Settling In Part I of II
Posted on 03 Aug 2025 @ 12:35am by Captain Sabrina Corbin
1,624 words; about a 8 minute read
=/\= USS Arawyn - Bridge =/\=
Sabrina had only a few moments of quiet reflection on the bridge after Admiral MacLaren departed. An engineering crew arrived, towing a gravity sled stacked with parts, their conversation light and easy, until they noticed the Captain seated in the center chair. The team was composed mostly of enlisted technicians, led by a young Ensign who quickly took the lead and called his crew to attention.
Captain Corbin stood, feeling a faint twinge of regret that her presence had disrupted their relaxed rhythm.
“At ease,” she said, offering a soft smile. “Are you all assigned to the Arawyn, or are you Starbase personnel?”
The young engineering ensign was unmistakably Benzite, his pale blue skin tinged with lavender undertones and bisected by a prominent vertical facial ridge. A small, compact rebreather unit rested just below his mouth.
“Proud to be part of the Arawyn crew, Ma’am.” He touched his hand to his chest, “Ensign Renn.”
He extended a hand, palm up, and indicated those he introduced, “Crewmen sh’Aven, Dolan, Tovessi.”
Hands clasped behind her back, the Captain nodded to each of them in turn, offering a polite smile as she committed their names to memory.
“Captain Corbin,” she said simply. “It’s a pleasure. I know it’s no small task bringing a ship like this online. I’m well aware none of it happens by magic.”
They seemed pleased to be acknowledged, though still a touch nervous. She didn’t want to keep them.
“Right then. Lots more to do. I’ll leave you to it. Carry on.”
She nodded once more, then stepped down from the command platform and made her way to the turbolift.
=/\= Captain’s Quarters =/\=
Sabrina let out a quiet sigh as she entered her quarters for the first time, alone. A moment later, a sharp, babyish meow reminded her she wasn’t truly alone at all.
The lights were low, but the ambient glow from spacedock cast enough illumination to move by. She scanned the room, expecting to find the red-and-white fluff ball curled on the carpet.
“Lights sixty percent. Warm white,” she said aloud.
She spotted him perched like a lion on a throne, on an empty shelf of the built-in bookcase, much higher than she would have expected for such a small creature.
“Well, hello there.” She paused, realizing he had no name.
“You’re already charting paths I didn’t anticipate.”
Sabrina approached slowly. It had been years since she’d had a kitten, and she had forgotten what they were capable of. She offered her hand and was rewarded with a firm headbutt and the immediate, contented sound of purring.
“Ptolemy.” The name came easily.
She gave him a few strokes before lifting him gently from the shelf and setting him on the floor. She made a mental note to look into vertical space arrangements for her newly adopted panther-in-miniature.
Her attention shifted to the quarters themselves. When appointed, she’d been asked about preferences, and minor customizations were allowed for a captain. The space was clean and efficient, though the faint smell of new polymer still clung to the air.
The main room featured a sitting area, anchored by a corner couch she’d selected in warm brown synthetic leather. Above it hung a painting that held a quiet kind of authority, A Wheatfield with Cypresses, by Van Gogh.
It had always spoken to her in ways she couldn’t entirely explain. The tension between motion and stillness, the wind curling through golden fields beneath a restless sky, mirrored the way she often felt beneath her composed exterior. It wasn’t peaceful, exactly, but it was honest. Grounded. Like the cypress trees, she saw herself as rooted, but always aware of the storm above.
Against one wall stood a built-in bookshelf with a replicator beside it. Opposite, large windows framed a modest dining table, enough to host guests when needed.
Two doors branched off the main room. As the newly named Ptolemy bounded after her, Sabrina picked up a wand toy, one of several thoughtful additions arranged by MacLaren’s yeoman, and gave it a swish.
She made her way toward a small office nook. Though she preferred doing most of her work in the more public space of the ready room, a desk in her quarters was still a necessity. It was a pass-through room, with a door at the far end that led into a generously sized bathroom.
Corbin smiled at the large soaking tub in the corner. It took up an indulgent amount of real estate, but had been one of her few personal requests during the customization process.
