The morning sun stretched long shadows across the scarred landscape of Vetra-9, gilding the fortified walls of the FAWS HQ in pale gold. The faint smell of scorched soil and burnt chitin still lingered from the last Hivebug assault, carried on the warm breeze. Inside the calibration bay, however, the mood was sharper, brighter, alive with a sense of hard-won momentum.
Sirius Blake stood at his workstation, exo-vest straps half undone, sleeves rolled up, grease staining his fingers. Around him, diagnostic panels blinked, drones hummed in their charging docks, and new prototype units lined the benches, awaiting deployment. For the first time since he'd set foot on Vetra-9, his work wasn't just theory or simulation. The equipment he had designed—the stabilizers, the armor reinforcements, the portable defenses—was out there, in the hands of real soldiers, under real fire.
ARI's voice whispered in his mind, calm and precise.
> "Sirius, the blueprint mission has been formally logged as complete. Deployment status: active across frontline squads. Performance monitoring engaged."
Sirius exhaled, leaning back against the bench. "Good. About time all those sleepless nights amounted to something."
The hiss of doors sliding open drew his attention. Commander Varek entered, crisp uniform immaculate as always, boots ringing sharply against the metal floor. For once, the man's usual iron mask carried something lighter—satisfaction.
He approached Sirius directly, holding a small case. "Blake. The plan has been approved at the highest level. Your designs are active in the field as of this morning. And with approval comes recognition."
The commander opened the case, revealing a new insignia gleaming under the sterile bay lights. "Private First Class Blake," Varek said, his voice carrying enough weight to draw glances from nearby technicians, "you are hereby promoted to Corporal for exceptional ingenuity and contribution to the survival of this unit."
Sirius straightened instantly, saluting with uncharacteristic crispness. "Thank you, sir. I'll continue to do my best."
Varek pinned the insignia on his vest himself before stepping back. His voice softened a fraction. "You've done more than your best, Blake. You've given our soldiers a fighting chance."
A ripple of quiet acknowledgment spread through the bay. Some infantry clapped softly, others simply nodded in approval. Sparks, leaning against a console nearby, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Her sharp eyes followed Sirius a little too long, as if trying to puzzle out how exactly he kept pulling miracles out of thin air.
Sirius ignored it, hiding his smirk. Recognition was nice, but attention was dangerous.
Later, Sirius sat at the monitoring station, the glow of multiple displays casting his face in shifting colors. Combat feeds streamed from squads across Vetra-9—helmet cams, turret views, drone telemetry. To the soldiers watching, it was chaos. To Sirius, it was a puzzle waiting to be solved.
ARI's overlays filled his vision: predictive trajectories, enemy cluster forecasts, micro-readouts of weapon performance. He alone saw the data threaded through every movement.
On the feeds, his inventions were already shaping the battle. Infantry rifles barked steadily, accuracy holding true even under Hivebug neural interference. No more misfires. Armor reinforcements absorbed crushing blows from Hivebug claws, soldiers stumbling but recovering where before they'd have been gutted. Portable defense units unfolded on the field like mechanical sentries, spraying suppressive fire whenever Hivebugs tried to flank. Calibration drones zipped between foxholes, latching onto rifles to tweak barrels mid-combat, or patching turrets under fire.
ARI's voice purred in his mind.
> "Casualty probability has decreased by thirty-eight percent since deployment of your systems. Efficiency metrics confirm stabilization."
Sirius allowed himself a tight smile. "That's what I wanted. Keep logging performance. Adjust algorithms if the bugs try anything clever."
As if on cue, a cluster of Hivebugs surged on the northern line. The feed crackled with shouting, gunfire, and the shrieks of alien mandibles. One soldier's rifle stuttered—just a fraction of a delay, but in this war a fraction was fatal. Sirius saw it instantly.
"ARI, send recalibration protocol Delta-Three to that drone. Now."
The drone on-site zipped forward, clamped onto the weapon, and adjusted the feed coil in under five seconds. The rifle resumed firing, spraying bursts into the advancing swarm. The soldier never even realized how close he'd come to death.
To the watching officers, it was luck. To Sirius, it was precision.
Not everything was perfect. On another feed, Hivebugs battered a defensive position until armor plates buckled under repeated blows. Soldiers fell back, wounded but alive, armor enhancements having bought them precious seconds. Still, a medic's frantic shouts cut through the comms.
Sirius leaned back, expression hardening. "Even with upgrades, people still die. All I did was tip the scales."
ARI whispered in his ear.
> "Correction: you tipped the scales by thirty-eight percent. That is survival. That is progress."
Sirius rubbed at his temple. "Progress isn't enough. Not against something that evolves every time we find an edge."
As if to mock him, one feed showed Hivebugs slamming portable defense units, chittering as if probing for weaknesses. Sparks burst from one as claws ripped into its frame. The unit self-destructed, taking three Hivebugs with it but leaving a hole in coverage.
"ARI, flag that," Sirius ordered quickly. "Their interference is mutating again. They're learning to target deployables."
> "Logged. Probability of Hivebug behavioral adaptation: increasing."
Sirius grimaced. "Then we adapt faster."
Commander Varek appeared beside him later, silent as the shadow of his boots. His eyes scanned the feeds, watching soldiers fight with equipment that didn't fail, turrets that didn't stall, drones that swooped in like guardian angels.
"You've changed the battlefield, Blake," Varek said quietly. "Before, we survived in spite of our equipment. Now, we survive because of it."
Sirius kept his gaze on the screens. "Tools matter, sir. Give a soldier a reliable weapon, and they'll fight twice as hard."
Varek's lips curved faintly. "You sound like an old general already." He clapped Sirius lightly on the shoulder. "Keep this up. The higher-ups will want more than reports—they'll want to know who's behind these miracles. And I'll tell them."
Sirius forced a small nod, though unease coiled in his stomach. Recognition was useful, but exposure was dangerous. ARI had to stay hidden. No one could ever know.
Hours passed, battles raged, and Sirius remained at his station—calm, methodical, unseen. Soldiers bled and fought on the ground, but it was his fingerprints on every weapon that fired true, his designs in every turret that held the line.
None of them would ever know the quiet voice in his mind, the hidden calculations, the secret advantage that tilted survival in their favor.
Sirius liked it that way.
> "This is only the beginning," he muttered under his breath. "They'll survive today. Tomorrow… we make sure they win."
ARI's response was steady, almost approving.
> "Mission parameters updated. Special Project opportunity detected: adaptive armor utilizing Hivebug carapace. Objective: counter evolution with evolution."
Sirius' eyes narrowed at the new schematic flickering at the edge of his vision. He didn't speak it aloud. Not yet. But the seed was planted.
He leaned back, eyes fixed on the battlefield feeds, while the war churned on. Recognition was nice. Promotion was fine. But invention—that was survival. And Sirius Blake wasn't done yet.