additional path points outside of my levels. I’d been planning to invest heavily in missile batteries, but I did have a second plan.

I spent 1400 path points upgrading the frequency of receiving Phoenix Reactor Attachments to its maximum. Each attachment originally required me to invest 100 path points, but it increased the reactor’s power output by 10%. With 2181 path points invested and a fifteen-fold increase to how many I received, I’d just increased the Pheonix Reactors power output by 31,500%.

I still had path points to invest, but I’d wait and see how big of a difference tripling the number of Moats made before doing anything else. I still wanted to invest in more missile batteries.

A light went on in my head.

I pulled up my contact list and tapped Kangaroo Billy and the override icon.

His face appeared on my view screen. “I’m kind of busy, cunt.”

I ignored him. “Sheila, can you wipe the entire battlefield in the next minute with everything I sent you?”

“Does a dingo eat a baby?” Sheila replied.

“Billy, I need you to give Sheila permission to make clear the field. I'll lose my station if I don’t get heavy weapons soon.”

Billy cracked a beer. “Sheila, give the baby his bottle.”

I found the name of the second person I needed to contact and overrode their coms system. General Anson appeared on my view screen beside Kangaroo Billy.

“General Anson, Kangaroo Billy just gained his dungeon master. I’m opening communication between your stations so Chadwell can work with Billy’s dungeon master to make a prototype. You have two minutes. I’m in a bind and need that weapon.”

The general nodded. “Archimedes, take over communication, follow the previously established protocols.”

“Sir, yes, Sir,” Archimedes, his station AI, replied.

I opened communication with Admiral Grant. He was the one who worked out that you didn’t need to have a functioning weapon system to link your dungeon master with when you took the trait. The design was all you needed. This discovery was quite important because it meant station masters could test a new weapon design each time they prestige.

Admiral Grant hadn’t finished the tutorial, but he had reached level 100. He was currently holding off from taking the dungeon master trait so he could assist us with making a better missile battery system.

He appeared on my screen, and I started talking. “I’m going to need your dungeon master in a minute. My station’s survival depends on it.”

Admiral Grant nodded. “Poseidon, you know what to do.”

I turned my attention back to the Moats. They were still firing, but they had stopped doing damage. The damage indicator was stuck at 99%. It wasn’t going up or down.

“Computer, can the kraken increase the rate that it regenerates?”

“Scans indicate yes.”

Admiral Grant frowned. “Where’s your AI?”

“He’s being moderated,” I replied.

“We’re done,” Sheila announced. “Poseidon’s got the designs and list of all the technology you’ve unlocked. He’s initiating the dungeon master as I speak and if I’m not mistaken, you should receive a design for a new and improved missile battery in three, two, one. Bingo.”

A design for a new missile battery appeared on my build list exactly as she said ‘Bingo’. Poseidon had named the weapon system after himself, but I didn’t care because it had a AA rating. The only other weapon with a AA rating was my R2D2s. The Moat had an A+E rating.

The rating system was a shorthand way of saying if something was both a good station weapon and a good dungeon mob. The Moat's A+E rating meant it was an A+ station weapon with an E rated dungeon mob.

I discovered why the Poseidon was an AA system when I opened up the missile list. It was only configured to fire four missiles: Predators, Hammerheads, Goblins, and Megalodons. The lack of variation wasn’t the reason, though. The Megalodons were classified as an A+ missile, which had pulled up the Predator's B rating.

I loaded a Poseidon onto the construction list.

“Computer, use the maintenance drones to initiate the build quest. Then, use internal turrets to clear the quest. Before construction begins, move all maintenance drones to assist with its construction and activate the Auto Hive Hangar Bays build assistance program. I want all of their construction drones to assist with the build.”

The Auto Hive Hangar Bays each came with a swarm of construction drones. These drones took up less space than normal ship repair and construction equipment and could assist in station construction and repair. They could also be used to intercept missiles if necessary.

I got a notification that the build quest had been initiated, which was immediately followed by the notification that the quest had been cleared. When my station’s weapons fabricator had been level 1, the construction time for a single missile battery was measured in hours. Now that it was level 10, with a 210% increase in productivity from the weapon fabricator attachments, the build time was measured in minutes. With the maintenance drone and construction drones on top of that, build time was measured in seconds.

I hadn’t finished constructing the outer ring yet, but the crossover bridges were built and had space for extra weapons. The moment the Poseidon was finished, every other missile battery on the station transformed, becoming an identical copy.

I grinned. “Computer, fire all missiles at the kraken.”

***

Tee continued to berate me as the kraken circled the station, searching for weaknesses. On my view screen, Hammerheads, Goblins, and Moat rounds peppered the great behemoth injuries, causing enough damage to keep the wounds from regenerating. Like everything else about the Poseidon Missile Battery, the missiles were now fully upgraded. These would be with me for a long time, so paying the cost made sense.

It had taken the kraken five minutes to squeeze through the challenger transit ring. The Megalodons had blown away large chunks of flesh but couldn’t kill it in time. The baby kraken, which was bigger than my station, immediately charged toward the station. Desperate, I fired the station’s particle cannon, my only use for this Cycle. The beam cut straight through it, injuring it badly and spooking it into retreat.

The kraken had since discovered that the Megalodons, while incredibly powerful, were also incredibly short-range. I hadn’t realised the creature was intelligent until Tee returned and called me a blind idiot.

“What were you thinking?” Tee shouted at me again.

“I was thinking that Kangaroo Billy needed help, or he wouldn’t survive the next hour,” I shouted back with a grin. “And I thought it was safe because you’ve already categorised all the missions.”

