Intergalactic conquest with an AI

Chapter 202 Aftermath. (2) Allied fleet.

Here and there, small pockets of resistance could still be seen from desperate survivors aboard broken frigates and escape pods clinging to life, firing their last futile shots at the overwhelming enemy.

But the sheer number of the Khryssari swarms, the relentless biomechanical horrors birthed by the Hive Minds, made resistance an exercise in futility.

The swarms moved with terrifying coordination, overwhelming even the smallest pockets of survivors.

Their smaller vessels darted like ravenous insects, while their larger, grotesque dreadnought-class organisms loomed ominously, tearing through what remained of the Allied fleet with horrifying efficiency.

The survivor's cries for help and last-ditch efforts to fight back amounted to nothing. It was no longer a battle; it was a slow, inevitable slaughter.

Farther out, the supercapital-class ships of the Hive Minds floated like monstrous gods, their organic-metallic hulls pulsing faintly with a sinister glow.

These titanic vessels, forged in the unfathomable depths of the Hive's biomechanical forges, had utterly obliterated the Allied supercapitals in a battle that could only be described as one-sided carnage.

The Allied fleet, despite its size and advanced technology, had been no match for the Hive's relentless onslaught.

The Hive Mind's ability to adapt and overwhelm its enemies with sheer numbers and evolving tactics had turned the tide of the battle before it even began. It was not a question of if the Allied fleet would lose, but when.

And now, at 6:55 a.m. on the Year 5608 of the Imperial Galactic System, that question had been answered.

Inside the control chamber of the Hive Capital Organism, an eerie biomechanical room lit by pulsating veins of green and blue bioluminescence, a transmission echoed through the organic walls.

<<The complete annihilation of the Allied fleet has been confirmed; there were no survivors.>>

The voice was cold and emotionless, transmitted directly into the neural network of the subconscious mind. It wasn't spoken in words so much as it was felt; a thought passed from one node of the Hive to another, cascading across the collective consciousness like a ripple through still water.

One of the Hive Mind's overseer organisms, a grotesque fusion of flesh, metal, and glowing neural tissue hovered within the chamber.

Its multitude of eyes blinked in unison as it absorbed the report. It reached out with a biomechanical limb to interact with the pulsating control interface, sending confirmation signals back through the swarm's vast network.

The overseer emitted a low, guttural hum, a soundless command picked up by the countless swarms still devouring the last remnants of the Allied fleet.

"Aboard the remaining debris field," the survivors, those unlucky enough to have lived through the initial slaughter, were swiftly being hunted down.

Escape pods drifted aimlessly, their distress beacons pinging futilely into the void. One by one, the Khryssari hunters latched onto them, their razor-sharp appendages tearing through the hulls with terrifying ease.

Inside, terrified crew members screamed as the hunters ripped them apart, their final moments lost to the cold emptiness of space.

The small frigates and corvettes, with their engines flickering with the last power reserves, attempted desperate evasive maneuvers. Some even fired their remaining weapons at the advancing swarm. But their attacks were pitiful against the sheer number and size of the Khryssari ships.

A lone Allied battleship, its once-mighty hull torn and blackened, let out one last barrage of plasma cannons in a defiant stand against the Hive Mind's forces. The shots struck one of the Hive's dreadnought organisms, causing minor damage.

But the retaliation was swift and brutal; the Dreadnought's massive tendrils lashed out, wrapping around the battleship and crushing it like a child snapping a twig.

Within moments, the ship exploded in a silent burst of fire and debris, its crew and hope extinguished in an instant.

Back on the Hive Capital Organism, the overseer continued to monitor the swarm's progress. Its grotesque form pulsated slightly as it relayed new orders:

<<All remaining debris is to be harvested. Biological material is to be extracted and stored. Organic survivors are no longer necessary. Terminate them.>>

The command spread across the swarm like wildfire, and the Khryssari hunters and ships moved with renewed purpose.

The Hive wasted nothing; every scrap of metal, every drop of biological matter, and every flicker of data would be collected and repurposed. This was the way of the hive mind. Nothing was left behind.

Within the next hour, there would be no trace of the Allied fleet left in orbit, no survivors, no wreckage, no memory of the once proud armada that had dared to challenge the Hive.

The only thing that remained was silence.

On one of Nexum Dynamics most luxurious paradise worlds, nestled within the heart of a verdant garden estate, Viceroy Pax was indulging in his evening snack party.

The setting was decadent; crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over marble floors, exotic music played in the background, and the air was thick with the scent of rare alien flowers and gourmet delicacies.

