Pidge leaned forward over the glowing holographic screens, eyes darting between endless lines of code and field data. Their glasses dangled precariously from their mouth, chewed slightly from habit, while their fingers clattered furiously across the keyboard. The Castle of Lions was quiet at this hour—everyone else had gone to sleep hours ago—but Pidge’s mind was alive, racing too fast to rest.

Stacks of notebooks and scattered datapads surrounded them, each covered in hand-written notes, equations, and little sketches of alien tech. A half-finished cup of coffee sat dangerously close to the keyboard, steam long since faded, the heart doodle on the mug smudged by fingerprints.

On their arm, a tiny alien creature blinked sleepily, clinging to the cuff of their lab coat. Another one peeked out from behind a pile of books, its wide eyes reflecting the light of the hologram. They chirped softly, like they were reminding Pidge to slow down—but of course, Pidge ignored them.

“Almost… got it…” they muttered, biting the edge of the glasses harder. A new stream of green text flickered across the projection, signaling progress.

The small alien on their arm tilted its head, watching curiously as Pidge cracked a tired smile. “See that? If I reroute the power signatures through a phase-shift algorithm, we might finally be able to stabilize wormhole travel without Coran’s constant tinkering. Maybe even… go home faster.”

The little creature gave a squeaky noise that sounded almost like agreement. Pidge paused, glanced at it, then chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take a break soon. Just… one more line of code.”

The soft hum of the holograms filled the room as Pidge’s shadow stretched long against the wall behind them, half scientist, half exhausted soldier, but unwilling to stop until the universe bent to their brilliance.