The Edge to Trollveggen the Climb
Posted on Sat Apr 4th, 2026 @ 6:29pm by Commander Jenna Ramthorne & Commander Rosa Coy
1,851 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission:
Character Development
Location: Earth - Trollveggen
Dawn had not yet formed when Rosa woke.
The ship held its quiet in that hour between cycles, a low hum running through bulkheads and deck plating, steady and familiar, a rhythm she had learned to sleep within and wake from without effort. She lay still for a moment, eyes open to the dim light of her quarters, feeling the subtle vibration beneath her spine, the distant movement of systems carrying thousands of lives through vacuum.
Earth waited below. The thought settled into her with a different weight than any mission parameter. Shore leave had been granted across departments, a brief pause written into schedules and duty rosters, a recognition that even precision required rest. The word itself carried little meaning to her. Rest implied stillness. Stillness implied surrender of motion.
She sat up. Cool air met her skin as her feet touched the deck. Her body woke quickly, awareness rising through muscle and breath as she moved through the space with quiet efficiency. A console flickered to life beneath her touch, interface unfolding in clean lines and soft light.
Leave request. The form opened with clinical simplicity, fields waiting to be filled, duration, location, intent. Her fingers hovered for a fraction of a second, not uncertain, simply choosing.
*Earth.
*Surface.
*Personal activity.
She entered the details without embellishment, the words carrying no explanation beyond their function. The request transmitted with a soft confirmation tone, disappearing into the system that would approve it with equal simplicity.
You chose movement. Coy observed, voice calm, reflective, layered with a quiet understanding drawn from lives that had stood in similar moments. Stillness rarely satisfies you.
Rosa rose, reaching for her gear. “Stillness isn’t the point,” she said quietly, more to the act than the voices. “Clarity is.”
The shuttle bay greeted her with a wider silence, broken only by the distant echo of preparation and the occasional movement of crew cycling through their own departures. Earth Spacedock hung beyond the viewport, a vast structure curved in light and shadow, its form catching the faint glow of the planet below.
She boarded without ceremony. The shuttle disengaged with a soft release, drifting free before thrusters engaged, guiding it away from the station and into descent. Earth expanded beneath her, blue and white unfolding into detail as atmosphere approached, clouds forming layered patterns across continents that carried histories older than anything she consciously remembered.
You could have picked something easier Handzon murmured, his tone low, curious, a thread of amusement running beneath it. Food, drink, warm curvy bodies, soft places to land. Earth has plenty of that.
Rosa watched the curvature of the planet shift as they descended, the horizon bending into a line that blurred sea and sky. “I didn’t come here for easy,” she said.
The shuttle pierced cloud cover, the world below resolving into terrain shaped by time and pressure. Mountains rose in dark silhouettes, their peaks cutting into the thinning night, valleys holding pockets of shadow where light had yet to reach. Norway stretched beneath her in cold tones and quiet presence, fjords carving deep lines through the land, water reflecting the faint glow of a retreating moon.
The landing completed at a small transit point, far removed from cities and movement. From there, transport carried her further, into narrowing roads and deepening quiet, until even that fell away and left her alone with the terrain.
Trollveggen waited.
The wall rose in the distance, a vast plane of stone that caught the last of the moonlight along its upper edges. It stood apart from the surrounding peaks, sheer and unyielding, its face carved into vertical dominance that pressed against the horizon itself. No invitation came from it. No challenge declared. It just existed.
There it is, Handzon said softly, something like anticipation threading through his voice. That’s what you came for.
Rosa stood at the basecamp, pack resting against her shoulders, breath steady in the cold air that carried the scent of stone and distance. The world held its pause, suspended in the space before dawn claimed it.
Many have approached such thresholds. Coy added, voice quiet, expansive. The decision to engage remains singular each time.
Rosa lifted her gaze, following the line of the wall upward into shadow where light had yet to reach. “I’m not here to engage it,” she said, her voice low, grounded, certain. "I'm here to climb it."
Dawn had finally decided to arrive when Rosa stepped onto the stone.
The air carried a clean, cutting cold that settled into her lungs and sharpened every breath into something deliberate. The wall rose before her in a sheer sweep of gray, vast enough to quiet thought for a moment as her eyes traced its lines upward into shadow. Trollveggen was not inviting. It simply existed. Ancient stone held its place against sky and time, a face carved by pressure and patience long before names found it.
Rosa reached out and pressed her palm against the rock. The surface felt coarse beneath her skin, cold and faintly damp, a texture that refused abstraction. Her fingers moved slowly, mapping ridges and fractures, feeling where water had once run and frozen and split the stone open by degrees too small for any one lifetime to notice.
