The tactical room looked like Helius Prime itself had exploded into organized chaos.
Supply crates covered almost every table. Open armor cases sat beside folded uniforms. Portable scanners blinked softly from charging stations while datapads cycled through inventory lists overhead. Rows of emergency medical kits lined the far wall with military precision, each labeled and color-coded.
ASSAULT.
FIELD REPAIR.
MEDICAL.
SURVIVAL.
LONG RANGE.
Someone—probably Mei—had even arranged backup batteries by energy output.
The room smelled faintly of machine oil, warm electronics, coffee, and the sharp sterile scent of medical sealant from freshly packed trauma kits.
Outside the tactical room windows, Helius Prime had gone quiet for the night.
Not asleep.
Helius never truly slept.
Somewhere far below, transport rails still hummed softly beneath the academy structure. Distant maintenance drones floated across illuminated pathways between towers. The academy lights glowed silver-blue against the darkness outside like a city refusing to rest before something important.
Tomorrow—
the seniors deployed.
And everyone in this room felt it.
Even if nobody wanted to say it out loud.
"Remote chargers checked."
Mei Tanaka barely looked up from her datapad as she spoke.
"Again," Hana Sato answered immediately from across the room.
Camille sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by cable packs and emergency relays like she had lost a fight against electronics.
"How many chargers does one deployment need?" she complained.
"A lot," Mei answered calmly.
"That's not a number."
"That's because you stopped counting two hours ago."
Camille pointed accusingly.
"Your organizational standards are inhuman."
Mei finally looked at her.
"That sounds like a personal failure."
Camille gasped dramatically.
"Hana, she insulted me."
"You deserved it," Hana replied without hesitation while standing on a chair trying to reach a storage shelf.
Three cables hung around her neck like battlefield decorations.
The suspected twins entered the room carrying another crate together.
Nobody actually knew if they were twins.
Nobody had proof.
But they moved exactly alike.
Walked in step.
Turned at the same time.
Talked in synchronized rhythm enough that the entire academy had collectively accepted: Probably twins.
The taller one carefully lowered the crate onto the table.
"We found the remaining thermal blankets."
The other immediately added—
"And the medical gel packs."
Camille stared at them suspiciously.
"You two practice that, don't you?"
They answered together.
"No."
"…that was worse somehow."
Hana nearly laughed herself off the chair.
Mei moved toward the center table where the senior deployment kits had been laid out.
Ryven's gear sat beside Kael's.
The difference between them was immediate.
Ryven's equipment looked efficient. Minimal. Perfectly arranged.
Kael's looked like someone packed for war, survival, emotional support, and dessert-based emergencies simultaneously.
Camille picked up one sealed pouch carefully.
"…why does Kael have six emergency snack kits?"
Hana didn't even blink.
"That's actually less than usual."
"There's another compartment," Mei added.
Camille froze.
"There's MORE?"
Mei calmly unsealed the lower storage section.
Inside were individually wrapped pastries.
Camille looked personally offended.
"…he packed strawberry tarts."
"Field emergency strawberry tarts," Hana corrected.
"That somehow makes it worse."
Aria Kestrel nearly walked into a table laughing.
"You think that's bad?" she asked. "Last month he brought emergency pudding into live combat drills."
Camille turned slowly.
"…why."
Aria shrugged.
"He said morale mattered."
Lucian Valerius adjusted his glasses with visible exhaustion.
"The worst part is that he wasn't wrong."
One of the suspected twins lifted another container.
"What is this one?"
Mei glanced over.
"Desserts."
"Again?"
"Yes."
Camille pointed toward Ryven's side of the table.
"Why does Ryven have snacks too?"
The entire room went quiet for one dangerous second.
Then Aria answered immediately.
"Because Kael steals his."
Lucian nodded.
"And Ryven learned adaptation through suffering."
Camille buried her face in her hands.
"They've become codependent through pastries."
"That happened months ago," Mei said calmly.
A pause.
Then quietly—
"It improved team morale."
The room erupted laughing again.
Near the far corner—
Adrian Alejandro Torres was conducting what looked disturbingly close to military succession planning.
Little Bean sat upright in a chair with terrifying focus while Torres projected a massive holographic betting board across the wall.
The projection alone looked insane.
Probability charts.
Combat prediction rankings.
Simulation percentages.
Behavioral estimates.
Emergency odds.
