Adam settles in, familiarizing himself with the standard training pod, scuffed by the hands of so many navigators that it felt used and public, both familiar and anonymous. As the simulation starts, Adam tightens his hands around the controls, taking them out of the simulated landing bay and into the stars.

Colterons attack almost immediately and Adam yanks the controls to pull them into a defensive stance, giving Ronan as much room as possible to fire and doing his best to keep from being targeted. But once he can tell that Ronan's landing shots competently, Adam pulls them in a little closer, taking more risks that depend on Ronan making a clean shot.

It's a kind of interplay that he's never had before, even though Adam doesn't say a word while he flies. No matter what he tries, every daredevil twist of the simulation that he pulls, Ronan's right there with him.

He's almost surprised when it's over, and there's nothing left but glittering ash and shrapnel where the Colteron ships had been. His fingers twitch with the urge for more, even though his heart is pounding and he's panting like he's run a marathon. The simulation screen switches over to results, and the numbers that rack up on the screen are twice the best score he's ever seen before. Ronan landed every single shot that Adam lined up for him. The rush of it makes Adam feel like his skin is aflame.

They're compatible. They're more than compatible. Adam can't stop staring at the numbers.