The Battle for Peace (Nyx, Tannis)

[Tristan Tahmores]

Imperial Academy of Carida, 1 BBY

Though it was just a simulator run, Cadet Tahmores didn't feel the twisting sensation of disappointment and failure in his gut any less. While he could, through objective thought, easily think of a dozen factors beyond his control that had all contributed to his ultimate lack of success in the exercise, he couldn't permit himself to subscribe to such excuses. As both his father and Ensign V'larr often reminded him, it was his responsibility as an officer adapt to those factors: to change his approach and make the best of a bad situation.

Alas, in yet another simulation that he had flown as lead, the results had been less than what was to be expected of a Cadet with his training an experience. When he flew as a subordinate to another pilot, his skills behind the controls of a TIE Fighter placed him well within the upper percentiles of his Academy class. As soon as he was placed on the spot however, and placed in command, he began to second guess even the simplistic manoeuvres that came naturally to him in other situations. He wasn't sure what it was - nerves; underconfidence; or just a complete lack of the necessary realistic skill - but whenever he was at the point of the formation, and it fell to him to issue strategy for the rest of the unit, his mind failed him, and all the set pieces and standard tactics that had been drilled into them for exactly these purposes just fell away, never to be found again.

He sighed, easing himself reluctantly from the cockpit after perhaps a few too many seconds since their instructor had summoned them to recieve feedback. He made sure to turn that sigh to maximum, draining his body and mind of as much exasperation as possible, to set him in better stead to bear the brunt of Ensign V'larr's no doubt scathing critique.

[Tannis V'larr]

"Cadet Tahmores. You may have forgotten, but hours logged after the simulation has ended do not count toward your simulator total."

Tannis had found that one of the most frequent complaints in his instructor evaluations was that he lacked a sense of humor. Officious as he was in all things, he had been trying to rectify that.

The rest of the eight-pilot squadron was already assembled. The exotically beautiful Cadet Verrok stood at the head of her own flightmates, watching with something like pity as Tannis glared the young Naboo cadet down the stepladder from the simulator pod.

"It should not come as a surprise to any of you that you have failed this mission in virtually every way possible. The shipping route through the Barradis system is not secure, the convoy you were to escort has fallen into the hands of Rebel insurgents, and all of you are dead."

The Sikarran halfbreed turned his flat, yellow eyes on Tristan. "Cadet Tahmores. You were in command for this mission. How would you rate the performance of your squadron mates?"

[Tristan Tahmores]

Tristan felt his eyes towards Verrok, and felt a surge of embarassment at the kinds of thoughts and emotions that flew around in the back of his head. Irrational didn't even come close to doing them justice; his attraction to her was hopeless, and hapless; and likely not in the least bit reciprocated.

He'd hoped that, with an impressive enough performance here today, he'd manage to at least a little respect in his abilities from here: something he could build on. Failed this mission in virtually every way possible, the Ensign's words echoed in his mind. Sounds about right.

For an instant, Verrok happened to glance in his direction, and their eyes momentarily met. He snatched his gaze away instantly, fighting the urge to blush.

"I -"

He found himself looking at their instructor once more, and knew there was a question that he was expected to answer; but for a fleeting few seconds, he didn't have the slightest fault what it was. His mind eventually spooled up, memory providing him with the information he was lacking. The repeat play of your squadron mates in his mind made him want to glance in Verrok's direction again. He fought the urge.

Instead, he allowed his brow to furrow slightly, eyes dropping away from face contact with V'larr. "My squadron's performance was exemplary," he offered, allowing the events to replay in his mind. "They complied with my instructions flawlessly throughout."

He felt his shoulders slump, as if someone had just dropped a whole Star Destroyer on him. "The fault lies with where those instructions originated, sir." He hesitated. "With me."

[Tannis V'larr]

Tannis gave no indication whether he agreed or disagreed with Tristan's assessment. It was admirable for a leader to accept responsibility for the mission's outcome, but it meant little without the understanding of where things broke down.

"In your opinion, then, what was the critical mistake that led to the failure of your mission?"

[Tristan Tahmores]

Tristan's frown continued, more an expression of contemplation than of puzzlement as he ran through the events in his mind. While guarding the convoy, as assigned, their squadron had been buzzed by a pair of Helix interceptors. They had remained frustratingly out of range, posing little threat to the convoy, save for their persistant pestering with ion cannon fire.

