The calibration bay smelled like hot metal and ozone when Sirius arrived, the kind of harsh perfume that had become his second home. He set his tool roll down without ceremony, slid the carbine off its rack, and ran his fingers over the retrofit collar one last time — the adapter that made the weapon accept the tiny micro-mag. The little actuator for the automatic-eject nestled under the feed ramp like a secret heartbeat.
"ARI," he said, voice low with focus, "link me the last-round sensor schematic and spool the actuator control loop. I want the timing optimized to the millisecond."
> "Schematics live. Actuator control loop v4 loaded. Recommended last-round detection latency: 26–30 ms. Ejector impulse: 0.3–0.4 N·m. Maintain feed-lip variance under 1°. Initiating integration guidance," ARI replied, precise and calm.
Sirius set to work. He moved with the same stitched-together rhythm he'd learned in boot camp and refined at his bench: remove pin, loosen receiver, slot collar, route the sensor, seat the actuator, torque the bolts to spec. Wires were wrapped, micro-gaskets fitted against grit, springs tensioned and tested. He ran the actuator through dry cycles until the motion was clean — a soft, economical kick that would clear the mag without adding a jolt to the weapon's balance.
Three hours later he sat back, palms blackened and hair plastered with sweat, and surveyed the carbine. It looked nearly identical to a standard-issue rifle at a glance; up close, it had the quiet subversions of a machine meant to save seconds. He pocketed three micro-mags, the cartridges snug and light, and headed for the range.
The training hall was waking up, targets already spinning through their calibration drills. Sirius took lane four, slotted the first micro-mag home and closed the receiver. The balance of the gun felt different immediately—lighter in hand, more positive on the shoulder. Without the bulk of a standard magazine dragging the weapon down, it pointed like a tool meant to feel natural.
He aimed at the thirty-meter composite target and squeezed.
The micro-slugs punched cleanly through the simulated chitin. The string was tight, each slug embedding with the precision ARI had modeled. He watched the readout—rounds remaining count ticking down in his vision courtesy of ARI's HUD overlay.
Nine. Eight. Seven.
The last round left the chamber with a whisper, and the familiar hollow click sounded.
For an instant, time spent like lead. Then, as if on cue, the actuator pulsed. The magazine popped out on a short, controlled sweep, landing in Sirius' palm with a soft metallic tap.
Sirius moved without hesitation. He smashed a fresh micro-mag into the well, locked it, and squeezed off another controlled burst. The system repeated two cycles cleanly: fire → empty → auto-eject → reload → fire. On the second cycle he tested a flurry of rapid follow-ups—recoil manageable, feed consistent. The actuator never interfered with the gun's balance or cadence.
When he finally brought the carbine down he grinned like a man who'd just heard a private joke go right. "That's beautiful," he breathed.
"Telemetry?" he asked ARI.
> "Compiling," ARI said. Lines of numbers folded into his vision: latency curves, ejection force, feed-angle variance, endurance estimates.
She summarized in that clipped tone he'd learned to trust:
> — Empty-detection latency: 26–29 ms.
— Eject action completion: 32–36 ms after sensor event.
— Measured user reload time (standard): 2.9 s average.
— Measured reload time with auto-eject (operator action only): 1.1 s average.
— Mean time saved per reload: 1.8 s.
— Weighted mass reduction (micro-mag vs standard): −14% weapon mass when configured.
— Endurance: actuator v4, rated 60,000 cycles; maintenance interval under dusty conditions: ~1,000 cycles.
— Failure modes: particulate ingress — mitigation: dust gasket recommended (installed).
— Feed stability: ±0.6° variance — acceptable.
Sirius whooped, the sound quick and bright. "Archive that. Save the prototype package. Bundle the QA logs, telemetry, actuator spec. Call it Carbine_X_Prototype1."
> "Archiving complete. Files encrypted and mirrored to secure FAWS nodes. Notification queued for Chief Engineer Loras," ARI confirmed.
