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Bly runs his newest additions through the simulator again. He can see the exhaustion starting to bleed through each of the troopers, their movements becoming less refined. He pushes them past this, pushes them over the edge into exhausted bleariness, legs shaking beneath them. Their arms tremble as they grip tightly to the weapons.
He knows it hurts them - he hates himself for doing it to each of his brethren. Still, he challenges them, testing their limits, how they manage under that strain.
The General steps softly towards him, and he pauses, handing over to his officers before stepping out of the simulation. He salutes her, taking a moment to catch his own breath before doffing his helmet and verbally offering a greeting.
She smiles, offering her own gentle greeting, and reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder as she comes to stand alongside him. She watches silently for a long moment. Bly doesn't interrupt her thoughts, curious as to whether she will share them.
"You're all working very hard today, Commander," she says quietly.
"Yes, General. We're close to getting this newest intake up to speed."
Her head tracks the movement of several squads, exhaustion visibly dragging at their limbs.
"I'm not trying to question your methods, Commander, but I am curious; the men are tired, but you don't stop?"
Bly doesn't take offence at the query and takes a moment to consider his answer. His General is always inquisitive, always willing to learn, and he can see how much she cares about the men serving beneath her. He knows the men adore her in return.
"I need to see how they will cope on the battlefield, General. When they're not able to rest or eat properly. To know how far I can push them if the situation calls for it," Bly explains.
His General nods thoughtfully. "That is very pragmatic of you. I was unsure whether it would be considered an attempt at perfection. I know the men struggle with always needing to be so. Imperfection is beauty as they say, Commander."
Bly isn't entirely sure who says that - definitely not the Kaminoans, nor the trainers. He ponders the concept. Perfection is survival. Anything less so, for a clone, is fatal; both on and off the battlefield.
"Yes, General," he settles with saying.
She turns towards him, her smile tinged with sadness as she removes her hand from his shoulder.
"One day, I hope you'll understand, Commander Bly."