The Coy Method - Crash Protocol II
Posted on Wed Sep 24th, 2025 @ 1:02am by Commander Rosa Coy
727 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
Character Development
Location: Badlands
The cadets’ shuttles knifed through open space in staggered formation, Rosa’s Type-11 leading like a shepherd. The stars beyond shimmered with deceptive calm; ahead, the ragged red and gold clouds of the Badlands churned like an angry sea. Plasma storms arced in violent bursts, and the debris of centuries of wrecks still drifted like predators waiting for prey.
“Cadets,” Rosa’s voice carried over the comm net, crisp but not unkind. “Consider this your first exam question: when the universe stops playing nice, do you lean on protocol or on instinct? You’re about to find out. Pairs will rotate leadership responsibilities as we move in. Cadet Arven, Cadet Rel—you’re up first. Take point on sensor mapping.”
On Arven’s shuttle, the Human smirked, his voice oozing confidence.
“Finally. Thought we were here to fly, not babysit the Vulcan’s meditation session.”
“Your arrogance is statistically exhausting,” Veylin replied from his own shuttle, his Vulcan tone sharper than usual.
Dalkor’s snort filled the channel. “Relax, Veylin. If Arven crashes us all, you can calculate how logical that was while we burn.”
Threx cut in, her Andorian antennae twitching as she wrestled with turbulence. “Less talking, more flying. Plasma storm at bearing 145—compensate, or you’ll be space dust.”
Arven rolled his shoulders, pulling his shuttle into a dramatic arc. “Please, I live for this.” He punched the thrusters, carving a daring path between two flares.
Rel, in the second seat of the paired shuttle, hissed. “Stop showing off! Data says—” Her console wailed in alarm. “—that plasma surge just destabilized the flow! We’re going to get pinned!”
Rosa’s calm voice cut in. “Cadet Rel, correction options?”
Rel rattled them off like rapid-fire equations. “Micro-burst thruster sequence, two-second roll, dampener shift—”
“Do it,” Rosa ordered, overriding Arven’s flair.
Rel’s hands moved fast, guiding her shuttle clear by sheer precision. Arven grumbled but said nothing as the others cheered her recovery.
“Not bad,” Threx admitted grudgingly. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Rel allowed herself a tiny smile. “I read the manuals.”
“Yeah, well,” Dalkor muttered, “manuals don’t scream when they explode.”
Another surge rattled the formation, this time a rolling wave of electromagnetic interference that scrambled half their sensors.
“Cadet Veylin, Cadet Threx—your turn,” Rosa assigned smoothly. “You’re leading the formation through the next vector. Remember: stay aligned. Stragglers don’t survive the Badlands.”
Veylin’s clipped Vulcan response was almost smug. “Acknowledged.”
Threx cracked her knuckles. “Good. I was getting bored.”
Their tandem leadership steered the group deeper into the storm. Threx’s aggression and Veylin’s cold calculations clashed, sparks flying over the comm net as they argued course corrections—until Rosa snapped, “Synchronize, or I’ll synchronize you myself.”
That shut them up—at least until the next flare nearly cooked Threx’s shields.
Sira Lenar’s nervous voice broke in softly, almost to herself but open-channel nonetheless:
“Feels like the Prophets are testing us. Like… seeing if we deserve to pass.”
Arven laughed, though not unkindly. “Or they’re laughing their asses off while we sweat.”
Rosa’s jaw tightened as Coy’s whisper brushed her mind: ”She notices the Bajoran more than she should. You feel it, don’t you?”
“Not now,” Rosa muttered under her breath.
”Oh, but I like her faith. She makes you ache to protect her. Imagine what happens when you can’t…”
“Coy, shut up and let me focus or I swear I’ll use the neural dampener.” She spat angrily through gritted teeth.
The silence in her head was instant but mocking, like a predator retreating only to circle again later.
The cadets didn’t notice. They were too busy wrestling their shuttles through hell’s own maelstrom.
By the time the team punched free of the plasma gauntlet, shields strained and nerves frayed, the comm net had gone mostly silent—save for the ragged breathing of cadets who suddenly realized they’d survived only the opening act.
And ahead, a dark sphere loomed: the Class-R rogue planet, its thin atmosphere laced with jagged lightning like a snare waiting to spring.
Rosa’s voice carried across the silence, firm, steady, and impossibly calm. “Good. You’re still alive. Don’t celebrate yet—this is where the real test begins.”
TBC
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