It began, as many unexpected battles do, with biscuits.

Lieutenant Green—Serena Lewis—stood in the centre of the Skybase break lounge, arms folded, her gaze locked on an open cupboard that now betrayed her in the most unforgivable way: it was empty.

"My lemon shortbread is gone," she said flatly.

Across the room, Captain Blue—Adam Svenson—looked up from his datapad, instantly alert. "As in… the Earth-imported ones?"

"As in artisan, handmade, clearly marked 'property of Lt. Lewis – do not touch unless you want to explain yourself to medical.'" She closed the cupboard door with surgical precision. "I hid them behind the protein packs."

Blue blinked. "Okay. So this was planned."

"This was premeditated. I want names."

Adam stood, mock-serious. "You want justice."

"I want results."

A beat passed between them.

He nodded. "Alright. I'm in."

Operation Snackwatch began quietly. Logs were pulled. Security timestamps reviewed. Snack proximity patterns analysed. Adam brought up the lounge access data while Serena cross-referenced food deliveries.

"Destiny logged in twice yesterday," she said.

"She's a tea drinker. Tea drinkers love biscuits," Adam offered.

"Ochre's name comes up during the night cycle. That's suspicious."

"She reprogrammed the espresso machine last week to dispense cinnamon foam and jazz music."

"Scarlet?"

Adam paused. "He wouldn't."

"He has the face of a man who eats carrots raw."

"…Okay, maybe he would."

They needed evidence. Serena devised a trap.

She returned to the cupboard the next morning and replaced her usual snack box with a decoy: identical container, identical label, filled with rewrapped protein bars. Adam installed a small motion sensor—nothing dramatic, just enough to ping the moment the lid opened.

Hours passed.

Nothing.

Until 0200 hours. A soft beep.

They arrived at the lounge within minutes, hearts pounding. The decoy was still there. Unopened.

Except for the single shortbread biscuit.

Left mockingly on top.

Bitten.

"Someone's toying with us," Serena muttered, staring at the defiled pastry.

"This is personal," Adam agreed. "You've got a mastermind on your hands."

Ochre denied everything. Too quickly.

Destiny smiled sweetly, sipping her tea, and said nothing.

Captain Scarlet looked genuinely confused. "I prefer jam tarts," he said. "Less crumbling."

Even Harmony had an opinion. In the corridor, as they passed her on their way to Engineering, she said without prompt, "In my squadron, food theft is punished with dishonour. But here? This is impressive."

Morale was dropping. The biscuit bandit had the upper hand. Serena contemplated sealing her future rations behind retinal scanners.

And then, on the fourth day, she found him.

The break lounge was empty—almost.

Colonel White stood near the counter, a mug of Earl Grey in hand, and on the saucer beside it… a half-eaten lemon shortbread.

Serena stared at it like a crime scene.

"Sir?"

White looked up. "Lieutenant."

Her voice caught. "That's—those are mine."

He sipped his tea with maddening calm. "No, these were a gift. From Captain Magenta. Apparently he owed me after losing a bet to Destiny in chess."

She blinked. "Magenta had my biscuits?"

"Unmarked property in a communal cupboard? You took a risk." His expression was entirely serious. "I suggest biometric locks in the future."

Serena stood there, stunned. Adam would never let her live this down.

Later, she found him already in the lounge, leaned back, sipping reconstituted coffee with a smirk.

"Let me guess," he said. "Colonel White?"

"Magenta gave them to him. After losing a bet."

Adam whistled. "So they passed hands twice. That's some real snack laundering."

She dropped onto the bench beside him, reached under the table, and pulled out a small silver tin. Wordlessly, she placed it on the counter and opened the lid.

Lemon shortbread. Fresh.

"Backup stash," she explained. "Hidden in my quarters. And delivered by Harmony. She owed me."

Adam looked impressed. "You're terrifying in the best way."

She offered him one. "I share. I don't forgive."

He laughed. "That's fair."

They clinked biscuits like champagne glasses.

Somewhere on Skybase, Captain Ochre opened her locker to find it mysteriously filled with protein bars.

She stared.

Paused.

Then smiled.

"Touché, Serena. Touché."