The FAWS briefing chamber was unusually full. The holo-table at the center pulsed with overlapping schematics: Carbine X upgrades, Shatterstorm Mk II drafts, turret reinforcement outlines, helmet redesigns, even early sketches of field med-kits. Every project Sirius Blake had scribbled onto scraps of paper now floated as ghostly blueprints in the air.
Chief Loras stood at the head of the table, hands folded behind his back. Around him were senior FAWS engineers, officers from logistics, and—at Loras' insistence—Sirius' closest comrades: Stone Varga, Bear Ivanov, Shade, Whisper Kade, Sparks Novik, and Jinx Alvarez.
Sirius himself lounged against the far wall, arms folded, grinning like a cat who had spilled a sack of mice and was waiting to see who would clean them up. His eyes flicked from the holo-table to his friends, then back, and every so often he let out a chuckle under his breath.
"Renegade," Bear muttered, watching him with wary amusement, "you look like you're enjoying this circus."
Sirius winked. "Oh, I am. Best seats in the house. Go on, argue about which of my babies deserves to grow up first."
Loras cleared his throat sharply. "Enough. This isn't theater. Every item on this list has merit, but we lack the time, resources, and manpower to pursue all of them simultaneously. We will decide—today—which project takes priority."
He gestured to the hovering blueprints. "So speak. Debate. Convince me."
---
Stone Varga was the first to step forward. He jabbed a finger at the schematic of the Shatterstorm Mk II, the dual-barrel autocannon design.
"This. Priority one." His voice was gravel, steady as always. "The Hive Tank nearly broke us last time. My heavies held, but only because we had the prototype screaming fire for us. It jammed. It overheated. And if it had died before the Tank did, we'd be nothing but stains in that canyon. If you want a weapon that stops the big ones, this is it."
Bear rumbled his agreement from the far side of the table. "Stone's right. My mech's cannons can handle small waves, but Tanks chew through plating like paper. Without a reliable Shatterstorm, every mech in the line becomes a coffin waiting to close."
Whisper Kade shook her head sharply, stepping in. Her medic's coat was stained from another night of triage, her eyes hard with fatigue. "And what happens when you keep throwing bodies at Tanks and swarms without fixing the real problem? Medics can't keep up. I lost three assistants last week from sheer exhaustion, not enemy fire. Auto-Med systems save lives before they reach me. Injectors, stabilizers, nanogels—if you don't invest here, you'll have fewer soldiers left to hold those cannons you love so much."
The room quieted for a moment. Even Stone's jaw worked silently, no immediate retort on his tongue.
Then Sparks Novik leaned forward, tapping the glowing schematic of the Optic Helmet Mk II.
"You're all thinking too small. Carbine X, Shatterstorm, med-kits—they're tools. Useful, sure. But when the Queen fried our systems, we were blind. Soldiers panicked. We lost cohesion. If those helmets had psi-shields and redundancy, squads wouldn't crumble under psychic interference. No gun matters if the man holding it drops it and curls into a ball."
Shade, quiet as ever, finally spoke from the corner. His voice was flat, but it cut through like a knife. "You're wrong, Sparks. Guns matter. Training matters. Helmets break, tech fails. What we need is discipline. And Carbine X upgrades give that. Burst limiters keep rookies from wasting ammo. Ammo switching lets us handle Tanks without burning through every mag. If every grunt in the field fights smarter, we don't need to rely on miracle machines."
He looked briefly toward Sirius. "You of all people should know that."
Sirius only laughed softly, head tilted, eyes gleaming. He didn't answer.
Jinx Alvarez slammed a fist against the table, her voice sharp with impatience. "You're all missing it. Psi-Jammers. That's the only thing that matters. If the Hive Queen hadn't jammed us, if we'd been able to keep our comms and targeting, that battle would've been half as bloody. You think you can win the next one blind? Psi-jammers level the field. Everything else—guns, helmets, med-kits—works better if we're not drowning in psychic static."
The room erupted then—Stone growling that without firepower, jammers were useless; Whisper snapping back that without medics, soldiers still die; Sparks insisting helmets solve both morale and survival; Shade countering with discipline over gadgets.
The voices clashed, heated, overlapping.
And through it all, Sirius laughed. Low at first, then louder, until his chuckles rang over their arguments.
---
"ENOUGH!" Loras' voice cracked like a whip, silencing the chamber.
He turned on Sirius, eyes narrowing. "And you, Blake. You sit there laughing while soldiers argue about their survival. Care to contribute, or will you let them strangle each other while you enjoy the show?"
Sirius pushed off the wall, strolling leisurely toward the holo-table. His grin was sharp, but his eyes burned with a strange clarity.
"Contribute? Oh, Chief, I already did." He tapped the glowing schematics with a grease-stained finger. "This list? These dreams? They're my contribution. Every one of them is a lifeline. Every one screams to be born. And guess what—" He leaned in, voice dropping low, almost intimate. "You're all right. Every single one of you."
He straightened, spreading his arms wide. "Stone and Bear want Shatterstorm. Of course they do—it's thunder, and thunder kills Tanks. Whisper wants Auto-Med, because she's tired of holding lives together with spit and prayer. Sparks wants helmets, because he knows soldiers break faster than their guns. Shade wants Carbine discipline, because he's the only one who remembers training matters more than toys. And Jinx—Jinx is the only one brave enough to say it out loud: the Queen broke us with her mind, not her claws."
He spun on his heel, gesturing at the room with both hands. "So tell me—who's wrong? Who do I cross off the list, knowing it'll cost lives?"
Silence answered him. No one wanted to claim that burden.
Sirius grinned wider. "Exactly."
---
Loras exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. "You can't make them all at once, Blake. You don't have the time."
"Maybe not," Sirius said softly. His grin softened, almost sad. "But maybe we don't choose. Maybe we layer."
He jabbed a finger at the Carbine X schematic. "Infantry need discipline now. Burst firmware? Easy. Ammo switching? Moderate. That's a week, maybe two. Quick win."
He tapped the helmet schematic. "Pair it with helmets. Not the whole psi-shield yet—that'll take months. But redundancy overlays? Backup comms? That we can do fast. Another week."
Then he swung toward the Auto-Med sheet, smirking at Whisper. "Injectors? Basic stabilizers? That's small-scale. Prototype first. Call it a minor miracle while I brew the big one."
Finally, his eyes flicked to Shatterstorm and psi-jammers. His grin turned wicked. "And while you're all distracted, I'll keep tinkering. Because someone has to keep the Queen guessing."
---
For a long moment, the chamber was silent. Then Bear chuckled low, shaking his head. "Mad bastard. You actually want to juggle all of them."
Stone grunted, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his scarred lips. "If anyone's insane enough to try, it's him."
Whisper muttered, "He's going to kill himself before the bugs do." But there was no real anger behind her words.
Shade crossed his arms, expression unreadable. "So long as Carbine comes first."
Jinx smirked, leaning back in her chair. "And so long as psi-jammers don't get lost at the bottom of your pile."
Sirius only laughed again, hands on his hips. "Relax, everyone. I'll keep all my babies alive. You just keep me alive long enough to finish them."
Loras sighed, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Renegade Blake… you'll be the death of me."
"Or the life of everyone else," Sirius shot back with a wink.
The chamber erupted in reluctant chuckles. The debate wasn't truly settled, but something heavier than victory had been won: agreement to trust Sirius—mad, laughing, brilliant Sirius—with the impossible.
And for the first time since the Hive Queen's scream had torn the sky, there was something new in the air.
Not despair. Not even survival.
But momentum.