Corrosive Truths
Posted on 16 Feb 2026 @ 3:33am by Lieutenant Aev Flammia & Captain Sabrina Corbin
2,253 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Silent Inheritance
Location: Multiple
Timeline: Current
[Aev Personal Quarters]
Aev lay stretched along the couch, exhausted eyes fixed on the small communication device resting on the coffee table before him.
His thoughts kept circling back to Corvanis, to his uncle’s voice, calm and persuasive. With a single press of a button, he could learn more about … and in doing so, betray everything he had sworn to uphold. The temptation lingered. So did the fear.
His encounter with Ryan Collingway had dragged the device back to the forefront of his mind, sharper than before. The guilt of even considering it gnawed at him now, quiet but relentless. He exhaled slowly and turned his head toward Ignis, who sat on the chaise across from him, golden eyes steady and unreadable. “I think I should tell the Captain,” Aev said at last.
Ignis did not answer immediately. He regarded Aev in silence for a moment, golden eyes steady, thoughtful rather than playful. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured. “If you tell the Captain, you relinquish control of the narrative. The decision ceases to be yours.” A slight tilt of his head. “However, concealment carries its own erosion. Secrets are… corrosive.”
Ignis rose from the chaise and walked a slow half-circle around the coffee table, the light of his form flickering faintly with each step. His gaze dropped briefly to the device on the table. “You have not pressed the button,” Ignis observed. “That fact is not insignificant.”
“Listening to Calloway,” Aev said slowly, “hearing how much that lie has been consuming him… the potential consequences of it.” He frowned faintly. “I may have placed myself in a similar position.” His gaze shifted to Ignis. “You’re right. Secrets are corrosive.”
He pushed himself upright, reached for the device on the table, and activated his combadge. “Computer, locate Captain Corbin.”
“Captain Corbin is in the ship’s gym.”
Aev let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “The gym,” he repeated. Of course. He rose to his feet, the device still in his hand, and headed for the door.
[Arawyn’s Gym]
The gym doors opened on a quiet sigh. Footsteps followed, not aimless, not hesitant. Deliberate.
Corbin was midway through another squat, the bar balanced across her shoulders, gray tank fitted close, loose workout trousers brushing her calves as she moved. Gloves firm on the steel. Ponytail secured high and out of the way.
She lowered with steady control and drove back up, breath measured, before stepping forward to re-rack the weight. The plates settled with a soft metallic knock.
Only then did she turn.
Lieutenant Aev Flammia stood just outside the perimeter of the rack, a small device in his hand.
Not dressed to train.
She stripped off one glove and flexed her fingers, studying him without staring. There was a tightness around his violet eyes she had not seen before. Not panic. Not fear. Just something unsettled. For a fleeting moment, the instinct was not purely professional. It was protective.
He was her youngest senior officer. Capable, certainly. But still finding the full weight of that chair.
She reached for her water bottle, taking an unhurried sip.
“If you are here to critique my depth, Lieutenant,” she said, tone dry but even, “I assure you I will not appreciate it.”
A brief pause, her gaze shifting to the device in his hand and back again.
“Or,” she added, stepping clear of the rack, giving him her attention fully now, “you needed to speak with me.”
“It would be rather forward of me to critique you, Captain,” Aev replied, the faintest smile touching his mouth. He could barely sense her. She was just a steady contained presence. The contrast was striking. Where Ryan radiated emotion in chaotic waves, Corbin held hers with disciplined control. For the first time that evening, he could almost breathe. His gaze swept the gym in a quick, habitual scan. Empty, save for Ignis, who lingered near the doorway to warn him should anyone come.
“But yes,” Aev continued, attention returning to her. “I did need to speak with you.” A slight pause. “If this is not an inopportune moment.”
Corbin inclined her head once at his reply, catching the faintest hint of a smile. She did not miss the way his gaze swept the gym in a quick, practiced assessment. Empty at this hour. Even if she preferred later sessions, this was late, even for her.
What she did not say aloud was that she had too much on her mind to sleep.
She crossed to the nearby bench and retrieved her hoodie, pulling it over her shoulders as the cooler air settled against damp skin. The chill came quickly once she stopped moving. She stripped off her remaining glove, tucked both into the pocket, then picked up her water bottle.
“I always have time,” she said simply.
She sat on the edge of the weight bench, posture relaxed but attentive, forearms resting lightly against her thighs. The shift was subtle but intentional. Not commanding. Not distant. Present.
“What’s on your mind?”
Her gaze dropped, briefly, to the object in his hand.
And there it was. A small, unwelcome calculation. He had been gone for weeks. It would have been an easy opportunity for substitution. A convenient story. A slight change in demeanor, attributed to experience. Plausible.
The thought was clinical, not emotional.
It lasted no more than a heartbeat.
Her eyes returned to his, steady again, giving him the floor.
Aev crossed to an empty bench opposite her and sat, posture straight despite the fatigue lingering in his eyes. He rested the small communication device in his lap. “Earlier this evening, I had an encounter with one of the junior engineers,” he began evenly. “An incident on the planet resulted in a report reaching my desk. Upon review, I uncovered a discrepancy tied to prior sworn testimony at a tribunal.”
He summarized the matter concisely, then withdrew a PADD from his pocket and handed it to her. “Doctors Emerson and Amberlyn are already aware of the circumstances surrounding the officer. I do not believe it is my place to escalate this to Starfleet Command. However, it is appropriate that you are informed.” He let that settle, effectively placing the matter in her hands.
Corbin took the PADD and read in silence, eyes moving with practiced efficiency. She already knew enough of Lieutenant Collingway’s history to place the pieces quickly. Prior strain. A tribunal. A young officer attempting to reconcile past decisions with present reality.
