Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner
Chapter 319 - 319: Code yellow 2

She gestured to Sophie first. "Reign, your fire discipline was excellent. Controlled bursts, target prioritization, ammunition conservation. However, your positioning put you in unnecessary danger twice. In real combat, unnecessary risks compound until they become fatal mistakes."

Sophie nodded, absorbing the criticism.

"Davids," Beaumont turned to Lyra, "solid marksmanship under pressure, but you need to communicate more with your team. Combat is a conversation—silence gets people killed."

Lyra's enthusiastic nod showed she was taking notes mentally.

"Pithon," Beaumont's gaze found Kelvin, "excellent technical analysis and target identification. Your scanner work provided crucial tactical advantages. But you tunnel-vision when you're interfacing with technology. In real combat, that's a good way to miss the threat that kills you."

Kelvin grimaced, clearly recognizing the validity of the criticism.

"Frost," Beaumont's tone sharpened as she addressed Diana, "your nullification zones were tactically brilliant and perfectly executed. You showed excellent spatial awareness and energy management. Your ability to adapt zone placement based on tactical needs was outstanding."

Diana's expression didn't change, but Noah caught the slight straightening of her shoulders that indicated satisfaction.

"Grey," Beaumont paused before addressing Lucas, and Noah sensed this critique would be more complex. "We'll discuss your performance privately."

Finally, her attention turned to Noah, and her expression shifted to something that might have been impressed surprise.

"Eclipse," she said slowly, "your tactical analysis and decision-making were... fascinating. You identified enemy patterns three moves ahead, coordinated fire solutions with Frost's abilities without verbal communication, and managed ammunition conservation while maintaining optimal firing rates. Your combat instincts are frankly mind-blowing for someone with your level of experience."

Noah felt heat creep up his neck at the praise, but Beaumont wasn't finished.

"However," she continued, "you have a tendency to take calculated risks that border on reckless. In this simulation, those risks paid off. In real combat, the margin for error is much smaller."

She let that sink in before addressing the group again.

"Overall, you performed at a level that should have been impossible given your training background. That's both encouraging and concerning—it suggests you're adapting faster than our standard protocols account for."

Beaumont checked her chronometer. "Dismissed. Grey, remain behind."

As they filed out, Noah caught Lucas's eye and saw a mix of pride and concern there. Leadership in combat was a burden that carried its own unique pressures, and Noah suspected Beaumont's private conversation would address issues that couldn't be discussed in front of the team.

Outside the training facility, the team stood in a loose circle, still processing what they'd just experienced.

"Did anyone else forget we were in a simulation?" Kelvin asked quietly.

"Completely," Sophie admitted. "It felt absolutely real."

Diana's voice was thoughtful. "The question is whether that level of immersion is helping us or creating false confidence."

Noah looked back at the training facility, wondering what Beaumont was telling Lucas behind those closed doors. Whatever it was, he had a feeling their training was about to become significantly more intense.

*****

When the door sealed behind the others, the silence in the training facility felt heavier than the simulated combat they'd just endured. Lucas stood at attention, waiting for whatever assessment was coming, but Beaumont gestured for him to relax.

"At ease, Grey. This isn't a formal evaluation."

Lucas shifted to a more comfortable stance, but his posture remained alert. Years of military conditioning didn't disappear with a simple command.

Beaumont studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the weight of experience—the kind that came from making life-and-death decisions in the black of space.

"You know what your biggest problem is, Grey? You think leadership means being the last one to safety and the first one to die."

The bluntness of it hit Lucas like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but Beaumont held up a hand.

"I've seen it a thousand times. Good soldiers, natural leaders, who think their job is to absorb every bullet meant for their team. Noble as hell, and stupid as a box of rocks." She moved closer, her voice dropping to a more conversational tone that somehow made her words hit harder. "You want to know how many commanders I've zipped into body bags because they thought being a martyr was the same thing as being a leader?"

