Although the images Reagan transmitted back were clear, they were still not enough for a defensive battle that could erupt at any moment.
A video is merely a one-way, delayed information log that cannot provide real-time coordinate parameters.
Andy needed exact trajectories to know whether those two entities were truly hell-bent on crashing straight into his face.
If they were merely passing through or turned elsewhere halfway, throwing the entire city into high alert and halting all production would make Andy, as the supreme leader of Deep Space Industries, look far too amateurish.
"Xiao Liu, prepare to adjust the control network."
Andy's fingers fell onto the keyboard, entering a string of new coordinate parameters.
"Cut off the small balloons' cruising mode and switch them to tactical reconnaissance mode."
"Understood."
The monitoring network—originally distributed evenly across the 500-kilometer airspace surrounding Horisenburg, forming a perfect circle—began to undergo a drastic deformation as the order was given.
Thirty-eight small balloons simultaneously activated their attitude adjustment thrusters, bringing the output power of their anti-gravity engines to maximum capacity.
The base stations located to the north and east began maneuvering south at high speed, while those already in the south continued pushing forward toward the southwest.
Macroscopically, the massive circular monitoring network covering the skies of Horisenburg was being stretched and squeezed by an invisible force.
It transformed from an ellipse into an extremely flattened oval.
The major axis of the ellipse pointed southwest, toward the direction of the Culemborg Trading Zone.
By sacrificing vision along the flanks and rear, Andy forcibly pushed the forward reconnaissance distance outward by 800 kilometers.
Zzz—
With the reorganization of the reconnaissance array, the radio frequency bands across all of Horisenburg were instantly saturated.
To maintain this over-the-horizon, high-bandwidth real-time data transmission, the Canopy base stations had to hijack every available channel, establishing data links between nodes using high-intensity signal beams.
The side effects of this aggressive operation were immediate.
In the surface industrial zone, a foreman directing hoisting operations with a handheld walkie-talkie found nothing but hissing white noise coming from his radio.
In the residential zone, several workers gathered around a portable terminal to view logs saw their signal drop to zero.
Even a few newly installed logistics drones that relied on wireless signals for basic command interactions stalled in the middle of the road.
Five minutes later.
The workshop door was pushed open.
Bower walked in holding a blacked-out data pad.
"Boss, the wireless networks down below are completely cut."
Bower walked up to the desk and shook the data pad.
"Except for those few hardwired underground lines, the rest of the equipment has gone blind. Several remote-controlled excavators that Engineering Department Six just repaired have gone completely dead. They're asking if the substation blew up."
Without raising his head, Andy kept his eyes fixed on the terrain grid being reconstructed on the screen.
"It didn't blow up. I did it."
"I temporarily requisitioned all frequency bands."
"Oh."
Bower nodded and tucked the data pad back into his chest pocket.
"Then I'll go tell them to switch to wired broadcasts."
"Alright."
Bower turned and left, casually closing the door behind him.
The entire exchange took less than half a minute.
No questioning, no nonsense, and no complaints like "Boss, why didn't you notify us in advance?"
At Deep Space Industries, this was the norm.
Everyone knew clearly that behind Andy's orders lay absolute logical backing, even if the command seemed a bit absurd on the surface.
Just execute it!
Andy refocused his attention on the holographic map.
The elongated, flattened oval reconnaissance zone was extending bit by bit toward the southwest.
Even after going to this extent, the edge of the reconnaissance range still could not reach the Culemborg Trading Zone.
However, this was the absolute limit.
Theoretically, if Andy were willing to take a gamble, he could line up all thirty-eight small balloons in a single file and stretch them out, shoving his vision directly into Aethel's face.
Yet strategically, that approach would be extremely foolish.
A straight line meant zero lateral field of view.
Although it reached distant points, the line of sight was extremely narrow.
If those two subterranean megastructures veered slightly off course during their advance—for instance, if they took a detour instead of moving in a straight line—they could easily slip past that "line" and completely disappear into Andy's blind spot.
There was no margin for error.
For Andy, such uncontrollable risks were unacceptable.
Moreover, adjusting the base station array required a significant amount of time.
It was impossible to arrange base stations in a line and sweep them across horizontally like clearing a map in a video game—that violated physical laws.
Fast as the base stations moved, they were not fast enough to teleport within the atmosphere.
Thus, the flattened ellipse was currently the optimal solution.
It extended the reconnaissance distance while retaining sufficient lateral width.
As long as those two massive centipedes were heading toward Horisenburg, no matter how they maneuvered or detoured, they would inevitably be caught by these overlapping scanning grids as long as they remained within this fan-shaped zone.
Now, the net was cast.
All that remained was to wait!
Andy glanced at the time.
Based on the video footage Reagan transmitted earlier, Andy had made a rough estimation of the giant centipedes' movement speed.
Although the creatures were immense and appeared lumbering, they were biological constructs with countless legs, supplemented by abnormally powerful auxiliary propulsion systems.
On flat wasteland terrain, their full-speed propulsion should be around 100 kilometers per hour.
This speed was very subtle.
For aircraft equipped with anti-gravity engines, this was very slow.
However, for ground vehicles, this was exceedingly fast.
Understanding this, Andy had subsequently ordered Engineering Department Six over the comms to station themselves in place and hide inside Culemborg instead of running around.
Although Reagan's convoy consisted entirely of modified off-road vehicles and heavy trucks capable of outrunning the giant centipedes in theoretical top speed, that was only theoretical.
On a wasteland littered with ruins, bomb craters, and industrial debris, the convoy would constantly need to detour, slow down, and search for navigable paths; achieving an actual average speed of sixty kilometers per hour would already be considered fortunate.
If those two giant centipedes caught up to them on the open wasteland, they would be flattened into iron pancakes.
