Had to stub chapters 1-31 because of Amazon, but my first Volume has finally released for kindle and Audible!

If you want to hear some premium voice acting, listen to the first volume, which you can find in the comments below!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/duddlered

Discord: https://discord.gg/qDnQfg4EX3

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Darkness was almost absolute in the subterranean world, but where the naked eye couldn’t see, another found its surroundings painted in gradients of white, gray, and black. From its position eight feet above, a highly classified and very tiny drone watched attentively over the long corridor with its thermal sensors.

Lofting along at a leisurely pace, the small reconnaissance drone flew past several human-shaped heat signatures spread out, their weapons aimed in the direction the drone was flying. Through the thermal spectrum, the bodies of these individuals glowed with a white intensity. Compared to the cold, dead walls, they appeared as living furnaces, but it wasn’t long before the heat signatures vanished as the drone floated further down the long, scarred tunnel.

As the drone moved closer to the sharp bend, new heat signatures began to appear. While still retaining heat, these were much duller than the living personnel cordoning off the intersection behind the drone. These heat sources couldn't even be considered ‘hot’ by any real standard, but they were warm enough to catch attention.

After zooming in, the drone focused on faint white smears traced along the walls. The warmth of these smears seemed to slowly dissipate into the cold concrete like dying breaths. What was even more concerning were the cooling masses scattered everywhere. Clumps of something that one could only consider organic dotted the floor and walls in patterns that suggested explosive violence. Whatever had caused this must have been horrific and nightmarish.

It wasn’t long before the drone came to a gentle hover just before the bend. Its rotors barely disturbed the stale air as its sensors swept the corner, finding more smears and more disfigured clumps, but these glowed brighter in the thermal spectrum. There were fresher. Whatever had done this had finished off these poor souls recently.

However, the real reason for the halt in the drone's advance was soon made evident. Movement was caught below as a Quadrupedal Unmanned Ground Vehicle—similar to Boston Dynamics' Spot but heavily modified for military operations—tapped forward on its rubberized feet.

The Q-UGV itself was an interesting sight. Unlike the humans behind it, the four-legged drone’s core was like a blaze. Its power systems were responsible for most of the heat, making it glow like a beacon, while its extremities registered as cold as the tunnel walls.

However, what made this drone special was its modifications. Jerry-rigged to its articulating arm was the unmistakable profile of a USMC FILBE Assault pack filled to the brim with modular bricks of C4. The modification was crude but highly effective within the confines of these tunnels. It was a spark of ingenuity in underground combat. Instead of risking human lives to clear hostile spaces, you could twist the articulating arm into a room or simply walk the drone into anyone you no longer wanted to exist.

"Jackal Actual." Suddenly, a voice crackled through encrypted comms just as the Q-UGV came to a stop before the bend. The surveillance drone mirrored the quadruped's position as it floated near the ceiling just behind it. "We have Fido in position. Status report."

A flurry of confirmations followed. Unit designations, positions, and call-outs confirmed their drones were in place. The entire assault across the battlespace suddenly halted when word spread that a Wyrm, or more colloquially, a walker, was inside the tunnels.

Pausing their attack to let the enemy breathe or escape was less than ideal, but the alternative was far worse. Charging into something that can tear through armored vehicles like paper would only cause unsustainable casualties, and they would end up doing the same thing they are now anyway.

"Jackal copies all," Jackal’s voice returned, satisfied with the responses. Perimeters were set, checkpoints established, and other teams had their own drone and quadruped tandem set up. It appeared that the threat was more or less… ‘contained’ to the deeper, unsecured sections of this complex. "Execute."

Just as the command to start this impromptu operation echoed through communications, the two drones continued their advance. As the Q-UGV maintained its steady trot, the drone behind it stayed near the ceiling.

