The battlefield was quiet. Smoke curled from the shattered carapace of the Hivebug Tank, its black ichor pooling across the dirt like tar. Infantry scavenged for the wounded, heavies dragged their disabled mechs to the rear, and turrets whirred as they reset to standby.
For the exhausted soldiers on the line, it was the end of another nightmare. For FAWS, it was only the beginning. The war never ended in the calibration bays—it only shifted from fighting to analysis.
The command room buzzed with activity—screens flashing data, officers barking reports, and technicians logging every last detail. Every bullet, every reload cycle, every casualty was recorded. No life lost was ever just a number here, yet every number could mean the difference in tomorrow's fight.
Sirius Blake sat at his console, shoulders slumped but eyes sharp, scrolling through raw telemetry feeds. ARI projected faint overlays only he could see: ammo expenditure graphs, turret efficiency ratings, swarm density maps, reload-cycle breakdowns.
> "Report compilation at 82%. Calculating comparative efficiency between Carbine X–equipped squads and standard units," ARI whispered in her steady, crystalline voice.
"Give me the casualty spread," Sirius muttered, barely lifting his head.
> "Squads equipped with Carbine X rifles suffered 19% casualties. Standard rifle squads suffered 42%. Adjusted survival probability increased by 23% when supported by turrets."
Sirius exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. "That's… a hell of a difference."
---
Hours later, the FAWS team assembled in the central briefing chamber. Long holo-tables glowed with tactical feeds: battle maps dotted with red Hivebug icons, shifting into blue zones where humans had held their ground.
Chief Engineer Loras stood at the head of the room, arms crossed. His gravelly voice carried authority, but tonight there was something rare in it—pride.
"Today's engagement was historic," he began. "The Hivebugs fielded a new Tank-class strain, something we've never seen before. It tore through fortifications, crushed mechs, and nearly broke our lines."
A hush fell over the room. Even hardened FAWS veterans leaned forward.
"But we held." Loras' gaze swept across the gathered techs. "We held because every weapon worked. Every turret fired. Every Carbine X in the field bought soldiers the seconds they needed to fight back. This department's work turned chaos into survival."
Applause rippled through the room—hesitant at first, then louder. Techs clapped one another on the back. Some shouted. A few even cheered until their voices cracked.
Loras raised a hand for silence. His eyes lingered on Sirius.
"And much of that credit goes to one of our own—Corporal Sirius Blake."
Heads turned. Sirius froze in his seat, blinking as murmurs swept through the chamber.
Loras continued, "Blake's innovations—the Micro Mag, the Micro Slug, the retrofit upgrades, and the Carbine X prototype—changed the battlefield. His systems allowed infantry to fight without the crippling delay of reloads. He gave us the edge when we needed it most."
For once, Sirius didn't grin or crack a joke. He simply inclined his head, muttering under his breath: "Just did what needed doing."
---
After the debrief, FAWS personnel clustered into smaller groups, buzzing with talk.
"Did you see the numbers? Survival rates nearly doubled in Carbine X squads."
"Blake's a damn miracle worker. Renegade Blake, they're calling him in the barracks."
"I heard infantry are already asking when they can get more Carbine X units. If we can mass-produce them…"
Sirius slipped through the chatter quietly, trying to avoid the spotlight, but he couldn't miss the smiles, the claps on the shoulder, the whispered that's him.
For the first time in weeks, FAWS felt like more than a department of grease-stained techs. They felt like the backbone of the war.
> "Observation: morale is elevated. Probability of burnout decreased by 32% for FAWS personnel in the next two weeks," ARI noted.
Sirius smirked faintly. "Guess even laughter needs blueprints."
---
Later that evening, Sirius was summoned back into the command office. Colonel Maren and Loras stood with several other senior officers, reviewing battle footage. The projection displayed Carbine X squads laying down seamless fire while standard units scrambled with their slower reloads.
Maren gestured at the feed. "This—this was decisive. Blake, you turned reload into a non-issue. Do you understand how revolutionary that is?"
Sirius shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact. "The bugs won't wait for us to fumble mags. Soldiers deserve better."
One officer leaned forward, voice hushed with something close to awe. "You've just rewritten doctrine, Corporal. Infantry tactics will adapt around what you've built. High Command has already requested mass production lines. Your Carbine X will be standard issue."
Sirius blinked, then let a grin creep across his face. "Not bad for a day's tinkering."
Loras chuckled, shaking his head. "Renegade Blake indeed."
---
Messages trickled back from the frontline faster than usual. Infantry reports praised the new weapons openly.
—"Couldn't believe it. I reloaded mid-fight and the mag just dropped clean. Snapped the new one in without thinking. Didn't even lose my firing rhythm."
—"We had a Tank breathing down our necks, and those Carbine X rifles never slowed. If we'd been stuck with the old gear, half my squad would've been dead."
—"Morale shot through the roof. I don't care what they say about FAWS geeks, that Renegade saved our asses."
Some reports even mentioned Sirius' friends by name—Jinx Alvarez's unit managing to keep a flank from collapsing, Whisper Kade's med-team reporting fewer critical injuries thanks to the steadier fire cover, Stone and Bear's heavy infantry finally able to push forward without babysitting panicked light squads.
Sirius read those lines quietly, lips twitching in a small, private smile.
---
But celebration couldn't last. As reports trickled in, grim truths emerged:
The Hivebug Tank had nearly crushed the line, even with concentrated fire.
Turrets and Carbine X rifles held back swarms, but heavy ordnance had been the true key to killing the Tank.
Hivebug adaptability meant another variant could appear at any time.
Colonel Maren folded her arms, expression hard. "The Carbine X is a miracle, but it won't pierce Tank armor. We'll need heavier solutions."
Loras glanced toward Sirius knowingly. "Blake, I imagine your mind's already racing."
Sirius leaned back, smirking faintly. "Maybe. But one miracle at a time, sir."
Inside his mind, ARI's voice was quiet but firm.
> "Next mission recommended: Penetron-class munitions. Objective: armor-piercing systems capable of neutralizing Tank-class Hivebugs. Estimated mission complexity: major."
Sirius' eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't answer out loud, but the spark in his gaze betrayed his resolve.
---
That night, the FAWS workshop finally fell silent. Most techs had retired, exhausted. Sirius remained at his bench, tools scattered, hands idle for once.
The echoes of the day replayed in his head—the Tank's roar, Bear's mech nearly crushed, Stone's heavies detonating their last rounds, Whisper's frantic triage in the medbay. The cheers when it finally fell.
He traced a finger along the frame of the Carbine X leaning against his bench.
"We're not done, are we, ARI?" he whispered.
> "Negative. Hivebugs will escalate. Your innovations must escalate in response. Survival depends on it."
Sirius chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Figures. No rest for the Renegade."
He leaned back, letting exhaustion finally drag him under. For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to sleep with a faint smile. The soldiers had lived another day. FAWS had earned its place in history.
And tomorrow, he would start again.