Chapter 10: Evaluation Day (End of Act One)
Two weeks flew by in a blur of classes, exercises, and late-night study sessions. The new students had settled into a rhythm—albeit an intense one—and now the first major milestone arrived: the End of Orientation Evaluation.
Alex stood in line with his cohort in the Grand Hall, a vast multipurpose chamber that could transform for ceremonies, exams, or assemblies. Today, holographic partitions and stations had been set up, and faculty members bustled about with tablets, checking preparations.
Despite Celeste's gentle promptings to stay calm, Alex's stomach fluttered. This felt like a culmination of Act One of his new life—a chance to prove himself after weeks of training. Around him, whispers betrayed similar nerves among his peers.
"I hear it's part written, part physical," Ryn muttered. He bounced on the balls of his feet. Mira was beside him, eyes closed as if reciting formulas inwardly.
Darius stood with arms crossed, exuding a confidence that Alex envied a little. He caught Alex's glance and gave a brisk nod. "Good luck out there," Darius said quietly. "Give me a reason to push myself."
Alex managed a grin. "Likewise."
Instructor Greaves called for attention and began explaining the evaluation format: three phases.
Phase 1: an advanced knowledge exam, partly traditional questions, partly interactive VR scenarios testing analytical thinking.
Phase 2: a physical obstacle course run individually—testing endurance, agility, and practical use of any learned combat or survival skills.
Phase 3: a surprise team simulation, details to be revealed when it began. That caused murmurs; another sim so soon? But it made sense—the Institute valued teamwork and leadership under pressure.
They were divided randomly into groups for scheduling. Alex would do the knowledge test first, then the obstacle course, and finally the team sim after a short break.
"Trust your training and instincts," Greaves encouraged. "Remember, this is as much to find where you need improvement as to rank you. Do your best—that's all we ask."
With that, Phase 1 commenced. Alex and about ten others entered a side chamber lined with exam pods. This time it was not immersive VR but a blend—some sections had them solve problems on holographic screens, others projected scenarios where they had to voice decisions.
Alex felt a familiar calm wash over him once he started. The first portion was a battery of questions across all subjects: advanced math proofs, scientific concept explanations, historical analysis. His eidetic memory made recall instantaneous, but he took care to structure answers thoughtfully. He could almost sense Celeste's silent cheer at each quick solution.
One question stumped many—judging by a soft groan from Ryn's booth—but Alex had read about the obscure piece of legislation it referenced and swiftly outlined its implications. As he moved on, he heard a whispered, "Show-off," in good humor through the thin partition—Ryn, no doubt, recognizing Alex's speed.
Next, the test shifted into an interactive mode. A holographic lab appeared before him, depicting a malfunctioning water purification system. He had data on the issue and had to figure out how to fix it. Alex methodically diagnosed: contaminated filters and a broken pressure valve. He recalled a similar case from a journal about a colony's well system and implemented the fix virtually. The system flowed clean within minutes.
Case after case, problem after problem—Alex felt like he was in a marathon, but his mind was in peak form. Far from draining him, each solved challenge boosted his confidence.
When the final prompt flashed "End of Phase 1", he leaned back, closing his eyes in brief gratitude. "How'd I do?" he whispered internally.
Celeste responded, "Exceptionally well. I estimate near-perfect, unless you misconstrued a question's intent. But I doubt even that." Her pride radiated through their link.
Alex left the pod and stepped into the hall feeling buoyant. Others emerged too, some smiling, some frowning. Ryn stretched dramatically. "If I never see another differential equation, it'll be too soon," he joked, though Alex knew Ryn likely did fine.
Mira looked quietly pleased. Darius maintained a poker face, but he gave Alex a subtle thumbs-up—he must have sensed Alex did well.
After a short recess, Phase 2 commenced in the station's Auxiliary Gym. It had been transformed into an obstacle course that would make military training camps jealous. They were timed individually through a gauntlet: climbing walls, rope swings, balance beams over simulated "lava," target shooting with a stun pistol, and a final sprint carrying a weighted pack.
Alex watched a few classmates go ahead. One athletic girl from a terraforming colony blazed through in record time, hardly breaking a sweat. Others struggled; one boy fell from the rope swing into the safety net, groaning as he had to climb out and continue.