Even with the daisy chain of MPU-5 tactical network radios, the operators struggled to maintain a seamless connection to both machines. It wasn’t unusable, but it was obvious that something down here was interfering with every damn signal, making communication rather frustrating. Hell, even controlling the drones in real time was a challenge. There was a few-millisecond delay with every command, and operating the airborne drone required a very delicate touch.

The operators of the two drones were deliberate in how they positioned themselves. By maintaining a respectful twenty-foot distance from the aerial drone, it was able to keep overwatch in relative safety, spotting anything the quadruped didn’t see while it mapped out what was ahead. But as the Q-UGV moved past the bend, new thermal signatures appeared on the lagging drone’s sensors as Marines and SEALs moved up slowly and carefully.

At the very front of the formation, Marines with their rifles aimed in the direction the robotic dog was moving, while just a few meters behind them, two other Marines were carrying around the new Confined Space variant AT4s. It was evident from how they maneuvered and how the weapons they carried were aimed that they weren’t going to take any chances. This was especially true when it came to something like a Wyrm. No one wanted to be up shit creek without a paddle, and these Marines had plenty of paddles.

With the Marines securing the path ahead, SEALs brought up the rear, and when they reached the peak where the tunnel's bend was sharpest, they immediately began work. One operator quickly dropped to his knees and threw off his pack. After pulling out another $30,000 networking radio, he and his partner started taping it to the wall with 100 MPH tape and began setting it up to connect with the other MPU-5s.

They hoped the small, yet extraordinarily expensive radio would extend their network deeper into the complex, leapfrogging forward each section the drones cleared. Each node in the digital network they were creating down here would become the lifeline connecting them to the machines ahead.

As the SEALs worked, the Marines ahead stopped their own advance to maintain security while the SEALs worked. Even with their night vision goggles, the darkness of this tunnel was oppressive, causing them to keep the infrared torches attached to their weapons on, throwing beams of light that were invisible to the naked eye. However, under the phosphorus hue of their NVGs, the tunnel was basically lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Node eleven online," a SEAL whispered into his headset.

And just like that, the cycle repeated—advance, secure, establish communications, advance again. It was a delicate dance where they slowly crept forward while laying digital breadcrumbs to maintain their connection to their machines.

Throughout the tunnel systems, drones kept moving forward, gradually mapping the entire complex and expanding the assault force's security zone. With the assault now progressing at a snail's pace, commanders lost all hope of maintaining momentum or controlling the operational pace. The fear of encountering a prepared and barricaded enemy haunted them, but no matter how far the machines explored, all they found were empty hallways and rooms stained with blood trails.

But it wasn’t long before the drone's thermal sensors had come across more… grim discoveries. There were unfortunate souls who'd succumbed to injuries that were already close to the ambient temperature. Occasionally, the drones would stumble upon an eviscerated corpse, with parts of it scattered around the room or tunnel as if something had gorged on it.

It seemed like something had been systematically harvesting the wounded as easy targets or even snatching those trying to escape. The damage done to the bodies and the claw marks that marred the walls confirmed what everyone already knew: something massive was hunting down here.

The only redeeming factor here was that there were very few places this damned thing could be. The Marines and SEALs down below had more or less taken control of every entry point in this section of the base, and the security on the surface was like trying to get at a porcupine. Except every spine on this porcupine was tipped with explosives.

Adding to the immense firepower was the fact that this assault force’s situational awareness technology and capabilities had undergone a quiet but very significant revolution. In the makeshift command center hastily set up above ground, screens flickered with real-time data streams, and aides hurriedly moved about, trying to get the daisy-chain of networks properly configured.

The information warfare age was in full swing, even though it was basically cobbled together. Sensor fusion was all the rage, and the new systems aggregated everything—thermal signatures, structural mapping, cadaver sightings. Points of interest lit up across digital maps in yellow, potential hostiles in orange, and friendlies in blue. Each dataset fed into the highly classified AI, which synthesized it all into digestible packets, predicting where enemy forces might be lurking and pushing this intel to every officer’s ATAK.