Knowing how these pilots would think - or at least, how the computer generated representations of them were programmed to think - he easily saw the potential trap into which they were being lured, and so had chosen to ignore them, making his priority instead the defense of the convoy.

Unfortunately, the interceptors had not abated in their persistance; and Nyx had been equally insistant that she - if deployed to 'take care of them' - could dispatch the Helix craft swiftly, before any potential danger could unfold. Perhaps the delay and indecision had been ultimately responsible for the failure; or perhaps when he had finally surrendered to the advice from Nyx, he had been overzealous in committing her entire flight - half of his unit - in the pursuit.

Logic had suggested that four TIEs against the two interceptors was the best approach: in a one-on-one engagement, the Imperial craft rarely fared well against such aggressors; and he had hoped that with sufficient firepower he could dispatch the interceptors swiftly, thus eliminating one of his concerns from consideration. Alas, it had backfired: the interceptors had lured Nyx and her flight away from her convoy, leaving it open to attack.

If in one-on-one the TIE Fighter rarely fared well, the two-on-one odds he left himself with when eight Headhunters had descended upon them were far worse.

"I am unsure which was the critical mistake, sir. I believe I made several." Disappointment was rife in his voice as he spoke. "Despite my awareness of the rebel ploy, I sprung their trap regardless; I did so after too much hesitation, and I was overzealous in committing so much of my squadron to that end."

A bitter afterthought stuck in his mind. There was no way that anyone - given the circumstances provided - could have facilitated an Imperial victory in that situation. It was a no-win scenario; and while Tristan could certainly understand the potential for such a thing to present itself, he failed to see the benefit of yet again demonstrating how helpless they would be in the face of certain death.

[Tannis V'larr]

"Your analysis of events is adequate," Tannis replied. "What you have omitted is that as squadron leader you failed to provide clear direction in a tense and confusing situation, leading to a loss of escort discipline."

Mercifully he turned away from the Naboo cadet and found another victim.

"Cadet Verrok. You were the second flight leader. Had you commanded the mission, how would you have done things differently?"

He didn't even allow for the possibility that she would have done the same as Tristan.

[Nyx Verrok]

Dammit, Tristan.

Internally, she sighed and ran over the mission details in her head. Over and over again. She just couldn't put her finger on it - Tristan was brilliant behind the controls in any situation where he wasn't flying lead. But put him in charge, and give him responsibility, and he inevitably failed.

It was heartbreaking to watch him, time and again, be unable to do what should come naturally to someone with his level of skill.

Nyx stood tall, her posture and bearing straight and formal as she took her place in front of her flight. Gloves in her right hand, and helmet tucked under her left arm, there was nothing anyone could find fault with over her appearance. As their instructors always said, fortune favored the prepared. And she was nothing if not always prepared.

Her quest for perfection was already the joke of the Academy. But her perfect marks and spotless disciplinary record were hard to argue with.

"Cadet Verrok. You were the second flight leader. Had you commanded the mission, how would you have done things differently?"

She turned slightly to face both Tannis and Tristan, before her voice echoed strongly in the chamber. "I would have committed four fighters to work in tandem. Two to actively harass the Helix Interceptors, and chase them out only to a certain distance, before returning and swapping places with the other pair. That way the convoy would have had more help when the Headhunters appeared. Although I do believe that this too would have failed as a maneuver in the long run, it would have given us a bit more precious time."

[Tannis V'larr]

In contrast to Tristan, Nyx Verrok was a model trainee in virtually every respect - brimming with natural talent and personal drive, quick to learn new concepts and quicker to adapt to changing circumstances, and conscientious and thorough when it came to protocol, something Tannis had come to regard as an oddity among exceptional young pilots. He had seen all too many greenhorns who thought they were God's gift to the Empire and regarded flight training as a mere formality.

Yet there were weaknesses there, too - a reluctance to experiment, a tendency to micromanage her subordinates, and, perhaps most seriously, the conviction that there was a right answer to every challenge. In a strange sort of way, she excelled at flight training the way some students excelled at taking exams. It meant that building a simulation around her skillset was a vexing and almost self-defeating challenge.

"You say you believe your maneuver would have failed as well," Tannis said. "Explain."

[Nyx Verrok]

She nodded, taking a moment to think before formulating her response, her voice emerging strong and brimming with certainty.

