Push the Limit (cadets)

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

The care of a mustache was a serious undertaking, never to be ventured upon lightly.

Baron Tadriin Ketterzau leaned in close to the mirror, examining in minute detail the disposition of each whisker. A careful dab of oil was applied, then fastidiously brushed against the grain, then along it, compelling the whole of the thing into uniformity. What didn't obey at this point was dealt with by other means. The traditional Imperial Navy hygiene kit issued to cadets included a laser plane and shear. It was tidy enough, but perhaps too tidy. Tadriin found that he preferred the feel and feedback of steel against whiskers, be it a razor or a pair of scissors, such as he now held. A careful snip, and he could feel the resistance give way. A quarter inch of errant hair fell into the sink, rinsed away promptly. There, good.

"Colonel Ketterzau."

He glanced beyond the mirror to his right. At the doorway of the lavatory, the cleanshaven and young face of Ensign Berras squared him up beneath a severely-positioned cap.

"Baron, if you please. Titles matter."

The faintest of nods.

"Apologies, Baron. The cadets have assembled in the instruction hall."

"Have they?"

He wasn't late. They were early. Always a good sign. Eager minds, or at least mindful of the consequences.

Tadriin returned his eyes to the mirror. One last matter to attend to. He removed a thin canister from his hygiene bag, dragging a thumb along the opaque material within. With a fine hand, the Baron applied just enough wax to keep a utilitarian appearance. A heavier application would be suitable in a formal setting, but this would do for his present duties. Satisfied with the results, Tadriin returned his shears, oil, and wax to his hygiene bag, drawing it closed. He drew a square of bath towel from the dispenser, and carefully daubed the skin around his mustache. There.

"Well then, Ensign. Time to see what pilots we have."




* * *



"My name is Baron Tadriin Ketterzau."

At the head of the auditorium, Tadriin stood behind a lectern, his gloved hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm here to teach you all the practical and applied doctrines of space superiority fighter combat."

The room was full of a motley of assorted races. It was far more diverse of a sight than he'd ever dealt with in his time at the Imperial Navy.

"Who among you has had experience as a pilot? Atmospheric or deep space, please speak up."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal sat in his auditorium seat, paws folded nearly on his lap, toes refraining from tapping against the floor. Unlike the lazy sprawl he had often been known for, his posture and poise nearly picture-perfect from the months he'd already spent in the Imperial Knights program. Those he knew on Ossus might have a difficult time recognizing the Nehantite, dressed crisply in the uniform of an Imperial Knight Cadet, his typically floppy headfur neatly oiled and meticulously combed into a perfect left-side part. His earring was gone, as was the final remnants of the scar over his left eye from his experience on Pallaxides. Nothing said "Jedi" about the Nehantite, and that was just how he needed it to be while hiding in the lair of the enemy.

At the question posed by a man who appeared somewhere out of his time, Hal stood up straight, paws at his sides, and gave a loud, clear reply.

"Sir, I have, sir. Atmospheric, deep space, and interstratospheric." It would do no good to lie about his familiarity with the pilot's seat, as his dogfight above Phindarr prior to his capture would have been likely well-documented on his record. Eight TIE fighters destroyed, and one TIE Interceptor damaged before Hal's own starfighter sustained enough damage to force him to ground.

[Lykeira]

Casually walking into the auditorium-like classroom, the cinnamon toned Imperial Knight had been the bane of many instructors already, though her touch to the Force had drawn the attention of at least one that was forming a special unit and the more skills they had under their belt, the better. Hazel green eyes took in the statue in Imperial grey down at the bottom, his manicured look and how stiff he stood behind the lectern and she grinned. This was going to be fun, she mused. Adorned in her own uniform, the off-the-rack outfit was dumped the second she entered her dorm room and replaced with her traditional close fitting leathers. Long, curly, black hair pulled up and tightly gathered in a bun, she was also getting used to this look regardless of how boring it was.

Finding an empty seat, she made her way down passed several other students here for the piloting lessons and grabbed an empty chair. Plopping into it, she sighed and turned on the proffered computer screen and listened to the first one to reply to the instructor's query. As the older Imperial officer then scanned the sea of faces for another volunteer, she raised her hand. "Yep, atmospheric and deep space in a freighter," she informed without preamble.

You're in more dire need of a blow than anyone in history, she smirked imagining how she could turn him out if she had the notion.

[Jeryd Redsun]

At Baron Ketterzau’s question, a breath expanded in Jeryd’s chest, and an answer formed on his lips. If there was one thing he could not abide, it was the silence of uncertain cadets. It was a silence easily broken by a single voice, but it was not his own words that were to launch the first volley of answers, but those of Kyle Rayner. Of course, it had to be him. And, of course, he had every manner of piloting experience under his mighty belt. He probably designed the ship himself, and built it with his own hands, while rescuing a drowning kitten.

Jeryd sank into his seat and thought better of providing his own answer.

His brother, Aryn, owned a vintage Gaba-18 airspeeder. A gift for his sixteenth birthday. He spent months working on it, sculpting the chassis with all the care of an attentive lover, until it was as smooth and curvaceous as it had been in its glory days; the engine was replaced with something monstrous, and there was a complete overhaul of the interior, restoring the luxury of the leather seats, and finishing the trimmings in chrome. The paint job was the last problem to rectify, swapping out the old red and white hues of the Grand Army of the Republic, with rich Imperial blue. Jeryd piloted it twice. Aryn was taught to pilot by their father, who in turn forced him to teach Jeryd how to handle an airspeeder, too. With great reluctance, Aryn allowed him to take his pride-and-joy in circles around the nearest stratoscrapers, but, the moment Jeryd started feathering the accelerator (and almost flew them into the side of a shuttle), his brother relieved him of the controls, and has never let him near them since.

A second voice lifted him from the quagmire of memories. It belonged to an unusual woman, who looked like she performed in a gentleman’s club and had gotten lost on the way. Her response lacked the kind of respect a man of Baron Ketterzau’s stature clearly deserved. At least the intolerable Kyle Rayner had a modicum of decency about him before his betters. But that was two nasty sorts who boasted far more piloting experience than he'd ever had. Things were off to a rocky start.

“Sir?” A hand surfaced from amongst the heads across the room, “I am qualified to pilot the Z-95 Headhunter in both atmospheric and deep space scenarios.”

Thida!? Jeryd couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. Now he was really depressed.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

Grey eyes immediately locked onto the voice of Kyle Rayner, the Cadet corps' resident Nehantite.

"Very good, cadet."

One of the Knights also in attendance of the pilot's lecture gave her own profession of expertise, though several degrees coarser than Rayner managed.

"Good, good, Knight Lykiera. I'll thank you to respond professionally, we are in a classroom after all. And, you there?"

Tadriin acknowledged the green Rodian cadet as she stood. Thida, if he remembered correctly.

"Z-95? Splendid. Actual hours on a starfighter platform, well done."

Calmly, the Baron looked to each of the three who had volunteered.

"No doubt you are familiar with your respective ships. Their weight. Their power plant. Their speed and responsiveness. Now, I'm going to ask you three to do something very difficult."

Tadriin paused for effect, grasping the corners of his lectern as he leaned forward slightly.

"Unlearn what you know. All of it. You each have expectations and assumptions built in from your experience that have done you credit, but I assure you, you are like every other future pilot in this room. You are all about to learn how to fly for the first time."

There was a glint in the Baron's eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up ever-so-slightly into his mustache.

"To wit, the first thing each of you must understand are the fundamentals of flight and three dimensional combat. Think of Cadet Thida's example of a Z-95 headhunter. If you compare this, to say, a TIE Interceptor, or to a Y-wing, or to any single-crewed fighter craft, what do these combination of ships share in common?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"One man, one machine, functioning as one single entity. Except for the Y-Wing, as that's a two-man crew, yet can still technically be handled by a single pilot if needed," Hal stood once more to reply, before sitting down again.

It was an old answer, going back to the days of horse and rider, or car and driver before the days of flight. Yet despite how old it was, it was still the commanding design philosophy of all small fighters and racing ships. If the pilot felt as if their machine was an extension of themself, there was no need to hunt for controls, or guess at reactions. You simply thought, and the machine would respond.

Well, except for the Y-Wing, as it had a second seat for a turret gunner, but turret gunners didn't count, they just took shots as they came available.

[Khoovi Wan]

"Each are small spacecraft designed to enforce and attain superiority within a sphere of battle and attack and defend objectives, usually with the support of larger ships."