Not only that, but each Marine and SEAL received packets of information, updating them on friendly forces' positions and each bend that presented potential hazards. They knew exactly where to look, where to go, where their brothers were positioned, and what was classified as dangerous territory. This new age of information warfare allowed them to move faster, more confidently, and thus became every officer’s favorite buzzword.

More Lethal.

The only drawback to this technological advantage was that they no longer had the element of surprise. However, after seeing how empty these tunnel systems were, it became clear they didn't need it. The enemy had been driven out and had essentially abandoned the facility altogether. By turning off the lights and releasing this monster, the defenders hoped to stop or at least slow the attackers.

Mission success on that front. The Marines’ sprint had come to a complete halt just to avoid any unnecessary casualties. However, in the Imperial’s hurried escape, they paid no attention to cleaning up after themselves or sanitizing potential intel. Every room the SEALs and Marines secured turned out to be a complete treasure trove.

Strange objects with impossible heat and energy signatures. Vials of glowing liquids that registered extreme temperatures and had properties that defied science altogether. Weapons that emitted properties the drone's sensors couldn't properly categorize—some reading as absolute zero while visibly steaming, others blazing like miniature suns while frost formed on their surfaces.

It was like a nerd's candy land.

For those more focused on intelligence, maps and documents were scattered across tables, some written in languages that seemed to strain the operators' eyes even when just glancing at them through the drone's optical sensors. It was as if the assault force had stumbled into El Dorado, but instead of gold, they had found secrets and intel.

However, they still faced the small problem of the Wyrm lurking around in these depths.

There was a solution, though. Suggested by a crayon-eating eighteen-year-old with more explosives than sense, he proposed to simply fill an assault pack with forty pounds of C4 and attach it to a Q-UGV. It wasn't an elegant solution, but it was incredibly effective. Point, click, boom. Problem solved.

If that didn't immediately disintegrate the beast, then the teams not far behind with their confined-space variants of AT4s would surely finish it off. Each Marine carried enough firepower to punch through a main battle tank. Against flesh and bone—no matter how monstrous—it should be more than sufficient.

No chances were being taken here.

Ever so slowly, the massive underground complex was being mapped, but the radios available to the special operations forces were beginning to stretch thin with each node that was set up. Every MPU-5 cost at least thirty thousand dollars of taxpayer money, and they'd already deployed over twenty in just one tunnel route. Fortunately, the underground base was starting to converge as large spaces opened up in ways that the drone operators identified as living quarters.

From the layout patterns and obvious cots scattered around, they'd entered what appeared to be the main barracks. The areas they had initially come from were clearly more command-oriented sectors, considering all the documents, maps, expensive items, and luxurious living quarters. That’d explain why it had been such a relatively easy start to their assault.

The SEALs and Marines must have attacked the Imperials at the worst possible moment, catching the command structure completely off guard. This was most likely especially true during the initial stages when JTACs dropped more tonnage of JDAMs and bunker busters into the facility and surrounding area than an aircraft carrier.

Most avenues of the raid had been a gamble of sporadic, but intense resistance, but there were a few where bodies of what appeared to be high-value targets littered some sections. One group of rather rambunctious marines found themselves jumping down a hole into the officers' quarters that was created by a bunker buster. Any staff that hadn’t been immediately killed were subsequently more… ‘holy’ as one Marine put it, soon after.

As the fighting moved into the command center of the facility, high-ranking personnel who never reached evacuation points were gunned down, with only a few taken prisoner. However, those smart enough to surrender had only done so after being gravely wounded, requiring Corpsmen to work overtime to stabilize them.

After a few minutes of scouting the large area, the robot and surveillance drone pair suddenly stopped. Through thermal imaging, another set of mechanical signals appeared coming out of a nearby door. A second quadruped and aerial drone duo emerged. The other Q-UGV's explosive payload matched theirs, while its companion drone hovered near the ceiling, scanning the messy area with its sensors.

