The Weight and the Privilege

Posted on 25 Aug 2025 @ 2:44am by Captain Sabrina Corbin

1,773 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Fractured Accord
Location: USS Arawyn
Timeline: 242508.24

=/\= USS Arawyn – Commissioning Ceremony =/\=

The gantry hummed faintly beneath Captain Sabrina June Corbin’s boots. She stood at its edge, posture straight, hands tucked loosely behind her back, and tried to look every bit as composed as the role demanded. Below, bathed in bay lights, the Sovereign-class Arawyn gleamed like a sleeping giant, her hull polished to perfection for the occasion.

Starfleet did love a ceremony. The banners, the brass, the plaque unveiled as if it were a magical talisman rather than an engraved bit of duranium. All for the benefit of pomp and posterity. Tonight, though, Sabrina found herself the centerpiece rather than the observer.

It was designed to inspire awe. And it did, though Sabrina felt something else stirring in her chest, something between pride and dread. Ceremonies were Starfleet’s bread and butter, the speeches crafted to inspire. She had endured them before, always as a participant. Tonight she stood at the center, with no shield but her own composure.

They’ve all turned up to see if I’ll manage not to trip on the carpet, she thought, the faintest twitch tugging at her mouth. If I manage both that and a passable speech, we’ll call it a success.

The formalities dockside concluded with all due gravity. The company, admirals, officers, and guests shifted to Ten Forward, the great lounge transformed into a reception hall. Starlight spilled through the tall windows, mingling with chandeliers tuned just bright enough to flatter even the oldest admiral’s profile. The hum of conversation filled the space, polite laughter weaving between the clink of glasses.

Sabrina let her eyes move across the room, not seeking the admirals, but the people who mattered most, her senior staff.
Commander Adrienne Holt stood near the windows, dark hair now touched with grey, pulled back neatly, hazel eyes moving from one group to another. Sabrina had noticed this before: Holt never dominated a conversation, but she had a way of steadying it, giving the people around her a quiet anchor. She looked as if she belonged exactly where she was, which, Sabrina reflected, was precisely what one wanted in a first officer.

Sandra Boren, young for the weight of engineering, was half-absorbed in a conversation with two lieutenants already on her team. Dark blond hair framed her Vulcan-arched brows and blue eyes that sparkled more with calculation than social charm. She carried herself with the confidence of someone used to pressure, perhaps a necessity when one’s lineage included two admirals. The warp core would not care about her family name, Sabrina mused. It will care if she knows what she is doing, and I suspect she does.

Lieutenant M’Leyna was harder to spot at first. The Meruian pilot’s red tendril-like hair shimmered faintly under the chandeliers, glistening blue scales giving her an almost ethereal sheen. She spoke softly to a pair of junior officers, her words quiet but steady, and they leaned closer to catch them. There was no brash display in her manner, only a calm assurance that seemed to draw people in. Not bravado, Sabrina thought, but quiet confidence. She’ll let her flying speak for her.

Aev Flammia, her new chief of security, had not unclenched once since stepping into the room. Tall, lean, dark-haired, he looked the picture of Romulan restraint, though his violet eyes betrayed constant calculation. Sabrina watched him catalogue exits, scan the crowd, weigh potential trouble. Security never relaxes, she thought with a wry inward smirk. I’ll rest easier knowing he doesn’t.

Then there was Alexander Powell. She had known him for years, long enough to recognize the twinkle in his brown eyes even before he threw his head back in laughter that carried across the room. His bald crown shone under the chandeliers as he gestured flamboyantly, telling some story that had half his circle howling and the other half blushing. Powell thrived in chaos and had a knack for creating just enough of it to keep things interesting. Yet beneath all that, Sabrina knew him as one of the best operations officers Starfleet could boast. If the Arawyn ran smoothly, it would not be because he imposed order but because he danced with disorder until it came to heel. She hid her smile in the rim of her glass. Trust Powell to be both the storm and the one charting a course through it.

Adrian Sorvak stood near the far wall, still as a column. Dark hair threaded with grey, hazel-green eyes unreadable, his posture radiated patience. Human softness rounded his Vulcan features, approachable in a way many of his kin were not. At over eighty years old, he looked half that, thanks to his Vulcan physiology. Sabrina found the thought oddly comforting. Science officers chase the unknown, she mused. Sorvak looks as though he intends to endure it instead.

