Chapter Three
As the simulation progressed, the path ahead of the vessels grew ever more treacherous. The encroaching walls of the jagged mountains threatened to punish any uncalculated maneuver, any misstep. And eventually, it did. As the starfighters snaked through the canyons and ravines, one of the vessels of Group Two brushed against the sides of the stony trench.
The simulator unit violently shook, providing its user kinetic feedback as he tightened his grip around the controls, releasing a series of hushed expletives beneath his breath. The sound of scratching metal and crumbling rock filled the simulator as the group leader's voice left the unit's speakers.
"That's a bit of a point reduction, Torrid Eight," Marvus casually stated. "Don't worry. Keep your wits about you and recover. It's nothing you can't come back from."
The Devaronian pilot continued to lead his group through the trench run, the five men and women trailing him doing their best to mimic his movements.
In the western canyon, Dunn led his group with silent efficiency, the comm channel rarely opening except to relay directions and test the applicants' knowledge.
"We're coming up on a winding path," said Dunn, utterly void of emotion. "Base maneuverability will not be sufficient. Suggested action, Torrid Five?"
"Divert power to engines," the pilot quickly answered, her voice coarse and direct. It belonged to Chanta the Selkath.
"Correct, but from where?" Dunn asked.
"Weapons systems," Chanta replied. "Shields need to be at full strength in case of physical contact within the trench."
"Correct," Dunn commented. The lead vessel neared the narrowing mouth of the winding path. "Tessa, configure for close-quarters maneuvers."
One by one the pilots repeated the direction to their own droids, and Tessa went to work boosting the vessels' engines. Though the TS-AA was technically a single shared intelligence, the bifurcation process separated and isolated it into the twelve physical units plugged into the vessels. Each pilot was responsible for the 'Tessa' attached to their starfighter, giving directions and receiving information unique to their own ship.
Dunn was the first to pass the threshold of the tightening ravine. The five other vessels followed soon after, flying in a single-file line, maintaining their speeds through the winding path. As the walls of stone crept ever closer, the pilots' skills were pushed to the limit. Through the treacherous trench, the open skies remained ever present above the pilots. They promised safety, freedom from the encroaching mountains, but they also promised failure. Ironically, to touch the sky was to forfeit their spot on the squadron. Crashing in pursuit of their goal was preferable to fleeing, especially in the simulation. No sense of mortality and no risk of wrecking millions of credits worth of military hardware meant they could go all out.
In the eastern canyon, Group Two approached a similar winding path. Similar, but not identical. The group made similar preparations. Similar, but not identical. Marvus warned of the danger ahead and advised the pilots in his group, rather than quizzing them on their next move. The group leader readied his vessel for the snaking trench, and the others did the same. But though Marvus did not question his pilots, he could not go without offering them a good challenge.
"Since we're nearing the final stretch of the course, who wants to see if we can beat the other group to the finish?" Marvus asked across his team's comm. There was silence as none of the applicants offered an immediate answer. But the quiet wouldn't last.
"Alright, let's do it!" Zal offered with boisterous vigor.
"Should we really rush things?" another male sounded out, significantly more cautious than the Nautolan.
"If we win, do we receive more points?" asked a female. She spoke bluntly, her voice carrying the heavy accent of a Rodian speaking Basic.
"It's a display of skill, is it not?" Marvus warmly replied. "If we make it out first, I might be able to overlook any accidental collisions along the way."
Though hesitant, none of the pilots would object to the Devaronian's challenge. They aimed to impress and while not a direct order, they knew opposing their group leader's suggestion would earn them no favors. And sitting in a simulator tended to tip the scales of behavior toward the reckless.
With the two groups now traversing the twisting corridors of rock and stone, Rem and Haron passed their gazes over the viewscreens above the twelve simulator units, the executive officer occasionally focusing on the datapad within his hands.
"I suppose we should have expected this from Marvus," Haron commented, a hint of defeat in his otherwise stoic voice.
"He's not yet broken any rules," Rem calmly replied. "The test is to gauge the applicants as teammates and subordinates. While not as direct, Marvus is still issuing commands, providing directions, which his group members are following to the best of their ability. Besides, might as well push them to their limit before putting them in the cockpit of a real Gallant fighter."
"It's hard to evaluate two groups on completely different merits," Haron admitted. "But I suppose this phase was never about eliminating applicants, barring catastrophic failure."
"Makes you think though, these two could have been the new Torrid Leader had you decided it," Rem stated.
"Marvus was toward the bottom of my list, but I suppose I hadn't eliminated him entirely from consideration," Haron declared. "Dunn… Dunn was a contender."
"But you chose me," Rem said, taking her eyes off the viewscreens that populated the chamber. "Over Dunn. Over yourself."
"Whereas Marvus would have been too loose, I fear Dunn would have been too strict," Haron explained, still staring at his datapad.
