[REPOST] By the Engines, Not the File
Posted on 13 Jan 2026 @ 6:47pm by Captain Sabrina Corbin & Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan
Edited on on 13 Jan 2026 @ 8:12pm
1,576 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
Lathira Shoreleave
Location: Subspace Transmission
Captain Sabrina Corbin reviewed Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan’s file for the third time, not because it was unclear, but because it refused to simplify.
The service record read like turbulence on a long-range sensor plot. Early promise. Repeated injuries. Promotions earned, then stripped away. Transfers that followed incidents rather than failures. The kind of career that made people summarize too quickly and judge too lazily.
She understood now why the assignment had given her pause.
Harlan was not an officer who fit comfortably into Starfleet’s preferred narrative arcs. He did not rise cleanly. He endured. He survived systems that failed and decisions that angered the wrong people. His demotions clustered around moments where ship survival had outweighed procedural elegance. That pattern mattered more to Corbin than the rank fluctuations themselves.
She shifted the display to peer evaluations.
That was where the picture sharpened.
Engineers described him as unflappable under pressure. Captains noted that when systems began to cascade, Harlan stopped talking and started fixing. XOs she respected, officers whose judgment she trusted without qualification, all echoed the same sentiment. Difficult, yes. Abrasive at times. But reliable in the moments that counted. A man who would burn himself out to keep a warp core stable and then complain about the coffee afterward.
Corbin exhaled slowly and leaned back in her chair.
She had served long enough to recognize when a reputation had been shaped less by incompetence and more by friction with the wrong personalities. Jerks left fingerprints on careers. Good engineers kept ships flying anyway.
The USS Arawyn did not need polish. It needed someone who understood engines as something lived with, not merely overseen. Someone who would listen to the ship and answer it honestly.
Paper told her enough to make the call. The rest she would judge for herself.
She tapped the console and opened a secure subspace channel, routing it through fleet relays toward the USS Intrepid, inbound to Starbase 369. The stars beyond the viewport thinned into long, steady streaks as the connection stabilized.
“Harlan,” she said once the channel cleared. “This is Captain Sabrina Corbin of the USS Arawyn.”
Her tone was measured, direct. No ceremony. No warmth yet.
“I wanted to speak with you personally before you reached the starbase. There’s been a change to our movement orders.”
She paused, letting that land.
“We won’t be returning to 369.”
Elias nodded once, face impassive, the same neutral mask he’d worn through every transfer briefing for the last decade. The subspace lag was minimal—barely a heartbeat—but it gave him just enough time to swallow the tired sigh that wanted to escape.
“The Intrepid has already changed course, Captain,” he said, voice low and even, no trace of surprise or complaint. He reached for the PADD on his desk, glancing at the updated orders as if confirming something he’d already memorized.
“We’re due to rendezvous with a support vessel out of 369. They’re bringing the rest of the personnel transfers—couple of junior engineers, a medical officer slotted to fill Doctor Amberlyn’s open requests. Then continue to the Arawyn. Captain Harrington passed assurances we’ll arrive while the Arawyn is still in orbit around Lathira IV.”
He set the PADD down with deliberate calm, fingers lingering on the edge for a second longer than necessary.
“If I may be so bold Captain, I appreciate the direct line,” he added, meeting Corbin’s eyes through the screen. “Been a while since a CO bothered with the personal touch before I even set foot on the deck. Saves me from guessing at the welcome mat.”
There was a faint weariness in the words—not self-pity, just fact. The kind of quiet acknowledgment that came from too many handoffs, too many captains who’d read his file, raised an eyebrow, and decided the book mattered more than the man who kept the ship breathing.
He straightened slightly, the professional core snapping back into place like a well-oiled bulkhead seal.
Sabrina inclined her head once in acknowledgment, the faintest curve of a smile softening her expression. Not indulgent. Reassuring. The kind offered sparingly, but honestly.
“I’m sorry to hear that’s been your experience,” she said, plainly, without dressing it up. “It’s a discouraging thing, to feel like you’re being inherited instead of chosen.”
