[Backlog] From Toasts to Family

Posted on 02 Sep 2025 @ 4:11am by Captain Sabrina Corbin & Lieutenant Alexander Powell
Edited on on 02 Sep 2025 @ 4:12am

932 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Fractured Accord
Location: Ten Forward USS Arawyn
Timeline: The evening of the commissioning.

=/\= Ten Forward – USS Arawyn =/\=

It’d been about 43 minutes since Sabby had made her speech, and in that time, Lieutenant Powell had been nearby but yet to offer his congratulations. Every time he went to make an approach, someone who outranked him would appear as if by magic and engage her in a conversation that led to a group of other officers and dignitaries.

Thankfully, his inner-ear COMM unit was alive with the song of hundreds of people trying to serve thousands of guests at the christening ceremony of what has been referred to as the flagship of Epsilon Fleet. That meant that he frequently found himself dipping away to give orders to keep everything flowing.

He was coming around a blind corner with three stemmed cocktails in one hand while extending the other to prevent any of the fluorescent liquid being spilled on anyone’s dress uniform. “Ahhh!” he exclaimed, recoiling when his outstretched palm contacted the abdomen of another. “Pardonme—” he began to ramble, “—Iwasjustrunningtheseovertothe… oh, heeeey!” A wide grin broke across his face.

The unexpected hand on her abdomen made Corbin stop short, brow arched. When she saw who it was, the corner of her mouth tugged upward. “Lieutenant Powell,” she said, voice dry but not unkind. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever manage to slip past the admirals.” She glanced at the cocktails in his hand, then back to him with a faintly amused look. “You’ve been circling since the speech. Consider me officially caught.”

Alexander chuckled as he passed her one of the stemmed beverages. “That was a really great speech Sabb—Captain,” he corrected proudly. “I was proud, felt inspired…” he didn’t mention the tear he’d shed, but she’d been around him enough to know how he cried at speeches. “Really, you were a natural up there.”

Corbin accepted the glass, the faintest smile tugging at her lips at his correction. “Don’t worry, I’ll answer to either,” she said quietly, her tone warm enough to take any sting out of the formality. She lifted the drink in a small salute before taking a measured sip. “But thank you. I admit, it felt less like a performance and more like speaking to family. Which, in a sense, I suppose it was.” Her gaze lingered on him, softer now. “If it reached you, then I’d call that a success.”

"Mission accomplished," he replied cheerfully, preceding a sip of his beverage by raising his glass. He took a big sigh, glancing around their surroundings as he had a tendency to do. The earpiece was still buzzing with activities as their crewmates and guests enjoyed the festivities, and as he saw Lt Halux pass in conversation ,it reminded him: "So I'm guessing you've met more of the crew than I have at this point; for you to refer to them as family must mean they've made quite the first impression?"

Corbin tilted her glass toward his in a light clink before answering.

“Some first impressions, yes,” she said, glancing past him at the mingling officers. “A few fleeting conversations, a handful of handshakes, and enough admirals to populate a conference.” The faint grin returned as she looked back at him.

“But family…” her tone softened, thoughtful now. “That comes less from knowing names and more from knowing what we’ll ask of each other once the bay doors open. I’ve seen enough of them to believe we’ll find it.”

Her brow lifted in quiet amusement. “Besides, I trust your instincts. You’ll have them all wrapped up in a bow before I finish my next staff meeting.”

"Hey, I'm just the OOD--that's between you and Commander Holt," he replied, grinning.

"Speaking of which--don't forget to bring her down to the Crew Mess with you before too long. They're looking forward to celebrating with you."

Corbin set her glass down on the nearest tray, brushing her hands lightly as if to mark the end of the formalities.
“MacLaren and most of the brass have finally cleared out. I’d say that’s my chance to escape before someone else traps me in a story about their Academy days.”

She glanced toward Powell, a faint grin tugging at her mouth. “Come on, let’s head to the Mess. The crew’s earned their celebration, and I’d rather be with them than stuck up here with an empty glass.”

Corbin didn’t give him much choice in the matter, catching his sleeve as she steered toward the exit. Along the way she spotted Holt across the room, raising a hand to beckon her XO to fall in with them. The dignitaries could keep Ten Forward; she had other priorities.

The lift ride down was a welcome pause, the background hum of the ship cutting through the leftover buzz of speeches and ceremony. When the doors parted, the sound was different: laughter, clinking plates, the kind of noise that belonged to people who already thought of the Arawyn as home.

Here, among her crew in the Mess, Corbin found herself smiling more easily. No toasts, no plaques, no admirals, just faces she’d come to know, hands she’d shake again tomorrow in duty shifts. She realized with a quiet certainty that this was the part she’d remember: not the formality of Ten Forward, but the simple warmth of standing shoulder to shoulder with her people, their voices rising around her like the first true heartbeat of the ship.

Lt Alexander Powell
Chief Operations Officer

Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer

 

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