The HQ was quiet, a rare lull in the relentless war against the Hivebugs. The smoke and chaos of the ambush had faded, leaving only the hum of machinery, distant chatter, and the occasional clank of soldiers maintaining their weapons.
Sirius Blake stood near his automated turrets, scanning the room as ARI projected schematics across his vision. The two scrap-built machines hummed faintly, barrels smoking from their first trial by fire. Sirius was already thinking ahead.
> "ARI, I need more ammunition for these turrets. They'll burn through their mags fast if the Hivebugs try anything again."
> "Confirmed. Supply request logged. Efficiency rating of turrets currently: sixty-four percent. Recommend extended capacity magazines," ARI replied.
Sirius turned to a nearby infantryman, who was cleaning a scorched rifle. "Hey—grab me a few crates of turret rounds. If we get another breach, I'd like to keep everyone breathing."
The soldier blinked at the request, then nodded and hurried off. Minutes later, Sirius heard the call pass up the chain:
> "Captain, one of the FAWS specialists needs ammo for the calibration bay turrets."
By the time the request reached Commander Varek, Sirius had already pulled open the turret housing, tinkering with the firing sequence.
The bay doors hissed open. Commander Varek stepped in, boots echoing against the metal floor. His gaze fell immediately on Sirius crouched beside the humming turret.
> "Blake," Varek said, voice clipped, "I've been informed of your request for turret ammunition. Approved."
Sirius stood and saluted. "Thank you, sir. These'll chew through rounds quick."
"Then make sure they count," Varek replied, surveying the machines with a soldier's eye.
Sirius wasted no time. He slid new crates of rounds into place, reloaded the turrets, and reprogrammed their fire cycles. The weapons hummed to life, tracking the bay with soft whirrs. Ready, waiting.
Varek lingered, arms crossed. His tone softened—slightly.
> "Blake, I have another task for you. Expand turret coverage around the HQ borders—especially the hole the Hivebugs made during the ambush. Can you do that?"
Sirius frowned thoughtfully. "I can, sir. But these units here? Built from scraps. To scale up, I'll need real materials. Alloys, reinforced plating, stabilized mounts."
Varek gave a curt nod. "Consider it done. I'll have logistics deliver what you need. Build a wall of fire, Blake. I don't want the bugs even thinking they can breach us again."
Sirius grinned faintly. "Understood, sir. They won't get through."
As Varek turned to leave, a familiar voice echoed across the bay.
"Look at you, Renegade—HQ's personal turret king."
Jinx Alvarez strolled in, twin pistols twirling in his hands. Sparks trailed behind, carrying a half-burned rifle and rolling her eyes.
"Don't encourage him," Sparks said sharply. "He'll start naming the turrets next."
Sirius smirked, wiping grease from his fingers. "Funny you should mention it. I was thinking Lefty and Righty for these two. What do you think?"
Jinx laughed. Sparks groaned.
"Honestly," she muttered, handing him the rifle, "you're either going to save the Corps or blow it sky-high. Not sure which."
Her words carried a note of exasperation, but Sirius caught the flicker of respect in her eyes before she turned away.
Not everyone was impressed. As Jinx and Sparks departed, a lieutenant at the far end of the bay muttered to a colleague:
> "Strange, isn't it? Every time something breaks, Blake already knows how to fix it. Like he's… waiting for it."
The other officer shrugged. "Luck, maybe. Or something else."
Their voices were low, but Sirius caught the tail end. He didn't flinch, didn't turn—just tightened a bolt and whispered under his breath:
"Yeah, something else."
ARI's interface pulsed softly in his vision.
> "Observation: suspicion level among command personnel has increased by eleven percent. Recommend discretion."
Sirius exhaled slowly. "Noted."
The following hours were a blur of assembly and calibration. Logistics delivered crates of alloy plating, magnetic mounts, and sensor packages. With ARI feeding him real-time structural analysis, Sirius built turret after turret, each larger and more advanced than the last.
Unlike the scrap-born prototypes, these units were formidable: automated target acquisition, able to distinguish Hivebug signatures from human heat profiles; overlapping fire arcs, calculated to eliminate blind spots around the HQ's perimeter; multi-mode firing, switching between armor-piercing slugs and suppressive burst rounds.
> "ARI, adjust angles by four degrees on Turret Three. Overlap with Turret Four's cone of fire. I don't want a single Hivebug slipping past."
> "Correction implemented. Overlap efficiency: ninety-eight percent. Coverage complete."
By midnight, the breach where Hivebugs had once spilled through was now bristling with reinforced turrets, barrels glowing faintly in standby mode.
Sirius leaned against the nearest one, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids. "That should do it. If they try again, we'll be ready."
Commander Varek returned at dawn, inspecting the line of gleaming turrets. He clasped his hands behind his back, silent for a long moment.
"Blake," he said finally, "your work isn't just protecting weapons. It's protecting lives. These designs… the Corps could use them at every outpost."
Sirius straightened, trying to hide the flicker of pride. "Happy to share schematics, sir. The more of us that live through the next wave, the better."
Varek nodded. "I'll be forwarding your work to High Command. Don't get too comfortable—eyes are on you now."
Sirius saluted. "Understood, sir."
When the commander left, Sirius crouched beside one of the turrets, running a final diagnostic. ARI's voice whispered in his head:
> "Sirius, probability of Hivebug adaptation to these systems: forty-one percent within two weeks. Their neural interference may evolve to disable automated targeting."
Sirius tightened a final screw, lips curving into a tired smile. "Of course it will. That's what they do."
He tapped the turret's plating, listening to the hum of power coursing through it.
"But that's what I do too."
ARI pulsed in acknowledgment.
> "Then we prepare for adaptation."
Sirius stood, scanning the perimeter of gleaming turrets arrayed like silent guardians around the breach. For now, HQ was safe. For now, the line would hold.
But in the back of his mind, he knew—when the Hivebugs returned, they would come back stronger. And he would need to be ready to outthink them all over again.