Setting the Table
Posted on 31 Aug 2025 @ 10:13pm by Captain Sabrina Corbin & Commander Adrienne Holt
1,591 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
Fractured Accord
Location: USS Arawyn
Timeline: Night before the commissioning party
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=/\= Captain’s Quarters =/\=
Steam curled faintly from the surface of the tub as Sabrina June Corbin let her body sink deeper into the water. The first wash of heat loosened the knots in her shoulders, and she exhaled slowly, savoring the momentary illusion of ease. Muscles yielded; the day’s stiffness bled away.
But her thoughts refused to surrender. They circled back, again and again, to the speech she would give tomorrow. She tried different versions in her head, formal and clipped, off-the-cuff and personable, even a few wry quips that might land well if she judged the room correctly. Each draft unraveled before it reached its conclusion, leaving only the weight of expectation pressing at the edges of her calm.
Time stretched. She shifted once, then again, letting the warmth cradle her until the steam thinned to a mist and the water’s comfort began to fade. The relaxation had done its work on her body, but her mind remained restless, pulling her toward the duties ahead.
It was only then that she realized she hadn’t eaten. She also hadn’t truly checked in with her new Executive Officer. Holt was capable. Sabrina trusted that much, but capability wasn’t the same as understanding. Trust had to be built, and built quickly, if the two of them were to lead together.
With a reluctant sigh, she rose, wrapped herself in a towel, and stepped into the cooler air of her quarters. Dinner could wait a few more minutes. A conversation couldn’t.
She tapped her combadge.
“Corbin to Commander Holt. I was just about to sit down for dinner, care to join me?”
In her quarters, Adrienne looked up to the ceiling as if the voice was coming from there. She had just opened her eyes, having concluded her meditational routine. Before she replied, she carefully replaced the items in front of her in their proper location in the box that stood next to them. Taking a deep breath, she let the reality settle around herself once more. Closing the box also snapped her back in her persona when the lock clicked into place.
As such, a heartbeat later than most people had come to be used of her, she tapped her own combadge. "Captain, that would be most welcome. I will be there promptly," her own voice sounded alien to her, not what she'd heard for the past half an hour in the quiet of her own mind.
The trip from the XO's quarters to the CO's wasn't long. A few minutes later, she'd rang the chime and entered when she heard the other woman call out from the inside. "Captain Corbin, this invitation was a nice surprise. I apologize for coming empty handed."
Sabrina smiled. She hadn’t planned this either, but it struck her how easily the days had slipped past without much real connection.
She had traded her uniform for gray wool pants and a soft blue sweater. “Empty-handed? Not at all. I suspected neither of us had eaten, and it seemed a good excuse to finally sit down together. I’m not much of a foody, so you’re welcome to choose, or I can offer a replicator standby.”
"Either is fine with me," Adrienne spoke, opening her hands in a peaceful gesture. A wise man had once told her that command showed everywhere. Even when seated around the dinner table. Back then, she'd been in the process of being groomed by said man for command, but it hadn't come to pass yet. By now, she preferred using his tactics and advice when seizing up command material. It had already suited her well in the past, and from the sound of it, it would be no different in the future.
“Two plates of chicken and mushroom pie, with mashed potatoes,” she ordered, watching as the dish shimmered into place. She carried it to the table and settled in. “One of my reliable comforts, hardly adventurous, but dependable.”
She gestured for Holt join her at the table and then added, “Speaking of dependable, I suspect tomorrow evening will be anything but. The commissioning party is shaping up to be a spectacle. Brass, speeches, a crowd of fresh faces sizing up their new command team…” Her mouth curved in a wry smile. “I’ve been turning over half a dozen approaches in my head for that speech. Do I bore them senseless with formality, or risk showing too much personality in front of the Admiral?”
Adrienne took the time she needed to sit down to figure out a response. "I'd say to go with your gut, which will probably work out poorly at first, but work in your favor in the long run," she ended up replying cryptically. "Enjoy your meal," she nodded to the plate and took a first bite. It wasn't too bad. It wasn't a combination she would choose herself, but it wasn't bad. She would have to keep it in mind. "Besides, one can never show too much personality in front of an Admiral."
Sabrina forked a bite but paused, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. “You say that, but Admiral MacLaren could freeze a room just by raising an eyebrow. She’s not exactly the sort you read easily. Formal to a fault, and impossible to know if you’ve struck the right chord.”
She finally tasted the pie, chewing thoughtfully before adding, “Still, I can hardly fault her for it. She’s lived through more wars than I’ve served postings, carried the weight of thousands lost under her command. It leaves its mark. That kind of experience doesn’t soften a person; it hardens them into something immovable. Maybe unreadable is the only way she knows to keep going.”
A quiet beat hung between them before Sabrina’s tone shifted, lighter, firmer, redirecting. “That said, she’s not the one staring down the Arawyn’s first departure. We are. And between crew arrivals, systems checks, and an ever-growing mountain of requisitions, I’d say we’ve had our hands full.” She set down her fork, eyes settling on Holt. “How are you finding it? The pace, the preparation. It feels like we’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone talk.”
Listening intently, Holt used her food as an excuse to not reply immediately. Processing what she was hearing, she heard admiration, but also uncertainty. It wasn't unexpected. Figuring what she had to do, her face hardened. "I don't think everybody is quite focused yet on what we have to do, but I'll get them there," she spoke, deliberately not singling out anyone. She had a few names in mind, but she was used to playing it close to the chest.
With the chicken gone for the most part, she ran out of excuses not to give her full focus on the other woman. "Why is it so important for you how the commissioning party is going to go?"
Sabrina set her fork down, meeting Holt’s gaze with a steadiness that carried both respect and a hint of weariness.
“I don’t doubt you’ll get them there, Commander. In fact, I’m counting on it. A crew this green, on a ship this new, needs a firm hand to shape them, and I’d rather they hear it from you before they feel it from circumstance.”
She leaned back slightly, arms folding loosely. “As for the party, why does it matter? Because it isn’t just pomp. It’s the first impression. Every ensign and crewman will be watching us, weighing whether the people in these seats are steady enough to follow. And every admiral in that room will be doing the same, deciding if we’re capable of carrying what’s been given to us.” Her tone flattened just slightly, dry. “No pressure, of course.”
Her expression softened a fraction as she added, “If the Arawyn is to succeed, it starts tomorrow night, when the faces looking up from their glasses of champagne decide whether or not they trust us. I’d prefer we give them reason to.”
Adrienne thought the CO was putting too much faith in the outcome of the champagne, but she decided not to press the subject. "Can I replicate you some dessert? I'm always game for some ice cream," she spoke, already getting up from her seat. It was an uncharacteristic display of personal preference, but not by chance. Very little in Adrienne's life happened by chance.
Sabrina’s brows arched, and a laugh escaped—warmer than most ever heard from her in uniform. “Ice cream? After the week we’ve had, that might be the most sensible strategy anyone’s suggested.” She slid her plate aside with a faint grin. “Make mine strawberry, and let’s do it properly.”
The replicator chimed, and she accepted the dish with a small nod of thanks, letting the sweetness cut the weight of the evening. For the first time all day, the tension in her shoulders eased. Conversation dwindled into lighter things, small observations, and the simple comfort of company. Tomorrow would bring ceremony, speeches, and the scrutiny of brass and crew alike, but for tonight, the Arawyn’s captain and her new executive officer shared a meal, a laugh, and the first threads of trust.
Commander Adrienne Holt
Executive Officer
USS Arawyn
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
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