Scars and Steel
Posted on 02 Nov 2025 @ 11:04pm by Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren & Captain Sabrina Corbin
1,950 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
After Tarvik
Location: Starbasee 369
// Fleet Commander’s Office - SB 369 //
The doors parted, and Sabrina stepped inside.
The room was unmistakably the Admiral’s, austere, yet deliberate in every choice. The curve of the viewport cast pale light across the floor, catching the gleam of a mounted Bat’leth on the left wall. Sabrina wondered about that, the history, the meaning of it, and whether the Fleet Commander would ever open the door to such a discussion. Across from it, the model of the USS Archer caught the same light, its Sovereign-class lines cold and precise. Between them, the space carried the weight of history without indulgence.
A tartan throw over the back of the Admiral’s more informal seating area, and a framed photo of her family, were the only gestures that hinted at a life beyond the rank pips.
Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren stood behind the desk, a padd in hand, posture composed, every movement measured.
Sabrina stopped before the desk and came to attention. Though she would soon be relieved of the position, she understood the Admiral’s preference for formality.
“Admiral,” she greeted evenly.
Corbin chose to open with the report, even if that wasn’t the purpose of the meeting.
“Docking is complete at berth three-seven-alpha. The crew has been granted a forty-eight-hour rotation for shore leave. Commander Boren has been transferred to Medical for extended recovery, and the reports from Tarvik III have been submitted to Fleet Operations.”
Sidra looked up from the padd as Corbin finished.
“At ease, Captain,” she said quietly, relieving her from attention with a small tilt of her hand.
She gave Corbin a moment to relax before setting the padd aside. “I’ve read the full report. Tarvik III was… unpredictable, even by frontier standards.” Her gaze drifted briefly to the viewport, to the curve of the starbase beyond, the cold shimmer of dock lights against the glass. “Terraforming equipment compromised, rapid environmental mutation, one officer injured, but the team extracted cleanly. You held the line.”
Her eyes returned to Corbin’s, calm but intent. “That’s what matters, Captain. The frontier doesn’t care for tidy endings. We adapt, we protect our people, and we come home to fight another day.”
A faint breath passed between them, not quite a sigh.
Sidra gestured toward the pair of warm brown leather chairs near the viewport, a subtle shift from command to conversation. Once they had settled, she continued.
“I’ve read a great deal of mission summaries in my time. Most of them tell me what went wrong, but very few tell me what the commander learned from it.” Sidra leaned back slightly, the tartan throw catching a glint of color over her shoulder. “So tell me, off the record, what did you take from Tarvik III?”
There was no reprimand in her tone, only that quiet scrutiny she was known for, the kind that weighed character as much as outcome.
“I learned that predictability is a luxury command doesn’t afford.”
Sabrina’s gaze shifted to the viewport, the reflection of station lights ghosting across the glass. “I’ve always preferred momentum, forward motion, progress, control. But Tarvik forced the opposite. We were standing in chaos with no clear enemy to fight and no solution we could engineer. Waiting for the Kaldari felt like surrender, but it was the only decision that didn’t risk more lives.”
Her hands tightened once in her lap before she continued. “Sometimes leadership isn’t about holding the line. It’s about standing still until the storm passes, even when everyone around you is waiting for the order to move.”
Sidra listened in silence, her expression unreadable but intent. When Corbin finished, she gave a single nod, small, deliberate.
“That’s a hard truth,” she said softly. “The kind that doesn’t make it into Academy lectures.” Her gaze lingered a moment longer on the younger woman before following her eyes out toward the viewport. “Most commanders spend their first few years trying to prove they can control every variable, as if certainty is a requirement for leadership. It isn’t. It’s a myth we tell ourselves so we can sleep at night.”
Her voice stayed quiet, almost reflective. “There’s courage in restraint, Captain. In knowing when not to act.”
She let that hang between them for a moment, then reached for the padd again, turning it once in her hands without reading it. “But even the right decisions can leave damage behind.” Her tone shifted slightly, lower, more personal. “I read Commander Holt’s resignation.”
Sidra’s green eyes met Corbin’s again, the question there even before she spoke it. “Tell me how you’re taking that.”
She didn’t press the words like a superior seeking justification, but rather as someone who understood the weight of an unexpected departure, and the void it could leave behind.
Sabrina drew a slow breath before answering.
“I never got an explanation,” she said. “The resignation came through official channels; concise, professional, and final.”
Her gaze held steady, though the line between her brows deepened. “We’d barely had two weeks together in the chair. Still finding a rhythm, learning how to balance each other’s approach. There wasn’t tension that I could see, no disagreement on record. And then she was gone.”
She paused, the silence stretching just long enough to show the weight of it. “It caught me off guard. I don’t like being caught off guard.”