Riah Amberlyn was in motion, as always, weaving easily through her staff. Short blonde hair framed a sharp face, blue eyes alight with curiosity and humor. She had half of medical laughing already, her quick wit as effective as any tricorder in easing nerves. Corbin considered that a good omen. A doctor who steadies people before she treats them is worth more than most realise.

And finally, Halux-denari-vettaliin—Halux, as he introduced himself. The Denobulan counselor towered over much of the room, but carried himself with deliberate, easy grace. His blue-gray eyes held warmth, and his face seemed perpetually on the verge of a smile. When it broke into a full grin, wide and bright, the crew around him could not help but relax. Sabrina tilted her head, watching him with quiet interest. Young for the post, she thought, but presence like that is not taught. If the crew are wise, they will find their way to him long before duty wears them down.

Seeing them, her officers, her future, steadied her more than any amount of rehearsal. She drew a slow breath, nerves still fluttering but tempered now with something firmer. She would not carry this command alone.

The chime of a glass stilled the lounge. Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren stepped forward, tall and precise, presence commanding without effort. Her speech was measured, deliberate, the weight of years of service carried in each syllable. She spoke of resilience, of shadows endured, of light reclaimed. It was the voice of a fleet tempered by trial, now reclaiming its place among the stars.

When the applause faded, Sabrina stepped forward. She allowed herself a faint smile and began.

“Ladies and gentlemen, officers, crew, and anyone still pretending they weren’t dragged here by a very persuasive Admiral, good evening.

I stand here tonight with the enviable task of saying something suitably profound, while also ensuring I don’t delay the food and drink waiting just outside these doors. No pressure, then.

The Sovereign-class starship Arawyn is more than just gleaming hull plating and the occasional stubborn plasma relay. She is a symbol. A reminder that Starfleet has not only endured the shadows of recent years, but found the light again. Per Umbra, Lux, through shadow, light. It says on the commissioning plaque. And plaques don’t lie.

Now, command is often described as a weight. A responsibility. And I can assure you, it is. But tonight, it feels just as much a privilege. Because I know the people who will walk these decks. I have read the files, shaken the hands, and even rescued one small, very fluffy stowaway from the Starbase. Evidently, the Cat Distribution Service is alive and well, and it has decided that the Arawyn will not lack for several morale officers.

So yes, we have a new ship, a new crew, and apparently a new cat. I intend to make good use of all three.

The truth is, ships do not make history; people do. This crew will breathe life into Arawyn, turn her from metal and circuitry into something greater: a home, a community, a vessel of exploration and hope. And if we do our jobs well, she will return the favour by getting us home in one piece.

I am young enough to be reminded of that daily, usually by admirals, and old enough to know that youth is no excuse. Every soul aboard is my responsibility, and I will not take that lightly. But I also will not take us too seriously. There will be days when duty feels heavy, when we will rely on discipline and resolve. But there will also be laughter, dry jokes, and cups of tea drunk far too late at night while reports pile up. We will need both.

So, as we commission the Arawyn into service, let us not just think of what she can do, but what we can do together. May we live up to the light her name carries. May we find the courage to face whatever lies ahead. And may the cat refrain from climbing the warp core.

Thank you.”

Warm applause followed, genuine this time, laughter rippling at the last line. As glasses lifted around the room, Sabrina let her gaze drift toward the back, where Elias Merrick stood at ease. His eyes met hers, the barest arch of a brow and the hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. He knew, as only a yeoman could, that this version of her remarks had strayed from the carefully structured draft he had sent her that morning.

She gave him the faintest wink in reply, a quiet acknowledgment that his help had steadied her, even if she had tossed half his phrasing to the stars. His smile broadened, the silent assurance she needed. The speech had landed, and more importantly, it had been hers.

Sabrina raised her own glass, voice carrying easily.

“To the Arawyn: may she be swift when needed, steady when tested, and always find her way home. And to her crew: may we be just as reliable, though perhaps a little less prone to blown EPS relays. Cheers.”

Glasses clinked. Smiles spread. And for the first time that evening, the weight in Sabrina’s chest eased. Perhaps she would never feel entirely ready for the captain’s chair. But surrounded by this ship, these officers, and the promise of tomorrow waiting just beyond the stars, she knew she was exactly where she belonged.



Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn

 

RSS Feed