He split his consciousness between the two fights, while a background loop monitored other developments across the world. As shots spat down from the muzzle flare of the defenders above him, a solid wall of concentrated light beams leapt out from the perimeter of the lifting facility. His phalanx began their relentless march, forty warriors in step, gauss rifles at the ready. The hum of anti-gravitic motors carried the Destroyers aloft while their skorpekh allies broke into awkward yet swift runs after them.

Zozar lifted his beam cannon towards the humans, targeting symbols appearing over each one as his weapon protocols noted their locations. He opened fire as he raced forward, snakes of lightning leaping from the weapon to turn each target into a dissipating cloud of particles. His skorpekh minions fired with him, unleashing a volley of bright green beams against the defenders. Some vaporised the humans, others missed their marks, punching neat holes through the stone-like building material. Bullets pattered off his form, a few of them leaving welts that disappeared as his living metal body rejuvenated itself. Magnifying his light sensors, Zozar spied several heavier weapons being set up on the roof – as yet out of range of his cannons. He broadcast an alert to the skorpekh guard but there was nothing to be done except be aware of their arcs of fire.

The phalanx was now in range of the wall at the lifting station. Emerald lightning crossed with pulses of red laser, turning the air into a kaleidoscope of energy. Here and there a warrior fell, overwhelmed by several synchronous hits, the living metal unable to reform fast enough to preserve vital systems. The casualties on the wall were far higher. Gauss lightning crept along the ramparts, leaving atomic scatter in its wake. Gun emplacements that roared with larger projectiles and rapid-firing light beams fell silent beneath the excoriating assault of multiple gauss blasts.

To his right, a missile coughed into motion, flaring down from the storage building roof. One of his skorpekhs was too slow to avoid the hit, taking the explosion of the missile in the torso. Appendages flew from the body, parted by the vehement chemical reaction. The skorpekh attempted to continue but its remaining two legs were ill-positioned for balance and it toppled sideways. Still filled with the need to kill, the skorpekh dragged itself forward with its remaining arm, its cortical field pulsing with hatred for the living.