Khoovi sat down after standing to give his answer, not having paid much attention to the Knight who'd walked in other than a cursory glance and a quick assumption that she'd come back from an infiltration mission of some kind. Why else would she remain out of uniform in the Citadel? Knight Iscandar performed infiltration missions at least once a month and promptly changed back after she returned, usually even before reporting in to Knight-General Atrapes.

Maybe she was a test? She reminded him of Alexia, but even Alexia had the good sense to not needle Atrapes so overtly, and she used to be (still was, he thought) a Sith herself.

He banished the problem from his mind; focusing on the Knight would help nothing.

Focusing on Rayner's sentimental and trite answer? That wouldn't help anything either, but it wouldn't stop him. Even the older Nehantite's talent and skill couldn't overcome that feeling. He known more than a few talented individuals who'd been utterly clueless.

A few of them were his classmates.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

The Baron's eyes seemed to smile at the answers from Kyle and Khoovi alike. He strolled away from the lectern.

"Good answers, the both of you. Cadet Khoovi is thinking tactically. It's a sound answer, a bit rote, but an answer best served in another lesson.

Cadet Rayner's answer is the closest to the beginning of your journey."

Tadrrin raised a finger, pausing for emphasis.

"One pilot. A nexus between an ever-changing battlespace and the objective. This is not capital ship combat. It is not war done by committee. Though there is always a chain of command, a pilot must react, adapt, and anticipate. They must not only do so quickly, but correctly."

The Baron's expression turned severe at this point.

"There is rarely a second chance afforded."

He allowed his students to consider those dark consequences for a moment, then moved on.

"Quick and correct, he says. Why not a droid then?"

With his chin upturned, the Baron scanned his students to see if any were prepared to argue against a synthetic solution.

[Siyndacha Aerin]

As much as droids were aligned with the breadth and depth of her skills and talents, as much as she had a preference for their company, she knew their limitations. Those very limitations made them weak to her will. Silver-blue eyes tracked over to the Baron, after having spared a surreptitious, curious glance at Rayner, and she stood to give her response, chin level, shoulders squared, back straight, and hands folded together at the small of her back.

"The average droid lacks ingenuity, instinct, intuition," she paused, the left corner of her mouth ticking upwards, nigh-imperceptively, "and emotion, sir. Ultimately, it is limited by its programming."

And ultimately subject to my power.

"Furthermore, though droids are possessed of the capability to run calculations far faster than the sapient mind can manage," she expounded, "and though they can be programmed to learn and adapt, sir, droids geared to the purpose in question are also limited by their coordination ties to the ships from which they deploy. Destroy that link, and..."

Her shoulders rose and fell.

"...incapacitation en masse; there are more ways that droids can fail. Organic pilots are not so easily done away with."

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

"Indeed." Tadriin affirmed with an inclination of his head. "No doubt Cadet Aerin has learned the costly lessons of the Clone Wars. A war of a numerically far-superior droid army against living, breathing combatants. Even the cold calculus of attrition can be rolled back by innovation, imagination, and cunning."

The Baron began to pace once more.

"The might of the Imperial armed forces is vast. I needn't have to point this out. Millions of fighters. Thousands of capital starships. Technology that is on the cutting edge of modern warfare."

He paused mid-stride, shaking his head.

"All of it useless without it's core component. Each of you are among the most powerful weapons the Empire can bring to bear against her enemies. I say this even without taking into consideration your innate and exceptional abilities the Knights of the Throne value. A pilot, well-trained, can take even the most unremarkable starfighter and turn a battle in their favor by weight of their experience and presence of mind. Mastery of the fundamentals and grasp of applied concepts will improve your lethality and survivability more than any cutting-edge piece of hardware on your ship."

Tadriin raised his hands at his sides slightly, and promptly let them fall again with a smile.

"I have the best assignment in all of the Empire. I match sound doctrine and tactics to your intuition and killer instincts, and produce the best star pilots in the galaxy. And if this weren't good enough, your special talents can create synergy with that training, allowing you to become aces without peer."

The Baron's smile transformed into a smirk as he raised an eyebrow.

"Save myself, of course."

There were, naturally, a few skeptical side-eyes at that amount of professorial braggadocio. He welcomed them.

"I invite any of our experienced pilots here to test my hypothesis. What do you say? A bit of hands-on learning before we get into the weeds of textbooks? Our fighter combat facility maintains, among a diverse fleet of capable craft, a state-of-the-art simulation center."

[Lykeira]

More and more of those seated around her began adding to the discussion, feeding the air with embellished stories of what they knew, but the Pachmari witch knew that the reason any droid wasn't as good as a flesh and bone pilot was her innate ability with the Force. Programming only got their metal companions so far, regardless how exceptional they were with calculations. Droids didn't have the killer instinct or the ability to improvise on the fly, only what they had been given or maneuvers learned by watching others. Being sentient was the difference.

Inadequacies with flowery words began to grate on the female born and raised on Devaron and as the instructor was eager to get them into simulators, she was more than ready to prove her mettle. Though having never flown a fighter was going to prove a problem. She would have to see what vessels were available first and compare the controls before volunteering to jump into one, otherwise this class was going to turn ugly pretty quick.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Before anyone else could reply, Hal stood. "I'll do it, sir. I know I may fail against you, but I want to know where I stand."

It was a tactical response, one both foolish and cunning at the same time. He would be unable to learn from watching others, so he was at a disadvantage from that, but at the same time he believed that his experience and training - as long ago as it was - might be enough to give himself some type of an edge. Also, being the first to reply meant that no matter what, he would be setting the high bar for the Cadets first, and some of them would not be able to reach it. Naturally a simulator would be lacking the true feeling of speed and the pull of G-forces that a starfighter would encounter, but if it were all about tactics, he might be able to bring enough of interest to the table

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

Tadriin nodded as Kyle put his proverbial hat in the ring.

"Ah, splendid, Cadet Rayner. My first catch of the day. Keep that moxie. Who dares, wins, after all."

He panned his eyes among the remainder of his students.

"Does anyone else wish to accept the challenge?"

[Khoovi Wan]

Khoovi pushed the desk to the side and stood, and then with an annoyed huff when he couldn't see over the Cadet's head in front of him stood on his seat.

"I will volunteer," he said, inwardly wincing at how high pitched his voice was.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

"Fantastic, Cadet Khoovi. Excellent initiative!"

The Baron gestured to the diminutive Shistavanen perched atop his desk.

"That makes two intrepid volunteers. Shall we make it three, for a sporting demonstration?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Though he may be small, fuzzy, and completely adorable, Khoovi had long ago earned Hal's respect, and Hal thought of him as an equal in the Cadets. Beating him or being defeated by him would do nothing to change their relationship, or their standing, so a wild card needed to be added. Someone who could either benefit from defeating one or more seasoned cadets, or someone who could fall flat on their face and get a bit of a lesson in humility. After a quick glance around the room, Hal had just the victim.

Jeryd Redsun sat quietly in his seat, his posture at immaculate attention. But that was all, just attention. No daring, no machismo, no courageous stupidity. That needed to change.

Working within the Force in so crowded a room of adept individuals while remaining undetected was by no means an easy feat, but Hal focused, finding his target. And such a tempting target it was: pert, round, yet not plump, just the right kind of target to naturally attract such attention as he was about to give it. Without hesitation he struck.

Pressure was applied to Jeryd Redsun's right buttock, in a sharp, playful pinch as if between thumb and forefinger. Force Goose. Hal kept his smile on the inside at so perfectly executed a maneuver.

[Jeryd Redsun]

For his part, while Baron Ketterzau spoke, Jeryd sat in enamoured silence, drinking in his words as if they were cups of fine wine. The other cadets also had a thing or two to say, of course, about their own experiences, but none spoke with the authority, or the lyrical passion of their new flight instructor. Listening to him reminded him of the old audio files he used to play in bed as a little boy: Quarl Fezwick and the Lost Ship, The Grand Adventures of Casper Moridian, Treasure Moon, and Captain Astra’s Blasters. He remembered the quiet thrill of starting a new chapter, and the warmth of the reader’s voice, filling him up with images of bold dashing heroes and callous space pirates, and how he clung to the edges of his bedsheet, and wouldn’t let go until his hero had emerged victorious from battle, or had saved the princess, or discovered the cave of everlasting credits. Such feelings were now reproduced, years later, not inside his bed, but an auditorium, with a storyteller who was faceless no more. It had always been a point of pride that Jeryd followed not in his father’s or brother’s steps by joining the Imperial Navy, but by pursuing his own career as an officer of the Imperial Army. And yet, now, against all odds, he could think of nothing he wanted more than to become an ace starfighter pilot under the tutelage of The Baron Tadriin Ketterzau.