Pax was a towering humanoid octopus with shimmering blue skin, slicked-back hair, and a sharp suit, and face tentacles that twitched with subtle movements, sat at the head of the grand dining table, surrounded by his closest inner circle.

The viceroy was in high spirits while sipping a rare wine extracted from an extinct fruit species while delicately nibbling on a glowing bioluminescent delicacy. His face tentacles twitched with delight as he entertained his guests with stories of his recent triumphs.

Suddenly, one of his servants, a slender, nervous individual with pale skin, stepped into the room and leaned down to whisper something into Pax's ear.

The viceroy's tentacles froze mid-movement, his glowing eyes narrowing. Then, with a forced smile, he stood, raising his glass.

"Gentlemen," he announced with a theatrical flourish, "it seems an urgent matter has arisen that requires my immediate attention. I trust you will continue to enjoy the drinks and the feast I have so generously prepared for you."

He extended his arms in a gesture of magnanimity, as though dismissing himself from the table was a gift to his guests.

The attendees murmured their assurances, bowing slightly in respect as Pax left the room with his servant trailing behind him.

Once inside the privacy of his lavish office, Pax dropped his facade. He stepped toward his desk, retrieving a peculiar item from a gilded container. It looked like a cigar, but instead of dried leaves, its casing was filled with a shimmering jelly-like substance that swirled hypnotically.

Pax placed the cigar-like object to his lips and took a long, deliberate inhale, the jelly glowing faintly as he did. A minute later, he exhaled, releasing a cloud of iridescent smoke that lingered in the air, making his face tentacles shiver with pleasure.

Satisfied, he reclined into his custom-made chair, its cushions adjusting perfectly to his form. His glowing eyes locked onto the servant.

"Now," he began, his tone smooth yet cold, "tell me in detail what has occurred."

The servant swallowed nervously, bowing his head as he summoned several holographic screens in midair. Each screen displayed reports, visuals, and sensor data from the Nexum facility in question.

"Understood, Lord Pax," the servant began. "As I mentioned earlier, one of our facilities in the commercial world, designated Hanarix, was attacked a few days ago. We've since lost all communication with them. There's been no response to any of our attempts to re-establish contact."

Pax lazily waved his hand as if swatting away a fly, scrolling through the holographic displays with apparent disinterest. The screens showed the aftermath of the battle, the ruined structures, burning debris, and extensive signs of combat. But Pax barely glanced at it.

"I don't see the issue here," Pax said with his voice laced with disdain. "Send the defensive fleet in that sector to eliminate the offenders. That's why they exist, is it not? Don't waste my time with trivialities."

His glowing eyes shifted to the servant, now burning with a faint but unmistakable killing intent. Pax's hatred for wasted time was legendary since he viewed it as the most unforgivable of offenses.

The servant stammered, beads of sweat forming on his pale forehead. "O-of course not, my lord! There's more to it than that!" He bowed deeply, trembling as he continued. "The issue is… we've also lost contact with the defensive fleet in that sector."

Pax's tentacles twitched in irritation, but the servant's words had caught his attention. His demeanor shifted from annoyance to curiosity while he leaned forward slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing.

"Interesting. If I'm not mistaken, the Allied Fleet is stationed in that region as well. What's the status of their forces?"

The servant hesitated, fumbling with his holo pad as he tried to find the relevant information. "We… we've received no communication from them either, my lord. All attempts to contact them have also failed. Their last report came in shortly before we lost contact with the region entirely."

Pax frowned, with his interest now fully piqued. With a flick of his hand, he summoned a larger holographic screen in front of him and began pulling up live news feeds, scanning for any reports from the Hanarix sector.

As the feeds loaded, his face darkened. There was nothing, no updates, no chatter, no signs of life from one of the busiest sectors under his control.

"Show me their last report," Pax demanded, extending his hand impatiently.

The servant quickly transferred the report to Pax's screen. A smaller holographic display appeared before the viceroy, detailing the Allied Fleet's final communication.

The report began as a standard transmission, showing the commanding officer of the Allied Fleet standing aboard his flagship. The background noise suggested urgency but no immediate panic.

"This is Admiral Voss of the Allied Fleet," the officer said, his tone brisk but composed.

"We've encountered unexpected resistance in the Hanarix sector. Enemy forces are… unlike anything we've encountered before. Requesting reinforcements immediately."

The transmission glitched briefly, and when it resumed, the tone of the broadcast had shifted drastically. Alarms blared in the background, and the admiral's face was pale with his composure slipping.