The shuttle dropped out of orbit with a bone-shaking jolt, rattling every rivet in its frame. Straps creaked, bulkheads groaned, and a few recruits let out nervous gasps. Sirius Blake just leaned back in his seat, hands folded behind his head, grinning like a tourist instead of a fresh recruit bound for the most advanced training camp humanity had ever built.
Around him, the other teenagers sat stiff and silent. Some clenched fists as if already grappling Hivebugs in their minds. Others whispered prayers under their breath, eyes shut tight.
Sirius? He was whistling.
The girl across the aisle gave him a wary look. She had short-cut copper hair, sharp cheekbones, and the rigid posture of someone trying very hard to look braver than she felt.
"Excited?" she asked, her tone more skeptical than curious.
"Excited?" Sirius chuckled. "I'm practically giddy. Think they'll let me see the armory on day one?"
Her brows knitted. "The… armory?"
"Of course. It's the heart of the whole operation! Guns, armor, tools—without those, the Corps is just squishy humans running at giant bugs with sticks." He flashed her a grin.
The girl rolled her eyes. "You're weird."
"Compliment accepted." Sirius winked.
A snort of laughter came from the row behind. A broad-shouldered recruit with buzzed hair leaned forward, his voice a gravelly rumble. "He's right, you know. You can't punch a Hivebug to death. Well—" his grin widened, "—not unless you're me."
The copper-haired girl smirked despite herself. "And you are?"
"Stone Varga," the boy said, flexing one arm like he was showing off. "Heavy infantry in the making."
"More like heavy ego," another voice muttered from across the row. This one belonged to a tall, lean recruit with pale features and calm eyes that seemed to study everything at once. He didn't even look up from tightening the strap of his gauntlet as he added, "Hivebugs don't care how much you flex. They bleed like anything else—if you put the shot in the right place."
"Shade," he introduced himself simply when the others looked at him.
Sirius chuckled. "Nice to meet you, Stone, Shade… and what about you?" He tilted his head toward the copper-haired girl.
"Jinx," she said shortly, like she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a real conversation.
"Perfect," Sirius said, grinning. "Every squad needs a little luck."
The shuttle rocked again, cutting off further introductions. Below, the clouds parted to reveal the training facility. It sprawled across the landscape like a fortress-city, all clean angles and armored glass. Towers bristled with antennae. Grids of training fields stretched into the distance. Patrol drones buzzed like hornets over transparent domes housing simulated warzones.
Inside Sirius's skull, a calm, familiar voice spoke.
> "Environmental scan complete. Structural integrity at 99.9%. Efficiency rating of this facility exceeds eighty-fifth percentile of military installations."
Sirius smirked. Thanks, ARI. Always reassuring to know the building won't collapse on me during lunch.
Jinx's eyes narrowed at him. "Who are you talking to?"
He winked. "Myself. Best company there is."
Her frown deepened.
---
They were herded out of the shuttle by instructors in dark blue uniforms. Every one of them moved with the precise, unhurried confidence of veterans who had stared Hivebugs in the face and survived. Their voices cracked like whips across the landing zone.
"Line up! Faster, faster! You're recruits now, not tourists!"
The recruits scrambled into formation. Sirius shuffled lazily, still smiling, while the boy next to him looked ready to faint. The instructors' eyes scanned them like hawks, measuring each before they'd even taken their first step.
The gates of the fortress yawned open, swallowing them into the heart of the camp.
Sirius's grin widened.
Simulation pods the size of houses lined one courtyard wall, their steel shells humming with dormant power. Combat drones sparred beneath containment fields, energy barriers flashing with every strike. Rows of weapons gleamed behind sealed glass — rifles, carbines, sidearms, heavier ordnance Sirius could only dream of touching.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
> "Your dopamine levels have increased by fourteen percent," ARI observed.
"Shh," Sirius muttered. "You'll make me blush."
Jinx shot him another look, but this time, just barely, she smirked.
---
The first week was grueling.
