The Convoy’s Course
Posted on 21 Sep 2025 @ 9:37pm by Captain Sabrina Corbin
1,044 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Fractured Accord
Location: USS Arawyn
*** Bridge – USS Arawyn ***
“Captain?” Mira’s voice cut through the quiet like a scalpel. “The nanobots on the Newton are activating.”
On the main screen, Newton’s nacelles flared, light crawling across their length in wild pulses. Then, with a sudden lurch, the science vessel jumped to warp. A jagged afterimage streaked behind her, and then she was gone.
For a heartbeat, the bridge was still. Even the hum of the consoles seemed muted, as though the Arawyn herself was stunned.
Sabrina Corbin’s fingers tapped once against the armrest before she stood. The instinct to pursue pressed hard, but she refused to yield to impulse. She had a convoy behind her, three ships, intact and dependent on her restraint. To drag them into unknown space without a plan would be reckless. The calculation was swift, but she allowed herself that single pause before speaking.
“Helm, maintain position. Extend convoy spacing by five hundred kilometers. Integrity first.”
“Aye, Captain.”
She stepped down into the well of the bridge. Her voice came low and precise, enough to cut through shock without haste.
“Ops, track Newton’s warp trail. Continuous telemetry and projected vectors. Narrow-band hail down their wake, coded bursts if they can only read fragments.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Engineering, retune long-range sensors. Prioritise endurance over clarity. If Newton destabilises or drops, I want it before their helmsman does.”
“Understood.”
She turned to Holt. “Commander, convoy disposition. Rotate escorts, stagger shield harmonics. Keep them tight enough to protect but spaced to minimise risk. Once you’re satisfied, check on Dr. Amberlyn. She’s been running too hot since the transfers. Make sure relief is real.”
“Yes, Captain.” Holt’s answer was quiet, sure.
“Tactical, prep intercept profiles. Two: one to Newton’s present vector, another to the asteroid relay Lieutenant Flammia identified. Weapons cold, passive tracking only.”
“Profiles in the queue, Captain.”
Her combadge chirped as she opened a line. “Amberlyn, bridge. Quarantine remains in force. Treat every Newton transfer as compromised until cleared by deep scan. Sickbay is to remain locked until further notice.”
The reply came firm, though fatigue edged it. “Confirmed, Captain.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Corbin’s eyes shifted to Science. Mira Quinn sat rigid at her station, pale but steady. “Ensign, run activation pattern analysis. Cross-reference Flammia’s telemetry. Confirm whether Newton’s course aligns with the asteroid relay. If not, I want the next two candidates.”
“Yes, Captain.”
The rhythm of clipped reports filled the bridge again. Fingers moved, voices steadied. Corbin clasped her hands behind her back, pacing forward until she stood just before the viewscreen.
“Helm, bring us about. Fleet course: asteroid relay. Maximum sustainable warp once formation is confirmed.”
The helmsman’s hands moved. “Course laid in.”
Corbin toggled wide-band, her tone even and measured.
“To convoy ships Ardent and Curie: Newton has been compromised by nanobots and forced into warp. Current vector indicates probable destination at the asteroid relay identified earlier. The convoy will proceed together, in formation, to investigate. Extend spacing to reduce contamination risk. Maintain readiness, weapons cold unless ordered. If Newton does not appear at the relay, we will enact contingency search sectors. Corbin out.”
Acknowledgements returned quickly, steady and professional.
She exhaled quietly. That was the official channel. Another required more discretion.
“Annex A,” she said, opening a narrow sideband. “Corbin to Rhys and Tara. You’ve seen Newton’s departure. We are taking the convoy to the asteroid relay, current data suggests that’s where she’s headed. If she is not present, we’ll transition to contingency search nets. Corbin out.”
The channel closed with a soft click.
She had not returned to her chair before a delicate chime of porcelain announced Merrick’s presence.
“Your tea, Captain.”
Corbin accepted the cup without shifting her eyes from the stars. Steam curled into the cool air. “Thank you, Mr. Merrick.” She sipped once, just heat and strength enough to ground her, before setting it into the recessed ring of the armrest.
The bridge found its rhythm. Ops coordinated with the convoy, Tactical refined approach vectors, Engineering tuned the deflector for reach over clarity, Science traced faint lines of probability through the static. Corbin let their voices wash over her. She did not interrupt. They knew their roles; her task was to hold the centre.
The Newton had gone hard and fast. Rao would be fighting even now, weighing risk, pressing advantage, refusing panic. Sabrina allowed herself the barest curl at one corner of her mouth. She had never shared a wardroom with Rao, but she knew the calibre of captains forged in crisis.
A fleeting thought brushed her mind; the shadows ahead would not be empty. She said nothing, only folded her hands along the chair arm and returned her gaze to the screen.
The asteroid’s coordinates grew from abstraction to plotted points. There would be something there, or there would not. Either way, she would not permit anxiety to masquerade as preparation.
She tapped the comm on her chair. “All hands, this is the Captain.” Her voice carried, even and deliberate. “The Newton is not abandoned. We have her trail, a probable destination, and contingencies if she fails to appear. Keep your voices steady and your work exact. We will recover our people, or their path, and we will do it without adding names to anyone’s letter.”
On the bridge, officers bent closer to their work. Ops murmured with his counterpart on Curie, Tactical adjusted harmonics with Ardent, Science refined numbers with stubborn patience. Each was a line she could tug if needed, and she trusted them to weave the pattern without her hand.
Corbin lifted the teacup once more. The steam had thinned, but the warmth remained. She set it down with care and let her fingertips rest against the saucer.
The Arawyn slipped forward, quiet and purposeful, with Ardent and Curie on her flanks. Somewhere ahead, a small science vessel ran unwilling legs. The convoy went to meet it, not as a mob pulled by fear, but as a formation built for endurance.
They would bring Newton home. Or they would bring home her path. Either way, this convoy would not come apart on her watch.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
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