And so, he said nothing. Sure, it was annoying that Kyle was the first to volunteer, swiftly followed by Khoovi, the squeaky dog alien who’d led the charge with Thida around the Citadel. But they boasted experience. Real experience. Not two ill-fated piloting lessons in their big brother’s airspeeder. No. Jeryd was not about to make a complete fool of himself in front of all the other cadets, and certainly not in front of Baron Ketterzau. His plan, however, came crashing down around him as he lurched violently to his feet with a furious screech from his chair. He turned stiffly on the spot, left, then right, firing daggers at his surrounding classmates. Each looked as dumbfounded as the last. And it wasn’t until he became aware of the all-encompasing silence, and the weight of every pair of eyes in the room, that he stopped rubbing his tender arse, and straightened up.

There was Baron Ketterzau, looking right at him. He cleared his throat.

“Sir… I volunteer for the demonstration.”

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

There was something different about Jeryd's entry into the fray. Far more spontaneous, and a measure less confident. If the Baron didn't know better, Cadet Redsun had the look of a man who'd been given a sharp prod forward against his better judgment. There was no sense in second-guessing the Cadet's motives, however. The die, as it was, had been cast.

"Ah. We have our third man. Very good, very good."

Tadriin's smile was tight, the upturned corners tucking beneath the swept edges of his mustache. He kept his eyes fixed on Redsun a moment longer, before shifting his attention to the sum of his class as a whole.

"Well then, let's make sport of today's lessons. Cadets Redsun, Khoovi, and Rayner - with me in the simulation chambers. The rest of you will report to simulation observation. Next to a cockpit, it's the best seat in the house."

A pause, as the Baron waited for his pupils to spring into action. Clearly they were waiting for something. He briskly slapped the gloved palms of his hands together twice in a compelling clap-clap.

"Come on then! Dismissed!"




* * *




The Imperial Knights flight simulation chamber was the envy of all but the most elite flight academies in the Empire. A massive circular room with a vaulted ceiling was ringed around it's perimeter by no fewer than thirty spherical pods. Each pod was suspended on an over-built gyroscopic frame that recessed into the decking. At the center of the room was a raised platform with seating capacity for two dozen. Clustered over this audience dais was a honeycomb of seperate viewscreens, giving any audience member a nauseating level of perspectives.

For now, the cadets took their seats in the center of the room, save for Cadet Redsun, Cadet Khoovi, and Cadet Rayner. Baron Ketterzau stood next to a computer terminal at the fore of the observation dais, flanked by a pair of TIE pilots, clad in their obfuscating black uniforms and helmets. Each stood at parade stance, like a pair of obsidian statues.

"Gentlemen, you'll permit me one liberty in my demonstration, and that is simply to ensure the numbers are right. Three pilots against three, to make this pleasant little dogfight savory. The fellows to my right and left are from the Citadel training squadron, and they will serve as your junior field instructors. I introduce you to..."

The Baron gestured to his left.

"...Vassal Two..."

Then to his right

"...and Vassal Three."

The trainer pilots didn't so much as nod in affirmation. Tadriin pulled at the edges of his gloves, drawing them flush.

"I am Vassal One, and for this exercise, Vassal Leader."

With his gloves situated to his satisfaction, the Baron clasped his hands behind his back once more, sizing up his competition.

"Your squadron sign is Squire. Who is your leader?"

[Khoovi Wan]

Khoovi looked over at Redsun and Rayner, and stepped forward.

"I will take command," he said. "Rayner will be Squire Two, and Redsun Squire Three."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Inwardly, Hal breathed a sigh of relief that Khoovi had stepped up so quickly. Being first to volunteer was one thing, but being first to volunteer AND volunteering as leader did nothing but put a giant target on your crotch, and everybody wants to kick it. No, it was best for Khoovi to be leader, as he and Hal had been in the Cadets the same amount of time, and both had a good understanding of each other. That and Khoovi was about tactics, tactics, milk bones, and more tactics.

On the outside, Hal simply stood at attention, giving a curt nod to Khoovi in respect of his new position. He had little expectation of doing well in a simulator, as he never had done particularly well in them in the past, but that was fine. As long as he did better than Redsun, all would be right with the world.

[Lykeira]

Feeling the pulse in the air just prior to the one more handsome human male jump to his feet, she knew that someone had prompted that action, the witch grinned mischievously. There would be more than one in this cadre of Imperial Knights that had it in them to use the Force for more than just killing Jedi. Even though she kept that opinion to herself, she knew the empress' main problem with reconquering the galaxy were those meddlesome tree huggers. Rising with the rest of the class, she filed out and toward the entry to the immense training room. Climbing the stair to the central observation room, she was now wishing she had gotten involved, but it would be more fun to watch these three get their asses handed to them by the instructors instead. She could also learn their tactics from an observer's view which was easier than in the cockpit and trying to survive instead.

Claiming a seat, she reclined into the highbacked chair and viewed the variety of monitors now hovering before her. Each member getting situated in their simulated cockpit, the TIE interior was stark and just as she pictured them. Cramped and full of lights and controls. Now, she mused with a grin, let the show begin.

[Jeryd Redsun]

For convenience, the entrance to the simulator was located on the side, rather than on top. This suited Jeryd fine, because the last thing he wanted to do was mount the damn thing only to confess himself incapable of working a simple ingress hatch. It released with a hiss, and was heavy to operate. He took a small measure of comfort in that. A strong build meant safety. What exactly the simulators were capable of was, as yet, a mystery, but, upon inspecting the interior within, one unmistakable truth became painfully clear: it was going to be rather uncomfortable.

The cockpit was tiny; much smaller than he imagined. In essence, it was a seat surrounded by instruments, and nothing more. For someone of his size, to get inside required a feat of contortion worthy of the Circus Imperialus. First, he lowered himself, and then he shuffled in sideways, squeezing himself into the cosy pilot’s chair. Now he understood why the access hatch was typically on the roof. There was a deep clang as he closed the door, and thereafter, an oppressive silence. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat; it pounded violently against the walls of his chest, and throbbed like an entire percussion section in his ears. Above, he spotted a cluster of surveillance sensors, glistening in the dark like spider eyes, but he pretended not to notice them. Instead, he cast his gaze around at each of the buttons, dials, and switches, and threw caution to the wind. The red one was always for power.

There was a whine, and the pod stirred, manipulated by unseen influences. Columns of lights and displays flickered into existence on either side, and the flight yoke leaned closer, beckoning his touch. So far, so good. And it didn’t even smell of farts, yet.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

As the cadets began clambering into their simulation pods, Baron Ketterzau and his wingmates took their position in the Opposing Force (OPFOR) pods. One by one, each of the heavy doors sealed with a hermetic hiss.

Bathed in red interior dome lighting, Tadriin accessed his pod's instructor controls. The Heads-Up Display (HUD) boards for each pilot flickered, showing the Baron's face and the simulator user interface.

"Welcome to the Arena, Squire Squadron. Each of you will see on your screen a menu of available starfighters for simulation. It's not comprehensive, I'm afraid, but you should find a representative assortment of a wide variety of ships you may choose to fly."

The Baron's smirk skewed into his mustache.

"Choose carefully. While you may live, die, and live again many times over in simulation...the day will come when you only live once."

Tadriin glanced down at his menu, making his own selection. As he did so, a computerized voice spoke to simulation participants and the outside audience in unison.

Vassal leader has selected Sienar Fleet Systems Twin Ion Engine / line (TIE/ln) starfighter

Length 8.99 meters (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Imperial_standard_meter)
Maximum acceleration 4,100 G / 20 MGLT (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Megalight)/s (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Standard_second)
(http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Megalight)100 MGLT
Maximum atmospheric speed 1,200 km/h
Maneuverability rating 96 DPF (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/DPF)
SFS P-s4 twin ion engines (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/P-s4_twin_ion_engine)(rated 150 KTU (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/KTU))
SFS P-w401 ion maneuvering jets (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/P-w401_ion_maneuvering_jet) (2)
SFS I-a2b solar ionization reactor (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/I-a2b_solar_ionization_reactor)
Titanium (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Titanium/Legends) alloy hull (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Hull/Legends) (rated 9 RU (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/RU))
Sensor Package SFS S-c3.8 multi-range TAG (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/S-c3.8_multi-range_TAG)
Targeting Package SFS T-s8 targeting computer (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/T-s8_targeting_computer)
Avionics SFS F-3.2 flight avionics system (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/F-3.2_flight_avionics_system)
Armaments SFS L-s1 laser cannons (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/L-s1_laser_cannon) (2)
Communications AE-35 subspace transceiver (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/AE-35_subspace_transceiver?action=edit&redlink=1)

[Khoovi Wan]

Khoovi, as opposed to his larger 'subordinates', had little trouble getting himself seated inside the simulator. He was looking intently at the list of supported ships when two harsh tones indicated that Redsun and Rayner had activated their headsets and were strapped in.

