Seven in the morning comes early to the new members of the Stalwart Special Tactics unit, and Max prepares himself to evaluate them and see if the assignments set by Central Command, based on their academy data are even vaguely right.
Most Commanders go by them until the end of the first few battles, but he really doesn’t have the luxury of finding out the hard way, there aren’t enough members of a Special Tactics team for that sort of shortsighted nonsense.
So he will train them hard this morning, then head out to the receiving parties for the retirees while Nico takes care of the last of their requisitions. They managed to get five of the Comor Pattern Mobile Suits, but the weapons for them never arrived, as well as a number of other random items that Max had deemed essential on his requisition list. They were all approved, they simply aren’t here, either misplaced or delayed.
Technically, Nico isn’t a supply officer, and they don’t have a dedicated person for the position, but with her hacking skills, she is the best one for the job, while Max has been “Promoted to Designated Ass Kisser” in her words.
To be exact, he is to use his skills in mind reading to build relationships with the other officers on board and see if he can meet up with any of the emissaries from the Comor System to learn more about the capabilities of their new light Mecha. The Abraham Kepler doesn’t have a dedicated trainer for the Comor Pattern Corvettes, and the software they do have isn’t recent enough to include them, so they are currently left in the lurch. Nico will try to find the software if possible, but Max might have more luck with diplomacy today at the Officer’s Ball..
Little does she know, Max has every intention of using his rank as her Commanding Officer to drag the antisocial Pilot to the formal event as his plus one.
Despite all the gender equality in the Military, the event is a formal civilian one with a formal civilian dress code. No uniforms are allowed. Instead, Max will be in a tuxedo, and he has ordered an elegant evening gown and heels for Nico. He has never seen her outside of a regulation uniform, so the idea of seeing her in formal wear seems like the sort of memory that he should obtain while the opportunity presents itself. The Emperor knows that he will not have the chance again for quite some time.
The new crew will only be here for the first day of the event, then they are departing the planet, so it has to be tonight.
Once everyone has gathered at their private training ground, a small facility with a little of everything available to them, Max starts setting the orders.
“If everyone will please check the whiteboard on the wall, you will see that we have set teams for today’s assessments. Team 1, you are with Ari, Team 2 with Paul, and Team 3 with Vincente. Gather at your team leaders and let’s get this started.” Max shouts, sending everyone running.
The teams aren’t actually random, Max spent many hours picking them out based on the limited information that he had available about his new unit. Each one should contain specialists that have the skills that the team will need in the future. They will be training every member to do the basics of everything, but having a true specialist on the team is essential to Mission completion.
Special Tactics Teams often move out with one Crusader and a wing of Light Mecha, so that is how Max set things up to start, knowing that he can combine them in the future without issues.
This morning is a simple assessment, making sure that the data that they have is correct, and that nobody’s file was doctored to make them look bad, or padded to promote an unqualified but connected scion of a wealthy family.
It is clear right away that they have at least one member of the second category among their team, as one of the pilots is imperiously ordering those around him to do even simple things like setting up the weights for his tests.
That isn’t going to fly here, and Max is quick to put a stop to it. “Pilot Orleans, are you perhaps injured? Unable to set up your stations?”
“No sir. As a knight, you must understand, I am the son of a Duke, such things are for the commoners, not us nobles.” The pilot declares proudly.
“The son of a Duke you say? Please, follow me, you are right, we will do your examination inside the resistance trainer. The virtual scenario is much more suited to your status.” Max informs him in his most smarmy, obnoxious accent possible, but the youth doesn’t catch the fact that he’s being mocked.
Most of the others do though, and they watch in anticipation as Max sets the resistance trainer to maximum intensity and the exit conditions for successful completion of the final exit exams for Corvette Class Pilots. If he can perform to standards they just need to beat the snobbery out of him. If he can’t Max will not hesitate to wash him out and request a Line Mecha Pilot in line for promotion be selected to trade places with him.
The final assessment for Corvette Class Pilots only takes ten minutes, even under the heavy fire simulation that Max set, but an hour later a very sweaty and panting Pilot Orleans is still attempting to complete the course. This time he passes out partway through, and the machine automatically ejects him for safety.
“Major Nico, begin the paperwork. Pilot Orleans has washed out of the Special Tactics team.” Max announces and the pilots all gasp in shock.
His father will not be happy when he finds out, and they all grew up knowing to be afraid of the noble son’s wrath. They hope that the Duke won’t make things hard for Major Max in the future, but both Majors look unconcerned.
Ten minutes later, a pilot in a Lieutenant’s uniform comes running in, stopping to salute Max. “Lieutenant Singh, reporting for duty, Sir.”
“Welcome Lieutenant Singh. Lose the coat and get in the resistance trainer. In order to join us, everyone must pass the basic examinations to my personal standard.” Max informs him and the man rushes over to the machine while Nico sends Max the file for the replacement pilot.
Qualified third in his class, Special Forces Cadet with Corvette Class qualifications, transferred to kitchen duty for unspecified disciplinary punishment. That looks promising, and it lets them send the young Pilot Orleans to the kitchen to wash dishes with the excuse of looking out for him and moving him out of harm’s way.
Nine minutes later, the exhausted pilot falls out of the resistance trainer with a smile. “Sir, qualification complete, sir.”
“Very good Pilot. You are excused from the remainder of training for today. Who was Pilot Orleans’ roommate? Please take Pilot Singh to swap rooms.” Max announces just as the exhausted son of a Duke regains consciousness.