Fly Girls ptIII

Posted on Sun Aug 30th, 2026 @ 8:55pm by Commander Rosa Coy & Commander Jenna Ramthorne

3,580 words; about a 18 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: DS9 Gymnasium

Rosa settled back onto the mat and raised her hands, her breathing still uneven from the previous exchange. Jenna mirrored her, lowering her center of gravity as she watched Rosa's stance. For several seconds they simply measured one another, both aware that the next exchange would carry more weight than the ones before it.

Rosa moved first. She stepped inside Jenna's reach and caught her around the waist, trying to use her lower center of gravity to pull Jenna forward. Jenna absorbed the movement, planted her feet, and drove through her hips. The difference in strength became obvious almost immediately. Jenna lifted Rosa just enough to break her balance and turned, sending her onto the mat with a controlled but considerably harder impact than either of them had managed before.

Rosa hit the padding, rolled through the landing, and came up onto one knee. She shook her shoulder once, testing it, then looked at Jenna. "Again," she said, pushing herself upright.

Jenna's eyes narrowed slightly. "You sure?"

Rosa stepped back into position and flexed her fingers. "I'm sure."

Jenna came forward. This time she caught Rosa's arm, stepped across her path, and turned her body while pulling the captured arm across her center. Rosa dropped her weight immediately, trying to slip beneath the movement, but Jenna followed her down and used her greater strength to drive her shoulder toward the mat.

Rosa twisted at the last moment and absorbed most of the impact across her side. She rolled away and rose again.

Jenna remained where she was for a moment, watching her.

Rosa wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist. "Don't start."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You were thinking it."

Jenna's mouth curved faintly. "Maybe."

Rosa came at her again. She ducked beneath Jenna's reaching arm, wrapped both arms around Jenna's waist, and drove forward. Jenna staggered backward two steps before catching herself. Rosa tried to turn her, using the angle of her hips rather than strength, but Jenna widened her stance and stopped the rotation.

Jenna reached down, caught Rosa beneath the arm, and shifted her weight. Rosa's feet left the mat. Jenna turned and brought her down again. This landing was harder.

Rosa exhaled sharply as her back struck the padding, but she immediately rolled onto her side and pushed herself upright. Her hair had come loose around her face, and the flush across her cheeks had deepened from exertion.

Jenna took a breath and looked at her. "That one was a little harder."

"I noticed."

"I'm sorry."

Rosa stood fully and rolled her neck before settling her eyes on Jenna. "Then stop apologizing and try again."

Something in Jenna's expression changed. She stepped forward. Rosa met her halfway. They collided with enough force to make the mat shift beneath their feet. Jenna caught Rosa around the torso, and Rosa immediately lowered her weight, threading one leg between Jenna's and turning her hips to prevent the larger woman from establishing a clean grip.

Jenna adjusted as Rosa slipped sideways, but Jenna caught her again. Rosa twisted, and Jenna followed.

They circled across the mat, each trying to find an angle the other had not anticipated. Rosa moved with quick, economical shifts, using her smaller frame to disappear from the strongest part of Jenna's grip. Jenna compensated with leverage and sheer physical strength, catching Rosa whenever she overextended and forcing her backward.

Rosa ducked beneath an arm. Jenna turned. Rosa caught Jenna's wrist and pulled. Jenna stepped through the movement instead of allowing herself to be turned, caught Rosa's shoulder, and used her momentum to send her rolling across the mat.

Rosa landed, rolled onto her back, and immediately planted both feet. Jenna came down toward her.

Rosa caught Jenna's arm between both of hers and twisted her hips, using the leverage to pull Jenna past her center. Jenna caught herself with one hand before she could fall, but Rosa was already moving. She hooked a leg around Jenna's and pushed with her other foot, forcing Jenna sideways.

Jenna rolled. Rosa followed.

For several seconds they moved almost continuously, each position becoming the beginning of the next. Jenna caught Rosa's shoulder and pressed her down. Rosa turned onto her side, slipped one knee beneath Jenna's center of gravity, and created enough space to escape. Jenna followed her and caught her around the waist. Rosa bridged hard beneath her, shifted her hips, and nearly reversed the position. Nearly.

Jenna recovered and pressed her back down. Rosa strained against her. Jenna held. Their faces were close. Both women were breathing hard enough that neither had the luxury of pretending this was easy anymore. Rosa's eyes scanned briefly over Jenna's face.

Handzon chose this moment to stir within her. "Oh, she's got one hell of a negotiation style."

Rosa's eyes narrowed. "Handzon..."

"I'm observing."

"You're enjoying this. And you're distracting us."

A smug pause followed. "Immensely."