They woke before dawn to obstacle courses designed to break bones and spirits. Instructors barked at them to crawl through mud, climb steel walls, and drag weighted dummies until their muscles burned. They trained hand-to-hand with shock-gloved sergeants who fought with merciless precision. And every evening, they were thrown into the simulation pods, where Hivebugs screamed and clawed in perfect, horrifying realism.
Most collapsed into bunks each night, groaning in pain. Sirius? He was tired too — but fascination burned brighter than exhaustion. He lingered after drills to examine rifles, asked endless questions about how simulators worked, and sometimes snuck into the maintenance bays just to watch technicians repair drones.
One evening, an instructor caught him elbow-deep in a disassembled training rifle.
"Blake," the man barked. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Just making sure the recoil stabilizer's aligned, sir," Sirius replied innocently, his hands moving with practiced ease over the rifle's inner parts.
"And how would you know that?"
"Because if it wasn't, the next poor recruit would've bruised their shoulder into oblivion. Can't fight Hivebugs with a busted arm, right?"
The instructor glared for a long moment, then shook his head. "Field armorers. Always strange ones."
Sirius beamed. He took it as a compliment.
---
ARI wasn't idle. She whispered posture corrections during sparring, ran predictive analysis in simulator battles, and even reminded him to hydrate when his hands trembled from fatigue.
Left foot two inches wider.
Enemy angle: thirty-seven degrees, prepare to counter.
Hydration levels suboptimal.
"ARI, I've got this," Sirius muttered once, ducking a sparring partner's punch.
His opponent blinked. "Who?"
"Just my guardian angel." Sirius grinned, sweeping the kid's legs out from under him.
---
At the end of their first week, ARI's calm voice returned with something different.
> "Mission available: Minor. Objective — upgrade energy pack connectors in Simulation Pod Twelve. Malfunction detected. Estimated time: twenty minutes. Reward: neural dexterity calibration plus one percent. Accept?"
Sirius froze, towel around his neck after evening drills. "Now?"
> "Correct. Opportunity window: two hours."
He glanced around. Recruits were either passed out or limping toward med bays. Slowly, his grin spread.
"Accept."
---
Sneaking into the simulator bay after hours was easier than expected. The place was silent, lights dimmed. Pod Twelve sat in the corner, its interface flickering with error codes. Sirius crouched beside it, pulling a slim toolkit from his uniform pocket.
"Alright, ARI. Let's dance."
> "Cross-checking schematics. Fault located in connector alignment. Proceed with recalibration."
Panels popped free under his hands. Wires sparked. Guided by ARI's glowing overlays in his vision, Sirius twisted, soldered, and reseated circuits. Within minutes, the pod hummed back to life, its error lights extinguished.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
> "Mission complete. Reward applied: neural dexterity calibration plus one percent. Reaction time reduced by zero point zero three seconds."
Sirius flexed his fingers. They felt… sharper, faster, like his body had caught up to his thoughts. A laugh bubbled out of him. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
---
The next day, recruits were funneled into the simulators again. By sheer chance, Sirius was assigned to Pod Twelve.
"Today you face a Hivebug swarm," the instructor barked. "Survive five minutes. Begin!"
The simulation snapped to life. Screeching Hivebugs poured from the earth, claws raking against barricades. Recruits panicked, weapons firing wild.
Sirius, calm as ever, raised his rifle. His movements were smoother, faster. Shots cracked with precision, each one finding its mark. He grinned even as the swarm closed in.
When the timer ended and the battlefield dissolved into light, his squadmates stared at him.
"Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?" Stone demanded.
Sirius shrugged, still smiling. "Guess I've just got good hands."
> "Correction: dexterity improved by one percent," ARI whispered.
He chuckled softly. No one else needed to know.
---
That night, Sirius lay in his bunk staring at the ceiling. His muscles ached, his mind buzzed, but he'd never felt more alive. For the first time, he wasn't just tinkering in a dusty workshop. He was building himself into something new.
"Hey, ARI," he whispered.
> "Yes, Sirius?"
"Let's keep this between us. Don't think the instructors would be thrilled to know I've got a brain passenger."
> "Acknowledged. Information classified."
Sirius smiled into the dark. "Good. Because I've got a feeling we're just getting started."