CHAPTER 44.3 — The Ones Who Prepare Them
Krysta Benton didn't wait for the request to finish routing.
She already had it open.
Not just the official one.
All of them.
Torres' noisy version, Ryven's clean one, and Kael's—unwritten, but somehow clearer than the rest.
"…of course you'd do it like this," she muttered.
Her fingers moved across the screen, filtering, reorganizing, stripping everything down to what actually mattered.
Behind her, Serena Benton stepped closer.
She didn't ask.
She looked.
That was enough.
Krysta expanded the projection, laying out Kael's requests in a clean, structured format.
"Loadouts, comms, drones… that's expected," she said. "But this part—"
She highlighted a separate section.
"—this is him."
Serena's gaze settled on it.
"Explain."
Krysta pulled up two profiles.
Mei Tanaka.
Hana Sato.
"These datapads aren't just upgrades," she said. "They're linked."
Serena didn't interrupt.
"Hana's not deploying," Krysta continued. "So this isn't about boosting her. It's about supporting Mei."
She shifted the projection again, showing data flow pathways.
"Mei carries the processing load in the field," she said. "Hana stabilizes it remotely if needed."
Serena's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Redundancy."
Krysta shook her head.
"Continuity."
That landed.
Because it wasn't just about backup.
It was about making sure the system didn't break when it split.
Krysta leaned back slightly.
"He's making sure Mei never runs alone," she added quietly.
Serena didn't respond immediately.
Then—
"Approved."
Krysta didn't hesitate.
"I'll send them full-capacity units. Adaptive scaling, live-link capable."
A beat.
Then—
"…and I'm sending more."
Serena glanced at her.
"Explain."
Krysta pulled up another set of profiles.
The Miller twins.
Camille.
Several first-years.
"They're not part of the deployment," she said. "But they're trying to keep up."
Movement logs appeared—training spikes, observation patterns, increased engagement.
"They're learning fast," Krysta said. "But they don't have the tools to process what they're seeing."
Serena followed the data.
"They fall behind."
"They lose the window," Krysta replied.
A quiet pause.
"…he noticed," Serena said.
Krysta didn't smile.
"…he always does."
She adjusted the specifications.
"These won't match Mei or Hana's systems," she said. "They don't need that level yet."
"Then why send them?"
Krysta's fingers slowed slightly.
"Because they need enough to not get left behind."
That—
that was the difference.
Not equal.
But not ignored.
Serena considered it.
Then—
"Approved."
No hesitation.
Krysta moved immediately, pushing authorizations, layering access, routing requests through channels that wouldn't record her involvement even if they tried.
"Camille gets priority," she added.
"She'll know what to do with it," Serena said.
Krysta nodded.
"Exactly."
She shifted again.
Torres' request came back into view.
"…and this is where it gets interesting."
Serena didn't ask.
Krysta expanded the drone framework.
"His current system won't survive signal overlap," she said. "Too much interference once all academies are active."
"Then upgrade it."
Krysta shook her head.
"No."
She replaced the entire schematic.
"Replace it."
New units.
Faster relay.
Redundant pathways layered into something that wouldn't collapse—it would adapt.
"Give him something he can't break," she said.
Serena's expression shifted.
Approval.
"Do it."
Krysta was already done.
Torres didn't pace this time.
He stood still.
That alone made it different.
His comm was already open—but he didn't speak immediately.
Then—
he did.
The connection bypassed standard systems.
It always did.
His father appeared first.
Then his grandmother.
And behind them—
his grandfather.
All three.
That didn't happen unless it mattered.
"…you called," his grandmother said.
Torres didn't smile.
"I need authorization."
His father's gaze sharpened.
"For what."
"My system."
Silence.
Recognition.
"…you're early," his grandfather said.
"I know."
"You're certain," his grandmother added.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No joke.
Just—
truth.
His father exhaled slowly.
"That system wasn't designed for standard deployment."
"I know."
"It tracks loss," his grandfather said quietly. "Not units. Not machines."
"You."
Torres nodded.
"That's the point."
Silence again.
Weight.
"You're asking us to activate it the moment you deploy," his father said.
"Yes."
His grandmother studied him.
"…once it activates, it doesn't turn off."
"I know."
A beat.
"…you understand what that means."
Torres let out a quiet breath.
"For once," he said, steady, "I do."
That—
that changed everything.
His grandfather nodded.
"…authorization granted."
His father followed.
"It will activate on departure trigger."
His grandmother spoke last.
"…come back."
Torres didn't smile.
"…I will."
The line closed.
He didn't move right away.
Then—
he exhaled once, shoulders loosening slightly.
When he turned—
he was closer to normal.
Not fully.
But enough.
"…I just made a very responsible decision," he said.
Rafe Mercier didn't look up.
"That's new."
"Don't get used to it."
"I won't."
Torres added quietly—
"…it tracks me."
Rafe glanced at him.
"Individually."
"Yes."
Rafe nodded once.
"Good."
Torres blinked.
"…that's it?"
"Yes."
"…no concern?"
"You asked for something effective."
Torres stared.
"…I hate how reasonable you are."
Rafe didn't respond.
Which meant—
end of discussion.
Rafe's comm activated next.
Clean.
Authorized.
Expected.
His grandparents appeared.
Together.
Not rushed.
Not surprised.
Just—
present.
"Rafe."
"I need clarification on assigned routes," he said.
The projection expanded instantly.
Convoy paths.
Branching routes.
Fragmented endpoints.
His grandmother leaned forward.
"…they gave you partial data."
"Yes."
"They always do."
Rafe adjusted the projection.
"These routes don't converge to a fixed point."
His grandfather nodded.
"Because the point isn't fixed."
Rafe's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Mobile staging."
"Yes."
That confirmed it.
"Do you know the region?" Rafe asked.
A brief glance passed between them.
Then—
"…Outer Rim cluster," his grandfather said. "Trade corridors intersecting unstable zones."
Rafe processed instantly.
"Limited navigation stability."
"Yes."
"Reduced visibility."
"Yes."
"Adaptive routing required."
His grandmother nodded.
"Exactly."
Rafe adjusted the projection again.
Now—
it made sense.
Not incomplete.
Deliberately unstable.
"…they're forcing adaptability," he said.
"They're forcing thought," his grandfather replied.
"They're forcing failure," Rafe said.
A small smile.
"Same thing."
A pause.
"…do you know where the staging anchor stabilizes?"
Silence.
Calculation.
Then—
"…edge of the third corridor," his grandfather said. "Outside sensor range. Close enough to reinforce. Far enough to disappear."
Rafe nodded once.
That was enough.
"I understand."
The call ended cleanly.
Torres was watching him.
"…you got more than I did."
"Yes."
"…I don't like that."
"You asked poorly."
"I asked with passion."
"You asked with noise."
"That is passion."
"It's not effective."
Torres exhaled dramatically.
"…I am surrounded by people who make me look inefficient."
"You are inefficient."
"That's hurtful."
"That's accurate."
Torres paused.
Then—
just slightly—
smiled.
"…good thing I have better toys now."
Rafe didn't respond.
Which meant—
agreement.
Across the academy—
things were already moving.
Systems activating.
Requests processing.
Routes recalculating.
Not tomorrow.
Not later.
Now.
Because whether they realized it or not—
they had already crossed the point where preparation was optional.