Coy Sessions - The Still One - II

Posted on Thu Oct 15th, 2026 @ 3:49pm by Commander Rosa Coy & Remal Kajun

2,894 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: Holodeck 2
Timeline: Timeline Pre-Zhian’tara Preparations Pre-Repair Launch

The USS Sunfire remained at Deep Space Nine, secured at the station while repairs were expected to keep her docked for the next two months or so. Remal returned from Bajor with his family, carrying more questions than answers from their time among B’Hala’s ancient ruins. There would be time to consider what they had found, and what it might mean for them, once the immediate demands of duty allowed it.

The collapse of the shuttlebay and the losses the crew had endured weighed on him as well, a reminder that recovery was rarely as simple as returning to familiar routines. Still, work offered its own kind of grounding, and Rosa’s sessions remained important. He was ready to continue helping her make sense of the many voices and memories within her, one step at a time.

Holodeck Two waited in its neutral geometry when Rosa entered, the grid stretching in pale lines across walls and floor. With the Sunfire docked at Deep Space Nine for an extended period of repairs, familiar routines were beginning to reassert themselves amid the disruption of recent weeks. The room felt somehow less clinical than it had during the baseline session.

The air felt anticipatory, as if the chamber itself understood that it would soon hold more than projection. Remal stood near the arch, hands loosely folded, expression attentive without scrutiny. He had plenty on his mind after returning from Bajor, and the crew’s recent losses remained close enough to give him pause, but he set those concerns aside for the work Rosa had come here to do.

“Good afternoon, Rosa.”

“Counselor.” She nodded respectfully and stepped to the center of the chamber. Her posture carried readiness, though an undercurrent moved through her like a current pressing against a seawall. The symbiont stirred with awareness of what was about to unfold.

Remal inclined his head slightly. “Remember the framework. You remain present as yourself. I will monitor your autonomic responses. If your system spikes beyond tolerance, I will interrupt and ground you. You guide the pace.”

“I prefer forward motion,” she said.

He offered the faintest smile. “Today forward motion may feel slower than you like.”

Her jaw shifted. “Proceed.”

He studied her for a brief moment, the way an experienced gardener might look at the sky before deciding whether the day required watering. Most of what mattered announced itself long before instruments confirmed it. “Computer, initiate Session One. Program Azra Jetichi. Full environmental immersion. Sensory fidelity at ninety percent.”

The grid dissolved as if the room had exhaled. Light warmed from sterile white to late afternoon gold. The flat plane beneath her boots softened into packed earth threaded with small stones. A mountain horizon rose around her, peaks cutting into an immense blue sky brushed with thin clouds. Crisp air entered her lungs, cooler and thinner than the standard shipboard atmosphere, scented with pine resin and clean water.

Terraced gardens unfolded along the mountainside, sculpted with deliberate care. Low stone walls curved around patches of moss and carefully raked gravel. Bamboo swayed in slow arcs as wind moved through it, hollow chimes suspended beneath wooden eaves sounding gentle, irregular notes. The tones didn't demand attention, they simply existed, spacing the air.

Water traveled along a carved channel, slipping over smooth rock into a basin clear enough to reveal rounded river stones beneath its surface. The flow carried a continuous murmur that seemed to settle into the body’s own rhythm if one allowed it.

Rosa inhaled deeply despite herself. The air tasted alive. She turned toward the pavilion at the center of the garden, and stepped forward cautiously, boots pressing into soil that yielded with subtle resistance. The simulation responded with tactile precision. Pebbles shifted under her weight. The wind brushed across her cheeks. The scent of cedar deepened as she neared the wooden pavilion at the garden’s center.

“This is Azra’s monastery,” Remal said quietly, though his voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere within the environment. “Archival records describe it as a retreat dedicated to contemplative discipline and somatic awareness.”

"I remember it," She paused as the scenery enveloped her. "Almost like it was yesterday. Some things are different, out of place, slightly, but familiar." She took in the view, her eyes tracing the landscape.

Remal documented her reaction.

Azra Jetichi sat cross-legged upon a raised stone platform encircled by meticulously raked gravel. The lines around him formed concentric arcs, each curve intentional, each path undisturbed. He wore simple robes the color of weathered sand, fabric draped loosely across a frame that held both age and vitality. His hair, drawn back at the nape, revealed a face marked less by strain and more by contemplation.

He appeared both substantial and serene. He appeared rooted. His eyes remained closed as wind stirred the edge of his sleeve. Breath moved through him in long, even cycles, his chest rising and falling with unforced steadiness. The stillness resembled a deep meditative presence.

Rosa felt it before he opened his eyes. A familiarity that ran beneath conscious thought. The angle of his cheekbones. The cadence of his breathing. Something in her chest recognized him the way one recognizes a melody half remembered from childhood.

Azra opened his eyes. They carried warmth without urgency, depth without sharpness. When he spoke, his voice flowed like the water behind him, measured and resonant. “You arrive with much wind inside you.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “I walked here.”

His gaze lingered gently. He gestured to the space around her heart. "Your feet have walked the path, but your spirit still runs with the restless wind."

