The Door That Never Closed
Posted on 17 Dec 2025 @ 4:19am by Captain Sabrina Corbin
801 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
The Displaced
Location: USS Arawyn
From the bridge of the Arawyn, the Eirian ship appeared unchanged.
It held its position off the starboard bow, fractured surfaces catching starlight in slow, unfamiliar patterns. Its hull read as stable. Its internal signatures did not.
Captain Sabrina Corbin stood at the center of the bridge, hands resting lightly on the back of the command chair as the sensor picture rebuilt itself in pieces.
“Report,” she said.
Lieutenant Powell glanced up from Ops. “We are registering intermittent internal energy fluctuations aboard the Eirian ship, Captain. The source aligns with the region that previously read as displaced space. The pattern suggests movement within the ship, not structural failure.”
“Engineering confirms the same,” Evans added. “Theta band emissions collapsed abruptly, followed by a sharp drop in verteron density. Not dispersal. Removal.”
Sabrina nodded slowly. A presence that fed on the wound itself. Quieted, not cured.
“And the away team.”
“Life signs remain stable,” Powell replied. “Starfleet biosigns confirmed aboard the Eirian vessel. Internal sensor topology appears to have shifted during the incident. The ship altered its own corridors and compartments, likely in response to the intrusion.”
So the Eirians had not been passive. They had fought back in the only way they could.
“Reestablish communications,” Sabrina ordered. “Passive carrier only. No active broadcast.”
The Arawyn softened her profile. Power levels adjusted. Emissions flattened. The ship listened instead of speaking.
Seconds passed.
Then Powell’s head lifted. “Captain. We have a return signal.”
It was faint, uneven, but unmistakably intentional.
“Route it.”
Commander Suzanna Batenburg’s voice came through in fragments, then stabilized enough to carry meaning. A young sentient lifeform. Drawn to displaced space. Hungry. Afraid. The Eirian ship had acted to contain it. The shuttle had led it away by shedding verteron particles.
Sabrina closed her eyes briefly as the implications settled.
They had drawn the creature back toward the wound.
Toward themselves.
It had been the only option in the moment. She knew that. Still, the doubt lingered. If they were wrong about its needs, if it returned stronger, more desperate, then they had not solved the problem. They had delayed it.
She opened her eyes.
“You did well,” she said evenly. “Maintain your position. I am reasserting coordination from the Arawyn.”
She turned back to the bridge. “Status of the shuttle.”
Powell brought the data up. “Residual warp and verteron traces remain detectable. Trail is thinning but coherent. Shuttle integrity and life signs are nominal.”
“Open a narrow channel.”
The response came moments later. “Shuttle Golau here. Standing by.”
“Ensign Zodeil,” Sabrina said, “you are ordered to return to a controlled holding pattern within safe range of the Arawyn. Maintain passive configuration.”
“Acknowledged, Captain. Altering course.”
“Continue passive tracking of the residual trail,” Sabrina added. “No pursuit unless life signs drop, trajectory changes sharply, or shuttle stability degrades.”
“Aye, Captain.”
With communications restored and immediate risks contained, the bridge settled into watchful quiet.
It did not last.
“Captain,” Science said carefully, “we are detecting a recurring harmonic.”
Sabrina’s attention sharpened. “Details.”
“Subspace shear signatures are reforming at the same coordinates as the original fissure. Low amplitude for now, but consistent. Gravitational lensing is beginning to register.”
Engineering confirmed it moments later. “Energy accumulation is increasing across multiple subspace layers. This is not residual noise.”
Sabrina felt a familiar weight settle in her chest.
“It never closed,” she said quietly. “It waited.”
The displays updated as the distortion began to take shape again, faint but undeniable. Space thinning. Time slipping. The same wounded geometry breathing back into existence.
“The fissure is showing signs of reopening,” Science concluded. “Not fully formed, but trending toward emergence.”
That decided it.
“All Eirian survivors currently aboard the Arawyn are to be returned to their ship immediately,” Sabrina ordered. “Medical will complete clearance and coordinate transport. Expedite where possible, but do not take risks.”
Powell nodded. “Medical is already moving.”
Sabrina keyed her channel again. “Commander Batenburg, once the Eirians are clear, I want your team back aboard the Arawyn. We do not know how this will escalate, and I will not have my people exposed if that fissure opens fully.”
“Understood, Captain,” Batenburg replied without hesitation.
Sabrina rose from the command chair, eyes fixed on the growing distortion beyond the viewer.
They had lured a hungry thing back toward the wound and hoped they understood it well enough to keep it fed, calm, contained.
Now the universe was opening the door again.
“Science,” she said, “refine stabilization models. I want windows and probabilities. Engineering, prepare deflector systems. Do not energize until ordered. Ops, maintain comm integrity with the Eirian ship and the shuttle.”
The bridge moved as one, quiet and precise.
Whatever lay beyond the fissure, it was no longer a distant possibility.
It was returning.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
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