"Suggestions as to the craft?" he asked. "Our instructor seems to be keen on making a point of us, but we shouldn't make things too easy for him, should we? A-Wing, Interceptor, or...?'

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"E-wing," Hal replied over the com. Whether or not his team agreed, Hal hammered the Select key on his screen, then strapped himself in. Maneuverability, high rate of fire, and most importantly: shields one could adjust. He'd never actually flown one, but damn if the tech manual hadn't made it look badass. "We can either pick the same and swarm, or pick a nice variety and support each other. Your choice. I'm going for dogfight."

Squire Two has selected FreiTek Incorporated E-Wing escort starfighter

Length: 11.2 meters
Maximum acceleration: 4,200 G
MGLT: 120 MGLT
Maximum atmospheric speed: 1300 km/h
Engine unit(s): FreiTek J8LF fusial thrust engines
Hyperdrive rating: Class 1.0
Hyperdrive system: Equipped
Shielding: Equipped
Armament: Taim & Bak IX9 medium laser cannons
Proton torpedo launcher
16 torpedoes
Crew: Pilot
R7-series astromech droid
Passengers: None
Cargo capacity: 100 kg
Consumables: 1 week

[Jeryd Redsun]

When the Baron’s selection was announced, it was acknowledged with a thin flicker of a smile. He had deliberately chosen the most basic model of TIE fighter available. Khoovi was right. He was going to make an example out of them. And, therein, the only solace he could glean from finding himself thrown into the deep end with the sharks: it was expected of him to lose. However, it would be the degree of failure that would inevitably haunt him. Kyle, on the other hand, appeared to have no concerns about how he came across in front of the class, opting to pilot some flashy FreiTek abomination instead of the tried and true from Sienar Fleet Systems.

“I am not piloting a rebel’s fighter.” Jeryd’s gruff voice buzzed over the comm, “Interceptor. Manoeuvrable. Fast.”

He made his selection, and the computer regurgitated an impressive slew of statistics:

Squire Three has selected Sienar Fleet Systems Twin Ion Engine / Interceptor (TIE/lN) starfighter

Length: 9.6 meters
Maximum acceleration: 4,240 G / 21 MGLT/s
111 MGLT
Maximum atmospheric speed: 1,250 km/h
Maneuverability rating: 104 DPF
SFS P-s5.6 twin ion engines(rated 175 KTU)
SFS P-w405 ion maneuvering jets (2)
SFS I-s3a solar ionization reactor
Titanium alloy hull with Quadanium steel solar panels (rated 16 RU)
Sensor Package: SFS S-c4.1 multi-range TAG
Targeting Package: SFS T-s9a targeting computer
Avionics: SFS F-s4 flight avionics system
Armaments: SFS L-s9.3 laser cannons (4)
Communications AE-35 subspace transceiver

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

The Baron watched Cadet Redsun make an appealingly partisan choice. He donned his helmet, smiling unseen as he did so.

"Cadet Redsun obviously has an eye to the future. Good lad. Of course, don't let that hamstring you. A good pilot will do whatever it takes to win. I won't think less of your choice if it nets success."

[Xynn Mattox]

Being a night dweller had its disadvantages as having to rely on caffeinated beverages was not a comforting thing. Xynn was used to alcolhol and sports drink, he wasn't used to getting up in the morning when he decided to pass out right before dawn. Waking the tall newcomer slammed the controls to the curtains and watched it close tightly, the light quickly dimming as he sat back down to retain his composure.

Looking over to the alarm clock he shrugged and swiped the drowseeness from his features, reaching over he grabbed a white tank with a pair of black pants and began to dress for the first class of his newly boring life. Moments later the tall recruit looked in the mirror as he grabbed his jacket, taking a moment to look at his reflection and leaving his apartment "Damn the force" he quietly said to himself as he walked down the hall and out the front doors and into the daylight.

Half hour later he made it to his destination. The tall doors of the academy brimming with an interesting color. Heading inside he made his way to the classroom and entered even though he was a late arrival. Swiping his new shades from his face he took a seat, plopped his feet on the desk and watched as the others took their holo-piloting exam.

Looking around him while taking out his smoke he nodded as he removed his lighter and lit up. Standing he kicked over the chair and headed out the door after realizing the hologram room was not actually in the current classroom and headed out the door and walked directly into the adjacent room while puffing the sweet.

[Lykeira]

Noting the stats on the various fighters that the group had all chosen, she knew that the instructor and his wingmen were about to show these boys how things were done. Grinning with interest, her more relaxed, disinterested mood soon became more focused and she chuckled as the simulators all "fired up". "Bout to go to school, boys," she mused aloud, gaining the attention of several others seated around her. "Start taking notes."

All the monitors arrayed before them each allowed for a semi-realistic atmosphere for those involved as she noticed crewmen sprinting around the outside of each cockpit, then the modulated voices clearing them for takeoff. She had to say one thing for the Empire, they loved training as close to realism as they could. Her own training had gotten her ready for each annual gathering with the coven and those that didn't do their own training and better themselves with their martial skills were owned by those that did. She had learned that lesson the hard way and vowed that it would never happen again.

[Khoovi Wan]

Khoovi sighed, and the highlighted text on his screen flitted down almost thoughtlessly until a particular ship was selected.

"So I guess we're the example," he murmured to himself, cycling the fighter's spec-list with the thoughtlessness of the intimately familiar or the dangerously foolish.

Squire One has selected Incom/Subpro Corporation Z-95 "Headhunter" fighter

Length: 11.8 meters
Maximum acceleration: 2,780 G, 16 MGLT/s
MGLT: 100 MGLT
Maximum atmospheric speed: 1,150 km/h
Maneuverability rating: 86 DPF
Engine units: Incom 2a fission engines (4)
Hyperdrive system: Gbk-435 hyperdrive motivator
Shielding: XoLyyn shields (rated 20 SBD)
Hull: Rated 14 RU
Sensor systems: ANS-5c sensor unit
Targeting systems:
ANq 2.4 tracking computer
SI 5g8 "Quickscan" imaging system
Navigation system: Zr-390 navicomputer system
Armament:
Linked Taim & Bak KX5 laser cannons (2)
Krupx MG5 concussion missile launchers (2)


"This is Squire One. Two, Three, do you copy."

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

The final choice locked in, and the Baron leaned back on his simulator's gravity couch to ponder it.

"Interesting." he mused to himself, before opening the simulation channel.

"Cadet Khoovi has chosen a venerable design with an extensive tour of service. Something familiar, perhaps?"

The pieces were now set. All they required was the proper board to play. Tadriin cycled through his menu, finding an appropriate choice with enough scenery to make things interesting.

Vassal Leader has selected simulation theatre: Concord Dawn.

The blank screen that represented the world beyond the cockpit dissolved into a stunningly-realistic portrayal of space. The countless stars twinkling in the distance served as a backdrop for the visually-impressive sight of Concord Dawn itself. A moon by means of formality, the old Mandalorian stronghold had long ago been nearly blasted apart by war. What remained was a great body in space, encircled by the asteroids that once comprised about a third of the stellar body's mass. It looked as if a giant had simply taken a single messy bite of the moon, and moved on.

"Squire squadron, take a moment to familiarize yourself with your ships and your surroundings. When you are ready, Squire Leader will give the signal to commence, and your opposition will arrive."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

At the selection of his spacecraft, Hal watched as control panels flicked over to new settings, and mechanical buttons, switches, flight yoke and even his seat morphed into their correct positions while his monitors adjusted to fit the proper layout of an E-wing's cockpit glass. Part of him suddenly wished he'd specified a Super Star Destroyer, just for laughs, but the E-wing would do well enough. Paws ran over his control surfaces while he learned the layout of the ship, thankful that it was not too terribly far off from what he used to know, and the shield controls were well within easy reach. For a simulation, it was the best he'd ever experienced, and he could feel the gimbals move when he tugged at the flight yoke, while an artificial gravity net imparted G-forces not wholly unlike those he should be experiencing. To an average pilot, it was about as close to the real thing as one could get.