When Alex's turn came, he inhaled deeply and remembered his training and extra practice sessions. Hale, observing with a clipboard, gave him an encouraging clap on the back. "Steady and smart, Ryen. Go."
Alex launched himself at the first wall. Not being the strongest, he relied on technique—using foot holds effectively and finding leverage. He made it up and over without slipping, albeit slower than some of the brawnier students.
Next, the rope swing. He recalled the trick Ryn had told him (after Ryn's own run): it was about momentum. Alex took a longer lead-up to build swing velocity and sailed across the pit, barely grabbing the opposite ledge with one hand. Muscles straining, he hauled himself up. A few gasps from watching peers told him it looked like a close call.
He carefully traversed the balance beam, knees slightly bent as taught. A wobbly moment in the middle earned him a spike of adrenaline, but he adjusted weight and made it across.
At the shooting station, he fumbled the first shot—hands still shaking from the beam. The holographic target of a hostile drone whizzed by untouched. Gritting his teeth, Alex centered himself (Celeste chimed a quick suggestion to steady breathing). He hit the next target dead on, and the next, ending with three out of four hits. Not perfect, but respectable.
Finally, the weighted sprint. A 20-kg pack was slung onto his back by an assistant. Alex's legs protested as he jogged the final 200 meters around the gym track. But he pushed, remembering Darius's near effortless run earlier. Just keep breathing, one stride at a time, he told himself. Celeste counted down remaining meters in his head, an oddly motivating ticker.
He stumbled across the finish line and dropped the pack, lungs burning. His time flashed on a screen: middle of the pack, but not bad. More importantly, he had completed every obstacle without failing or giving up—a solid "adequate," just as he'd hoped.
As he gulped water afterward, Darius clapped him on the shoulder (perhaps a bit harder than needed, given Alex's soreness). "Not bad at all. You've improved."
Alex panted a laugh. "I'd better have. Or I'd be dead meat by final missions."
Darius smirked, "Don't worry, brainiac, we won't let you die physically. That's what us 'meatheads' are for." There was genuine camaraderie in the teasing.
Phase 3 arrived after a lunch break, just as everyone's nerves started to jangle anew. They assembled in a control amphitheater where a simulation scenario would be run with teams. Unlike the earlier VR exercises, this would be a larger scale sim, and everyone was in the same scenario simultaneously, divided into teams playing different roles.
The surprise scenario, as revealed by the giant central holo-display, was a simulated spacecraft disaster. Specifically, a deep-space transport vessel encountering a critical systems failure while carrying colonists in cryo-sleep. The teams of trainees were cast as the emergency response crew.
Alex's team (by coincidence or design) included Ryn, Mira, Priya, and to his surprise, Darius. Leading five out of seventy trainees—they had effectively grouped many of the top scorers together. Perhaps to see how they'd perform collectively.
Instructor Greaves announced, "Each team will be responsible for one aspect of the crisis—engineering, medical, command, security, etc. Coordinate via the ship's comm system (we'll simulate that through your AI links). Work fast, work smart. The simulation will introduce complications as it progresses. Your goal: stabilize the ship and save as many lives as possible. Begin!"
The environment shifted; they were in a semi-immersive sim, not full neural dive but a mixed reality projected in the amphitheater. The trainees could move around and see a holographic overlay of a spaceship interior.
Alex's role assignment pinged in his visual HUD: Acting Captain (Command Team). A blinking indicator highlighted a holographic command bridge around him.
He swallowed—captain? Others on his team got their roles: Darius was Engineering Lead, Mira as Science/Medical, Ryn on Communications, Priya handling Security/Fire Control.
It struck Alex that they'd given him leadership over even Darius in this scenario. Darius seemed to notice too but gave Alex a brisk nod of acknowledgment, sliding into character without protest. They both knew lives (albeit virtual) were at stake.
Alerts flared in the sim: fire on deck 3, reactor coolant leak, navigation offline, and so on. The chaos was intense.
Alex took a precious two seconds to close his eyes and center himself, recalling Master Li's teachings to remain calm under stress. When he opened them, he began issuing orders.
