Course For Home
Posted on 30 Oct 2025 @ 1:52am by Captain Sabrina Corbin
953 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Fractured Accord
Location: USS Arawyn
// Bridge //
Tarvik III shrank against the stars, the last traces of its atmosphere a faint shimmer in the aft viewer. From here, it looked peaceful — a quiet world layered in copper and blue, its orbit dotted by a few lingering supply craft finishing their runs.
Sabrina June Corbin sat in the center seat, one leg crossed over the other, chin resting lightly on her hand as she watched the planet recede. It was almost difficult to reconcile this tranquil view with the strain of the last several days.
The Kaldari Union had kept to their word since retrieving their detained crew; no more border threats, no more political posturing, just silence. The colonists had taken over the system upgrades themselves, industrious and resolute. Even the new settlers from the convoy were settling in with cautious optimism. For once, the quiet wasn’t ominous.
“Convoy reports formation established, Captain,” Lieutenant Tannis said from Operations. “Ardent and Curie are holding steady in our wake.”
“Understood,” Corbin replied. “Signal them our thanks and keep a tight corridor. They’ve earned a quiet ride home.”
The familiar warp hum underfoot was grounding. She let her gaze drift toward the stars stretching ahead — clean, sharp lines of light marking their course.
“Helm,” she said, her voice even. “Set course for Starbase Three-Six-Nine. Warp Seven.”
“Course laid in.”
“Engage.”
The stars blurred. Tarvik III disappeared.
Corbin leaned back, feeling the subtle shift as the ship slipped cleanly into warp. “Mr. Merrick,” she said without looking away from the viewer, “join me in the ready room, please.”
“Aye, Captain.”
// Ready Room //
The doors whispered shut behind them, muting the bridge’s rhythm to a low hum.
Sabrina crossed to her desk, clear and ordered, save for a single PADD waiting at its center. She touched it once, waking the interface. The screen brightened to display the final compilation of mission reports.
Her eyes went to the display, “Let’s make sure this final report is worth sending.”
Merrick stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back. “Everything’s aligned with the departmental logs. I checked it myself. No outstanding discrepancies.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” She skimmed the summary: colony stabilization confirmed, new settlers established, Kaldari withdrawal complete. The words were sterile, factual, stripped of the human mess that lived between the lines. “It reads clean,” she said quietly. “Almost makes it sound like we knew what we were doing the whole time.”
That earned the faintest upward curve from him. “Isn’t that the objective, ma’am?”
Sabrina’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t look up. “On paper, yes.” A beat passed. “Reality tends to be less tidy.”
He inclined his head slightly. “Fleet doesn’t need the untidy version.”
“No,” she agreed, scrolling through the closing remarks. “They never do.”
Her gaze lingered on the words she’d written an hour earlier; Outcome: stable. Crew performance: exceptional under pressure. She’d meant it. She just hadn’t written the part about how narrowly it all held together.
Her attention drifted, unguarded for a moment. She remembered the last time they’d stood like this, in this same room, after another long stretch of chaos. She’d almost said his name then, almost let the habit of command slip into something personal. The memory still caught her off guard, a reminder of how thin the line could be between familiarity and formality.
She caught herself now, the shape of it still lingering at the edge of thought. Too familiar. Too easy.
“Transmit when ready, Senior Chief,” she said, voice steady again.
He nodded once, using his PADD to complete the task. A soft tone confirmed the encrypted handoff. “Report’s away.”
“Good.” She folded her arms, gaze fixed on the stars beyond the glass. “That closes Tarvik.”
Merrick hesitated before replying. “For now.”
Her lips pressed together, a knowing, almost wry line. “There’s always a ‘for now.’”
He gave the ghost of a smile. “Keeps us employed.”
That nearly drew a laugh. Nearly. Instead, she met his eyes just long enough to feel the flicker of something unspoken, a familiarity that hovered too close to personal.
Walls up, she reminded herself.
“Thank you, Senior Chief. Dismissed.”
He gave a crisp nod, turned, and left.
When the doors closed, the room seemed to expand in the silence. She stood there a long moment, watching the stars slip past, the official record now out of her hands, the truth of it still pressing against her chest.
// Captain’s Quarters //
Later, the door to her quarters slid open, ushering her into the quiet. The soft hum of the ship filled the space, steady, familiar, a sound she trusted.
A lamp glowed faintly, catching on the polished edge of her astrolabe. Ptolemy stirred from the sofa, stretching before leaping down to meet her.
“You’ve been keeping watch, have you?” she said, the corner of her mouth softening. He answered with a chirp and an insistent head-butt against her knee.
She scooped him up and carried him to the couch, sitting with a soft sigh that came from somewhere deep in her bones. The steady rhythm of warp filled the room like a lullaby.
The stars streaked past the viewport, a river of white lines against the dark. She leaned her head back, one hand absently stroking Ptolemy’s fur as he purred against her wrist. The day’s weight still lingered in the reports, the decisions, the things almost said.
Ptolemy curled into her lap, purring like a small engine. She rested a hand on his back, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm.
It wasn’t silence, not really, just peace enough to breathe again.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
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