"I think it would have failed in the long run because we were operating with less than a full squadron. Only eight ships to deal with guarding the convoy and fending off the Helixes was not a problem. The problem came when the eight Headhunters dropped in to attack the convoy. We could not count on the Helixes staying at a distance, and would have had to account for them and the Headhunters...and that, I think would have defeated us regardless."

[Tannis V'larr]

"Interesting."

Tannis turned away from Verrok and paced back down the line of cadets.

"Cadet Verrok appears to be of the opinion that the attacking forces were strong enough to win any engagement with your squadron regardless of your tactics. In essence, the scenario was unwinnable. Cadet Tahmores, do you agree?"

[Tristan Tahmores]

Tristan mused the question carefully.

Verrok was right, of course. He should have committed two fighters, not four; sent them to run off the Interceptors, and kept them at bay. They wouldn't have won outright, granted, but the survival of the convoy didn't require that they win: just that they managed to keep the convoy secure for long enough to reach a jump point. With the TIE Fighters steadfastly refusing to be drawn to far away from the convoy, maybe the Interceptors would never have called in their reinforcements at all.

Of course, she'd also been right that their two flights were no match for those Headhunters. And when it had proved clear that the Interceptor ploy wasn't working, Tristan didn't doubt that the Rebels - and the simulation, which was apparently designed to be as infuriating as possible - would have made the Headhunters jump in regardless.

A flicker of boldness crept into his mind as he responded. "I believe Cadet Verrok is correct, sir, yes. In combat, the lack of hyperdrive, missile systems, and shielding aboard a TIE Fighter places it at a technical disadvantage against most of the Rebel fighters we encounter. Ordinarily, we counter that with speed, agility, and sheer overwhelming numbers. For eight pilots to expect to stand on an equal footing with an equivalent number of opponents, we would have to be operating equivalent craft."

He hesitated, shying away from his confidence a little. "I do not believe the simulation is winnable, sir, given the resources presented to us."

[Tannis V'larr]

Tannis nodded, gratified that he had at least squeezed a genuine opinion out of the young trainee, even if it had been prompted by his second. He was looking at it the wrong way, of course, but at least he was no longer waiting for his instructor to simply give him the answer.

"Your technical and numerical disadvantages are self-evident," the Sikarran halfbreed said. "No matter the quality of your equipment, every pilot must be prepared for the eventuality of a better-equipped opponent. In such a situation, one must learn to look for other kinds of advantages."

He loomed over Tristan. "Why do you think, with all their technical advantages, the Rebels did not merely attack you outright and overwhelm you?"

[Tristan Tahmores]

Because the simulation wasn't programmed that way?

The sarcastic comment floated unbidden through his mind, muttering to him in what sounded annoyingly like his brother's voice. It was a valid point, of course, but clearly Ensign V'larr was looking for an understanding of the mentality of the programming - and thus programmer.

Tristan frowned, puzzling the point. "Losses?"

It was the only answer he could concieve, and yet as the word tumbled from his mouth as a question, it began to seem increasingly like a reasonable answer to his mind. As his opinion formed, he ran through the highlights aloud. "While we were clearly outmatched and outgunned - and while the Rebels would have won overall in any engagement they made - there was a risk that we might manage to take down some of their number with us. They waited, until a situation when the odds were more in our favour."

[Tannis V'larr]

"A reasonable conjecture. The fact is that one can never fully know an enemy's intentions. Therefore, one must always consider the possibilities. First: that the interceptors were operating alone, in which case they lacked the resources to do any more than harass the convoy at long range. Second: that the interceptors intended to provoke you into dividing your squadron so it could be destroyed piecemeal, in which case taking the bait meant springing the trap. Third: that an enemy force is lying in wait to attack you anyway, in which case your greatest chance of survival is still to operate as a single, consolidated unit."

Tannis paced again, hands folded primly behind his back.

"Your mission parameters did not require the elimination of hostiles in the area - only the safe transit of the convoy to the jump point. You lost sight of your primary goal and in so doing broke the first rule of escort: never abandon your charge. You may alter formation. You may change your tactics to an extended picket. You may pursue targets that enter weapons range of your convoy, but the moment they disengage, you must as well. Your error was in seeking a complex solution where simplicity would have afforded you the best chance of survival."

[Tristan Tahmores]

Simplicity?