This wall has watched civilizations rise and pass without memory of their names, Coy observed, voice carrying the quiet weight of accumulated years. Others have stood where you stand. Some climbed. Some fell. The stone remembers only contact.
Rosa let her hand linger a moment longer before drawing it back. Her breath settled into a steady rhythm as she looked up again, this time with intent rather than awe.
Big, beautiful, and just begging for someone to take it all the way down, Handzon murmured, amusement threading through his tone. You picked one hell of a dance partner. Do you feel that pull in your gut yet?
Rosa adjusted the straps of her pack without answering him. The movement grounded her, brought her attention inward and outward at once. She knelt and began checking her gear piece by piece, running fingers along carabiners, testing the tension of lines, inspecting each anchor with a care that bordered on ritual. The technology available to her could have handled half of it automatically, yet her hands insisted on knowing every connection.
Metal clicked softly against metal. Fabric shifted. Buckles tightened.
Preparation has carried many hosts to the edge of survival, Coy said, thoughtful, reflective. Ritual focuses the mind. It narrows uncertainty into action.
Looks like foreplay to me, Handzon replied with a low chuckle. Slow it down, make it last, build the anticipation until you can’t stand it anymore. You’re winding yourself up for the drop.
Rosa rose to her feet and slung the pack into place across her shoulders. “I’m earning it,” she said quietly, more to the mountain than to either voice.
Her boots found the first holds with a measured confidence. Fingers reached, tested, pressed into stone that either held or rejected without apology. She shifted her weight upward, muscles engaging in a controlled sequence that began at her core and carried through her shoulders and arms.
Reach. Test. Commit. Pull. The rhythm established itself quickly, a pattern her body accepted with the same ease she found at the helm. Breath matched motion. Inhale as her hand searched for the next hold. Exhale as she pulled herself higher. The world narrowed to contact points and balance, to the conversation between flesh and stone.
Wind moved along the face of the wall in quiet currents, brushing against her as she climbed. Chalk dust lifted in faint clouds with each adjustment of her grip. Her boots scraped against rock, found purchase, shifted again.
Take it faster, Handzon urged, his voice slipping through her focus like a temptation wrapped in familiarity. You already know where this goes. No need to drag it out. You feel that edge waiting for you up there. That’s the part that matters.
Rosa’s hand paused on a hold, fingers pressing firmly as she tested its strength before trusting it. She shifted her weight upward with deliberate control, ignoring the push in his tone.
“Stay in your lane,” she said under her breath. Her movement continued, steady and unbroken. Reach. Test. Commit. Pull.
Each ascent across lifetimes carries the same truth, Coy added, voice calm and measured. The body climbs. The mind measures. The choice to continue remains the only constant.
Rosa climbed higher. The ground below began to fall away into a distant plane of shadow and texture. The scale of the wall revealed itself slowly, not in sudden revelation but in the gradual widening of space beneath her boots.
Her muscles warmed into the effort. The cold air no longer bit as sharply. Her breathing deepened, settled into a rhythm that matched the climb.
You’re teasing it now, Handzon said, softer, more intent. Dragging yourself along the edge when you could just take the fall and feel everything hit at once. That’s the good part. That moment right before you lose control.
Rosa reached higher, fingers finding a narrow seam in the rock. She tested it, felt it hold, and pulled herself up onto a small ledge that cut across the face of the wall like a shallow breath.
She paused there. Her chest rose and fell steadily, her pulse elevated yet controlled. She turned her head and looked down.
The drop stretched away beneath her in a vast, open sweep that carried the eye farther than instinct welcomed. The valley below lay quiet and distant, a reminder of scale that pressed gently against the edges of perception.
Wind moved around her, stronger here, carrying the scent of stone and cold air.
Jump now, Handzon whispered, the words smooth and coaxing. You’ve got enough height. You feel it. That pull right there. Why wait?
The ascent remains incomplete, Coy countered, voice steady and patient. Completion carries its own clarity. The ritual holds meaning through its entirety.
Rosa let the silence stretch between them as she stood on the ledge, feeling the weight of both impulses settle into her awareness. Her pulse steadied further. Her breathing slowed.
She lifted her gaze back toward the remaining climb above her, the wall continuing upward into light that had begun to gather along the horizon.
A faint smile touched her mouth. “Why pursue a climb,” she said aloud, her voice quiet but certain, “if I’m not going to enjoy the climax or the payoff.”
Handzon went still for a moment at that, something like appreciation flickering beneath his usual tone.
Rosa turned back to the wall and reached for the next hold. Reach. Test. Commit. Pull. And she climbed.
TBC
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