The Coy Method - Crash Protocol V
Posted on Sat Sep 27th, 2025 @ 3:55pm by Commander Rosa Coy
835 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
Character Development
Location: Badlands
The Badlands gave way to the outer atmosphere of the Class R rogue planet, an unstable world with jagged canyons and reactive gas pockets that shimmered ominously in the hazy light of a distant sun. The Type 11 shuttles adjusted for gravity fluctuations, and the cadets felt the planet’s pull like a stubborn hand tugging at their controls.
The rogue planet hung in the void like a predator waiting for prey. Blackened terrain scarred by tectonic upheaval, storm fronts boiling across the surface, and lightning so constant it seemed to breathe.
Rosa’s shuttle entered first, shields flaring against the violent upper atmosphere. The cadets followed in staggered descent, each shuttle buffeted by turbulence that made their controls feel like riding wild animals.
“All cadets, you’re entering a Class-R storm atmosphere,” Rosa briefed, her tone clinical. “Protocol dictates safe approach vectors. Today, protocol won’t save you. Your task: get down in one piece, with shuttles intact. Prioritize your own survival—because if you can’t land, no one else gets rescued.”
Arven whooped over the comm. “Finally, my kind of flying!”
Rel groaned. “Try not to kill us all, show pony.”
Lightning cracked against his shields, the shuttle rocking hard. His cocky grin faltered for the first time.
“Adjust for crosswinds, bearing twelve degrees!” Rel barked. “Don’t just ride it—compensate!”
“Fine, fine—keep your spots on.” His hands moved, but not fast enough. His shuttle dipped low, nearly clipping Rel’s as the storm shoved them together.
“Cadet Arven!” Rosa’s voice cut through like a phaser. “If you scratch one of my shuttles, you’ll be scraping nacelles with a toothbrush until graduation. Fly clean.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.
Behind them, Dalkor’s guttural curses rattled through the channel as his Tellarite shuttle bucked hard. “These controls are garbage! No ship in the fleet should fly like this—”
“Because they don’t,” Threx shot back, her Andorian precision holding her shuttle steady despite the chaos. “This is the test, tusk-face. Adapt or die.”
“I AM adapting!” he bellowed, throttling his inertial dampeners. “This ship just hates me.”
Veylin’s even tone slid across the comm like ice. “Statistically speaking, Cadet Dalkor, the shuttle is not capable of hatred. The error is pilot input.”
“Say that again, pointy ears, and I’ll—”
“Focus,” Rosa snapped. “You want to live through the storm, or do you want to argue your way into a crater?”
Sira’s voice came next, hesitant but steady. “Commander… lightning’s starting to ground into the ridges below. We’ll be flying into a thunder canyon if we keep this vector.”
Rosa allowed a small nod. “Good catch, Cadet Lenar. Adjust to follow her recommendation, all shuttles. Trust your instincts when your sensors lie.”
Lightning exploded near her nosecone as if to punctuate the order.
The rogue planet’s atmosphere thickened like molasses as they dropped lower, visibility slashing to near zero. Rain lashed against hull plating. Winds screamed.
Then it happened.
“Warning—structural breach imminent!” Sira’s shuttle computer blared. Her shields flared once, twice, then collapsed under the twin impact of lightning and debris.
“Lenar, pull up!” Rosa shouted.
“I—I can’t! Controls are fried!” Sira’s panicked voice rang through the comms. Her shuttle spun sideways, spiraling toward the jagged cliffs below.
Every cadet started shouting at once—Rel calling vectors, Threx cursing, Dalkor growling that he could tractor her if he weren’t already fighting for his own stability.
“Cadet Lenar, eject systems—now!” Rosa commanded.
“Not responding! Nothing’s responding!”
The comm cut out in a shriek of static as Sira’s shuttle disappeared into the storm. The last thing anyone saw was the faint glow of her running lights tumbling down into the abyss.
Silence.
Then Arven’s broken whisper: “She’s… she’s gone.”
The remaining cadets’ shuttles rocked in the storm, but none dared speak louder, as if raising their voices would make the loss real.
Rosa’s hand trembled just slightly on the controls before she steadied herself. Coy’s voice brushed her ear like a lover’s sigh.
”You did it. You killed the one you most wanted to protect. How deliciously cruel of you, Rosa.”
“Shut up,” she hissed under her breath, though her chest ached at the sound of Sira’s voice echoing in memory.
Over the comm, Rel’s clipped voice cracked. “What now, Commander? Do we… continue?”
Rosa’s voice, firm and calm, sliced through the grief. “Yes. You continue. Because if you let one loss break you, the mission dies too. And if the mission dies, then everyone else dies with it. Now fly.”
The cadets obeyed, but the silence in the cockpit of each shuttle was heavier than the storm outside.
And deep below, hidden from all but Rosa’s console, a faint transponder blinked green in the darkness—Sira’s shuttle intact, tucked into the scenario Rosa had orchestrated.
The others didn’t know. Not yet.
TBC
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