"Every military outfit needs its measure of discipline," Rem countered.
"A firm hand is needed, but a tightened fist helps no one. I learned that much during my time with the Empire," Haron muttered.
"And is that time why you recused yourself from consideration?" asked Rem.
"I knew Admiral Trevel wouldn't object, but I couldn't say the same of the senate," Haron admitted. "The oversight committee wouldn't like an ex-Imperial at the head of its shining symbol of Republic valiance. But that wasn't the only reason. I had become accustomed to my duties as an XO. Maybe I was afraid to give those up, or let someone else take over for me. Maybe I was just afraid of taking Nolante's place."
"If you thought yourself incapable, I can assure you, you're not," Rem offered, a soothing warmth in her voice.
"I know," said Haron. "I knew you and the others would have no trouble following me. What I didn't know, was what path I might lead you down. Like I said when I picked you, it's more than just being a good pilot or tactician. A squadron is like a machine that needs all its parts working and in the right place to properly function."
Rem let out a soft chuckle. "So you picked the person who's better with droids than people."
"Considering you treat your droid better than most Imperial officers treat their subordinates…"
The commander and her executive officer were cut off by a brief warning that splashed across one of the viewscreens above the simulator. Rem focused her gaze whilst Haron poured over his datapad.
"Torrid Ten brushed against the trench wall," said Haron.
"Surprised it took this long," Rem admitted. "How bad was it?"
"Superficial damage. Shields absorbed most of it. A few thousand credits worth of repairs," Haron listed.
Watching the tenth unit's screen, the commander was impressed by how the pilot immediately recovered, keeping their wing clear of any further contact. "I must say, Group Two is performing remarkably well considering their speeds."
"Considering Marvus has never run this simulation before, it's impressive that even he's managed to go unscathed," Haron admitted. "Torrid Four seems to be mimicking his movements perfectly. Torrid Six is doing great considering he has no direct line of sight on Marvus. And whatever mistakes the others make, they manage to avoid overcorrecting rather well."
"And how is Group One progressing?" Rem asked.
"Slower, but not by much," answered Haron. "Dunn has them following a much tighter line, and none of them have made any major mistakes."
"It seems we've a talented pool to choose from," said Rem. "Finding four to eliminate might be difficult."
"They're skilled, to be sure. But you need more than trench runs to measure a pilot's ability," Haron declared.
"I think the second stage of the simulation will be an adequate test of their skills," Rem confidently stated.
Cutting off the observers' conversation were the exuberant cheers that emanated from Group Two's comm channel. Marvus had emerged from the trench into an open canyon, the five members of his group following closely behind him. Exiting into the point where the eastern and western paths converged, there was no sight of Group One. Only after a few long seconds did Dunn and the rest of his team emerge from their trench.
The tails of the other six vessels in his sights, the Kel Dor maintained his silence, paying little mind to his squadron mate's haste.
"It would seem they all made it out," Haron commented.
"It would seem so," Rem warmly repeated, an approving curl upon her lips. "Load Stage Two."
The executive officer provided a quick nod, punching a few commands into his datapad. Inside the simulators, the screens went dark, to the confusion of the ten applicants. They watched as the screen flickered, a progress bar showing up as new data flowed in. As Tessa readied the next simulation, the pilots were left to wait in their artificial cockpits.
"I guess we're not getting a break, huh?" Marvus said over the comm, the units once more sharing a single channel.
"Why, do you need one?" Dunn teased, albeit in a completely deadpan manner. The Devaronian offered a hearty chortle.
"How 'bout you all? Anyone need a break?" Marvus asked of the applicants. A steady stream of 'No, sir's filled the channel, much to the inquirer's delight.
"Loading Phase Two-Stage Two," an electronic female voice informed the twelve pilots.
"Stage Two will test your familiarity with the Gallant's systems as we carry out a combat scenario," Dunn explained, matching his previous monotonous tone. "Same as Stage One, failure to follow a command or relay information will result in a point deduction. Points will be aggregated and judged only upon the completion of the entire phase of testing."
The pilots withheld their questions and comments as the progress bar along their cockpits' screen filled. The artificial viewports remains dark, but were now dotted with an array of distant stars upon the celestial canvas. The applicants immediately knew the test would not be a terrestrial one. But other than that, they were going in blind. No objective. No briefing. No preparations.
The twelve starfighters were arranged in a wedge formation above a stationary Republic cruiser. As the pilots looked over their consoles and absorbed the information presented, two Imperial dreadnoughts dropped out of hyperspace to the squadron's left and right. Harrower-class, the two massive vessels floated just outside of their firing range.
As the applicants struggled to process the immediate threat, they eagerly awaited their leader's command. Finally, a single notice flashed across the pilots' consoles.
'Objective: Protect the transport'