Rosa almost laughed, but the tiny shift was enough. Jenna felt it and adjusted her grip, catching Rosa's wrist before she could slip free. Rosa twisted sharply. Jenna followed. Rosa turned beneath her, brought one knee between them, and pushed. Jenna resisted. Rosa pushed harder. Jenna's strength won.

Rosa's shoulders returned to the mat. Jenna held her there, one hand controlling Rosa's wrist while the other steadied her weight beside Rosa's shoulder. For a moment the struggle became stillness; Jenna's hair hung down, framing her face inches above Rosa. Rosa looked up at her.

Jenna could feel her own heartbeat pounding against her ribs, each beat reminding her exactly how much the injuries were costing her. She could also feel Rosa's breathing beneath the pressure of the hold, rapid and warm against the space between them.

Rosa's gaze lingered. Jenna's did the same. The awareness between them lasted only a second, but it was enough to make both women conscious of how close they had become.

Handzon chose that moment to stir again. "Well, this is getting interesting. I'm liking this chemistry."

Rosa closed her eyes for half a second. "You are remarkably unhelpful."

"Never said I was here to help."

Rosa opened her eyes again and smiled.

Jenna noticed. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You smiled."

"I did?"

"Why?"

Rosa shifted beneath her, testing Jenna's hold. "I was thinking about how much Handzon is enjoying this."

Jenna blinked, then she laughed, the sound breathless and genuine. "You're joking?"

"I wish I were." Rosa shifted again.

Jenna tightened her grip. The laughter disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

Rosa pushed. Jenna held.

Rosa twisted her wrist, rotated her shoulder, and drove one knee upward between them. Jenna shifted her weight to compensate, but Rosa used the opening to turn onto her side. Jenna caught her around the waist.

Rosa drove backward. Jenna followed. Rosa planted her foot. Jenna lost her balance. Rosa rolled. For the first time, Jenna's back struck the mat with Rosa above her. Rosa settled her weight across Jenna's torso, one knee planted beside Jenna's hip and one hand controlling her wrist. Jenna stared up at her; it was all that she could manage in the moment.

Rosa was breathing hard. "So," Rosa managed, "about that strength advantage."

Jenna's smile appeared despite herself. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Rosa's expression sharpened with satisfaction. Jenna bridged beneath her, and Rosa widened her stance to absorb the movement. Jenna bridged again, harder this time, and Rosa slipped just enough for Jenna to turn beneath her. Rosa caught the movement and followed, and they rolled together until Rosa finally managed to trap Jenna's arm against the mat and settle her weight across Jenna's chest.

Jenna pushed against her, but Rosa held. She tried again, shifting her hips and searching for an opening, while Rosa's muscles trembled with the effort of keeping her down. Rosa drew a breath through clenched teeth and tightened her hold.

"Give up, I've got you," she breathed. The words left Rosa's mouth, and for a moment she was back inside the shuttle. The shuttle bay was collapsing around her. She could still hear the shriek of metal and the roar of atmosphere tearing through the ruptured hull. She remembered the mechanic reaching for the emergency bulkhead, remembered his fingers slipping from the handrail as the decompression caught him. She remembered shouting his name and reaching for the controls even though the shuttle had already broken free.

There had been another face after that. Then another. People she knew, people she had spoken to that morning, disappearing behind torn hulls and tumbling shuttles while she sat strapped into a cockpit that had become a cage. Rosa had wanted to get out. She had wanted to reach them. Her body had been trapped, and the ship had been coming apart faster than she could move.

Rosa's eyes returned to Jenna.

Jenna had stopped fighting. Her gaze had gone somewhere beyond the ceiling, and Rosa felt the change before she understood it. The satisfaction of the pin disappeared from her expression as she eased her weight slightly, giving Jenna room to breathe.

For an instant, Jenna was no longer looking at Rosa. Her mind carried her back to the bridge, to the violent tilt of the deck and the white flash beyond the viewscreen. She remembered gripping the helm while the Sunfire came apart around her, remembered trying to turn the ship another fraction of a degree even as the controls fought her. She remembered the moment the bridge disappeared, the sensation of falling through a deck that was still beneath her, and the awful realization that there had been nothing more she could make the ship do.

Then came the aftermath. The red Emergency lighting, the smoke, the blood along her temple. Her hands still wrapped around the helm. And somewhere in the wreckage, someone called for help.

After a moment, she blinked, and Jenna's eyes returned to Rosa. "For now," she said, though the words carried less confidence than they had a moment earlier.

Rosa's expression softened as she heard what lay beneath them. She eased her weight without releasing Jenna completely, watching the change settle across her face. "I couldn't save them," Rosa admitted.