"Jackal, this is Mamba," crackled through comms. "Our Fido just made contact with yours. Looks like we've linked up."

There was a brief silence as the two teams tried to figure out what to do next, but Command saw this to be excellent news. They had to make things up on the fly, and now that two sections relatively close to one another had finally made contact, that meant one part of their tunnel's network infrastructure could be completely cannibalized.

It was going to take some coordination, but if they ripped out all the networking in the most secure tunnel, they could redeploy the princess radio and keep expanding the digital web. This convergence meant they could redistribute resources and tighten the noose on this monster.

This was especially important because no one still breathing wanted to enter what could only be described as a tactical mess. This vast space had rows of bunks, overturned lockers, and personal effects scattered everywhere, with stone support pillars breaking it up every hundred or so feet. While large, a Wyrm wasn’t that big, so there were easily a thousand places for the damned thing to hide or break up its shape among the shadows and debris. The thermal clutter alone would make target identification nearly impossible until it was too late.

"All stations, we're designating this a red zone," Jackal's voice came through. "Nobody goes in there without the dogs clearing it first."

A series of confirmations echoed through comms, and not much longer, the robotic dogs started marching again. This time, each team was heading in opposite directions, aiming to map out the outside of the area to find more pathways and hopefully more teams.

If they could secure a few more quadruped and drone pairs, they’d be well positioned to gradually move toward the center of this area and cover every square inch. For now, they had to be satisfied with what they had and let the first few squads of infantry start pushing into the large barracks structure.

The Marines cautiously moved out, ensuring each had their sector secured with overlapping fields of fire using both small arms and heavy weapons. They avoided overextending themselves, knowing they needed to establish a small security perimeter so the SEALs could get another networking node operational.

As the Marines slowly fanned out, they did their best to flood the area with as much infrared light from their weapon-mounted torches as possible. While invisible to the naked eye, through their NVGs, the world glowed in eerie white phosphorescence, revealing the chaotic state of the initial rows of bunk beds.

Behind them, SEALs performed their now-familiar ritual, 100-MPH-taping another MPU-5 against the concrete wall. This time, they aimed to get the node higher onto the wall and provide a better line of sight to the airborne drones so they could cover a much larger area.

And while the operator’s worked, Private First Class Newman approached an overturned locker near a damaged bunk, his rifle sweeping the shadows. Something wasn't right.

"Contact," he whispered into his mic. "I've got something here, but keeping distance."

"Propane One-Four, maintain standoff," Command responded immediately. "Could be the walker."

Newman squinted his eyes through his NVGs. "Negative, too small for that. But I definitely see something..."

He took a few steps forward.

"Newman, what the fuck?!" Lance Corporal Finch hissed from behind him. "What fuck are you doing?! Back over here! Now!"

"What in the hell is th..." Newman started, but his words cut into a yelp of surprise. “OH! JESUS!”

Two bodies burst out of the bunk like bats out of hell. The world was a mess of clangs, screams, and curses as two figures launched themselves into motion. Newman stumbled backward, but his finger was already squeezing the trigger on instinct alone as he snapped his rifle toward the nearest silhouette. His rounds hit the first figure mid-leap, sending them tumbling into the leaning bunk bed with a loud crash.

The other was much more fortunate and was already running. The individual looked like the damn Road Runner as they sprinted down the hallway in pure terror while screaming like a banshee.

Newman leveled his weapon, tracking the runner. His infrared torch illuminated his body, giving the Private perfect visibility through his phosphorus vision. His finger began to squeeze the trigger, but then something odd happened.

A blur.

Something massive flashed across his line of sight, snatching the runner mid-stride. The scream cut off instantly, replaced by wet sounds that made Newman's stomach turn.

The private just stood there, frozen, eyes wide behind his NVGs, with his weapon still raised at nothing.

"PROPANE ONE-FOUR, STATUS!"

**\*

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/duddlered

Discord: https://discord.gg/qDnQfg4EX3

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