He talks slow. The comment drifted through her awareness, lighter than before, not as sharp.

She stepped closer to the platform, boots pressing into gravel that shifted realistically beneath her weight. “I am here because your presence remains... strong. Louder than I would like. Louder than I would expect.”

Azra inclined his head a fraction. “Loudness belongs to storms. Presence belongs to mountains.”

“That sounds poetic,” she replied, impatience threading into her tone. “I am not interested in metaphor. I need to understand why calm feels like pressure.”

Wind brushed across the garden, setting the chimes into soft conversation. Azra did not hurry his reply. “When water meets stone, it feels resistance,” he said. “When water becomes the lake, it feels depth.”

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. “I do not have time to become a lake.”

Yeah. We’ve got things to do. Sitting around won’t fix anything. Handzon mocked. He sits on a rock and calls it wisdom. Stillness breeds complacency. The brashness carried a familiar edge, though it lacked its usual bite.

Azra studied her hands, the tension in her forearms, the way her weight shifted forward as if perpetually prepared to move. “You mistake stillness for stopping,” he said. “Stillness steadies the steps that follow.”

Rosa stepped onto the platform without invitation. Gravel whispered under her boots. “You withdrew from conflict,” she said, her voice sharpening. “You left engagement behind.”

Azra’s expression held steady patience. “I changed the field of engagement.”

“A field with no opponent.”

“A field within,” he replied. "The only important opponent."

Her breath shortened. The altitude felt thinner now. The quiet pressed against her like a hand on her sternum.

This is pointless. Ask him something real. Make him say something useful.

“I am managing surges of desire and impulse that escalate without warning,” she said quickly, the words tumbling forward. “Your calm rises at the same time. It interferes with decisive action.”

Azra regarded her as one might regard wind across tall grass. “You experience calm as interference because you measure life by speed.”

“I measure by effectiveness.”

He nodded once. “Then learn the effectiveness of pause.”

Her pulse quickened. The biometric systems integrated into the program registered the change. Somewhere beyond the garden, Remal observed the biometric curve begin its predictable climb. The numbers interested him, but Rosa's reactions interested him more.

“Rosa,” Remal’s voice entered the environment with grounded authority. “Pause and ground yourself for a moment. Name five physical sensations.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Counselor?”

"Take your time." He replied with his usual calming tone.

“Five.” The command carried authority that anchored rather than constrained. She closed her eyes briefly and drew breath through her nose. “The wind on my face,” she said. “Cool. Steady.”

“Continue.”

“The scent of cedar.” A deeper inhale. “The sound of water, and chimes.”

Her shoulders eased a fraction. “The texture of stone beneath my boots.” She shifted her weight, feeling the subtle unevenness.

“The air in my lungs. Thinner. Colder.” Silence followed, filled with wind and water and distant chimes. Her pulse began to slow. When she opened her eyes again, the garden appeared more vivid rather than oppressive. Colors sharpened. The sunlight warmed her cheek. Azra remained seated before her, unchanged, unhurried.

“You see,” he said softly, “awareness doesn’t slow you. It clears the path ahead.”

She studied him more carefully now, her gaze sharpening as she took in details she'd previously overlooked. His stillness held density, like a deep root system beneath visible earth, the kind of presence that suggested years of patience, of waiting, of quiet observation. There was something ancient in the way he occupied space, not through movement or sound, but through sheer weight of being. He didn't fidget or shift his weight like most people did. He simply existed, grounded and immovable, as if he'd grown there naturally over time.

He’s not weak. The admission arrived with reluctant respect.

Rosa lowered herself to sit across from him. The stone platform felt cool through her uniform. She mirrored his posture, crossing her legs, resting her hands upon her knees. The position felt unnatural at first. Her spine naturally wanted to lean forward, to engage.

Azra observed without correction. "Let the breath be your teacher," he said. "Draw in the sky without hunger. Release it without force."

She attempted to match his cadence.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Her first breaths carried effort. Her shoulders resisted full release. Her thoughts pressed forward, demanding progress.

This is slow.

“Slowness is not emptiness,” Azra said gently, as if responding to a ripple in the air rather than to her thoughts. “Slowness reveals what haste conceals.”

She inhaled again, deeper this time. The cool mountain air filled her lungs and settled in her chest. Her heartbeat, once urgent, began to align with the rhythm of wind and water.

Within her, the layered presence of Coy shifted. The familiar sensation of internal volume, the press of overlapping instincts and memories - softened in quality. The energy remained, yet it no longer surged forward demanding expression. It felt contained, held within boundaries that didn't constrict. For a brief moment, Coy felt steady. Not muted. Not suppressed. Simply steady. The experience resembled standing at the edge of a vast lake at dawn, the surface calm yet undeniably deep.

Azra’s gaze warmed slightly. “You feel it.”

She nodded slowly. “It is still there.”

“Yes,” he said. “Calm does not empty the river of its waters. It shapes the contours of its banks.”

Her breath moved more easily now. The impatience that had driven her moments earlier loosened its grip. She could sense Handzon listening rather than pushing.

Remal’s voice entered gently. “Describe what you are feeling.”