Jenna's hands remained against Rosa's sides. For several seconds she simply breathed beneath her, each breath drawing against the bruising in her ribs. Then her fingers tightened slightly, not enough to move Rosa, only enough to acknowledge that she was there. "Neither could I," Jenna said.

Rosa's eyes closed. Jenna's grip loosened.

Neither woman had the strength to continue immediately, and neither seemed willing to be the first to move away. They remained together on the mat, breathing hard, sweat cooling against their skin while the station continued its indifferent rhythm around them.

They had finally stopped trying to outrun the truth. They had survived. They had failed to save people, and that both things could be true at the same time.

For several seconds, Rosa remained where she was, her weight still resting lightly against Jenna as though her body had forgotten that the struggle was over. Jenna breathed beneath her, slowly and carefully, allowing the ache in her ribs to settle into something she could tolerate. The warmth between them lingered, along with the sweat, the exhaustion, and the strange intimacy that had grown from spending the last hour trying to put one another on the mat.

Rosa finally shifted her weight and rolled away.

Jenna turned onto her side, then onto her back, stretching her arms above her head before letting them fall beside her. Rosa settled several feet away on the opposite side of the mat. They didn't speak, at least right away. They simply stared upward at the ceiling panels while the gym slowly returned to its ordinary rhythm around them.

Their breathing gradually became the loudest sound in the room. Jenna closed her eyes, and for a while, she listened to Rosa breathe and her heart beat. She could hear the slight unevenness in it, the places where pain caught before the next breath arrived. Her own breathing had settled into a controlled rhythm, though every deeper inhale pulled sharply against her ribs. She let the discomfort remain. There was something strangely honest about feeling it.

Rosa turned her head slightly. "You know we have to write letters."

Jenna opened her eyes and continued looking at the ceiling. "I know." The words carried everything the word letters had failed to say. People waiting for someone to come through a door that would remain closed. People who would receive a message from Starfleet instead, carefully written and carefully delivered, explaining that someone they loved had died aboard a ship far from home.

The battle had existed in their minds as fire and pressure and screaming metal. The letters would provide it meaning.

Rosa drew one knee upward and rested her forearm across it. "Tomorrow?"

Jenna turned her head toward her. "Tomorrow," she agreed.

Rosa studied her for a moment. "You mean that?"

Jenna's mouth moved into the faintest smile. "Tonight we're allowed to be angry. The work will still be there, waiting for us, tomorrow."

Rosa looked away. A small laugh escaped her, quiet enough that it almost disappeared into the room.

Jenna smiled toward the ceiling again.

Handzon remained silent within Rosa. For once, even he seemed to understand that there was nothing useful to add.

They stayed on the mat for several more minutes, allowing the silence to settle around them. The battle seemed very far away and yet impossibly close at the same time. Somewhere beyond the gym, station traffic moved through the corridors. Doors opened and closed. Conversations passed in distant fragments. Life continued with the same stubborn indifference it had shown before the Sunfire had been torn open.

Eventually Jenna pushed herself upright.

Rosa followed, slower this time, and settled beside her with her back against the wall. Jenna reached for the water bottle she had left near the edge of the mat and took a long drink before passing it across.

Rosa accepted it. Their shoulders touched when she settled beside Jenna. Neither woman moved away. Rosa drank, lowered the bottle, and handed it back. Jenna took another sip and rested it against her knee. They sat together in silence.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the moment. Two exhausted officers sitting on a gym mat, bruised and sweaty, sharing water after training. The station lights hummed overhead. The resistance machines waited in their corners. Someone laughed faintly somewhere beyond the doors. Yet the simplicity of the moment carried its own weight.

They had spent the morning trying to outrun memories through movement. They had pushed muscles, tested injuries, fought for position, and challenged every instinct that told them to keep control. Somewhere along the way, the fight had become something else. Neither woman had won. Neither woman had lost. They had simply stopped carrying the weight alone.

Rosa rested her head briefly against the wall and closed her eyes. Jenna remained beside her, the water bottle loose in her hand. Tomorrow, there would be letters. Tonight, there was only the quiet. Tonight, they were not alone.

---

The following day.

The station was still carrying the muted rhythm of morning when Jenna and Rosa entered the room, each carrying a cup of coffee. Neither looked particularly rested. Jenna had tied her hair back, and Rosa's was gathered loosely at the nape of her neck. They took their usual places at the terminals near the far wall, set their coffee within reach, and began.

The first hours passed slowly. Jenna stared at the screen for several minutes before her hands finally moved across the controls. Rosa worked beside her, paused, deleted something, and began again. The room remained quiet except for the soft tapping of keys and the occasional hum of the environmental systems.

