The Coy Method - SAR in the Badlands III
Posted on Thu Sep 18th, 2025 @ 12:32am by Commander Rosa Coy
1,046 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Character Development
Location: Badlands
The shockwave from the plasma conduit still echoed in the sensors, rattling Rosa’s shuttle as she veered to intercept Arven. Her black eyes narrowed, Trill markings catching the dim glimmer of the Badlands. Every muscle tensed; every fiber of control screamed to act. Coy’s voice slithered in, low and insistent.
”Lean in. Take him. Own the maneuver. Get tight and close. Let them see you shine!”
Rosa clenched her jaw, resisting the heat that curled through her body. ”Focus. Focus,” she told herself, guiding the shuttle with surgical precision. She calculated the trajectory, compensating for gravimetric eddies and the random bursts of plasma that could fry a Type-11 in a heartbeat.
Arven’s shuttle spiraled, thrusters stuttering as the eddy tried to chew him whole. Rosa eased her shuttle to parallel his path, aligning perfectly. “Arven, cut thrusters! Vector—” She gritted her teeth, aware the words carried both command and the edge of something more Coy urged her to feel.
“Yes, ma’am!” Arven’s voice cracked over comm, still laced with adrenaline and fear.
The Type-11 shuttles bucked around them like wild horses. Veylin and Sira were struggling to maintain formation; Threx’s shuttle sliced through the turbulence with ferocious precision, while Jeyna’s Trill designations betrayed the tiny tremor in her hands. Dalkor grumbled in Tellarite, thrusters jittering as he tried to stay within Rosa’s command envelope.
Rosa leaned into the maneuver, pulling her ship in close behind Arven’s. The plasma storm’s reflection danced across the hull, streaks of white-hot light illuminating the sweat glistening at her temple. Coy whispered again, softer this time, teasing.
”Feel the burn. Every flick of your hand, every calculation, it’s all yours to own. By the Gods, Commander, you’re hot when you hunt.”
Rosa swallowed the surge of heat in her chest, pressing forward. She extended a tractor-link at the last possible second, latching onto Arven’s shuttle. The eddy tugged, the plasma flare hissed, but she held fast. “Arven, brace for vector correction!”
The Type-11 shuttles groaned, metal and thrusters screaming under the strain. Arven’s craft straightened, his face pale as he realized the control had returned. Rosa gritted her teeth, riding the limits of physics and her own endurance, coaxing him through the eddy with all the precision of a master pilot.
The other cadets struggled beside them, each responding differently under stress. Threx barked orders to Jeyna, who hesitated, trembling slightly. Veylin’s Vulcan calm helped Sira regain composure. Dalkor’s grumbling became almost comedic as he fought the controls, but Rosa’s constant, razor-sharp commands kept the formation from fragmenting entirely.
“Cadets, hold formation! Sira, adjust port vector, now!” Rosa snapped, voice cutting through the storm. “Veylin, provide counter-pressure—don’t let her drift into plasma turbulence!”
“Yes, Commander!” The responses were crisp, though tension laced every syllable.
The plasma field flared again, closer this time. Arven’s shuttle threatened to veer out of alignment, and Rosa felt the familiar, lewd pull of Coy’s suggestions. ”Close. Rub up against it. Tighten your grip. Let them taste your fire.”
She shook her head, forcing clarity. ”Not now!” But a small smirk curved her lips at the absurdity of the sensation — adrenaline, control, and that teasing voice in her head. She maneuvered Arven back into safe vector, guiding him as if by instinct.
Then the unexpected.
A sudden subspace eddy ripped through the formation, throwing Jeyna and Dalkor into a chaotic spin. Sensors screamed. Threx’s Andorian shuttle rocketed to intercept, but even her strength and reflexes were challenged. Rosa had to make a split-second decision — diverting from Arven’s recovery to stabilize the rest.
“Cadets, brace! Correct vector port, starboard!” Her voice was razor-sharp, commanding, tinged with that low, irresistible hum Coy encouraged her to let slip. The shuttles responded just enough to avoid disaster, but not without scraping dangerously close to plasma arcs.
Rosa’s shuttle banked, pulling Arven clear first, then guiding the others in a carefully orchestrated weave through the storm. Every movement precise, elegant — yet at the edge of chaos.
”That’s it, that feeling, like being alive. Own them with every twitch of your craft, every heartbeat…” Coy’s voice murmured.
A sharp vibration shook Rosa’s shuttle as plasma arced past. She let a low, controlled exhale slip through her teeth. The cadets, flustered, wide-eyed, were still alive. ”Mostly intact,” she thought. ”And they’ve learned exactly how dangerous it can get.”
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dodging, weaving, and shouting over the comm, the formation cleared the worst of the turbulence. Bajor’s soft glow began to return on their sensors, the storm fading behind them. One by one, the cadets settled their shuttles, panting but functional, checking for system integrity.
Rosa allowed herself a small smile, lean and predatory, though Coy’s presence in her mind made it more thrilling than it should have.
“Lesson one, cadets,” Rosa said, her voice steady but carrying the slightest edge of amusement, “live shuttle sessions are worth more than simulation accolades, hands down. You survive by following commands, maintaining situational awareness, and trusting the pilot leading you. Today, that pilot was me. Understand?”
“Yes, Commander,” the six chorused, exhaustion and awe mingling in their voices.
Coy chuckled softly inside her mind. ”And they thought you couldn’t look hotter in command. Delicious.”
Rosa shook the thought off, just enough to maintain professionalism, though her pulse betrayed the teasing warmth Coy stirred. She watched her cadets, noting small adjustments, the tiniest flickers of understanding and respect. Arven, cocky before, looked a little smaller now, but grateful. Threx’s Andorian glare softened, almost imperceptibly. Sira looked… protected. Jeyna trembled less, and Dalkor’s grumbling had shifted to muttered respect. Veylin remained calm, but even his stoicism hinted at admiration.
The Badlands were behind them, but Rosa knew the real lesson was just beginning.
”And we haven’t even touched the private drills yet,” Coy whispered, and Rosa felt a heat surge that had nothing to do with the plasma storm. ”Oh no. Not by a long shot.”
TBC
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