"Ryn, get on comms—coordinate between teams, make sure engineering and medical aren't duplicating efforts or leaving gaps."
"On it!" Ryn said, fingers flying over a console that only he could see via AR.
"Darius, prioritize that coolant leak. Reactor meltdown risk trumps other damage."
"Already heading to reactor control," Darius replied, a map of the ship hovering in front of him as he directed two other engineering team members (virtually represented) to the task.
"Mira, scan for life-support integrity—how long can the passengers survive with current oxygen?"
Mira's hands moved through an interface of medical readouts. "Life support failing on aft decks. If we don't restore in 5 minutes, we lose dozens of cryo-pods."
Priya called out, "Fire on deck 3 spreading, but I've activated suppression bots. They'll hold it for now."
Alerts kept coming. Another team's actions elsewhere sometimes solved a problem (one alert blinked green as a medical team stabilized an injured crew NPC), but sometimes created new ones.
At one point, an explosion rocked the sim (in reality just a visual jolt). A hull breach on deck 5. Alex's heart pounded. This was more complex than anything they'd done; it required juggling tasks and trusting teammates.
As pressure mounted, Alex felt an uncanny clarity descend on him. Perhaps it was Celeste quietly optimizing his cognitive functions, or sheer adrenaline, but he entered a flow state.
He delegated without micromanaging, using each teammate's strengths. When communications got overloaded with crosstalk, he motioned to Ryn and, deciding to try something bold, he reached outward with his mind gently: Ryn, focus on channel 2 for engineering, I'll take medical. He didn't know if Ryn heard the actual words, but Ryn suddenly looked at him, then nodded as if he somehow understood Alex's unspoken plan.
It worked—Ryn managed comms with Darius's team while Alex himself opened a comm link via Celeste to the medical team lead to coordinate life support restoration.
Little by little, the disaster came under control. The reactor leak was contained with 30 seconds to spare. Life support was rerouted from undamaged sections to keep the colonists alive. Fires were extinguished.
In the final minutes, a curveball emerged: a secondary reactor going critical, something previously hidden by the simulation to test if they'd prepared for redundant failures. Alex's team was stretched thin, but he made a snap decision: vent the secondary core's plasma into space. It would mean losing that reactor, but saving the ship. It aligned with a historical incident he remembered where a captain did just that to avert total destruction.
"Secondary core: eject and vent plasma now!" he commanded. Darius hesitated a split-second since it wasn't a textbook response, then grinned and executed the command. A rumble, a flare on the external hologram, and then readings normalized. The ship was safe, albeit limping.
The sim froze. Lights returned to normal. A moment of stunned silence, then applause broke out among faculty and even some students.
Alex realized he was shaking slightly, the comedown of intense focus. Ryn came over and wrapped him in a quick hug, both of them sweating. "We did it! Everyone's alive, captain!"
Mira beamed, "Only minimal casualties reported in-sim."
Priya high-fived Darius, who accepted it with rare open enthusiasm.
Instructor Greaves stepped forward to address the cohort. "Simulation complete. Excellent work, trainees."
Over the next half hour, results were compiled. Students mingled, excitedly rehashing moments. Alex downplayed his role whenever someone praised it—"Couldn't have done it without my team."
Soon they were gathered for a debrief and awards in the very same Grand Hall they started in that morning, now rearranged into an auditorium format. The Institute's leadership attended—about a dozen senior instructors and a few dignitaries in formal attire. Alex spotted one older woman with an air of gravitas he didn't recognize, whispering with Master Li; perhaps a Council representative? The thought made him gulp.
Dean Arillan, the head mentor (a tall man with kind eyes and a stern mouth), took the podium. He congratulated the group on completing Act One of their program. "We have identified areas where each of you will need growth, and areas where you shine. That is the purpose of this evaluation."
He began calling out notable performances: highest marks in academics (no surprise, Alex heard his own name listed first, along with Mira's). Top physical scores (Darius and the athletic girl from before). Exceptional teamwork (Ryn's communications savvy was lauded). Priya got a nod for quick emergency response thinking in the sim.
"And lastly," the Dean announced, "one individual's performance was outstanding across multiple domains, demonstrating not only knowledge and skill but leadership, composure, and that ineffable quality we call potential."