Sirius capped the receiver and patted the weapon like a companion. "You're going to be Carbine X," he said, delighted and a little ridiculous. The name felt right: short, sharp, a label soldiers could curse and trust in equal measure.
He put the standard-issue rifle into a foam-lined case next to Carbine X, closed the lid, and carried both across the bay to Chief Engineer Loras' office. The workshop blurred around him — technicians working, parts being loaded into mills, someone laughing at a joke that sounded thin at that hour.
Loras looked up when Sirius set the cases down. There was the faint crease of fatigue at the commander's brow, but something like eager curiosity tugged the older man's features as he watched Sirius produce the weapons.
"What is it, Blake?" Loras asked, hands already reaching to unlatch the case.
Sirius set the tablet down with the encrypted packet and spoke plainly, the way he'd practiced briefing ARI's mission logs aloud in his head. "First, the standard-issue rifle." He tapped the tablet and the holo above it projected the baseline specs: magazine capacity, standard mass, average reload times, mean failure rates under Hivebug interference. "This is what our troops use now. Reliable in design, but heavy. Reload latency plus interference causes downtime that costs lives."
Loras nodded at the numbers. "We already know those graphs," he said.
Sirius clicked another icon and the holo swapped to Carbine X. The adapter collar, the micro-mag seated in its well, the actuator drawn in neat schematic lines. "This is Carbine X. Micro-mag and micro-slug increase ammo per weight carried by thirty percent. Retrofit collars let the standard inventory accept small mags. The last crucial part is automatic ejection: when the last round fires, the weapon detects it and the actuator ejects the empty micro-mag instantly. The soldier doesn't have to fumble; he just slides a fresh mag in and keeps firing. That dead second is gone."
He let that settle.
Loras' face changed in that quick, slow way of someone re-evaluating a map. "Automatic ejection," he repeated slowly. "You wired a last-round detector into the feed and used an actuator to dump the mag?"
"Yes. Three-hour integration. I stress-tested the actuator and fitted dust gaskets. Endurance analysis is here." Sirius tapped the tablet; The telemetry populated the holo with neat, brutal truth. "Two clean cycles on the range so far. No feed hang, negligible recoil delta, and the numbers show a—" Hecontinued the report.
Loras leaned forward, eyes narrowing with engineering hunger. He looked up to Sirius, a soldier and a tech in the same frame. "Show me," he said, not a question so much as a command tempered by incredulous hope.
Sirius smiled, the boyish edge back at the corners of his mouth. "Thought you'd never ask."
They walked side by side to the firing range. Sirius carrying Carbine X in one hand like something fragile and dangerous; Loras carrying the standard in the other, practical and heavy. The hall swallowed them in its concrete hush, and the targets spun ready.
Outside the glass, the FAWS bay hummed with the measured nervousness of a small army waiting for a proof. Sirius felt the weight of their eyes, the tally of lives behind every graph. He slid a micro-mag home, set his stance, and looked at Loras.
"Tell Command we'll need a controlled trial," Loras said quietly, voice low with a man suddenly given a tool he'd only wanted in theory. "If this is what the numbers say, we save people. But we do it measured, with QA, and with the right men at the shoulder."
Sirius nodded. He drew breath, felt the rifle settle into the angle he'd found early that morning, and pulled the trigger.
The cartridge sang, the actuator pulsed, the mag tossed free into his palm. He slapped another in without breaking his sightline and fired again. Two clean cycles; one small moment sliced away from the risk of reload.
Loras exhaled slowly, the sound lost amid the range's noise. He lifted his hand and gestured, sharp and sure. "Send the packet. I'll arrange the briefing. We take this to Command on my word."
Sirius' smile broke fully then, the kind that carried both relief and the fierce small joy of creation. "Packet's saved. ARI zipped it to your terminal."
They walked back toward the bay together — Carbine X quiet in its case — and outside the glass, FAWS watched. The chapter ended with a narrow, dangerous hope: a one-off weapon, a single tech's stubbornness, and a Command that might, this time, give them the chance to change the rules of a war.