The Coy Method - Crash Protocol III

Posted on Thu Sep 25th, 2025 @ 1:21am by Commander Rosa Coy

825 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: Badlands

The Sunfire’s Type 11 shuttles had cleared the edge of the Badlands’ jagged asteroid belts like skaters threading blades through ice. The cadets, each in their assigned shuttle, rotated positions as Rosa commanded from her own cockpit ahead of the formation.

“Alright,” Rosa’s voice cut through the comm channels, crisp and low. “Sensors report reactive gas pockets ahead. You’ll need to adjust vector and thrust on the fly. Remember: only one shuttle can make a safe approach at a time, so prioritize your assignments. Lead when assigned, follow when ordered. Eyes forward, brains online.”

A sigh of tension ran through the comms, followed by a nervous laugh from Cadet Jeyna Rel. “Reactive gas pockets? Really? Couldn’t we have had a calm, boring day?”

“Boring doesn’t graduate anyone, Jeyna,” Rosa said, the edges of her voice sharp as she dodged a drifting asteroid. Coy whispered a teasing remark into her mind, “Oh, I love watching her squirm. She tightens up just so… deliciously.” Rosa clenched her jaw to keep the sound of a suppressed chuckle from escaping.

Cadet Arven, cocky as ever, punched his thrusters with overconfidence. “Watch and learn, everyone. This is how you do precision under pressure.” His shuttle darted around a jagged rock, banking hard — almost too hard.

“Show pony,” Coy murmured in her mind. Rosa shot him a mental glare. ”Quiet!”, she threatened inwardly, sensing the surge of adrenaline — and other impulses — trying to fracture her focus.

Cadet Threx, the Andorian, grunted through a tight turn. Her shuttle responded like a well-oiled machine, but her aggression made her overshoot a minor debris cluster. “Damn it, don’t let him outshine you!” she muttered to herself. Rosa noted the competitiveness, the icy tension — perfect stress test material. Coy couldn’t resist: ”I bet those shoulders feel tense enough to knead…” Rosa ignored it, forcing her attention on the tactical grid.

Cadet Dalkor’s Tellarite bluster came through next: “This is idiotic! We’re flying into—” His words cut off as a sudden electromagnetic interference shook the shuttle. He gripped the controls like a man trying to crush a piece of stubborn metal. “—fine, fine, I got it.” Rosa smiled faintly — he masked his nerves with noise.

Veylin’s Vulcan poise was unshakable, though she noticed a twitch in his jaw as a sudden microburst nudged his craft. “Vector re-calibrated. All systems nominal,” he reported. Coy made a sharp, sarcastic comment about Vulcan discipline that nearly drew a smirk from Rosa. Focus, she reminded herself.

Sira Lenar’s Bajoran shuttle moved steadily, earnest but tight in handling. Rosa couldn’t help the tug of protectiveness. Coy whispered, ”She’s too precious. Look at her on the controls, gripping so perfectly… so achingly perfect.” Rosa shook the thought down; she needed her focus to remain razor-sharp.

The rotation of leadership began. Arven led first, followed by Threx, then Dalkor. Each had to navigate the hazard zones, relying on comms for coordination. They made micro-decisions under duress: when to overcompensate, when to slow, when to trust the wing. Rosa noted every hesitation, every bold move.

Suddenly, the first real test hit: a swirling ion storm erupted between two clusters of asteroids. Visibility dropped to near zero, sensors pinging erratically.

“Adjust vector immediately!” Rosa barked. “Veylin, take lead. Arven, cover his six. Threx, secure the rear. Sira, maintain position and be ready to rotate in if needed.”

The cadets executed the commands with tense precision. The comms buzzed with rapid-fire adjustments: throttle, yaw, pitch — the cadets communicating almost in shorthand now. Their camaraderie under pressure became evident, rivalries and alliances shaping moment to moment.

Through it all, Rosa’s mind raced. Coy pressed: ”Push them. Make them sweat. Make them ache. Don’t let them forget who’s in control…” A flash of a darker idea flickered: Sira, isolated, perfect target for the “lesson.” Rosa filed it away for later, focusing now on the real-time hazards.

A debris field loomed ahead, denser and more unpredictable than the previous cluster. Cadets prepared for evasive maneuvers. In the tight formations, even a single mistake could cascade into a chain reaction.

Rosa’s voice cut through again: “Eyes sharp. One misstep, one hesitation, and the mission fails. Remember your roles. Trust each other.”

The Badlands roared around them, a living gauntlet of rock, electromagnetic turbulence, and unpredictable currents of reactive gas. Each cadet’s strengths and flaws surfaced — Threx’s aggression clashing with Arven’s cocky precision, Dalkor’s stubbornness threatening timing, Jeyna’s overthinking slowing responses. Veylin maintained calm, Sira executed flawlessly but remained slightly too cautious, earning a subtle nod from Rosa.

The tension built, each shuttle threading through near-misses. And somewhere deep in the swarm, the foreshadowed “sacrifice” scenario silently gestated, waiting for the moment when cadets were truly tested — when their choices would reveal not just skill, but character.

TBC

 

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