She handed the PADD back.
“If Doctors Emerson and Amberlyn are aware,” she said evenly, “and the officer has been cleared for duty, then it remains a medical matter.”
A slight tilt of her head.
“It is not for me to excavate what has already been examined and judged appropriate.”
There was no dismissal in her tone. Only clarity. Chain of responsibility mattered. So did boundaries.
Aev exhaled softly and rotated the communication device in his lap. “That is not the primary reason I am here.” His gaze lifted briefly, then drifted back to the object in his lap. “The situation forced me to consider the nature of secrets. How corrosive they can become.” A pause. A swallow.
“On Corvanis, when the Romulans arrived… I omitted a detail in my report.” His breathing tightened unexpectedly; a flicker of fear rose sharp and sudden. He closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself before continuing. “The commander of the Romulan contingent claimed to be my uncle. They must have had prior knowledge of my presence.” His jaw set. “He asked me to leave Starfleet. I refused.”
He looked directly into Corbin’s eyes now. “But he gave me this.” He lifted the device slightly. “It enables direct communication with him… from anywhere. He said it would allow me to speak with my biological mother.” The admission hung in the air. “I did not report this to Starfleet, Captain.” His voice lowered. “For that, I am ashamed.”
Her attention shifted as Aev turned the device in his hands.
She listened without interruption as he spoke of Corvanis. Of the Romulan commander. Of the claim of blood relation. Of the offer.
At the word ashamed, something in her expression softened, almost imperceptibly.
“You refused him,” she said first, calm and steady. A statement, not a question.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the device, then returned to his eyes.
“And you did not use it.”
No accusation. Only assessment.
“The fact that you are here now tells me you understand why this required disclosure.”
She leaned back slightly, giving him space without withdrawing.
“You were approached by a hostile power with something deeply personal. They anticipated you. That alone is strategic.”
A pause.
“But you did not leave. And you did not answer.”
Her eyes remained fixed on his.
“Have you activated it at all?”
“I have not,” Aev answered. “We did examine the device to ensure it was safe. I would not have put the ship in danger.” He paused, something darker passing through his expression. “They were terrified of him. I could taste their fear when they saw him.” He drew in a breath and clarified, “The Remans.” He shook his head faintly.
“I do wish to learn more about my biological mother. But when I think of him, and the fear surrounding him, I find myself uncertain.” His jaw tightened. “They claim he killed my father. He insists he did not, and instead offers proof of my mother’s existence.” A slight frown. “Proof I have not been able to verify.”
He exhaled slowly. “I searched what information was publicly available, Federation news excerpts, unclassified intelligence reports. It appears he has been heavily involved in the Free State’s diplomatic efforts with the Federation. Beyond that, very little is known about him.”
Corbin held his gaze, steady and deliberate.
He had not activated the device. He had ensured it posed no threat to the ship. That mattered. It spoke to judgment, not impulse.
The rest was not tactical. It was personal.
She saw the tension in his jaw, the effort behind his restraint. This was not about diplomacy or intelligence briefings. It was about identity. About a lifetime of absence colliding with sudden possibility.
“This is raw,” she said quietly. “You waited your entire life for answers. Of course the possibility of them unsettles you.”
Her eyes shifted briefly to the device in his hand.
“You are also adapting to a new way your mind works,” she continued. “New sensitivities. New perceptions. That alone requires equilibrium. Adding something this personal, this charged, into the equation would test anyone.”
A small pause.
“This is not a failing. It is timing.”
She reached out then, a deliberate, measured gesture, and rested her hand briefly against his forearm. Not command. Not formality. Human.
“You do not have to decide anything now,” she said. “Patience is not weakness. It is control.”
Her hand withdrew, but her attention did not.
“You are being offered answers by a man surrounded by fear. By a government fluent in leverage. That does not mean he lies. It does mean you must ask a different question.”
Her voice lowered slightly.
“Can you trust the path, not just the promise?”
She let a moment pass before continuing.
“If the route to truth requires secrecy from your captain, from your command, then it is already misaligned.”
Her expression softened, just slightly.
“You did the right thing by coming here. Secrets become corrosive when they isolate you. This one no longer does.”
“Yes,” Aev acknowledged quietly. There was a subtle sense of relief now that the truth was no longer his alone to carry, no slow spiral into the kind of emotional mire he had just witnessed in Collingway. He studied the device in his lap for a long moment. Then, with deliberate resolve, he lifted it and extended it towards Corbin “I will abide by your decision, Captain.”
Corbin did not take the device.
Her eyes lifted from it to him instead.
“I am not taking that from you,” she said calmly. “This is not a command decision. It is a personal one.”
A slight pause.
“If I order you to surrender it, you are relieved of the weight. If I order you to keep it, you carry my will instead of your own. Neither serves you.”
She leaned back slightly, giving him space.
“What I can decide is this: you will not activate it without informing me. If you choose to pursue contact, it will be done transparently, with safeguards.”
Her gaze held his, steady and sure.
“But whether you keep it, secure it, or destroy it,” she finished quietly, “must remain your choice.”
A softer note followed.
“You do not need to surrender your agency to prove your loyalty, Lieutenant.”
A wave of relief settled over him. Aev drew the device back into his lap, fully aware of the weight behind the Captain’s words. The implications were not lost on him. He met her eyes and offered a small, sincere smile. “Thank you for your trust, Captain.”
Rising to his feet, he inclined his head slightly. “I’ll let you return to your workout.” Corbin gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. With that, Aev turned and made his way toward the exit. At the doorway, Ignis pivoted smoothly and fell into step beside him, the two of them disappearing down the adjacent corridor.
[End]
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
USS Arawyn
Lieutenant Aev Flammia
Chief of Security
USS Arawyn
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