Lucas felt his jaw tighten. "With respect, ma'am, protecting my team is—"

"Is your job, yes. But so is staying alive to keep protecting them." Beaumont's interruption was sharp. "Dead heroes don't coordinate tactical retreats. They don't adapt to changing battlefield conditions. They don't bring their people home."

She began pacing, her movements precise and controlled. "In that simulation, you put yourself in the line of fire unnecessarily four separate times. Each time, you were thinking about covering your team's movement. Admirable. But what happens when you catch a plasma round to the chest? What happens when your team loses their tactical coordinator in the middle of a firefight?"

The question hung in the air like an accusation. Lucas had never thought about it that way—had never considered that his death might endanger his team more than his survival would protect them.

"Leadership isn't about being expendable, Grey. It's about being indispensable. Your team needs you functional, alive, and thinking three steps ahead. They need you to make the hard calls, coordinate the withdrawals, and yes—sometimes they need you to order them into danger while you maintain tactical oversight from a position of relative safety."

Beaumont stopped pacing and faced him directly. "You think that makes you a coward? Let me tell you something about cowardice. Cowardice is letting your team down because you're too proud to acknowledge that your life has strategic value. Cowardice is choosing a glorious death over an effective command."

She moved to the wall display, calling up tactical footage from their simulation. "Look at this moment here—timestamp 14:32. You moved to cover Frost while she was maintaining nullification zones. Good instinct. But you exposed yourself to attack from two directions without establishing covering positions for your own retreat."

The footage played in slow motion, showing Lucas advancing into what was essentially a kill zone. "You were lucky. In real combat, luck runs out. What you should have done was coordinate Pithon and Reign to provide overlapping fields of fire while you maintained tactical overview from a protected position."

Lucas watched himself on the screen, seeing the tactical errors with painful clarity. He'd been so focused on immediate protection that he'd missed the larger strategic picture.

"Command is about multiplication, not substitution," Beaumont continued. "One leader thinking clearly is worth more than one extra rifle in the line. Your job isn't to replace your team members—it's to make them more effective."

She paused the footage and turned back to him. "That said, your instincts are solid. Your team responds to your commands without hesitation, your tactical assessments are sound, and you kept them coordinated under extreme pressure. You've got the makings of a damn fine officer, Grey."

The shift in tone caught Lucas off guard. The criticism had been building toward something—he'd expected discipline, retraining, maybe removal from leadership position. He hadn't expected praise.

"But," Beaumont's voice hardened again, "potential doesn't mean shit if you're floating in vacuum with a hole in your chest. I need you to understand that your survival isn't selfish—it's strategic. Your team needs their leader alive, alert, and making the calls that keep everyone breathing."

She moved closer, her presence somehow both intimidating and reassuring. "Leadership in combat is about accepting responsibility for outcomes, not absorbing responsibility for individual actions. You coordinate, you decide, you adapt. Your team executes. If someone gets hurt, that's the price of combat—not a failure of leadership."

Lucas felt something fundamental shift in his understanding. The weight of command had always felt like a burden of protection, but Beaumont was reframing it as a burden of effectiveness.

"I want you to run the simulation again tomorrow," she said. "Same parameters, but this time I want you thinking like a commander, not a bodyguard. Use your team's abilities, coordinate their strengths, and trust them to do their jobs while you do yours."

She checked her chronometer. "Questions?"

Lucas considered her words, feeling the mental adjustment required to think strategically rather than protectively. "How do you balance protecting your people with using them effectively?"

Beaumont's smile was grim but approving. "Good question. The answer is: you protect them by using them effectively. Every soldier in your command is a resource—a person with specific capabilities and limitations. Your job is to deploy those resources in ways that maximize mission success while minimizing unnecessary risk. Sometimes that means sending someone into danger. Sometimes it means keeping yourself out of it."

She gestured to the tactical display. "Frost's nullification abilities are incredibly powerful, but they require her to be exposed and concentrating. Your job isn't to stand in front of her—it's to coordinate covering fire that lets her work effectively. Eclipse's tactical analysis is lightning-fast, but he needs information to work with. Your job is to feed him intelligence, not block his line of sight."