Clearly the smug, pointy-eared bastard with his super computer for a brain had a different concept of simplicity than Tristan had grown up to learn. His father had always taught him to Sort it now, and sort it fast: if you let it linger, it will only cause problems for you in the long run.

Granted, he had overcomitted to that end, but had he succeeded, the problems presented to his unit would have been drastically reduced. The Ensign's solution meanwhile protracted the conflict; and yes, while it may have delayed the inevitable, it would only have taken a few lucky pops from those Interceptors into the unshielded TIE Fighters to reduce their numbers, and render them in exactly the same situation.

"Perhaps," he cut in, not entirely sure where his new found confidence or irritability was stemming from, "Simplicity would be best served by providing Imperial pilots with less inferior technology."

He folded his arms across his chest, defensively. "You are the one with an obsession with statistics and simulations, sir, so I'm sure you must previously have calculated this; what was the probable success rate if the convoy was protected by X-Wings, rather than TIE Fighters?"

[Tannis V'larr]

"A pilot does not have the luxury of choosing his equipment," Tannis replied. "Instead, he must make the best possible use of the equipment he is given. If a head-on confrontation is not advantageous, you must seek to delay the engagement as long as possible."

He stared back at Tristan with something like a twitch working its way through the right side of his face.

"Eighty-six point two percent. But that is hardly the point. Were you flying X-Wings, it is likely the Rebels would not have attacked at all. There is little to be gained from testing your ability to win scenarios that are heavily weighted in your favor."

[Tristan Tahmores]

"With all due respect, Ensign -" Tristan's head tilted back, a flash of definance in the way he jutted out his jaw. What was it his father always used to say: In for a credit; in for a grand? He kept his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "- I believe your logic is flawed."

He paused, allowing the accusation to sink in, knowing full well how much stock their training officer placed in his ability to process situations to an objective and logical conclusion. Granted, the statements he had made did conform to a logical progression, but they were based upon a flawed basic concept.

"You state, sir, that your intent is to prepare us to act in engagements where the odds are against us. And yet, in the face of technical inferiority, the core Imperial battle tactic is to compensate with numerical superiority. It is upon that principle that the TIE Fighter is designed, saccrificing power and durability for speed and agility." He frowned. "And yet, this simulation places these craft in a position of numerical inferiority."

He hesitated, his frown intensifying, as he collated his thoughts into a cohesive stream. "You sent us into an engagement with a non-standard formation size. Were we operating craft with shields or missiles, that would have been appropriate; but for TIE Fighters, it was not. Every tactic you have posed was merely a means of delaying our inevitable defeat; in truth, the largest portion of blame in this scenario lies with the officer responsible for committing insufficient resources to escort the convoy."

His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "Your simulation is flawed, sir. Is there some hidden purpose in that, or do you simply enjoy watching your Cadets fail?"

[Tannis V'larr]

"You misconstrue the advantages I spoke of," Tannis replied. "Clearly you were outnumbered as well as outgunned. The advantage you were to practice, Mr. Tahmores, was discipline. Specifically, the willingness to die for the Imperial cause."

Eight stunned faces stared back at him. It was the truth that everyone knew but no one really cared to talk about - that TIE pilots were walking dead men and women, one step above the basic infantry Storm Tooper in the spectrum of Imperial cannon fodder. To climb into an eggshell cockpit strapped to a pair of high-performance ion engines and pea shooter blaster cannons, then take that fragile craft into a war zone? Pathological, borderline suicidal. The only viable hope for a TIE pilot was to perform well enough in a standard eyeball to graduate to a Hunter, an Avenger, or even one of the new Interceptors - anything with more survivability than the economy-model death trap that glutted the Imperial fighter corps.

[Nyx Verrok]

"With...all due respect, is that not why we're here in the first place?"

Nyx asked, having lofted a delicate brow at Tannis' admission instead of the slack-jawed shock her flightmates displayed. Handing her helmet to the Chiss male on her left, she set her hands on her hips and gave their flight instructor the full weight of her annoyed glare.

"Is that not why we've sacrificed to attend this Academy? For the chance to prove our loyalty to the Empire? To train so that we may someday make the greatest sacrifice a pilot can, if the moment calls for it?" Nyx frowned and shook her head as she turned to take her helmet back, before fixing Tannis with an almost haughty look.

"Test us. Teach us. Don't insult our intelligence."

She fell silent at that, her flight-mates having moved as she did, all eight of the students now standing together instead of split apart.