Her tone stayed even, but the disappointment threaded through the control. “I don’t fault her choice, but I would have preferred a conversation. Closure, at least. It’s difficult to lose an officer before you’ve had the chance to understand what you could have built.”
For a moment, Sidra hesitated, a rare thing. She wasn’t accustomed to sharing personal stories with those under her command; once, she would have considered it unprofessional. But age, love, and the years between had taught her that command wasn’t only about leading from the front. It was also about knowing when to offer the truth of your own scars, so that others could see beyond the uniform. Stephen had taught her that. William had made her understand it.
Her voice, when it came, carried that quiet weight of choice.
“I understand what it is to lose an officer that way,” she began, eyes distant on the viewport. “Not through death or dereliction, but through choice. The kind that leaves a silence heavier than any reprimand.”
Her gaze flicked briefly toward the Archer model, and for a heartbeat, her tone softened with memory.
“When I served aboard the Archer, before I ever wore this rank, I was her Chief of Security. The Operations Chief was Pla’kor Gonai.” She paused, the name spoken with care, not regret. “We worked side by side for years. Friendship turned into something more, and for a time, it worked. We balanced it.”
Her fingers traced an idle line along the edge of the padd. “Then command shifted. He became the captain. I was promoted to his XO. Suddenly, what had once been simple wasn’t anymore. Every decision felt… weighted. Every disagreement, personal. And the ship needed leaders, not a divided command team.”
Sidra exhaled, slow and even. “So I left. Without much notice. I told myself it was for the good of the Archer, and in many ways, it was. But it took years to understand that leaving didn’t mean failure, it meant acceptance. Of timing. Of limits. Of love that couldn’t fit inside the walls of a bridge.”
She looked back to Corbin then, eyes steady and bright with the truth of it. “It’s not the kind of story I share often. But I want you to know, Holt’s resignation might not have been about you or the Arawyn. Sometimes the hardest choice a good officer makes is the one to step away.”
Her tone gentled, not that of a Fleet Commander addressing a subordinate, but of a mentor speaking to someone she genuinely wanted to see thrive.
“You’ll find your footing again, Sabrina. You’ll build something stronger with whoever comes next. And when you do, remember this, leadership isn’t about being untouched. It’s about what we choose to share once we’ve survived the breaking.”
For a moment, Sabrina said nothing. She hadn’t expected the Admiral to share something so personal, not from someone who kept her world so tightly ordered. It lent new context to the Bat’leth on the wall, the edge, and history behind it, and to the kind of control Sidra carried like armor.
Sabrina drew a slow breath and gave a short nod. “Understood, Admiral. I’m ready to move forward.”
The words were simple, but the resolve beneath them was clear. Whatever weight Tarvik III or Holt’s departure had left, she was done carrying it.
Sidra regarded her in silence for a beat longer, then gave a small, approving nod.
“Good,” she said. “That’s the right place to begin.”
She picked up the padd again, not as a shield but as a natural transition. “There’s one additional matter I’d like to raise before you return to the Arawyn.”
Her thumb brushed the screen as she spoke. “Vice Admiral Blokpoel provided me a recommendation, Commander Suzanna Batenburg, currently attached to Fleet Science. Her work there is exemplary. I think her scientific mind will be a good pairing to you.”
Sidra looked up, her tone even but deliberate. “When I selected Commander Holt for the post, I did so with minimal input from you. That was my decision, and in hindsight, it should have been ours.” A faint, self-aware edge touched her voice. “That won’t happen again.”
She set the padd aside once more, folding her hands on the desk. “I’d like you to meet Batenburg before any decision is made. Speak with her, get a sense of who she is and how she thinks. If you see potential, we’ll move forward. If not, we’ll keep looking. This time, the choice is yours, Captain.”
Sidra stood, signaling the close of the conversation but not the connection between them. “You’ve earned the right to shape your command team, and the space to do it on your terms. Meet with Batenburg. Send me your impressions afterward.”
Her expression softened slightly, the authority in her voice tempered with quiet respect. “Whatever else this mission cost you, don’t forget what it proved: that you can carry a ship through chaos and bring her home. The next chapter begins from there.”
Sabrina rose as the Admiral did, mirroring the motion with quiet precision.
“Aye, Admiral,” she said, the answer simple but steady. “I’ll meet with Commander Batenburg and send my report once we’ve spoken.”
For a heartbeat, her gaze drifted to the Bat’leth again, the steel curve catching the light, sharp and certain. She understood it now, not as an ornament, but as a reminder. Some lessons were carried in the open; others, in the marks they left behind.
She met MacLaren’s eyes once more. “Thank you, Admiral. For the trust.”
With that, she inclined her head and turned toward the door, her stride sure and unhurried. Whatever had come before, Tarvik, Holt, the fractures left in their wake, it stayed behind her now. The next chapter awaited, and she was already moving toward it.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren
Fleet Commander
Epsilon Fleet
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