A Short Stay
Posted on 02 Nov 2025 @ 8:52pm by Captain Sabrina Corbin
1,104 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
After Tarvik
Location: SB 369
// Bridge - USS Arawyn //
The stars thinned to points as the Arawyn dropped from warp, the unmistakable form of Starbase 369 rising to meet them, a towering mushroom of duranium and light suspended against the dark. Its broad upper saucer gleamed like a city, the curved stem tapering toward a smaller operations tier where more progress had clearly been made on the once-unfinished decks. Around the behemoth drifted a constellation of saucer-shaped docking platforms, each linked by long, enclosed corridors. The auxiliaries were large in their own right; some frontier stations were smaller than these subsections of Three Six Nine. The entire area was alive with the movement of shuttles and support craft weaving between the station’s heart and its auxiliary moorings.
“Approach vector confirmed,” Lieutenant Kael reported from the helm. “Station Control assigns us outer ring three-seven-alpha.”
Corbin nodded from the center seat. “Acknowledge and proceed, one-quarter thrusters.” Docking outside, among the stars, suited her. It meant a short stay, no heavy resupply, no major repairs, just enough time to breathe before moving on.
The Arawyn angled gracefully toward her berth, thrusters flaring in brief, controlled bursts as the station’s guidance arrays extended to meet her.
“Magnetic clamps engaged,” Kael reported. “Docking umbilicals secure. We are moored.”
Corbin rose slightly from her chair. “Good work.” She keyed the intercom. “All hands, this is the Captain. Docking complete. Shore leave is authorized for forty-eight hours. Department heads coordinate coverage and readiness reports before departure. You’ve all earned the time.”
Her gaze lingered on the viewport, where the running lights of shuttles and freighters traced smooth arcs between the station’s outer arms. Somewhere in that constant movement, Commander Holt would be departing — one more transport among dozens cycling through the ports. The resignation had come less than a day ago, concise and professional, leaving little room for sentiment.
There was no sense in dwelling on it. Holt had made her decision; Corbin had accepted it. The Arawyn would move forward.
“Lieutenant Powell,” she said, glancing toward the Ops station, “you have the bridge. I’ll be on the Starbase at Fleet Command.”
Powell gave a brisk nod. “Aye, Captain.”
Corbin straightened the line of her jacket and crossed to the lift.
// Starbase 369 //
The journey from the outer docking ring to the command heart of Starbase 369 was longer than most would assume. Even with turbolifts and moving corridors, it spanned the better part of fifteen minutes, time enough for quiet thought.
The air aboard the base carried a different scent than a starship’s, less recycled, tinged faintly with ozone and sterilizer. She passed engineers hauling open crates of relay components, cadets with data slates in hand, and the steady vibration of the station’s life support thrumming through the deck.
The further inward she went, the more the scenery changed. The unfinished stretches gave way to polished corridors and wide observation panes. When she’d last walked these halls, they’d been half-built, open panels, exposed conduits, the hum of tools in the walls. Now, the place had found its rhythm. Starbase 369 was awake and alive.
By the time she reached the upper administration ring, the tension that had accompanied her arrival had eased. The ship was secure. The crew had rest ahead. Boren would be in capable hands at the base hospital. And whatever came next, a new executive officer, new challenges, she would meet them as she always had: directly.
Security maintained a visible but unobtrusive presence at each entryway, their stance professional but relaxed. One officer checked her credentials as she entered, then stepped aside with a nod of recognition.
The corridor opened into the heart of Fleet Command, a vast circular chamber alive with quiet precision. Offices of the senior flag officers ringed the perimeter, whose names carried weight across half the quadrant. Transparent partitions framed each doorway, and just beyond them, yeomen and aides worked steadily at their posts, screening calls and managing the rhythm of admiralty that rarely slowed.
The central floor was a flurry of motion. Officers manned consoles displaying live fleet deployments, civilian transport routes, and sector status reports, their readouts cast in shifting hues of blue and amber. Massive screens curved along the chamber’s inner wall, displaying a mosaic of data streams, communications traffic, trade corridors, even snippets of civilian newsfeeds scrolling past beside the Starfleet insignia.
Between the large Admiralty offices were sections that offered a view of the void through segmented transparisteel panels. Through them, Sabrina could just make out the silhouettes of the outer saucer sections, one of which now held the Arawyn, tethered and gleaming in station light.
Corbin made her way around the outer walkway, her pace measured, gaze moving across the interplay of motion and order below. This was the pulse of Fleet command, not the bridge of a single ship, but the heartbeat of dozens, all moving in concert.
She stopped at a familiar desk near the entrance to the Fleet Commander’s office.
“Ensign Quen,” she greeted, her voice calm but warm.
The young officer looked up quickly, straightening from her console. “Captain Corbin. Welcome back to Starbase 369, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” Sabrina replied, a faint smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “You’ve settled in well, I see. The place looks far less like a construction site than it did the last time I was here.”
Quen’s expression softened with quiet pride. “We’re nearly at full operational capacity now, Captain.”
“Good to hear. Is Admiral MacLaren available?”
The ensign checked her console, fingers gliding over the controls with practiced efficiency. “She’s just finishing a debrief with Sector Operations, ma’am. She asked that you be shown in as soon as she’s clear; it should only be a few minutes.”
“Understood. I’ll wait here.”
Corbin rested her hands behind her back, taking a moment to glance across the chamber again. The activity in the large chamber had a rhythm she found oddly steadying. After weeks aboard ship, it was almost a different kind of hum, the sound of the Fleet itself, working.
When the indicator above the Admiral’s door shifted from red to green, Quen rose and gave a polite nod. “The Admiral will see you now, Captain.”
Corbin inclined her head in thanks.
She stepped forward, pausing before the wide doors marked Fleet Command, where Epsilon’s emblem gleamed faintly in the corridor light.
A breath. A final straightening of her shoulders.
Then the soft chime of entry, and the doors parted to reveal Admiral MacLaren’s office.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
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