She folded her hands loosely atop the desk, posture relaxed but attentive, eyes steady on his through the screen.
“I make a point of speaking to my senior officers myself,” she continued. “Not because I expect certainty before you step aboard, but because command works better when it begins with clarity. You deserve to know where you stand, and I deserve to know who I’m trusting with my ship.”
There was a brief pause, measured, deliberate.
“The circumstances that bring an officer to the Arawyn matter less to me than what they do once they’re here. Files tell me history. Service tells me capability. But day-to-day conduct, judgment under pressure, and how you care for the people under you, that’s what defines your place aboard.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly, not unkindly.
“This ship carries a great deal of responsibility. Not just in tonnage or firepower, but in people. Crew, civilians, colonies that will look to us when something breaks and there’s no one closer. I take that seriously, and I expect my senior staff to do the same.”
Another small nod, this one more personal.
“I hope, in time, I’ll know every officer under my watch well enough that there’s no guessing involved. No raised eyebrows. No assumptions carried over from someone else’s command.”
She leaned back just a fraction.
“For what it’s worth, Commander, you weren’t transferred to the Arawyn by accident. I’ll be judging you by how you treat her engines, how you treat your people, and how you respond when things go wrong. Everything else is noise.”
Her smile returned, restrained but genuine.
“We’ll see for ourselves soon enough.”
Elias watched the screen in silence for the beat after Captain Corbin finished, the subspace hum filling the gap where words should have been. The lag was short, but it felt longer this time—like the connection was giving him space to actually hear what she’d said.
He blinked once, slowly, the neutral mask cracking just enough for genuine surprise to slip through. Not the usual wary skepticism he wore for new COs. This was quieter, deeper. A flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long string of transfers: the possibility that someone might actually mean it. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk, hands clasped loosely in front of him. When he spoke, his voice was still low, still controlled, but the weariness had softened at the edges.
“Captain…” He paused, searching for the right phrasing, then decided on plain. “That’s more than I expected to hear. Most briefing screens come with a list of expectations and a reminder of my last reprimand. Not… this.”
A small, almost reluctant exhale escaped him—not quite a sigh, more like letting go of a breath he’d been holding for years.
“I’ve spent a long time being inherited, like you said. Passed from one captain to the next with a file that reads like a cautionary tale. I stopped expecting clarity a while back. Figured the welcome mat was just whatever was left after the last guy scraped his boots on it.”
He met her eyes through the screen, steady now, no deflection.
“But you’re right. Files are history. Service is what matters.” He tapped the edge of his desk once, a small, unconscious gesture. “The Arawyn’s engines will be in good hands. I don’t care how many times the brass moves me around—I don’t leave a ship worse than I found it. Never have. And I don’t intend to start now.”
There was a brief, almost imperceptible shift in his posture—shoulders easing a fraction, like a bulkhead seal finally seating properly after too many cycles.
“As for the people…” He let the words hang for a second, then continued, quieter. “I’ve had enough of being dissected under someone else’s microscope. I don’t do that to my people. They get honest assessments, clear orders, and a chief who’ll stand between them and a warp-core breach if it comes to it. Everything else is just… noise, like you said.”
He straightened, the professional core locking back into place, but the weariness in his eyes had dulled, replaced by something closer to cautious respect.
“Thank you for the clarity Captain.” A faint, wry half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—the first real one since the call began. “I’ll see you at Lathira IV. Until then… keep her flying straight.”
Sabrina nodded once, a small but genuine smile touching her expression.
“I hope you find a home here, Commander,” she said simply. “For yourself, and for the sake of your department. Engineering needs stability, and I intend for the Arawyn to provide it.”
She held his gaze a moment longer, steady and assured.
“We’ll be in orbit at Lathira IV when you arrive. Safe transit.”
A final, respectful incline of her head.
“Welcome aboard. Corbin Out.”
LtCmdr Elias Harlan
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Arawyn
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
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