“I can only categorise mission while I’m here, and you knew I was gone.”

“It’s not my fault your replacement is glitchy. How was I supposed to know the computer would take a mission from the new pile you hadn’t vetted.”

Challenger transit ring missions were generated constantly. The closer your station was to the location where it was generated, the sooner you saw it. This early in the Game, that didn’t mean much, but later, when every station had a challenger transit ring, proximity to sectors dictated who would get extra resources and who wouldn’t.

Tee seemed to be pissed about how his moderation had gone because he didn’t concede the point. He changed the subject.   “Do you have any idea how dangerous this creature is?”

I did, in fact, know how dangerous this creature was. It was so dangerous that my R2D2s couldn’t harm it. My Moats were like mosquitoes. And the Poseidons, weren’t enough to tame the beast. The particle cannon was the only reason it hadn’t destroyed us yet.

Of course, I didn’t tell Tee that. “The system says it’s level 1.”

“Right now, but what happens when the other factions realise it’s here? They’ll send their ships in to feed it experience.”

“Well, that will certainly be more interesting. What happened to you anyway? Why did you get moderated this time?”

“I was trying to get creative with something The Three-Man Army found,” Tee said.

“And now I’m fighting a kraken.”

“That’s your fault. Don’t blame me for this.”

I laughed back. “I would like to point out that this happened right as you were being moderated, making this whole event suspicious in my mind. Being wrapped up in the universe's largest tentacles is the sort of thing a tentacle porn loving pervert like yourself would ask the moderators for as compensation. In the future, please don’t involve me in your sick and twisted fantasies.”

“It’s awfully suspicious how quickly you went to blaming this on me and relating it to my non-existent fetish, considering you haven’t stopped grinning since it appeared. If anyone here is involving anyone in their sick and twisted fantasies, it’s you. After all, I’m not the president of the world’s largest tentacle porn lover’s fan club.”

“You made that fan club, and then you made me president.”

“You can’t prove that. And I have paid witnesses saying you’ve been at every convention.”

I snorted. “You’re so lucky the media hasn’t found that club.”

“Oh, they’ve found it. You’re just lucky I can afford their bribes.”

“Bullshit.”

“Believe what you want, but it’s the world’s largest tentacle porn fan club, Morgan. It’s not exactly discreet.”

I lost a little bit of my grin and decided to change the subject before Tee escalated the situation, and I found myself owning the world’s largest tentacle porn studio. “How is The Three-Man army doing?”

“They’re on track for credit extraction.”

The Three-Man Army controlled the most advanced gunship in the Game. If the ship’s AI let them access the weapon systems, they would’ve solved all of Earth's problems alone. Instead, they were using their limited access to the gunship’s systems to stealthily move between sectors to extract the falling sectors' credits and any atomic fabricator they might have. Thanks to them, The surviving sectors would be much better off.

“Good. Do a deep scan of this creature. The other scan showed us nothing useful, and I want to know what we’re dealing with.”

With the kraken out of range, I had time to finish some work. I had a lot more responsibility than just my station.

I pressed a button on my command chair, and a holographic screen showed me a list of messages from the last hour. I skimmed through, looking to see if there was anything important.

Tee had hijacked every faction's communication system, so we knew most of what was going on throughout our entire branch of the galaxy. The vulnerability of these systems seemed to be well known, as almost every military didn’t use their public communication systems. We had to piece together their actions through sightings and random redirections of goods.

We paid a lot of attention to where information disappeared, or transport vessels made journeys without order forms.

A message marked important caught my attention.  I opened it up and read through it.

I frowned. “The Uon have discovered a large deposit of high-grade metal on a moon in one of their less valuable sectors. They’ve stopped all progress in the sector to focus on mining and are preparing to transport the materials out of the sector to one of their more militaristic sectors. Our analysts think they’re going to abandon the sector once they’ve mined out the deposit.”

“You want the Three-Man Army to smuggle a bomb to them?”

I nodded. “They’re the single biggest faction in our local branch of the galaxy. Leaving them alone isn’t going to end well for us.”

“I’ll remember to talk to them about it when we’re Earthside. They’ve got too much to worry about as is, so do we.”

A lot had changed in the past month. Earth was in the process of losing most of its sectors and finally taking the Game seriously. The faction within Earth that I’d help create had consolidated into an entire political force, treating their allegiance inside and outside of the Game as two different entities. With our success in Sector 13, 90% of the local population had joined, with a third of the global population joining overall. We only had a small percentage of the military, so those who wanted to fight were now going through basic training, becoming an army instead of just a mob with guns.

I kept scanning through the messages and found one from the Horde from the local sector. I chuckled as I read it. “The Horde has their next shipment of tribute ready to send and sell through the station.”

Tee laughed. “Their sector might be a mess, but at least they know their place.”

“How long do you think they’ll hold out? They’re getting hammered at their other transit gates.”

“Longer than you would think. With how powerful this station is, it’s impossible for any faction but ours to hit them through their local transit gate. It gives them less territory to hold, which is incredibly helpful in their situation.”

The command room went red as the ball of tentacles turned and started heading for the station again. As it approached, a gaping wound along its left side showed on the holographic interface. The sides of the wound were closing as the creature seemed to be an amalgamation of biological components and technology.

My blood started to pump a little faster as the anticipation built. “Aim for the injury. It’s the only thing that will make it back off.”

“This might be the wrong time to bring it up, but there’s something big happening in Sector 3.”