There was even a category labeled:
"ARDENT-VOSS INCIDENT CHANCE."
Lucian stopped walking.
"…why are there hourly percentages."
"Because science matters," Torres replied immediately.
Little Bean nodded with absolute seriousness and wrote that down.
Aria groaned.
"Oh no. There's two of them now."
Torres pointed dramatically at the board.
"Little Bean. Leadership requires preparation."
"YES SIR."
"Rule number one—never trust silence around Kael Ardent."
Furious scribbling.
"Rule number two—if Ryven Voss looks exhausted, Ardent caused it."
More scribbling.
"Rule number three—always maintain hidden backup recording drones."
Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Why are you training him like a tiny intelligence operative."
Torres looked deeply offended.
"I am nurturing talent."
Little Bean immediately raised his hand.
"I practiced dramatic entrances today."
Aria blinked.
"You practiced what?"
Little Bean stood up instantly.
Pointed dramatically at nothing.
Then shouted—
"THEY HAVE RETURNED."
The entire room jumped.
Camille dropped three chargers.
One of the suspected twins almost activated a med scanner defensively.
Even Mei visibly flinched slightly.
Silence.
Little Bean sat back down proudly.
Torres looked emotional.
"…excellent projection."
Lucian looked toward the ceiling like he was reconsidering every life choice that brought him here.
"No. Absolutely not. Stop encouraging this."
"Greatness must continue after graduation," Torres argued.
Little Bean nodded solemnly.
"I will preserve the legacy."
Aria was laughing too hard to breathe properly.
At the center tables, Hana finally clapped loudly once.
"Okay focus. We still need to verify field repair kits."
The suspected twins immediately opened another case.
Inside sat perfectly organized compact repair tools.
Camille stared.
"…did Mei organize this?"
"No," said one twin.
"The other one did," said the second.
Camille looked horrified.
"I think they're haunting me."
Hana pointed dramatically.
"That means they like you."
"That's not comforting."
Mei ignored all of them while reviewing another checklist.
"Power cells confirmed."
"Portable relays confirmed," Hana added.
"Medical injectors confirmed."
"Backup hard drives confirmed."
"Emergency thermal packs confirmed."
Camille lifted another pouch slowly.
"…why are there three emergency sewing kits?"
Aria answered immediately.
"Kael."
"Why does Kael need emergency sewing kits?"
Lucian sighed deeply.
"Because he keeps ripping his uniform."
"That sounds fixable."
"It usually happens during combat."
"That sounds medically concerning."
"It usually is."
Near the corner, Torres had escalated further somehow.
Little Bean was now crawling beneath tables while Torres narrated his movements like battlefield commentary.
"Excellent stealth form."
Lucian stared blankly.
"Why is he under the furniture."
"Adaptive infiltration training."
"HE IS SEVENTEEN."
"Future excellence begins early."
Little Bean suddenly rolled sideways beneath a chair and appeared behind Aria.
"TARGET ACQUIRED."
Aria screamed so loudly half the room nearly jumped again.
Camille collapsed laughing against the supply crates.
Even one of the suspected twins cracked a visible smile this time.
Torres looked like a proud father.
"Natural talent."
Aria grabbed Little Bean by the shoulders.
"You tiny gremlin do NOT do that during deployment."
Little Bean gasped dramatically.
"I would never compromise operational security."
Torres wiped an imaginary tear.
"He learns so quickly…"
Lucian physically turned away.
"I need a transfer."
"You say that every week," Aria reminded him.
"And every week I mean it."
The room slowly settled again after that.
The laughter softened.
People returned to work.
Datapads clicked quietly.
Supplies shifted across tables.
The academy lights outside dimmed slightly deeper into night.
For a little while—
the tactical room stopped feeling like deployment preparation.
Stopped feeling heavy.
Instead it felt alive.
Like the academy itself.
Messy.
Loud.
Ridiculous.
Human.
Hana reorganized batteries while arguing with Camille about whether emergency pudding counted as morale support.
The suspected twins silently corrected inventory errors before anyone noticed them.
Aria kept stealing snacks from Kael's deployment pile and getting caught immediately by Mei.
Lucian sat beside three datapads looking like a man slowly losing a psychological war against his own friends.
And Torres—
Torres was now teaching Little Bean how to dramatically spin in a chair before delivering classified information.
"…we are absolutely doomed as a generation," Lucian muttered quietly.