Time moved. The coffee disappeared.

The first letters became easier to begin and harder to finish. They worked through names, service records, emergency reports, personnel files, and the small fragments of information that Starfleet could offer to families who would eventually want to know everything and receive far too little. Sometimes one of them would stop typing and simply stare at the screen. The other would notice, reach across the space between them, and rest a hand against her shoulder until the moment passed.

By late morning, the room had become brighter with station traffic beyond the windows.

Rosa found something in a personnel record that made her smile. Jenna looked over. Rosa turned the display slightly toward her, and Jenna leaned closer to read it. Their shoulders pressed together as they studied the screen. Whatever memory they found there remained private between them, but Rosa's smile widened and Jenna's expression softened into one of her own.

For several minutes, the grief gave way to remembrance. The person on the screen became more than a name.

Together they remembered the annoying habits, the badly timed jokes, the complaints about duty rotations, the particular way someone had taken their coffee, the ridiculous argument over a shuttle diagnostic that had seemed important at the time. Rosa laughed silently at one memory, covering her mouth with her hand while Jenna lowered her head and smiled beside her.

Then the laughter faded. The next name waited. And they returned to the work. The afternoon stretched across the room in changing light.

Jenna moved away from her terminal to refill both cups. Rosa remained seated, rubbing the heel of one hand against her eyes before returning it to the keyboard. When Jenna came back, she set a fresh coffee beside Rosa's hand without interrupting her.

Later, Rosa stood behind Jenna's chair while reading over a draft. She leaned forward, one hand resting lightly on Jenna's shoulder as she followed the words across the screen. Jenna tilted her head slightly toward the touch, allowing Rosa to remain there for another moment before they quietly revised the sentence together.

The contact had lasted only seconds, yet it carried the weight of something neither woman had chosen to name.

Time moved again. The room grew quieter as the station settled into evening operations. They worked through another list. 

Some names were accompanied by photographs. Others had only personnel records. A few had little more than a service number, a rank, and an assignment aboard the Sunfire. Those were the hardest.

Jenna stopped at one. Her fingers remained hovering above the keyboard.

Rosa looked over from the neighboring terminal and saw the change in her face. She rose without a word and crossed the small distance between them. Her hand settled against Jenna's shoulder, warm and steady.

Jenna covered Rosa's hand with her own. For a moment, they remained that way. Then Jenna returned to the keyboard. Rosa stayed beside her, and the letters continued.

Hours became evening.

The coffee cups accumulated along the edge of the terminals until there was barely room for another. Their posture deteriorated with exhaustion. Jenna leaned farther toward her screen. Rosa rested one elbow against the desk and supported her cheek with her hand between entries.

At some point, Rosa reached across and nudged Jenna's coffee away from the edge of the terminal before it could be knocked over. Jenna looked at her. Rosa raised an eyebrow. Jenna smiled.

The smallest moments became the ones that mattered. A shoulder against a shoulder. A hand passing a cup. A quiet laugh over a memory. A pause that required no explanation. A shared look when another name became difficult.

Outside the room, Deep Space Nine continued to turn through the darkness of space, carrying thousands of lives through another ordinary day. Ships arrived and departed. Cargo moved through the station. Families spoke across communications channels. Somewhere, people laughed without knowing what had happened aboard the Sunfire.

Inside the room, Jenna and Rosa kept writing. Near midnight, Jenna finally leaned back from her terminal and closed her eyes. Rosa looked across at her, then glanced at the remaining names on the screen.

There were fewer now. Still too many. Rosa reached for Jenna's hand. Jenna opened her eyes. Their fingers touched briefly before Rosa let go and returned to her terminal, and they continued.

The last letter took the longest. Neither woman rushed it. When it was finally complete, Jenna read through the entire message once more while Rosa watched the screen beside her. Jenna made one final correction. Rosa nodded. Together, they sent it. The terminal returned to its blank screen.

For several seconds, neither moved. The room had become almost completely still. Jenna looked across at Rosa. Rosa looked back. There was exhaustion in both faces, and grief, and something quieter that had taken shape between them during the long hours of work.

They had spent the day writing to people who would never meet them. They had written about lives reduced by circumstance to names on a list, then pulled those names back into something human through memory.

The letters were finished. The loss remained.

Jenna reached for her coffee and discovered that it had gone cold hours ago. She took a sip anyway. Rosa watched her do it and smiled. Jenna caught the smile and returned it. Then they sat together in the quiet room, shoulders nearly touching, and looked at the empty screens.  For now, there was nothing left to write.

TBC

 

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