Dark Spiral - Retribution

Posted on Sat Oct 4th, 2025 @ 10:52pm by Commander Rosa Coy
Edited on on Sat Oct 4th, 2025 @ 10:53pm

1,187 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: DS9 / USS Sunfire

The mirror still hummed with her reflection as Rosa stormed out, her steps clipped and heavy like thruster bursts firing out of sync. The corridors of the Sunfire blurred. Coy’s laughter trailed after her, giddy, satisfied, unrepentant.

You’re a mess, Rosa. But gods, you’re our mess.

She ignored him. Or tried. Her jaw ached from the way she held it, tight, like keeping her teeth locked could cage him inside. By the time she crossed the docking ring to Quark’s again, her pulse was hammering like a warp core spiking too high.

Quark’s bar hadn’t changed in the hour she’d been gone, though the room swayed around her with every step. The laughter, the clinking glasses, the perfume of sweat and ambition. This time, Rosa didn’t hesitate at the threshold. She let her gaze roam the crowd, seeking, daring herself.

Coy whispered immediately, eager. Yes… there. By the corner table. That one—soft eyes, red hair. She’ll do nicely.

Rosa smirked bitterly. “Not her.”

What? What about that Orion—look at the neckline on her. Mmm, temptation’s finest fruit.

Rosa didn’t even glance at them. Her eyes locked on the first man she saw — broad-shouldered, uniform jacket undone at the throat, his hair a little too neat to belong here. Alone, staring into a glass of synthale as if it had betrayed him.

No, Rosa. Coy’s tone shifted, urgent now. …A man? Really? You’re... you’re joking. This is not what I want. Coy’s tone collapsed into outrage.

“Exactly.”

She walked toward the man, deliberate in every sway of her hips, the thrum of her pulse louder than the music. Coy clawed at her thoughts, hissing, growling.

Don’t you dare.

Rosa ignored him, leaning against the bar beside the stranger. “Buy me a drink?” she asked, her voice husky from the alcohol already burning through her.

The man looked up, startled when her shadow fell over him. His eyes widened just enough to be flattering, the corners of his mouth twitching toward something hopeful. He smiled, eager, flattered. “Of course.”

Coy’s rage pressed against her skull, a storm threatening to break. This isn’t for you. This isn’t for us.

But Rosa drowned him out with laughter, letting the man’s hand rest lightly on her back as he leaned in. She took what she wanted—his distraction, his warmth, his fleeting admiration—and let it carry her through the haze. “Room?” Rosa asked flatly, no greeting, no coy smile. Just that single word, delivered like an order.

The man blinked, stunned, then nodded too quickly, like a cadet given a chance to prove himself. He pushed back his chair and led the way without question. Coy hissed in her skull, furious.

No, no, no! This isn’t conquest, this is cruelty! Rosa, stop. Don’t you dare!

She followed the man anyway. Every step felt like a blade drawn against Coy’s voice. Retribution wasn’t about pleasure. It was about power.

His quarters were neat, almost sterile. An engineer’s quarters, she guessed — the order of tools on the desk, the padds stacked in precise lines. He turned, nervous smile twitching wider as if to ask permission. Rosa closed the distance and kissed him hard enough to smother the question before it could form.

Rosa, this isn’t you—

Her hands tore at his jacket, shoving it down his arms. He gasped, surprised but eager, pulling her closer with clumsy devotion. Coy shrieked inside her, every word dripping venom.

He doesn’t even know what to do with you! Look at him — wide-eyed, shaking. He’s not worthy. He’s not—he’s not her —

She ground Coy’s voice out with another kiss, pressing him back against the bed. She was flying now, controls firm in her hands. Align, ignite, burn, cut. His body was her shuttle, and she knew the sequence by instinct. Her mouth dragged across his throat, her nails raked across fabric and skin, and he responded like any man aching for affirmation — gasping, clutching, desperate.

It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t connection. It was thrust and grind, bite and clutch, fast and hard like maneuvers through a storm. Coy fought her the whole way, every moan in her ear a protest:

No, no, not like this, not with him, not with —gods, Rosa—stop—

She didn’t stop. Not until it was over, both of them shuddering with release, her head bowed against his chest as his hand traced down her back in gentle, tentative gratitude. For a moment, silence reigned. Coy had gone utterly quiet, stunned into wordlessness.

And then the man spoke. Breathless, voice thick with something dangerously close to tenderness. “My name’s Kelan.”

Rosa froze.

Rule broken, Coy whispered, venom returning with triumphant spite. You know what that means.

She pulled back sharply, standing before his arms could settle around her. His smile faltered, confusion dawning.

“This never happened,” Rosa said coldly, tugging her uniform straight. “You don’t say my name, I don’t say yours. That’s the rule.”

Kelan’s brow furrowed, hurt flickering across his features. “But...”

“Don’t,” Rosa snapped, ice in her tone as she tugged her clothes back into place. “Don’t say it.” She silenced him with a single glare, sharp enough to cut. “Forget me.”

He blinked, wounded, but she was already gone, the door sliding shut behind her.

The corridor outside felt colder than it should have. Rosa’s hands trembled as she walked, her body still humming from the act, her mind splintered between grim satisfaction and raw disgust. Coy finally spoke again, voice quieter now, but crueler for it.

Disgusting, he whispered, quieter now, hollow with fury. You’ve tainted us. You’ve tainted me. You think you won? That you silenced me? You just proved me right. You’ll never have control. You’ll destroy yourself trying.

“Good,” Rosa croaked. Her throat tightened. She wanted to cry, scream, claw him out of her skull. Instead, she returned to her quarters, locked the door, and slumped against the wall. The hypospray gleamed from the shelf, promising oblivion. Relief.

Her fingers hovered over it, trembling.

Do it, Coy taunted. Stab it in. Drown us both. But you won’t. You need me. You hate me, but you need me.

Her hand fell away. She slid down the wall and buried her face in her knees, shuddering. For once, Coy had no laughter left. Only silence. And that silence hurt more than anything.

When she finally collapsed into her bunk, clothes still twisted, hair a mess, her throat burned with tears she couldn’t swallow. She turned her face into the pillow, muffling the sob that broke free.

Because Coy was right. She wasn’t herself anymore. And maybe she never had been.

TBC

 

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