But Halajiin Rabeak was not an average pilot, and already his dread from flight sims of old began to come back. Too often he relied upon the Force in many aspects of his life, sensing matter, how it moved and how it intended to behave. In space it gave him the ability to sense friend from foe simply by the type of metal used in construction, and he always knew where everything was around him simply by feeling it. That advantage stripped away, he became nothing more than an average pilot, or perhaps less as his skills with tracking screens had suffered due to his abilities.

Of course, Hal had no intention of telling his squadron mates any of that. As far as they knew, Kyle Rayner was a trainwreck when it came to telekinesis, and therefore the ability to recognize metallic structure at range would clearly be as far beyond his abilities as not staring at Lady Vissica's crotch.

Fingers rolled over the shield controls, cycling their position and intensity before settling on three quarters strength forward, then flicked on his squad comms. "What's the plan, Squire Leader? Looks like we're being given the opportunity to play defense, in which case we can use this terrain to our advantage. You're the master tactician here, thoughts?"

[Jeryd Redsun]

"This is Squire Three. Copy, Squire Leader."

Words that he'd only ever heard uttered in holofilms rolled off his tongue. It was reassuring to know there was some authenticity in all of those big budget productions featuring starfighter pilots and space battles, he'd be relying on it a lot more before the simulation was over, and it might mean the difference between him sounding competent or coming across like a total greenhorn.

In the sparse few moments he had, Jeryd familiarised himself with the controls at his disposal. Some, like the flight yoke and the acceleration pedals, were commonplace in all flying craft, whereas others, such as a neat row of yellow switches to the right of him, remained a total mystery. Fortunately, it did not take a genius to determine the trigger for the laser cannons. His finger feathered the smooth curved button with a familiar sense of longing. He was reminded of his first time on the shooting range with a live E-11, and the thrill of nailing his targets. Suddenly, he found the anxiety that bubbled inside of him was consumed by a fire.

When the asteroid field materialised before them, he wasted no time, and gently eased his foot down upon the pedal. The ship lurched, and raced towards the nearest rock. Jeryd, held firm against his seat by powerful forces, tugged at the flight yoke and soared up just in time. It was then he remembered to, first, remove his foot from the accelerator, and, secondly, to take a breath.

"Oh, shit."

[Khoovi Wan]

You're the master tactician.

Khoovi restrained an anxious whimper. He didn't feel like a master tactician, but if that was the way he was seen, he would try to live up to such expectations.

"We're not good at defense all round," he said in return. "If we want to make a good showing, we'll have to work together. Your sensor package is the best of ours if I read the specs correctly. You'll be our eyes and ears, and back up Redsun — er, Squire Three — on the attack. Three, you'll be our flanking attacker. Speed and firepower at max at all times if you can. I am the weakest of us, and will be the most likely target for any attacks. I'll try to draw them in to good firing zones."

As he rattled of his spur of the moment considerations, he felt his anxiety start to ease up, though there was an unwelcome tension in his muscles as the timer counted down to commencement.

"We'll use the asteroids as best we can for positioning and scanner interference. They'll probably want to do the same thing, so don't ignore warnings; if you're being targeted, break off and seek help. Once we start our counterattack, I'll attempt to fence them in and keep you both alive."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"You're not the weakest of us, Squire Leader; that'd be Squire Three. Seriously, Redsun, why in the hell did you pick a ship with no shields?" Hal snorted into his comm, then flicked it off to sigh, "What an idiot."

Khoovi's plan wasn't the best they could have come up with, but it also wasn't the worst, and as he was their leader Hal would follow his instruction, with a slight modification. Turning his comm back on, he steered into the asteroid field and said, "Okay, this is Squire Two. I'm moving into position, but since I've got the heaviest shields here, might I suggest that if anyone draws fire, it's me? We're not going to win this, but we at least need to make a good showing. I bet you both five credits that if we can even take one of them out, we'll be better than about 90% of cadets who run this course for the first time."

Were it up to Hal, their strategy would have been far different. Each of them would have found a sizeable asteroid with a strong metallic content to get close to, anchor to it, then fully shut down all systems so that they had no detectable signatures. That would force the opposing TIEs to come and hunt for them with their eyes instead of their sensors, allowing Squire Squadron to ambush their hunters, hopefully taking out one, or maybe even two, before the TIE aces knew what was hitting them.

But that was the strategy of a man who'd watched a lot of holovision, and had fun in his life, so clearly neither Khoovi or Redsun were going to think that up.

[Khoovi Wan]

"We need your firepower to attack," Khoovi replied. "Your shields will allow you to last longer, but I'm expecting them to target you the second you appear."

With a flick of a switch, he'd changed the frequency to the training channel.

"This is Squire Leader," he said. "Squires are ready."

He switched back to the trainee's frequency.

"...as we'll ever be."

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

The Baron grinned behind his helmet, leaning back slightly on the gravity couch he was harnessed into. Confident hands feathered the controls of his TIE fighter, which picked up speed as it began to take the field, followed in matchstick-tight formation by the rest of Vassal squadron.

"Then the game is afoot, Squire squadron. Match begins...now. May the Empress favor you."

The trio of TIE fighters gunned their acceleration in unison, a twin ioned howl filling each cockpit as they drew along the contours of a nearby large asteroid, shimmying just over the surface and then out of sight in a drift of planetary detritus.

[Lykeira]

Listening to the banter back and forth, Lykeira knew already these guys were in trouble. Another thought that entered her mind was that they couldn't use the Force in any form or fashion which this simulation was perfect. As her mother always told her, don't depend on the magic that you've been trained in for there may one day be a moment when you don't have it at your disposal. Natural ability trumped magic every time, especially when you catch them at a disadvantage. Growing up, she had learned to be tough and solid on her stance and though their training had yet to begin with the Imperial Knights, she hoped that it would start soon. The Empire loved their training and definitely had the money to spend, but with fighters she was out of her element. Freighters was another matter altogether and now that she thought about it, a Skipray Blastboat would have been nice in this fight.

Now that the battle had commenced, she watched with rapt attention as their instructor charged toward the classmates and she began to wonder now how long it would be before the baron claimed a victory.

[Jeryd Redsun]

"There!" Jeryd blurted into the comm. To his private shame, he had actually pointed, as if his wingmates could see him. But, as soon as he noticed it, the bright shimmer of durasteel vanished behind an asteroid. "They were on your right, Squire Leader. Uh... zero two hundred hours. I mean...

...Frack!" he hissed to himself, and butted his headrest in frustration.

There were two voices vying for attention inside his head. There was that of Squire Leader, Khoovi, firing off confident instruction, and then there was Kyle Rayner, scoffing, and mocking, over and over again...

With a kick to the pedal, he sent his ship screaming off at max speed. Despite the ridiculous surge in G-forces, the contents of his stomach remained intact, bolstered by the swell of anger that had him gripping the flight yoke like he meant to choke the life out of it. He was upon an asteroid in no time; he watched it consume the entirety of his viewport, until he could make out in detail the grainy texture of the rock, and yanked the stick towards him. His Interceptor rotated on its axis with astonishing grace, and shot out of the turn without so much as a drop in velocity. Behind his helmet, the corners of his mouth ticked with satisfaction.

Max speed and firepower at all times - that's what Khoovi had said. His gloved finger stroked the smooth arc of the trigger in anticipation. He could manage that.

His ship dipped behind another asteroid.

"Squire Leader, this is Squire Three. Commencing flanking route now."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, where you shall have your asses handed to you. Hal's mind laughed to itself. Let's see if we can at least not totally embarrass ourselves, though.

"Only registering one ship on scanners, meaning they must be right on top of each other," he spoke to his squadron mates through comm. "If you guys get incoming fire it'll probably be from multiple fighters at ones, so angle down and to the left to escape. Most rookies pull up and right, because they're right-handed and are still thinking in terms of terrestrial navigation." It wasn't much advice, but it might at least save one of them for a few moments longer.

With Redsun peeling off, Hal stuck close to Khoovi until he broke off as well, leaving Hal to be the most easily recognizable thing on anyone's scanners, and for the moment there was nothing to do but fly.

