A Convoy of Shadows”
Posted on 09 Sep 2025 @ 3:58am by Captain Sabrina Corbin
1,182 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Fractured Accord
Location: USS Arawyn
Timeline: Later in the day of the bouy blow-up.
[b]=/\= Bridge =/\=[/b]
The hum of the bridge carried a steadier rhythm now that Red Alert had been reduced to Yellow. The scarlet urgency had bled out of the panels, replaced by the amber glow of caution. Yet no one truly relaxed. Officers at their posts moved with deliberate care, their words clipped, their eyes a little sharper than they had been at the mission’s start. The shock of the destroyed buoy still lingered in every exchange.
Captain Sabrina Corbin sat angled in the command chair, posture composed, gaze fixed on the convoy spread across the main viewer. The Curie and Ardent held steady, while the Newton, her nacelle still darkened from the blast, drifted inside Arawyn’s protective arc. For now, the convoy waited on them.
Sabrina had already read the reports from Medical. Riah's teams had done excellent work on the patience that had been beamed over from the Newton. She was thankful for the expanded facilities being available on the Arawyn, and the expert medical professionals that made things happen.
She turned toward the science station. “Ensign Quinn. Your report on the debris.”
Quinn had a PADD balanced against her console, her tone neutral. “Analysis confirms deliberate destruction, Captain. The buoy was destroyed by shaped charges. Residue matches metallic compounds found in Vethari mining ordnance. And the detonation profile shows it was remote-triggered. Someone had to be close enough to send the signal at the exact moment we passed.”
Corbin held her eyes a fraction longer, weighing the words. “Not chance, then. Someone knew our timing.”
A faint acknowledgment came back, factual and steady.
She turned in her chair. “Lieutenant Powell, you’ll coordinate with Science and Engineering on the decoy project. I want it live before we move again.”
Powell swiveled slightly at his console. “Aye, Captain. We can project false warp trails, ghost signatures, using a probe as a decoy. At range, they’ll read like additional ships.”
Corbin leaned forward. “Clarity for you all. The convoy won’t be huddled close any longer. We’ll space the ship further out, far enough that no one can cover another with shields. The decoys will make us appear as compact groups of four. Anyone watching will have to guess which group of four is their target.”
Powell nodded. “We can have the first set online in three hours.”
“Good. That will match Newton’s readiness.” Corbin pivoted toward the helm. “Lieutenant Jameson.”
The helm officer straightened, eyes forward.
“When Newton comes back online, you’ll execute the new formation. Arawyn in the lead. Curie, Ardent, and Newton spread behind us, not clustered, but close enough to maintain coordination. Ghost signatures will create the illusion of additional ships tucked in tight. From a distance, it will look like four-ship formations in diamond spread.”
“Yes, Captain,” Jameson said crisply.
“You’ll also plot three evasive alternatives,” Corbin added. “If I call one, you break formation immediately, ghosts included. Understood?”
“Understood.” His hands moved, already sketching vectors.
Satisfied, she tapped her armrest. “Bridge to Commander Boren.”
The comm opened on a wash of noise, tools striking metal, torches sealing seams, muffled orders, but Boren’s voice came clear. “We’ve secured the nacelle housing, Captain. Structural integrity stabilized at eighty-six percent. Warp capability restored to convoy speed in just under three hours.”
Corbin allowed a small breath to ease. “That’s good work, Commander. I’ll take three. Flammia?”
The security chief’s voice layered in over the channel. “Two sweeps of Newton’s accessways, Captain. No foreign devices found. Still reviewing logs for anomalies.”
Corbin leaned forward, voice steady. “Lieutenant, be advised: Science has confirmed deliberate destruction of the buoy. Shaped charges, remote detonation, and residue tied to Vethari compounds. Treat this as hostile action, not accident.”
There was a pause, then Flammia’s voice returned, clipped and certain. “Understood, Captain. We’ll widen the search parameters and cross-check access logs again.”
“Good. Keep your people sharp. Whoever triggered that buoy knew our schedule to the minute.” She let the line close without elaborating further. Outwardly, her expression remained composed. Inwardly, the precision gnawed. Schedules were tight, but not that tight. For the enemy to have timed it so exactly, someone had to know their movements before the convoy ever left port. She said nothing of that suspicion, not yet. The last thing she would do was seed distrust where she needed vigilance.
The channel clicked closed.
Corbin drew up a compact intel digest on her chair’s side display. She had read it twice already, but the words pressed with fresh weight against the confirmation Quinn had just delivered. Intercepted Vethari trade chatter, hours before the buoy went dark. Phrases dressed in mercantile pride, first rights to Tavrik, front of the line, but the timing made the boast something sharper. Combined with the mining residue, the conclusion was impossible to ignore.
She kept her expression even, her voice pitched for the bridge. “We proceed under the assumption that the Vethari had a hand in this. Until we have irrefutable proof, we’ll be precise in our words. But our posture reflects the reality: someone knew exactly when this convoy would pass that buoy.”
Her gaze shifted across the stations. “Maintain Yellow Alert. Shields modulated for convoy coverage. Phaser banks hot, torpedoes safetied but cycling. We are to look ready without acting reckless. Operations, mirror telemetry from every ship. Any deviation, I want to know before the alarms do. Science, you’ll maintain buoy watch. If another so much as flickers, I want it reported immediately.”
Acknowledgments came, crisp and professional. The bridge moved again with focus, the edge of tension sharpened into purpose.
Corbin leaned back into her chair, outwardly calm. She let her eyes linger on the convoy displayed on the viewscreen. The ships were close now, but soon they would be spread apart, shadows flanking them in false constellations. Enough to confuse, enough to protect.
And then there was the part she hadn’t shared, not with the bridge, but as it had been discussed with Mr. Rhys. The Long Haul would shadow from the rear, masked by decoys and false trails. The convoy was already fragile, and now she carried one more piece of information in silence.
Her expression didn’t shift. She kept her hands still on the armrest and her voice level when she spoke again. “This is our first real test as a crew. Not about speed, not about firepower. About how well we shield those who rely on us. Let’s make sure they learn today that Arawyn cannot be broken.”
The words settled over the bridge like a seal. Officers bent closer to their tasks. Powell’s console lit with decoy calculations; Quinn’s board streamed buoy data into new watch parameters. Jameson began layering courses into standby buffers.
On the viewer, the convoy still waited, the Newton scarred but slowly mending, the Curie and Ardent steady in their lanes. Beyond them, the dark of space stretched toward Tavrik, and somewhere ahead, the Vethari waited.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
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