The morning mist hung low over the training camp, veiling the sprawling simulators in a ghostly glow. Towers loomed like silent sentinels. Patrol drones buzzed faintly in the fog, their red eyes flashing. Sirius Blake stretched, yawning so loud that Jinx, already half in formation, groaned.
"Do you ever take anything seriously?" she muttered, pulling her copper hair back under her cap.
"Only the important things," Sirius replied with a grin. "Like breakfast. And the armory."
"Hopeless," Jinx sighed, but her lips twitched, betraying amusement.
> "Alertness at fifty-three percent. Nutrient reserves slightly depleted. Recommend energy supplement intake before training," ARI whispered in his head.
"Noted," Sirius muttered back. "But trust me, ARI — I've got all the energy I need."
The instructors barked them forward, herding recruits toward the simulators — pods so massive they looked like domed habitats. Inside, entire warzones could be rendered in terrifying detail: environments, objectives, and worst of all, Hivebugs.
Most recruits looked pale. Some whispered prayers. Sirius bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes glittering with anticipation.
"Excited, Renegade?" Stone asked from behind, his heavy voice carrying easily. He cracked his knuckles like he was preparing to fight Hivebugs barehanded.
"Always," Sirius said. "Though I still say we should have a quick armory tour before the carnage."
Stone barked a laugh. Whisper, standing nearby with her med-kit slung awkwardly across her shoulder, gave Sirius a side-eye. "You'd flirt with a rifle if they let you."
"Correction," Sirius said cheerfully, "I already do."
---
The pod doors sealed. Lights dimmed. A low hum escalated into a thunderous roar.
The floor vibrated — simulated tremors of Hivebug tunneling. The sky within the projection darkened as enormous swarms flickered into existence overhead. From the walls, the Hivebugs erupted, screeching and clawing, every movement horrifyingly real.
> "Baseline efficiency: eighty-two percent. Adjustments recommended," ARI murmured.
"On it," Sirius whispered. He crouched, checked his rifle.
> "Weapon misalignment detected. Correct before engaging."
His hands moved fast, tightening coils, recalibrating the feed. The rifle hummed steady. The first Hivebug lunged. Sirius fired.
Light shattered where the round struck true. The swarm split.
He wasn't just shooting. He was scanning, predicting, tinkering even in combat. Each shot lined up with ARI's subtle overlays.
> "Trajectory correction: four o'clock, three meters. Probability of hit: ninety-six percent."
Sirius shifted, fired. Another bug dissolved into sparks. "Thanks, ARI. You're the best wingman I've never seen."
The swarm multiplied. Dozens of recruits panicked, weapons spraying wild. A boy screamed as holographic mandibles closed over him.
Sirius flowed through the chaos, calm. His shots bought seconds for others. His quick adjustments kept rifles from jamming. He moved like someone who didn't just fight — he fixed.
That's when he noticed him.
A dark-haired boy crouched low, silent, almost blending with shadows. He didn't shout. He didn't panic. His shots were surgical — one bullet, one kill. Hivebugs crumpled before they reached other recruits.
Sirius whistled softly. "Now that's interesting."
> "Observation: recruit exhibits above-average situational awareness. Communication minimal. Probability of high tactical potential: eighty-seven percent," ARI noted.
"Noted."
The simulation ended in a shriek of dissolving light. The recruits staggered out, sweaty, shaken. Whispers followed the quiet boy. Elias Moreau. Shade.
Sirius found him leaning against a wall, breathing steady as though nothing had happened.
"You didn't say a word in there," Sirius said, still grinning. "And you still took out half the swarm."
Shade's gaze flicked over him, sharp and unreadable. "Less talking. More doing."
Sirius laughed. "I like that. I'm Sirius, but most call me Renegade."
A pause. Then: "Shade. Elias."
"Good," Sirius said, extending a hand. "I like a quiet partner. Makes me look smarter."
Shade studied him, then clasped his hand briefly. "Partners."
---
The next days blurred into fire and sweat. The simulations grew harsher. Double swarms. Collapsing tunnels. Lava floods. Zero-gravity ambushes.
Recruits broke under the strain. Some cried. Some quit. A few fainted inside their pods.
Sirius thrived. Not because he was strongest — Stone still crushed the strength drills. Not fastest — Jinx still outran everyone. Not even most disciplined — Whisper never faltered under pressure.
Sirius thrived because he fixed things. Rifles jamming mid-swarm? He cleared them. Exosuit circuits sparking? He rerouted power. He even dragged one recruit to cover when the boy froze, muttering, "Weapon's fine, you just need a reboot too."
And always, ARI whispered.
> "Target prioritization: Hivebug queen projection detected. Suppression recommended."
"Caution: adjusting turret angles will reduce friendly fire risk by ninety-eight percent."
"Minor Mission available: recalibrate Pod Twelve combat rifle feed under full load. Reward: reflexes plus one percent. Accept?"
Sirius grinned every time. "Accept."
One mission had him scrambling to fix Pod Twelve's rifle feed even as the Hivebugs swarmed. Sparks flew as his tools danced, his other hand firing bursts to keep holographic mandibles at bay.
The moment the simulation ended, he flexed his fingers. They felt quicker. Cleaner.
> "Reward applied. Neural reflexes improved by one percent."
"Beautiful," Sirius whispered.
---
Word spread.
"Renegade," Stone said one night in the mess, clapping him on the back. "Never seen someone rewire a rifle while shooting it. You're insane."
Whisper sat across the table, eyes thoughtful. "You're not like the others. You move like you already know what's going to break."
Sirius shrugged. "I listen to the machines. They tell me things."
Sparks, nearby, rolled her eyes. "They don't talk. You're just obsessed." But her lips curved faintly, almost like a smile.
---
Shade stayed silent, as always. But when Sirius cracked jokes during drills, Shade's eyes glimmered with something dangerously close to amusement.
One night, Sirius caught a glimpse of an instructor watching Shade with narrowed eyes. The name "Moreau" hissed in a whisper between veterans. A scar across Shade's jaw hinted at battles Sirius couldn't imagine.
Mystery hung over him like smoke. Sirius didn't pry. Not yet.
---
That evening, Sirius lingered in the maintenance bay, crouched over a broken drone turret. His fingers danced across sparking circuits while ARI's overlays guided him.
> "Warning: your mission completion patterns are statistically noticeable. Probability of exposure: twelve percent and rising."
Sirius froze. "Noticed? By who?"
> "Command. Instructors. Possibly peers. If ARI's presence is suspected, survival probability drops significantly."
He exhaled slowly. "So we stay careful. No flashy miracles. Just enough to pass off as skill."
> "Your definition of 'subtle' remains questionable."
Sirius grinned. "That's why you're here. Keep me in line."
He finished the repair, sparks flickering out as the turret hummed to life. He leaned back, wiping his hands.
"Don't worry, ARI. They won't catch on. Not yet. First we show them we belong."
Shade's voice drifted from the corner of the bay, startling him. "You talk to yourself a lot."
Sirius smirked. "Best company there is."
Shade studied him, then returned to cleaning his rifle without another word.
---
The next morning, as the mist rolled in again, Sirius felt something shift. He wasn't just another recruit anymore. He was faster, sharper, steadier. Shade by his side. Sparks begrudgingly respecting him. Stone and Whisper watching.
For the first time, Sirius felt like he wasn't just training. He was becoming something more.
Renegade.