Well, at least for most trainees that's all there was to do in a simulator, but as an Imperial Knight, Kyle Rayner was expected to use every weapon in his arsenal at all times. In space, Hal could locate ships all around him by keying in on their metallic structures through the Force, and while that option was not available to him in a simulator, he could still find their flight yokes and either lock the TIE aces out of directional control, or spin them off in directions they didn't want to go. As tempting as such a thought was, Hal ruled it out as it would reveal his mastery of telekinesis which he had so far been sandbagging. No, another method was needed, and with a grin he decided upon it, thanking Garfife he was granted a bit of quiet flight time to start to implement.

Quiet fingers of the Force stretched out, locating all five other pilots in their sims. Knowing which two pods contained Khoovi and Jeryd, it was a simple enough task to locate the other three pilots, and sync in on their minds. Reading them would do him no good, as pilots of such skill would be acting on instinct too quickly for him to respond to, but to feed them information was something else entirely. Bit by bit, he began to open up a telepathic channel to all three Aces, sending only quiet, almost imperceptible white nose for the time being which would register in the form of a mild headache, and a suggestion of static. Many Force telepaths would have to work to impart such an effect, but being a Nehantite, Hal came with the ability built-in to deliver discomfort with telepathic signal, as his brain wasn't built for it correctly. Yet it was not without cost, as the same dull annoyance could be felt within his own head, concentrated in the temporal lobe. The real fun would come later, but for now it was all about establishing and maintaining that link.

[Khoovi Wan]

"I hear you, Squire Three. Adjusting heading."

Khoovi gripped the controls of the Headhunter lightly.

Now it was down to whether they could pull off the strategy.

[Xynn Mattox]

watching them while puffing on his smoke Xynn snickered when he noticed how well they were doing for a bunch of piss ants. Tilting his head when he noticed the banter from one to the other and grinning meticulously as if he just gained knowledge from one of his many holo-books. He knew this would be an interesting ride, so far its been eventful.

Can't wait for one to die out there his mind scoffed as he stood watching while making mental notes to their lack of discipline. "You boys really are bad at this" he commented and put his smoke out in his palm and placed the remains behind his ear and crossed his arms taking note of everything they made any attempt at... Studying it all.

Edited for typo.

[Palara Iscandar]

"The cadets are performing flight simulations with the Baron. I am sure they would like someone with experience for explanation."

Palara Iscandar, Knight of the Imperial Throne and one of the order's founding members, veritably stalked down the corridor to the simulation training centre. It was one of the things that remained mostly unchanged from the Citadel's time as the headquarters for the Imperial Inquisition; not in the same place, but as far as layout and what was on offer, she almost found herself forgetting she was an Imperial Knight when she spent an extended amount of time there practising.

Ze Baron is more zan capable of teaching and explaining his course, she thought to herself, her mood ever-darkening at the thought of wasting her time when it was so patently unnecessary.

She sniffed slightly, her frown deepening as the sharp smell of smoking leaf grew heavy. She turned into the lecture hall, and let her eyes roam over the gathered students and a few others, until her eyes fell upon the perpetrator, sharpening with intent as she stalked up to him from behind.

"You boys are really bad at this," he commented, giving her a brief sense of pleased satisfaction at what was coming. She reached out into the Force, and none too gently pulled the cigarra from its perch in the man's ear, tugging on his ear like a thunderous mother bringing a malcontent child to heel, pulling him around to face her.

"Zat is easy to say when you are not ze one in ze simulation," she said, her voice as sharp as a Mandalorian's knife. The cigarra floated in the air between them. Her gaze shifted to the half smoked stick for a moment, and then resting back on him. "I do not see you instructing zese classes. Per'aps I should 'ave Knight-General Atrapes interview you for lecture duty?"

She released his ear. She would not do such thing to the man, yet. Her moods were not sufficient basis for inflicting torture upon those who displeased her.

"If you must indulge such a nasty 'abit, do it in ze rooms and sections set aside for such activities. If any of ze cadets, such as Cadet Wan, find zemselves doing poorly because your actions are impeding zeir senses, I will reprimand you most severely."

The cigarra, still floating, fell into itself, seemingly crushed by nothing until it was a tiny useless ball of leaf and paper and filter. It then floated serenely back to the man.

"Take it," she said. "If you do such a zing again, never mind if I 'ave seen it or not, I will not 'esitate to make a similar example of you as is being made of ze cadets now."

[Xynn Mattox]

feeling the smoke being taken from its place Xynn smirked arrogantly as it had been so long since a challenge had come. Shifting his body language as he felt the rude and unnecessary contact being made he allowed himself to "come to hell" in front of the alien while allowing himself to remain amused.. He enjoyed confrontations.

"Zat is easy to say when you are not ze one in ze simulation," The red skinned alien said I'd say that's not such a bad thing he shot back in with a calm demeanor. "I do not see you instructing zese classes. Per'aps I should 'ave Knight-General Atrapes interview you for lecture duty?" I've just arrived he retorted and snatched the cig from the air prematurely Appreciate you keeping it safe he mocked.

"If any of ze cadets, such as Cadet Wan, find zemselves doing poorly because your actions are impeding zeir senses, I will reprimand you most severely." this part he found the most amusing and held himself back from commenting as he knew it wouldn't end in a positive manner. Collecting himself he simply replied while ending the mild conflict I apologize for my rude behavior he then turned on his heel and returned to studying the simulation.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

"Contact three five zero mark zero one zero." The Baron barked into his squadron's tightbeam comm link, spotting the familiar shape of a TIE interceptor through the detritus, sitting in spy position.

"Bad read, squad leader." Vassal Two came through sounding snowed under on the line. Tadriin thumped the comm box. At this range, picking up any signal interference seemed highly unlikely, but there wasn't time to question it. Instead of competing with the increasing squawk on the line, the Baron issued a text command via a HUD hotkey. Nexu maneuver.

The trio of TIE fighters gravitated to the contours of the nearest bit of planetary debris, keeping up their speed as they sharply banked to circumnavigate it. The effect would allow them to hold their position for a few more seconds, allowing the enemy interceptor enough time to react to the reveal of their position. Juddering through the protests of solar panel control surfaces, Ketterzau carefully eased off his sublights only when he had to in order to keep close to the asteroid. The moment they approached the terminus of their orbit, he gave his twin ion engines full burn once again.

"There! He's overshot us!"

"Visual on target."

Blast the damned comms. The Baron thumped his helmet with the heel of a palm before painting the racing interceptor on his group's scopes. The Interceptor had made a sound move to try and get at his flank. If they'd maintained course he would have been guns-on. Instead, the trio of TIE fighters lit out from their hiding place, accelerating on the other TIE from high left.

The Baron didn't wait for the range and the synchronization of his targeting computer. He fired on sight, followed by his wingmen, taking advantage of the lack of return fire and their own high volume of fire to make up for the relative lack of accuracy in the opening attack.

[Khoovi Wan]

"Contact!" Khoovi shouted, his mind racing with thoughts. He was out in the open; why hadn't they targeted him first? "Squire Three, evade! Break down and left! Squire Two, flank and lock on for missiles."

Khoovi hiked the power to full, and the pod responded with a jolt that was almost exactly like one would feel in an actual Z-95. The asteroids formed an eerie tableau around them as he raced forward to get into range for a target lock. He would have fired as the Vassals had, but he did not have volume of fire to make up for low accuracy.

He'd heard it thousands of times, and had even seen the comparative statistics that showed how ships fared against each other, but stars, TIEs were fast​.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Proton torpedoes, not missiles. Hal's mind corrected Khoovi, though he kept his mouth shut. "I copy, Squire Leader," was all he spoke over the comm.

Now it was time to show everyone just why he picked the starfighter he did. True it was an Alliance craft, and not a terribly attractive one at that, but its design held many advantages over his opponents - at least on flimsiplast. Flicking his microphone off, he punched the throttle and his E-Wing tore away from Khoovi's Z-95 at immense speed. The gravity couch adjusted for the increase in velocity, and Hal was pleased to find it also adjusted for the inertial dampeners, especially when he rolled off to the left, pitching himself away for a return angle in to flank. Micro meteorites among the debris close to asteroids pinged harmlessly off his shields, while he gave instruction to his onboard astromech. "R7, list of commands. First, locate and secure a point away from here that we can jump to in hyperspace, and label it Slot A. Second, locate and save an entry point where we first spotted those TIEs, and call it Slot B. We are Tab A. Third, I need to to track all three enemy craft simutaneously, locking on to them for proton torpedoes whenever possible. Give me tone and a craft number when you have lock. Fourth, cycle shields to constantly face toward enemy craft whenever possible, unless I manually override. Got it?"

