Standing the Watch
Posted on 19 Oct 2025 @ 3:43am by Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren & Captain Sabrina Corbin
1,220 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission: Fractured Accord
// USS Arawyn – Ready Room //
The comm chime that had shattered the quiet between Corbin and Merrick still echoed faintly in the air.
Corbin glanced toward her console as the transmission header resolved: USS Newton – Priority Command Link.
She keyed it open. “Corbin here.”
Rao’s voice came through steady and low, the tone of someone who had spent a long day holding her ship together by will alone. “Captain, we’ve completed all surface offloads. Terraforming arrays are online, personnel secure. The colony perimeter is fully in Federation hands.”
A brief pause, not hesitation, but a measure of respect. “Newton is ready to begin transit back to Starbase Three-Sixty-Nine for structural repairs.”
Sabrina’s shoulders eased just slightly. “You’ve done exemplary work, Captain. Your crew held that ship together through worse than anyone could have expected, and you did it without losing the line.”
Rao’s answer came dry, edged with quiet pride. “We’ve had good company to measure against, Arawyn included.”
Corbin’s mouth curved faintly. “You’ve earned your return trip. Safe travels, Captain. I’ll be right behind you once we close matters here, and if we’re lucky, we’ll catch up at Three-Sixty-Nine before your engineers have her fully rebuilt.”
“I’ll save you a berth,” Rao said, a ghost of humor under the fatigue. “Newton out.”
The channel clicked closed.
Corbin sat for a moment longer, watching the Newton’s silhouette slip toward the dark. One ship on its way home; the rest standing the watch a little longer.
She exhaled, straightened, and keyed another command.
“Computer,” she said, “open secure subspace channel to Fleet Operations, Starbase 369. Priority command link.”
The Federation crest shimmered to life, fading into the quiet, ordered calm of Fleet Operations Headquarters. Starbase 369 glowed beneath its daylight panels, all glass, steel, and discipline.
Behind her desk, Admiral Sidra MacLaren looked up from a slate of briefings. “Captain Corbin,” she said, her tone even but not distant. “Good timing. I was just reviewing your last status report.”
“Admiral,” Corbin replied. “My Priority One transmission to the Kaldari Colonial Authority has been sent. No response yet. The Newton has completed offloads and is departing for 369 for repairs. Curie and Ardent remain in high orbit. No surface movement beyond the colony perimeter.”
Sidra inclined her head slightly. “Confirm the content of your transmission.”
Corbin didn’t glance down; the lines were carved into her memory. “Identification of the site, recovery of seven Kaldari following an armed confrontation, treatment aboard and planetside. I cited their registered settlements as outside the Federation zone and requested immediate dialogue with their representative or attaché to prevent further misunderstanding. Closed with, ‘The Arawyn stands ready to cooperate.’”
“Good,” Sidra said. “Measured, clean. You left them a dignified path toward you.”
“They’re letting the silence do the talking,” Corbin said quietly.
“For the Kaldari, the pause is the talking,” Sidra replied. “They let time build weight, then see what you do beneath it. Your task is to stay exactly where you said you’d be when it ends.”
Sabrina’s jaw flexed once, not frustration but acceptance. “Understood. Sensors hot, weapons cold, orbit stable. No new anomalies.”
“Document that,” Sidra said, setting her stylus aside. “Every word will matter in later reviews.”
Corbin hesitated. “Our sweep of the surface site still shows trace residues consistent with Vethari mining compounds. The Kaldari we recovered were wearing mixed kits, some civilian, some matching unregistered Vethari freight.”
Sidra’s brow tightened, the faintest shadow in her expression. “The Combine sells peace of mind by the crate. Keep your samples sealed and logged. For now, our story stays simple: you prevented loss of life, opened dialogue, and are holding position.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
A soft ping interrupted. Corbin checked, then shook her head. “Not the Kaldari. A transient phase trace near the outer belt. Weak, non-persistent.”
“Curious,” Sidra said, “but not actionable. Don’t let them catch you twitching.”
“They won’t,” Corbin said. There was quiet certainty there, one Sidra recognized all too well.
“Good.” Sidra allowed herself a small breath. “Waiting is still part of the work.”
Another tone interrupted, sharper, distinct. Corbin’s eyes flicked to the console. “This one’s genuine. Concordian relay, Kaldari header.”
Sidra’s focus sharpened. “Let’s hear it.”
The message unfolded line by line, text bathed in the blue-white of diplomatic formatting.
“They acknowledge receipt of our communication,” Corbin read. “They note the recovery of their personnel and our citation of the Federation zone. They welcome further discussion following internal review and instruct us to hold orbit pending that review. No time frame provided.”
“They’ve acknowledged without committing,” Sidra murmured. “Hands tied, but visible.”
Corbin scrolled once more. “They mirrored our phrase, ‘to prevent further misunderstanding,’ and thanked us for ensuring colonist safety in ‘shared space.’”
Sidra’s mouth twitched faintly. “That word, ‘shared,’ will show up in their next communiqué. Don’t confirm it.”
“I won’t,” Corbin said. “I’ll hold to the language we set.”
“Good. Then acknowledge their note, confirm your orbit posture for a defined period, and request a review time within twenty-four standard hours. Offer them three neutral venues. No adjectives, no commentary.”
“Understood.”
Sidra’s expression softened slightly. “And when they pick one, we walk through it. If they ignore the clock, we’ll set the next one together.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
A pause settled between them, professional silence but not cold.
Sidra leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly as she weighed the broader picture. “Captain, the Arawyn isn’t going to solve all of Tarvik’s problems on this pass. Your task is to stabilize the situation, see the new colonists settled, and confirm the Kaldari hold to their word. Once the site is secure and the ground quiet, break orbit and bring your convoy home.”
Corbin inclined her head. “Understood.”
Sidra continued, her tone still even but thoughtful. “Fleet Command will review the diplomatic landscape once the reports are in. If the Union remains difficult, I’ll send an envoy, someone suited to untangling what patience and orbit can’t. That next conversation doesn’t need to belong to Arawyn.”
“Understood, Admiral,” Corbin said again, a touch more quietly.
“Good,” Sidra replied. “See it through cleanly, then bring your people back.”
Corbin inclined her head. “We’ll hold position and proceed per your direction. Any shift from the Union, I’ll notify you immediately.”
“Good.” Sidra paused, then added more softly, “Sabrina, you’re holding the line exactly as it should be held. Keep it that way.”
“I intend to.”
With a satisfied nod, Sidra said, “MacLaren out.”
The channel faded back to the silver crest.
Corbin readied her reply to the Kaldari, a concise, formal acknowledgment, no adjectives, three venue options, and sent it along the same tight-band relay. Confirmation blinked green.
She rose and crossed to the viewport. Tarvik III rotated below, bruised skies paling into dawn. The Newton glided free of orbit, its scarred hull turning toward home.
Corbin watched it go, a small, steady light cutting through the dark.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren
Commanding Officer
Epsilon Fleet
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