It just so happened that the Dusk was currently in Culemborg; staying there temporarily was far safer for them than being out in the open wilderness.
"Four hours."
Andy gave a key time marker.
"Factoring in the delay for the base stations to fly into position, if their target truly is this place, they will cross into the control network within four hours at the earliest."
Waiting was dull, but Andy did not sit idle.
His consciousness followed the underground fiber-optic cables, connecting to another core area several kilometers away.
The Launch Well.
Although Deep Space Industries had focused its development on the industrial park and residential areas over the past four months—specifically the section centered around the Scientific Research Tower—it did not mean Andy had forgotten about the Launch Well.
On the contrary, he had invested slightly more resources there than others imagined.
The holographic map switched to the internal structural layout of the Launch Well.
It was an extremely complex, three-dimensional underground space.
Deep Space Industries' current sphere of control was mainly concentrated around the mouth of the well and the auxiliary facilities of the maintenance base in the middle section of the first two underground levels.
This included a massive ultra-high-pressure fire suppression system originally used for putting out starship fires, as well as several abandoned substations, antenna arrays, and service towers.
Before Andy took over, these places were heavily infested with Wraith activity.
Now, however, the area had been swept completely clean.
Power was restored to the substations, and the antenna arrays were repaired and linked into Andy's internal network.
It was worth mentioning that during his exploration, Andy discovered an interesting engineering detail.
From the perspective of 21st-century or current Imperial engineering, a Launch Well of this scale would surely feature independent data center buildings and communication command centers.
Yet Andy had searched every corner without finding any.
Only later, through a deep scan by the STC, did he discover that Golden Age designers never built those cumbersome structures in the first place.
All data processing units and communication nodes were integrated directly inside the alloy walls of the well.
The walls themselves were the computers; the walls were the servers.
Under normal circumstances, no personnel were needed to enter for maintenance; if something broke, automated repair robots would crawl out from within the walls to fix it.
This highly integrated design saved Andy a substantial amount of effort; when he needed to use it, he could simply take over the system remotely using high-level authorization.
At this moment, the defensive deployment of the Launch Well was complete.
Kaelber stood at the top of a service tower, wearing that same "Vanguard" power armor that had undergone numerous repairs and upgrades.
Behind him and at key nodes below, seventy warriors—also clad in power armor—were stationed.
To deal with this crisis, Andy had consolidated all the Vanguard squads previously scattered in various locations to this single site.
Meanwhile, on the elevated platforms with open lines of sight, twenty "Iron Ostrich" all-terrain self-propelled artillery pieces had entered their firing positions.
Their long-barreled cannons were not pointed at the sky, but levelled horizontally toward the bottomless darkness below.
At this distance and angle, they were no longer indirect curvature artillery, but high-powered direct-fire sniper cannons.
Should any Wraiths dare to show their heads from below, 155mm high-explosive shells would slam straight into their faces.
As for Jetton, the former "Rat King," he was currently rushing about near the Launch Well with the heavy escort team.
They were inspecting the lighting strips.
Thousands of high-power ultraviolet light tubes were densely installed along every corridor, every ventilation shaft, and in every shadow.
This was the most effective line of defense against the Wraiths.
Over the past month, the Wraiths beneath the Launch Well had grown noticeably restless.
In Andy's background logs, alerts like [Hostile Organism Detected] or [Sentry Turret Fired] popped up almost every few minutes.
Though these were merely sporadic probes—mostly low-level scouts or lost workers—it indicated that the creatures below had smelled something and were beginning to stir.
If he failed to seal this lid tightly, the moment those two giant centipedes arrived outside to execute an inside-outside pincers attack, it would become a fatal pincer siege.
Time ticked away minute by minute.
Andy sat in the workshop, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
Finally.
Just as the clock reached the final minute of the fourth hour...
Out of the black fog at the edge of the display, two massive, deep-purple high-energy signal sources suddenly surged into view.
Advancing side by side, they pushed through the fog and aggressively broke into the control network Andy had meticulously arranged.
"Heading locked."
Pointing straight toward the south gantry gate of Horisenburg.
"They're here," Andy said softly, his voice devoid of surprise.
The data aligned; the deduction held true.
The two giant centipedes were indeed coming for this place.
Based on calculations of their current movement speed and terrain resistance, eight hours remained before they officially launched their assault on the gantry gate.
Eight hours.
More than enough.
Andy switched on the broadcast system.
"Attention all personnel."
"This is Andy."
"Issuing Level Two Readiness order now."
No explanation of reasons, no pre-battle mobilization, and no rousing speeches.
Just this single, simple command.
Yet every employee of Deep Space Industries understood the weight behind those words.
Level One Readiness meant the base was on the verge of destruction, requiring everyone to abandon all heavy equipment, dismantle the mother machines, and evacuate immediately.
Level Two Readiness, on the other hand, meant the enemy was formidable, but they were not running.
They were going to stand their ground, rely on the fortifications, and engage the enemy head-on!
The moment the command was issued...
The deafening mechanical roar within the industrial zone began to die down one by one.
Workers operating machine tools stopped their work, cut the power, and covered the equipment with dust covers.
Everyone acted in accordance with emergency protocols as transport convoys began gathering at various intersections.
Large stationary equipment successfully activated protective armor, sealing themselves inside thick metal shells.
In the residential area, non-combat personnel lined up to enter the entrances of the underground shelters.
They carried only essential personal belongings, leaving behind non-essential items in their dormitories.
Along the perimeter of the base, accompanied by a heavy release of hydraulic pressure...
The massive explosion-proof blast gates that had remained open to facilitate logistics began to slowly close.
Alloy plates several meters thick scraped along the ground before finally locking firmly together.