A series of beeps from the simulated astromech was the pod's reply, and already Hal could see targets being tracked on his HUD. Being based on its technical specs rather than a real craft, Hal's simulated E-Wing turned on a hyperdime, slingshotting around an asteroid to come back on the terrible trio of teacher's TIEs.

Bdeee! "Vassal Two." Tone lock was confirmed, and Hal wasted no time in firing off the first of his sixteen onboard proton torpedoes, while simultaneously locking his trigger finger into full fire mode of his craft's three laser cannons. Despite his dogleg trajectory, he knew he should be arriving at the targets at about the same speed as Khoovi, so they could concentrate their own fire upon the Vassals.

Meanwhile, Hal concentrated on something else, turning up the "static" on his mental link, while also adding in the faintest, "That's two nerfburgers with cheese, one order of nuna wheels, a large fry, and two jumbo Diet Feffs. I'll have your total at the first window."

[Jeryd Redsun]

In the serene beat of silence before being consumed by the storm, Jeryd felt something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end: it was like the breath of a stranger, whispering into his ear. His hands twitched in response, pushing just a fraction against the flight yoke. Time slowed, and the moment stretched out before him, while he considered his two options. In the end, the decision was made inside of an instant, and whatever foreign instinct that compelled him to send his interceptor into a dive, he obeyed.

Time resumed in a fever of colour and noise; Khoovi barked orders into his ear, and the ship shrieked in alarm. Into the cockpit flashed the red glare of laser fire as it shot overhead. Pressed against his seat, while computer systems pinged madly all around him, Jeryd latched onto Khoovi's instruction and turned his dive hard to port. The force of the maneuver pulled at his arms and legs, and he had to fight to maintain his course and speed, but maintain it, he did. Around him, there was chaos, and, though none of it made any sense to him, and though he knew he was doomed to fail, Jeryd Redsun was not going to go out without a fight.

The alarms became background noise, the flashing screens, ignored, and, in the gloom of his tiny cockpit, Jeryd gave himself over to the whisperings of a stranger, and pure gut instinct. With a tug on the flight yoke, he pulled up, and up, and over, waiting for the enemy ships to appear in his sights, ready to rain down upon them with hellfire. Maximum speed. Maximum firepower. He liked that. It was as the old Wegman mantra went:

Go hard, or go home.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

"Who in the blazes is this? This is a secure instructor's channel!"

The Baron was growing annoyed. Either this was a technical snafu at the most inopportune time, or some merry prankster had mistakenly singled him out as a mark. He'd get to the bottom of that soon enough, but for now, the rigors of combat demanded all of his attention.

The ordnance proximity klaxon flared in the Baron's cockpit just as Vassal two's static-laden line fluttered with "...m locked...". Ketterzau's wingmate spiraled away from the attacking trio as they pushed their advantage on Cadet Redsun's nimble TIE. As the torpedo streaked in for the kill, Vassal Two began to feather his speed down, dancing between a raft of asteroids with a series of rolls and hard turns. Too small, and the torpedo would simply course correct and slip by. Too large and Vassal Two would run out of time trying to get behind. With a last pirouetting spiral, the TIE fighter screamed forward at maximum sublight, putting distance between it and the rock the proton shaved into, triggering a detonation.

While the attack hadn't scored a kill or any damage, it had succeeded in reducing the number of TIE fighters imminently trying to blow Redsun out of the stars to two. The Baron and Vassal Three maintained formation, streaking the stars with laser fire as the Interceptor furiously accelerated to come about. Rather than burn ahead, the two TIE/ln's decelerated slightly, then just as stitching fire began to bark overhead from the Z-95 in their wake, the two TIEs executed a synchronized barrel roll to their port side, slipping just out of arc of Khoovi, who was now dangerously close to shooting the fast-approaching Redsun on accident.

[Khoovi Wan]

Khoovi grunted in appreciation for Rayner's quick thinking and Redsun's durasteel testicles. None of what he'd expected coming into this had played out, and so now he was attempting to both help get the brunt of the firepower off Redsun and his Interceptor and onto him or Rayner, whose ships could take more damage, leaving the Interceptor to fulfill its most dangerous role: an attacker.

He'd only barely managed to get into range when the TIEs barrell-rolled out of the way of Redsun, leaving him thankful that he'd not attempted to make an attempt at a long range shot; instead he thumbed the control stick and activated his locking system for one of the two missiles the refitted Headhunters now could carry. Foregoing any real attempt to find the Baron, he opted to lock on to the nearest TIE in the two ship formation, and adjusted his vector to keep them in his sights.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Bdeee! "Vassal One"

Hal pulled the trigger immediately, rocketing off the second of his sixteen proton torpedoes. With such an armament onboard, and facing only three opponents, the Nehantite felt zero guilt in melting through torpedoes at such a rate. Had his wingmates been smart and picked E-Wings, too, they could have the TIEs constantly running from multiple torpedoes the entire time. But, no, one of his teammates chose a TIE, and it was time to continue saving his sorry butt.

Laser cannons blasting away at both enemy TIEs as he barreled down on them, Hal awaited target lock on the third TIE, middle finger ready on the fire button for yet another torpedo.

Simple static was enough for his mental link at the moment, with the occasional pop or buzz, as he concentrated on his next move. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, but as long as he was in a unit he had to follow his leader's command. Squad comms were flicked back on, and Hal asked, "Squire Leader, you want me to keep pushing these two, or peel off to go take out our straggler while you and Redsun keep these two entertained?"

[Jeryd Redsun]

When the enemy fighters rolled out of sight, Jeryd gasped. In the split-second he had to think, he tugged on the flight yoke, and watched as Khoovi's ship swept by so close, he could see into the cockpit. Disaster averted, he cursed under his breath, and eased his foot down on the accelerator pad. Already, Rayner's voice was crackling over the comm, figuring out their next move with Khoovi. How did they manage it? The speed of the ships was so overwhelming, and the pace of the action so frantic, it was all Jeryd could do just to react in time to it. Inside his flight suit, he was starting to boil, the heat and sweat making a fetid swamp of his body. Focus, Jed. Focus.

"I'm with you, Squire Leader," he said. Catching up with the Headhunter was child's play for an Interceptor; he reduced his speed, easing himself into position just behind Khoovi. The temporary reprieve allowed him to check his sensors to get a reading of where the enemy fighters had gone. It was all garbled nonsense to him; the spike of adrenaline had left him with all the comprehensive fortitude of a spice junkie. So, in the absence of spatial awareness, he followed his leader. And, judging by his flying, Khoovi had picked up the scent. Behind his helmet, Jeryd grinned despite himself.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

The Baron's eyes flashed with a competitor's thrill at the sight of the torpedo lock on his TIE. His entire cockpit pulsed in warning red light. This was where he lived, perched on the razor's edge. An Ace of the Imperial Starfighter Corps only truly felt their element when life and death blurred into the same line. The same moment.

"Vassal three, scrape!"

Twin ion engines burned like stars, propelling both fighters hard through the ether. The Baron stood on his acceleration, his fighter screaming as it crested the limits of it's forward acceleration. It wasn't enough to outrun the torpedo in a straight-away, but as he eclipsed Vassal Three in their dead heat, the Baron banked over his wingmate's vector, creating for the barest of moments, an incongruency in the torpedo's tracking. As the Baron's solar foils rattled against the strain, his wingmate choked his engine, snapping a control jet in a micro burst to position his fighter 180 degrees from vector in a perfect Koiogran turn, lighting the sky with his laser cannons to catch the suddenly-dumb proton torpedo in a thunderclap of detonation.

To the three rallying fighters, the explosion appeared nearly on top of one of the enemy ships. The Baron had gotten away, but he was down a henchman. However, the moment Vassal Three pierced the dying fireball on a frenzied charge ahead, that assumption was put to bed. Spraying fire downrange, it threatened the three Squires in what seemed to be a foolish head-on joust.

That was, until Vassal Two pounced from behind the asteroid it had escaped from previously. It rained murder on a focused strafe towards the E-wing, whose shields had been adjusted front to account for the salient threat. They began to redistribute power to equilibrium, but too little - too late. A shot splashed the fragile rear shields, breaking them. A second shot beheaded the Nehantite's astromech droid in a digital death knell of WOOOAAAAAIIIIOOO.

Vassal Two coolly regrouped and focused. The E-wing danced around it's targeting reticle before sitting squarely center sight with a confirmatory beep.

He fired.

[Khoovi Wan]

Just as the TIE fired, Khoovi's computer blared a lock tone.

