The Cylon turns to Calliope, "Attendant," the Calliope orders in a smooth-tone." Within a micron one of her gold-robed attendant units appear and holds up a remote-board for the Regional Commander. The Regional Commander's memory swirls in blues as she veiws the remote-board. Finally Calliope says, "Let us begin," and pushes set of lines on the remote.
   The lighting within the Simulation Hall dim once more. But within the controlling penninsula running between the control thrones and the Simulation Wall, two auxillary control modules slide back in front of the control console that had been occupied by the WholGram. Two of the Cylon Supporting units promptly slide into the auxillary consoles. 

 Calliope extends a robed-arm in the direction of WholGram's console, and with her memory glimmering in shades of red-velvet, and royal blue intones to the standing WholGram, "Be seated." "By you Command," WholGram replies, and tkes his applied seat to the left of Calliope.

  With little delay the Calliope continues her reign, "There is a second excercise recently developed by my attendants, of a differing sort than that of the Excercise in Orange, however it has been indicated that you may well have the capacities to aid us in its testing."

  WholGram set his arms into contact with the armrests of the console, "Yes," he says as he begins to tie back into the console controls, "It is as if I control a Raider."   Calliope receives over the closed circuit an inquiry from PreWrek, "For a Command-level unit, would a more-command-engineered vessel such as the TranStar be more appropriate?"

 "Not for this particular exercise we are about to be proofing," the Calliope replies back over all circuits.  The WholGram pauses a sub-micron, then comments, "If I am to be at the contols of a StarFighter, I wish the Fronting Units to be of my picking."  The Forward Control Units are Officers from my personal staff. You shall find most competent to execute the handling of a Cylon Raider.

  "Upon your recommendation, I shall be most confident in executing the exercise that I soon engage," WholGram answers directly.

  "Your personal staff?" PreWrek obseves over the closed-circuit, "This exercise must be of some import."  The Calliope proceeds as if the observation merits no response, "Prepare to engage in the Exercise Projection,"