Alex suddenly had a feeling where this was going. His heart thumped in his ears.
"Cadet Alex Ryen," the Dean pronounced, voice echoing, "please step forward."
A surge of applause and some cheers (he definitely heard Ryn whoop) filled the hall. Alex willed his legs to move and walked up to the stage, cheeks hot. This was different from the colony quiz or being best in class; this was in front of people as capable as him, which made it somehow more humbling.
The Dean shook his hand firmly and turned him to face the audience. "Mr. Ryen achieved the top academic score, a strong physical performance, and he captained a successful simulation team. His instructors note his 'singular potential'—the ability to synthesize knowledge, guide peers, and even… anticipate problems before they fully manifest."
Alex bit his lip at that subtle reference to his precognitive hunches. He wondered if most thought it just quick thinking.
The Dean continued, "Such talent is rare. And rare talent, at the Institute, is both a gift and a responsibility." He lowered his voice just a touch, addressing Alex but audible to all. "Alex, we expect great things from you. And to help you reach them, we will be accelerating and individualizing your training moving forward."
Alex's eyes widened. A ripple of murmurs went through the student body.
Accelerated, different training… It hit him that this was what Greaves hinted at, what might separate him from his cohort soon.
The Dean concluded formally, "Congratulations. Continue to work hard and stay true to the values of our Institute."
Alex nodded and managed to speak clearly, "Thank you, sir. I will."
Another round of applause followed as he returned to his place, heart racing with a mix of pride and trepidation.
Afterward, in the reception area with refreshments (it seemed even in utopia, no celebration was complete without snacks), Alex was swarmed by friends.
Ryn clinked a fizzy drink with his, "Our boy Alex, top of the world!"
Mira smiled warmly. "You earned it. Don't forget us when you're famous, alright?"
"Stop," Alex said, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. "It's only been a couple months since we all got here. We all did great." His eyes darted to Darius, unsure how he'd take the news of Alex's special treatment.
Darius approached, holding out his hand. Alex accepted the firm shake. "Well led, Captain," Darius said evenly, but Alex could see respect in his eyes and perhaps a glint of resolve to match him. "I'll catch up to you. Count on it."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Alex replied genuinely.
As the gathering wound down, a gentle chime in Alex's implant signaled a private message. He opened it through Celeste: a text from the Dean, asking him to stop by the mentor's office after the reception.
Alex excused himself from the group, who were now animatedly rehashing sim moments (Ryn had launched into an exaggerated reenactment of his stellar radio voice saving the day).
Outside the hall, he walked toward the administration wing, the corridors quiet and bathed in the evening glow.
He couldn't help but marvel—Act 1 of his journey was concluding so differently than it began. He was no longer that restless kid on a quiet colony longing for purpose. He'd found it here, in spades.
Yet, as Celeste reminded him gently while he walked, "Your journey is only beginning. Greater challenges lie ahead."
He knew she was right. The thought was exhilarating and daunting all at once. He murmured under his breath, "Life is about to change again, isn't it?"
Celeste's tone carried both reassurance and anticipation: "Yes, Alex. And you're not ordinary—so your path won't be ordinary either. But you are ready."
Standing before the ornate doors of the Dean's office, Alex took a deep breath. On the other side would be news of what Act 2 held: perhaps a new mentor, advanced classes, secrets of the evolved minds.
He glanced back down the empty hallway he'd come from, imagining it as the road from his past. Then he looked forward at the door, the threshold to a new chapter.
Alex Ryen lifted his chin and pressed the door chime. His heart pounded not with fear, but with eager anticipation.
The door slid open silently, and Alex stepped through, knowing that in this moment, Act One had truly ended. Whatever deeper, stranger world awaited beyond, he's not an ordinary student—and he was ready to dive into its depths.
Perfect. I'll now begin writing Act 2: Forge and Fledglings in full prose novel format, continuing the narrative in the voice and structure of Randal Sloan. This section will explore the protagonist's intense solo training, growing self-awareness, evolving bond with his AI guide, and the mounting weight of expectations.
I'll let you know as soon as the full chapter draft is ready.