Aria snorted.
"Too late for that."
Eventually the inventory lists reached completion.
The tactical room grew quieter after that.
Not silent.
Just softer.
Because there was nothing left to organize anymore.
Nothing left to delay tomorrow.
Mei looked around the room carefully.
At the stacked equipment.
The packed medical kits.
The extra datapads and charging cables.
At all the tiny things people prepared when they wanted someone to return safely.
Then she looked toward the girls.
Hana.
Camille.
The suspected twins.
Even Aria and Lucian stopped talking when they noticed the expression on her face.
Because Mei Tanaka rarely looked serious without reason.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm.
Steady.
"While we're gone," she said quietly, "keep Helius running properly."
The room stilled immediately.
Even Torres stopped talking.
Mostly.
Mei's eyes moved across them slowly.
"The younger cadets are watching everything now. The first-years too." A pause. "If things fall apart while the seniors are gone, they'll feel it immediately."
Camille straightened unconsciously.
The suspected twins exchanged another synchronized glance.
Hana lowered her datapad slowly.
Mei continued.
"Keep the study groups active. Keep training rotations organized. Keep inventory maintained."
Her eyes shifted briefly toward the projected betting board.
"And don't let the cafeteria betting system become completely unmanageable."
Torres looked deeply offended.
"EXCUSE YOU, MY SYSTEM IS HIGHLY ORGA—"
"Torres," Lucian interrupted immediately.
He stopped.
Barely.
Mei finally looked directly at Hana.
"Hana."
"Yeah?"
"Don't let them slack off."
Hana grinned faintly.
"Yes ma'am."
Then Mei stepped closer slightly and lowered her voice just enough that only the girls nearby could hear.
"And secretly…"
She glanced toward Little Bean, who was currently attempting tactical rolls beneath another chair while Torres supervised proudly.
"…make sure Little Bean actually learns something useful."
Hana nearly choked trying not to laugh.
Camille slapped both hands over her mouth immediately.
Even one of the suspected twins made a strangled noise.
Across the room, Torres narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Why do I suddenly feel personally attacked."
Lucian answered instantly.
"Because your instincts finally evolved."
"BETRAYAL."
Little Bean looked alarmed.
"Should I document this?!"
"NO," half the room answered together.
The laughter afterward felt quieter than before.
Warmer too.
Like everyone was trying very hard not to think about tomorrow.
Eventually the tactical room began emptying slowly.
Supply crates were sealed.
Datapads disconnected.
The overhead lights dimmed section by section.
Hana gathered the final inventory sheets against her chest while Camille stacked empty cases beside the wall.
The suspected twins carried the final medical crate out together in perfect synchronization again.
Aria pointed immediately.
"SEE? That! That's twin behavior!"
The two answered together without even turning around.
"We're aware."
Lucian sighed heavily.
"I'm surrounded by impossible people."
"You enrolled here willingly," Aria reminded him.
"That was clearly my greatest mistake."
Near the doorway, Hana finally looked back toward Mei.
"…you guys better come back fast."
The humor faded around the edges after that.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Because everyone understood what she really meant.
Camille tried smiling anyway.
"You still owe us those combat recordings."
"And Kael still owes me three desserts," Aria added instantly.
Lucian adjusted his glasses.
"He owes half the academy desserts at this point."
"That's because he stress bakes at two in the morning," Camille muttered.
Mei's expression softened slightly.
"We'll come back."
Absolute certainty.
The kind seniors wore for everyone staying behind.
Hana nodded once.
Still reluctant.
Still unhappy tomorrow existed at all.
"…good night then."
"Good night," Mei answered softly.
Camille lingered another second before waving lightly.
"Try not to start an interstellar incident while you're gone."
"No promises," Aria replied immediately.
"That was the wrong answer."
"It was the honest answer."
Little Bean suddenly saluted from beneath a table.
"GOOD NIGHT SENIORS."
Torres looked emotional again.
"He's growing so fast…"
Lucian physically turned away from him.
One by one—
they finally started leaving.
Hana stayed last.
She paused near the doorway and looked back once more at the tactical room.
At the packed deployment cases.
At the seniors.
At all the equipment waiting quietly for morning.
Then she smiled anyway.
Small.
Determined.
"We'll keep Helius together until you get back."
And somehow—
that promise lingered in the tactical room long after the door finally slid shut behind them.