"Do you know what the data is?" Petowski waited for the applause to fade and then asked the cadets questions, but at the moment the room was silent, and it was clear that no one could really answer the meaning of the sentence.

"The real data is the reduction of the sluggishness of the exchange of muscles and nerves through a lot of practice, the habituation of instinct and intuition. If experience is a battlefield asset, then it's what keeps you alive and you can continue to gain experience. Petowski elaborated.

"The real data is not STD, not PSE, not PCE, these are judged by institutions and schools for your actions and reactions, which in my opinion is a dead letter. The real data comes when death passes you by, and it accumulates in battle after battle as you gradually defeat it. They are your life savers and tactical guides, your self-confidence and survival rate. He stared at the young people in the audience.

"As a veteran, all I have to tell you is that they must continue to increase, to increase consistently." He frowned and spoke earnestly.

"Major, are you telling us to forget everything and practice desperately?" Southfit spoke below.

"Yes, you already have the foundation, all you lack is practice, trust instinct, trust intuition, this is something to experience in actual combat."

"It's different from what Instructor Barno told us...... "One of Southfit's female pilots whispered.

"Barno can add beautiful numbers to your palmares, but I can only give you a chance to live, and of course, from a personal point of view, I think someone will not hesitate to go for the former." Petowiski's teasing made the girl blush.

"Evergreen ......" Petowski named one of the students.

"I'm here, Major!" The baby-faced young man stood up, but his original response still elicited a few low snickers.

"Don't be so excited." The Major tilted his lips and scratched his forehead, and seemed to have lost his temper with the baby face.

"What's your number of crashes today?" He asked.

"2, Major." His childish voice has not changed, and his voice is sharp, which makes people laugh again.

"You're the No. 1 in the recruit group, how did you feel today?"

"No, Major, my brothers and sisters are flying too fast." His words made everyone laugh, and the baby-faced evergreen was stunned, not knowing what he had said wrong, and his face showed a look of 'what it should have been'.

"Okay, sit down." Major Petowski felt that if he continued to ask such questions, it would become a comedian show.

"From now on, all Deathwing members will be raising your skill moves and tactics to the point where you can survive this battle in just one and a half months, and this will obviously require hellish practice." The Major glanced at all the team members with a piercing look. "I've booked all the opening hours for the dinghy simulation area for you, and after the simulation area closes, you'll be entering the holographic simulation center to continue practicing."

"You can only sleep for a maximum of 4 hours a day, eat two meals, have a physical adaptation training in the morning and evening, a strength training in the afternoon, simulate six rounds of evaluation, a summary every day, a round of battles every three days, and a task update once a week...... The rest of the time, I had to stay in the cockpit of that space and practice for me! Petowski looked like a judge had handed down a verdict for everyone.

"I'll always be with you......" he concluded.

Outside the conference room, Fazzani watched coldly through the window of the back door, and after Petowski had said this, he turned away with a smile on his gloomy face.

A madman is a madman, and he can't help but think that Petrovisky can make a bunch of improvised reserve rookies become Deathwing, and of course take these high-achieving students who are born to fly to the next level.

The question is time...... His brow, which had just flagged, tightened again.

And whether this damned plan can really achieve the desired results at the most basic strategic level, as the group of analysts in the General Staff, who have always been overestimated, say, he thought.

Under the guise of a damn mass migration of boat people, entering the airspace of the planet Telamon really won't be attacked by the Walkens?

Fazzani walked quickly along a narrow corridor to a high-speed elevator.

He needed to hurry back to the war analysis room, where Nicole . Shaw, Tox. Navarro, Torres. Fotian and the expert advisers of the Intelligence Bureau, as well as the senior officers of the special team set up by the General Staff for this project, thousands of miles away, were anxiously waiting for him......

……

……

"The boat people won't die for us in this matter." Betis, Deputy Director of the Comprehensive Planning Bureau of the Development Committee of the Bank Alliance. Ms. Andrew shook her head vigorously with her eyes closed, expressing her disdain for such a view.

"They wish the Silver Alliance and the Walkens were fighting in a mess and full of devastation, so that they could clean up the battlefield and pick up the garbage." She said to her friend across from her.

Opposite her, Robert. Kent sat down in his office chair and began to spread his hands out to make his point to Ms. Andrew.

"But they're human too, aren't they? I mean, at least genetically, we are from the same country. ”

"Genes, yes, human, don't dare identify with ......" Ms. Andrew continued to shake her head.

Betis, Development Committee of the Alliance. Andrew & Robert. Kent, like him, was a front-line officer in the General Planning Bureau, which was in charge of colonial affairs. She was a fair-skinned man of medium stature with a slender face, six years older than Robert, well-groomed, with short dark brown hair all year round, and a slightly masculine but feminine face.

She's Robert. Kent's few mentors and friends in the City of Angels are known for her erudition, straightforwardness, and love to give people nicknames, so some good people have also nicknamed her 'charming Mr. Know-It-All', half mockery, half truth.

"The boat people have been living on a spaceship for almost two centuries off the planet's surface, they have been away from civilization for too long, and they have been resentful since the very beginning, so I think from a psychological point of view, they are already two species from us." Andrew took out a cigarette and tried to light it, thought about it, and looked at Robert with inquiring eyes, and Robert hurriedly nodded in agreement.

The deputy director opened a crack in the window, and quickly lit it and began to swallow the clouds and smoke, but she was still bored by the noise of the air currents from the high window, so she extinguished the cigarette butt and closed the window.

"Tobacco with a molecular filter filters the soot completely and doesn't affect nicotine intake, so why do you keep smoking this contraband that violates the regulations?" Robert had apparently been puzzled by this question for a long time.

"I love the taste of it, the molecular filter makes everything tasteless." She held up the cigarette case in her hand. "You know, Robert, such a box of ten trinkets would cost me 150 coots, which are not a big salary."

"You're saying that a short piece of tobacco is equivalent to the cost of ten cups of Ibic milk foam coffee?" Robert couldn't help but smack his tongue, milk foam coffee was undoubtedly his favorite, but this high-end drink from Hettis Star was still quite expensive for the average working class.

"How else can it be considered a forbidden item?" Ms. Andrew put the half-smoked cigarette in her cigarette case and put it away. "Thanks to the sissy gifts of the environmentalists, you have no idea how hard it is to find such a gadget these days."

Robert was amused by his friend's funny comments, and he couldn't stop nodding his head, while the deputy commissioner's wife couldn't stop sighing.