Still Water
Posted on 25 Oct 2025 @ 8:50pm by Captain Sabrina Corbin
853 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
Fractured Accord
Location: USS Arawyn
// Bridge //
The bridge carried the rare stillness that came only after chaos. The air hummed with quiet efficiency, consoles glowed with steady light, and for the first time in days, Captain Sabrina Corbin felt the ship breathe again.
From her place at the center of the deck, she looked out over the main viewer. Tarvik III filled the frame, its atmosphere streaked with pale green and gold where the terraforming systems were finally stabilizing. Along the terminator line, the colony’s lights glittered faintly, fragile proof that order had taken hold on the surface.
“The Kaldari have retrieved their wounded?” Corbin asked, eyes still on the planet.
Commander Holt, her First Officer, looked up from the mission display beside her chair. “Confirmed, Captain. All six accounted for. They’ve returned to their own zone and maintained radio silence since departure.”
“Good,” Corbin said softly. “Let’s hope it lasts.”
“They’re disciplined,” Holt replied, a note of measured caution beneath her calm. “But not predictable.”
“Neither are we,” Corbin said. “I’ll take the advantage.”
From Tactical, Lieutenant Flammia glanced up from her sensor readouts. “No activity from Kaldari or Vethari vessels, Captain. Both remain stationary along the border. No sign of weapons modulation or shield cycling.”
“Maintain passive scans only,” Corbin ordered. “If they want quiet, we’ll give them quiet.”
Flammia acknowledged with a crisp nod. “Aye, Captain.”
At Operations, Lieutenant Powell straightened at his console. “Update from Science, ma’am,” he said, tone professional. “Ensigns Oran and Quinn have detected a substantial improvement in the colony’s water profile. Salinity and toxin levels are dropping faster than expected. Terraforming arrays appear to be running at full equilibrium.”
Corbin turned slightly toward him. “Define faster.”
“They project groundwater may be potable within forty-eight hours.”
That drew Holt’s attention. “That’s half the forecasted timeline.”
Powell gave a short nod. “Science has launched a drone to confirm the data. Initial telemetry is clean, though there was a brief visual distortion during sampling.”
Corbin’s brow arched slightly. “Distortion?”
“Logged as refraction, Captain,” Powell said carefully. “Science is reviewing the footage.”
“Good,” Corbin replied. “Forward the verified report to my terminal once complete. Let’s not accept miracles without proof.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Satisfied, Corbin moved closer to the viewport. The planet’s light reflected across her uniform, painting subtle shades of blue and amber. Down there, the colony had begun to stand on its own, a victory that came slower than anyone had wanted but faster than she had dared expect.
She allowed herself a moment to simply look, tracing the patterns of the atmosphere like the lines of a map to a future that might actually hold.
“Bridge to Engineering,” she said.
“Engineering here,” came the response, Ensign Collingway’s voice, crisp but carrying the weight of someone temporarily out of their depth.
“Report.”
“All convoy cargo has been offloaded, Captain,” Collingway replied. “We’re securing the bays and running post-mission diagnostics. Transporter systems are recalibrating to standard operations. No anomalies detected.”
“Well done,” Corbin said. You have the conn in Engineering until Commander Boren returns.”
“Yes, Captain. We’ll keep things stable. Engineering out.”
The hum of the bridge filled the quiet again. It was a kind of peace, one she had learned to distrust, but also to value. The last few days had been defined by chaos: storms on the surface, the Kaldari standoff, and the Vethari’s sudden diplomacy. Now the reports all read ‘nominal,’ and the crew had earned the right to believe it.
“Status of orbit?” she asked.
“Stable at thirty-five thousand kilometers,” Holt said. “Thrusters steady. No drift.”
“Excellent.”
Powell looked up again, tone strictly formal. “Message from Administrator S’kar, Captain. He expresses gratitude to Starfleet for continued assistance.”
Corbin nodded once. “Send a formal acknowledgment through Fleet Operations. Include the latest hydrosphere data and commendations for their resilience.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The bridge settled back into its rhythm. Corbin let her gaze move over each station: Flammia at Tactical, poised and methodical; Powell maintaining the steady pulse of Operations; Holt beside her chair, the quiet strength at her flank. The Arawyn was whole again, not unscarred, but steady.
“Commander Holt,” Corbin said at last, “you have the bridge.”
Holt rose from her station slightly. “Aye, Captain.”
Corbin gave a brief nod, then crossed toward the turbolift. As the doors opened, the reflection of the bridge shimmered in the polished metal, her officers steady at their posts, the ship serene in orbit.
She stepped inside. The doors closed.
A moment later, the faint sound of jazz began to filter through the comm system, mellow, unobtrusive, unmistakably Powell’s doing. Corbin caught the first few notes before they were sealed away by the lift walls.
Her lips curved, just slightly. The music, she suspected, meant the crew finally believed the danger had passed.
As the lift descended, she let the thought linger. Outside, Tarvik III turned slowly beneath them, its waters clearing, its storms easing, a world in recovery, like its ship above.
For now, that was enough.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
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