The bathroom formed the far end of her elongated suite. Past the sink and mirror were a toilet, a sonic shower, and a discreet litterbox. Another door curved back into the bed chamber just off the living space.
She passed through, quietly pleased with the layout. The bed was set against the inner wall so her feet faced the large, curved windows. Built-in seating lined the base of the viewports, sure to become a future reading nook.
Still holding Ptolemy’s attention with the wand, Corbin led him playfully back into the living space before setting the toy aside.
Determined to begin making the space her own, she started with her travel bag. In the bedroom, she unpacked her clothing, folding items into drawers and hanging uniforms in the wardrobe.
Though she’d worn command red for the past decade, she’d never felt it flattered her complexion. The mustard yellow before that had been no better. Her personal wardrobe favored a cooler, more neutral palette: soft greys, navy, cream, light blue, and muted green. Wool, cashmere, natural fibers, comfortable, but with structure. Polished casual, she called it.
With her clothing sorted, she reached to stow the empty travel bag, only to pause at the unexpected weight. She chuckled as she opened it and removed a very smug-looking Ptolemy.
“I don’t think you’ll enjoy staying in a drawer,” she told him.
With the bedroom in order, she returned to the living space and opened the first crate. A few physical books rested at the top.
She placed on the bookshelf a small cloth-bound volume of Kipling’s If and Other Poems, its navy cover faded and the spine softened from frequent use. It had been a gift from her father before her first assignment, a quiet anchor that reminded her that composure, discipline, and decency mattered most when things were at their worst.
Next to it, she slid in a gently worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, the edges rounded from repeated readings. She often said she kept it for the prose and sharp wit, and that was partly true. But the real reason was simpler. Sabrina had a soft spot for romance. Not the dramatic kind full of grand declarations, but the quiet kind built on tension, cleverness, and carefully chosen words. It remained her favorite sort of fiction. A good number of her titles in her digital library were more historical romance novels, a private indulgence filed neatly behind duty.
She placed a digital photo frame on the shelf and activated it. Images of family and former crewmates began to scroll by, and she paused for a moment, letting the memories pass in quiet procession.
She unfolded a sage-green throw, its soft texture bordered by a narrow band of cream. The moss stitch pattern gave it structure and a hand-made weight no replicator could imitate. It had been a gift from her Nana before she left for the Academy, and though it served no official function, she’d carried it with her on every assignment since. It was the last of its kind, a stitchwork tradition a few in the family still quietly treasured.
She draped it across the back of the couch, smoothing the edges with her palm.
She began sorting items into an empty crate designated for her ready room. First came the astrolabe, carefully removed from its protective case. The bronze felt cool and heavy in her hands. Its overlapping rings caught the light, casting fine shadows across the crate lid.
It wasn’t just decoration, though it was beautiful. It was a tool once used to chart stars with precision and patience, qualities she valued. Not quite a compass, not quite a clock. Just a quiet reminder to stay oriented.
She placed it beside a solid metal casting of a Sovereign-class starship: the Adrastea, her home for the last ten years. It had been a parting gift from the senior officers, their signatures etched along the base.
“Ah, here we are, Ptolemy,” she said to the attentive kitten, pulling a sealed wooden box from the crate.
She broke the seal and exhaled softly as the scent of loose tea rose to greet her. Lifting the lid, she inspected each compartment to be sure nothing had shifted in transit. Everything was in order. With a small nod of satisfaction, she placed the box in the alcove beside the replicator.
Near the bottom of the crate, wrapped in layers of air bubble, she found the items she always unpacked with the most care. Two porcelain teacups, fine bone china, delicate but not fragile. Each bore a faded floral pattern in soft blues and greens, and the gold trim around the rims had worn slightly from years of use.
They weren’t part of a full set. Just these two, inherited from her Gram and carried from post to post like small, unspoken pieces of home. She placed one, with its matching saucer, in the replicator alcove. The other she carefully packed into the ready room crate.
Captain Sabrina June Corbin
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