“I feel more anchored,” she said quietly. “The energy within remains present. But it's quieter and is not currently demanding... action.”

“That is a start towards integration,” Remal replied.

Azra inclined his head. “When many currents meet, they may clash or they may deepen. Depth carries power without noise.”

Rosa held the rhythm for several more breaths. Wind moved through bamboo. Water traced its patient path over stone. The mountain stood immense and unhurried around them.

Her desire for speed still existed. It felt like a muscle that preferred sprinting to walking. Yet within the garden, she sensed another capacity emerging. The ability to stand within intensity without chasing it. Integration did not arrive as a collision. It arrived as breath drawn fully and released without force.

Azra closed his eyes once more, returning to his steady posture. Rosa remained seated opposite him, aware of her own heartbeat, aware of the layered presence within her that now felt slightly more structured rather than crowded.

The mountain did not rush the wind. It allowed it to move and remain mountain still. For the first time since returning from Trill, Rosa experienced calm as a foundation for what was to come.

Remal allowed the silence to linger. Neither of them hurried toward conclusions. The wind continued to move through the bamboo while water traced its patient course over polished stone. Rosa remained seated where she was, breathing with a steadiness she had not realized she'd been missing. Across from her, Azra rested once more in quiet meditation, his presence filling the garden without demanding attention.

Only after several unhurried minutes did Remal finally speak. Recovery, after all, deserved as much respect as effort. "Computer, end program." Holodeck Two returned in a quick dissolve, only the familiar black and yellow grid remained.

Rosa stayed where she was for another breath. Reality always felt flatter after a high fidelity simulation. Shipboard air seemed heavier. The silence lacked birdsong. Even the deck beneath her boots carried a different honesty than the weathered stone she had just left behind. She rose slowly.

Remal watched without speaking. The shallow vigilance he had measured at the beginning of the session had given way to something deeper, slower, more deliberate. Even the set of her shoulders had softened, carrying strength without the perpetual readiness to spring forward.

He noticed her breathing had changed. He smiled almost imperceptibly. "So," he said at last. "Tell me what do you feel has changed?"

Rosa considered the question longer than he expected. Her first instinct searched for measurable differences. Stronger. Weaker. Better. Worse. None of those words fit. She frowned thoughtfully before answering. "Nothing changed."

Remal lifted one eyebrow.

She looked down at herself, then rested a hand lightly over the center of her sternum. "Everything is still the same," she said quietly. "The memories. The impulses. The voices. They all feel... the same." She paused, "Just quieter, maybe."

A small smile touched Remal's face. "Good. I'd be remiss if they had suddenly changed."

She looked up.

"You were never trying to remove Azra," he said. "You were learning where he ends and you begin."

Rosa repeated it silently. Where he ends... ...and you begin. The idea carried the structure of boundaries.

Remal activated his PADD. He entered several observations without hurrying. "Your pulse reached its highest point during the initial confrontation," he said while writing. "It stabilized after sensory grounding. Your respiration normalized before your heart rate, which suggests conscious regulation preceded autonomic recovery."

"Bodies are wonderfully honest. They rarely learn to lie as convincingly as minds do." He tapped another note onto the display. "What interests me most..." He looked up. "Did Handzon speak less or more after you stopped resisting the silence?"

Rosa blinked, "...less." She tilted her head. "How could you tell?"

A faint smile reached Remal's eyes, "I couldn't hear him." He let the thought breathe. "But I could hear you."

Rosa felt something shift inside her. He had never claimed to understand the symbionts individually. But he understood her.

Remal lowered the PADD. "I don't think Azra is your problem."

She nodded almost immediately. "Agreed."

He powered the display down. "I do believe Azra has been carrying more of your burden than you realized."

She looked at him curiously. "When the other voices accelerate," he continued, "he slows the current. When your instincts pull in six directions, he provides a center of gravity. Every response I observed suggests his influence reduces internal conflict rather than creating it."

Rosa considered the mountain. The water. The breathing. The silence. She smiled faintly. "I've been pushing against the one part of myself that was holding everything together."

"I believe that's an accurate assessment."

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Eventually Rosa folded her arms loosely across her chest. "So..." A small smile appeared. "Who's next?"

Remal pretended to consider the question, though the answer had already been waiting on his schedule. "I had a suspicion you might ask that. I thought we'd see what Captain Blaze has to say."

That earned an unmistakable grin. "Sounds like a plan." She started toward the exit before stopping beside him. "Thank you, Remal." The words carried no ceremony. Just gratitude. "For everything."

He inclined his head. "My pleasure." As they approached the holodeck doors, he offered one final thought. "Between now and our next session, practice the grounding exercise Azra showed you."

She nodded. "I will."

"And if he speaks with you again," Remal added, "listen."

Rosa smiled to herself. "I think I finally understand how." The holodeck doors parted with a quiet hiss. They stepped into the corridor together before naturally drifting in opposite directions, each carrying a different understanding of the afternoon.

Behind them, the doors slid closed. The first voice had found its place, like a current finding its banks. The journey toward the Zhian'tara had truly begun.

TBC

 

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