Fleet Exercise
© 2026 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom


Nefed l’Fel paused outside the door, ears canting forward as she listened. The admiral-first squared her shoulders and entered the station’s exercise facility.

One of the variable-gravity areas was lit up; inside it Varan, stripped to her fur, was lifting a weighted bar. She was controlling her breathing and was focused on raising and lowering the bar. Her duty uniform had been folded neatly and placed on top of her boots outside of the var-grav area.

A glance at the wall panel, and l’Fel felt her tail brush against the floor. Varan was lifting weights against two times standard gravity.

“Admiral,” Varan grunted, almost a growl, as she shoved the weight bar up one last time before placing it on its rack. She lay there on the padded bench, rubbing her arms and breathing.

“Captain,” l’Fel said dryly. “Are you finished? I would like to speak with you.”

Varan sighed. “A moment, Ma’am.” Her tail snaked out and brushed against an area on her padd. The artificial gravity lowered gradually as the vir sat up. “Yes, Ma’am?”

“I read the evaluation of your first training activity.”

Varan took a deep breath as her tail wound around one of the bench’s supports. “I did poorly.”

“Yes, you did.” There was no need to soften the impact.

“I lost, and took sixty percent casualties.” She ran a hand through sweat-matted fur.

“True. Do you know why?”

Varan glanced at the older vir. “I did not include enough flexibility in my operational plan. When the Home Fleet attacked, I should have recognized that it might have been a feint.”

L’Fel gestured affirmatively. “And?”

“I waited too long to withdraw. It gave the opposing force the opportunity to surround me.” Varan closed her eyes and her tail tightened convulsively around the pillar before relaxing.

“Do you do this normally if you fail?”

“No, Ma’am. I felt frustrated, angry; I decided it was better to work through that and clear my mind before I addressed my failure.” The word didn’t have the bitter taste any longer; she’d failed before, and would again.

L’Fel said simply, “Your failure. Tell me about that.”

Varan took another breath and her shoulders slumped. “I failed to let my subordinates perform their assigned tasks, wanting to control what they did. It robbed them of the ability to act on their own initiative.” Another breath. “I acted as a Shipmaster, not a Fleetmaster.”

“Good,” the admiral said. “You’ve learned a lesson.”

The younger vir hung her head. “Yes.”

“Do you plan on repeating your mistakes?”

Varan gestured negatively.

“Good. Look at me,” and when Varan complied l’Fel said, “You’re going to bathe, get something to eat and drink, and when you have completed those tasks you will inform me. I will meet you at the simulator, and we will go over the exercise. When you take command again in ten days, you will be better prepared.”

Varan took another breath, letting the last of her frustration leave with her exhalation, and she stood up. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” L’Fel turned and walked out of the exercise facility.