Lucas nodded, beginning to see the broader picture. Leadership wasn't about personal sacrifice—it was about optimal resource allocation in life-or-death situations.

"One more thing," Beaumont said, her tone shifting to something more personal. "Command is lonely. You'll make decisions that get people killed. You'll live with choices that haunt you. But you'll also bring people home who wouldn't have made it without your leadership. That's the trade, Grey. Accept it, or find another career path."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with implications. Lucas thought about his team—their strengths, their trust in his decisions, their need for effective leadership rather than heroic gestures.

Finally, Beaumont reached out and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Her grip was strong, callused from years of military service.

"You're one hell of a soldier, Grey. Don't throw that away trying to be a martyred saint. Your team needs a commander, not a corpse."

The weight of her hand felt like an anchor—grounding him to a new understanding of what leadership actually meant. When she released his shoulder, Lucas felt different somehow. More focused, less burdened by the wrong kind of responsibility.

"Dismissed," Beaumont said. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we see if you can command as well as you can fight."

---

The team was halfway to their quarters, the conversation flowing between exhaustion and exhilaration from the simulation, when their station comm devices erupted in synchronized beeping.

The sound cut through their chatter like a blade. Six hands reached for six devices simultaneously, the casual atmosphere evaporating as they read the alert flashing across their screens.

**PRIORITY ALERT - IMMEDIATE DEPLOYMENT**

**Report to Bay 7 - Full Combat Loadout**

**Mission Briefing: 1900 Hours**

**Clearance Authorization: Yellow **

Noah felt his stomach drop. Priority yellow meant reconnaissance in contested areas. Which almost certainly meant real combat, real danger, real consequences. The kind of mission where people came back in body bags or didn't come back at all.

Sophie's voice was tight. "They're sending us out already? We just finished our second day of training."

"Command wouldn't send yellow priorities for training exercises," Diana said quietly, her usual dullness replaced by sharp focus.

Kelvin was already checking his watch. "We've got forty-seven minutes to gear up and report. That's barely enough time for full equipment checks."

Lyra's enthusiasm from earlier had completely evaporated. The reality of military service was crashing into her romantic notions about adventure and heroism. "What if we're not ready?"

Lucas emerged from the training facility just in time to catch her question. His expression was different somehow—more focused, more settled. Whatever Beaumont had told him had changed something fundamental.

"Ready or not, we have orders," he said simply. "Bay 7, full combat loadout. Questions about readiness get answered in the field."

Noah noticed the shift in Lucas's tone. There was less protective urgency and more command authority. Still concern for the team, but filtered through strategic thinking rather than emotional reaction.

"What about showers?" Sophie asked, practical as always. "We're still covered in sweat from the simulation."

"Combat-ready takes priority over comfort," Lucas replied. "We clean up after we survive whatever they're sending us into."

Diana's laugh was sharp and humorless. "From simulation to real deployment in less than an hour. Either they're desperate or they think we're better than we actually are."

"Or both," Noah added grimly.

They stood in a loose circle, the weight of impending deployment settling over them like a heavy blanket. The playful camaraderie from lunch felt like it had happened days ago rather than hours.

Kelvin broke the silence with typical practicality. "Equipment checks first, then mission briefing. Whatever this is, we face it head-on."

Lucas nodded, his command presence fully engaged now. "Bay 7 in forty-five minutes. Full combat loadout, personal weapons checked and charged, emergency supplies verified. Any equipment failures get reported immediately."

As they began moving toward their quarters to gather gear, Noah caught Lucas's eye. Something had definitely changed during his private conversation with Beaumont, and Noah suspected they were all about to find out what that meant in real combat conditions.

The station corridors seemed different now—less like home and more like the staging area for whatever was waiting for them in the black of space. Their footsteps echoed with new urgency, the casual pace of training replaced by the focused movement of soldiers preparing for war.

In forty-five minutes, they would learn what Priority yellow actually meant for Team Seven.