"Missile away!" Khoovi called. "Squire Three, target and fire on the TIE threatening Squire Two! Squire Two, stay alive and break off, but keep yourself a good target; I only need a few seconds!"

The concussion missile tore from the Headhunter and promptly made its way across the intervening space to the TIE (Vassal THREE, the text on Khoovi's display read) racing up to him in what seemed a joust. Khoovi grunted, but trusted the simulation to have kept in mind the durability of the Z-95 in actual engagements and firing his own cannons at Vassal Three before barrelling to the side and performing his own koiogran turn to keep the TIE in his sights, even if the manoeuvre caused him to hold his breath and let it out slowly as stress management.

He fired again.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal's day began to sour as he was handed a series of bad things. Bad thing 1: his torpedo missed. Bad thing 2: his rear shields were shot out, and would take a moment to start to recover. Bad thing 3: he lost his astromech, who he had intended to name Reginald, and paint in a garish tropical color scheme. And, bad thing 4: the shitwipe he'd targeted with his first torpedo now had lock on him.

Why can't we have nice things? His higher reasoning sighed.

Because I touch myself at night. His base natures answered.

...you might not be wrong. But shut up, anyway.

With incoming cannon fire, Hal had no time to think, no time to plan, only time to act. He slammed his flight stick forward and to the left, feeling himself lift off his gravity couch momentarily as his ship pulled negative Gs, only to have his near-perfect rump push back into the cushion as he righted himself. No astromech meant no extra targeting, and he still had a TIE on his tail, while his rear shields needed a few more seconds to come back online. "Trying!" he called back over the comms to Khoovi.

Up, down, left, right, Hal's E-wing darted hither and yon to stay out of Vassal Two's sights, yet he couldn't shake him. The knowledge of taking down eight TIEs over Phindarr had filled him with false confidence, bolstered by thoughts of technical superiority (on paper) in his simulated E-Wing, but that arrogant bluster was coming back to bite him, and hard. His course took him in a fishhook corkscrew back toward the center of the fray, just in time to be half-blinded by the massive explosion of Khoovi's concussion missile. It was the opening he needed, and his paw slapped the hyperdrive button.

Astromech or not, his ship still retained the two coordinates loaded into his navicomputer, and during the flash, Hal vanished into hyperspace, reappearing in some quiet starfield moments later.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon!" he growled as his hyperdrive recharge bar refreshed. He'd planned to use the jump as an emergency escape, but now he could use it as a method of ambush, if only he could keep the Vassals distracted. As the hyperdrive flashed green again, he punched it, targeting the point in space they'd first spotted the TIEs, while at last bringing his telepathic A-game.

For those on Vassal Squadron, there was no way to block out the signal in their heads as Hal cranked his volume to eleven. It was on. (https://youtu.be/JIGUHqV-aH8?t=31)

"SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT!"

So began the soundtrack to Hal's re-entry into the fray.

[Jeryd Redsun]

"Squire Three, target and fire on the TIE threatening Squire Two!"


"Copy that, Squire Leader."

It had only been a matter of time before he was expected to strike out on his own, again. When the order came, Jeryd sucked in a deep breath and exhaled to steel his nerves. He narrowed his eyes to pinpoint Squire Two's location, somewhere amongst the bustling canvas of asteroids, where laser fire flashed. Between his ill-fitting helmet and the spider web window, his field of vision was being strangled. Instead, instinct led the way, lifting him into a starboard climb at nothing but full velocity. This was his favourite part, the speed. If he could have been simply left to his own devices, to weave in and out of the asteroids, he'd have had a hell of a time. As it was, he was supposed to be saving Kyle Rayner's arse.

There was a flutter from his targeting computer, as Vassal Two swept past his reticle. Everything, thereafter, was instinct. Jeryd followed, drawn towards the enemy fighter by the inexorable pull of violence, he closed a hungry finger around the trigger, and waited. Again, the enemy was in his sights, and the targeting reticle gave an excited trill. A fleeting sound, again and again, as Vassal Two pursued his target with unrelenting zeal. Another course adjustment, another feathering of the accelerator. Vassal Two inched closer into sight, closer...

When the computer bleated it's shoot-you-idiot song, Jeryd squeezed the trigger, and rejoiced at the sight of the four uniform threads of laser fire stitching a ferocious trail in the enemy fighter's wake. Finally, a dogfight! The sound of muffled laughter suddenly rang out from his simulation pod.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

"Target jumped to hyperspace." came the static-filled chatter from Vassal Two. The Baron worked against the strain of his solar foils, rocketing around a flotilla of asteroids that would keep him momentarily hidden.

"Dash clever, old boy." Ketterzau muttered to himself.

Just then, the irritating noise from before was dwarfed by a din of unparalleled magnitude. The Baron squinted his eyes, turning an all-channels broadcast on as he completed his circuit.

"Would someone kindly switch that bloody racket off!"

"...repeat, they're all over me!" A bit of chatter from Vassal Three cut through the Baron's irritation, just as his wingmate's comms went dead.

Beyond the Baron's sight, Vassal Three burst free from a near direct hit, ducking just out of the Z-95's blaster arc even as it vented plasma from it's starboard solar array. The pilot within tended to his console, which had lit up with numerous system failure warnings. It left him an easy mark, save for Vassal Two moving in at breakneck speed, switching his engagement priority to the Z-95 after the E-Wing jumped. Feeling the heat around the corner from the pouncing interceptor, Vassal Two hooked right at the last instant, breaking off his attack on the Z as he power banked, kiting his attacker into pursuit.

No sooner did Jeryd move in for the kill than the Baron's TIE fighter swooped over the craggy contours of space debris. He accelerated, then feathered his thrust to fine-tune his trajectory, all the while herding the TIE Interceptor into his gun sights.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Bebebebeep

"Good showing, lad. Off you go."

Vassal Leader's cannons switched to fire link, punching a tandem green death sentence straight through Jeryd's canopy.

[Khoovi Wan]

"Damn!" he shouted, hearing Jeryd's comm go dead and the comm display indicator itself went dark. "It wasn't supposed to be him!"

He turned as sharply as he could, bringing Vassal Three back into his firing arc; despite its speed advantage, the TIE was venting and the damage was more than enough to make this as good a chance as any to destroy the most vulnerable member of the Vassal squad.

"It was supposed to be me!" he growled. "I'm the weakest link!"

The tone blared, and with a focus he'd rarely been able to attain in high stress situations, fired his shots into the TIE's vector, rather than its current position.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

On flimsiplast, the E-Wing was the fastest ship in the simulation. It was also the most agile, the best armed, and the most responsive - all on flimsi, of course. But when a ship may or may not actually exist yet outside of schematics and blueprints, flimsi was the bible for simulation specifications, and Hal pushed his E-Wing to the limits of what that flimsi read.

The engines roared, but he knew they would not give out or suffer stress failure because they were new. Per the simulation, this E-Wing was a brand new craft, with no stress damage and no engine wear; as a one-time use approach, Hal beat the shit out of his simulated craft, tearing a beeline for the damaged TIE. If any of them saw him coming it'd be a miracle. In his head, the cacophonic din screamed louder than his engines, blasting its way into the brains of his opponents while Hal sneered at the loss of Redsun. Damn fool should have chosen something with shields. Without them, the hull of a TIE might as well be the same flimsiplast his E-Wings specs were taken from.

Ahead of him, Khoovi had Vassal Two dead to rights - there would be no escaping the puppy's firepower - so Hal turned his attention to Vassal Two. He could feel the heat building behind his eyes, the shift from pink to red in his irises which corresponded to the fight or flight nature of his race. Flight had been done, it was time to fight. Barreling down upon the healthy TIE, the Nehantite flicked down his eyepiece for manual targeting of his proton torpedoes. He had plenty left, so he might as well use them. Into the horrific, mangled mess of obnoxious pop songs, the sound of a missile lock tone began to sing its own tune, constant and unyielding, before he actually established lock. Vassal Two took the bait, spiraling off in evasive maneuvers, and Hal grinned as he played simulation against reality, keeping pace until he actually had lock. No time was wasted in pressing the trigger, and immediately he attempted a second lock, firing the moment that torpedo had located its mark as well. Drawing every closer thanks to superior speed, Hal then lit up his three turbolaser cannons, stitching a stream of death into the digital field of stars as he hunted down his prey.

None of the cadets would get out of the simulation alive, that much was a given. But from the combined impact of both proton torpedoes and laser blasts, neither would Vassal Two.