Fault Lines Below
Posted on 22 Mar 2026 @ 5:33pm by Captain Sabrina Corbin
773 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission: Arawyn’s Itchy Trigger Finger
// USS Arawyn :: Corridor Outside Stellar Cartography, Deck 11 //
The deck shuddered beneath her feet.
Not the controlled vibration of a distant exchange. This carried differently. It traveled up through the structure of the ship, through the soles of her boots and into her stance with a depth that spoke of something heavier, lower.
Below.
Sabrina Corbin had only just stepped out of Engineering.
Deck 15 still lingered in her mind. The steady hum of power systems, the ordered cadence of repair rotations, Commander Harlan’s measured confidence as they reviewed the recent mission on Lathira. It had been routine by design. A check-in. A confirmation that the ship, and it's people were holding.
She had left satisfied.
Four decks up, that certainty fractured.
The impact struck.
It threw her hard enough into the corridor wall that her shoulder took the brunt of it, her hand catching a half-second later to steady herself. The lights flickered, then snapped into the pulsing red of alert status as the klaxon cut in sharp and immediate.
Corbin’s head turned instinctively downward.
Toward Engineering.
The explosion followed.
Not heard in the traditional sense. Not at first. It came as a deep, concussive force that rolled up through the ship’s spine, a violent displacement of mass and pressure that reached Deck 11 a fraction of a second later as a dull, heavy report.
Too strong to be contained to a single compartment.
Her expression tightened, just slightly.
That had not been a surface hit.
“Corbin to Bridge.”
Her hand tapped her commbadge.
Nothing.
No response. No carrier signal. Silence.
“Computer, emergency transport. One to the bridge.”
No reply.
Another tremor followed, lighter but uneven, like the ship was redistributing stress around damage that had not yet settled.
She pivoted toward the nearest turbolift.
The doors stood open, dark and unresponsive.
Of course.
Corbin exhaled once, controlled, already turning back.
Inside Stellar Cartography, the wall terminal flickered to life under her touch, slower than normal but functional. She bypassed standard comm routing, forcing a text relay through secondary systems.
If voice was down, the data pathways would still carry.
A moment.
Then—
BRIDGE – MCKINNEY (CONN):
Unknown contact engaged. No visual.
Direct hit to Engineering. Hull breach confirmed. Internal explosion.
Multiple systems offline. Tactical attempting reacquisition.
Her eyes tracked the lines once.
No hesitation.
CORBIN:
Prioritize transporter restoration. Medical will require immediate casualty transfer.
Route available power accordingly.
Dispatch damage control to Engineering and adjacent compartments.
A beat.
MCKINNEY:
Acknowledged.
The channel closed.
For a moment, she stood still.
Not frozen. Not uncertain.
Listening.
The ship spoke in layers. The uneven hum of power rerouting. The faint, distant reverberation still carrying up from Deck 15, muted now but present. Secondary systems straining to compensate where primary pathways had failed.
Engineering had taken the worst of it.
And she was four decks above it.
Corbin stepped back from the terminal.
The bridge was several decks above.
Transporters offline. Turbolifts down. Communications degraded.
Which left one option.
She crossed to the maintenance access panel along the bulkhead.
“Computer,” she said evenly, “display nearest vertical Jefferies access route to Deck One.”
The schematic resolved, mapping a narrow climb upward through the ship’s internal structure.
Indirect.
Reliable.
She removed the panel without pause, setting it aside. The accessway beyond was dim, ladder rungs stretching upward into shadow, emergency lighting washing everything in red.
Another distant groan carried up through the frame of the ship.
Lower decks.
Containment efforts had begun.
Her jaw set.
Corbin reached for the first rung.
Solid.
She climbed.
Deliberate. Controlled. Each movement measured as the Arawyn held together around her, wounded but fighting.
Below, Deck 15 burned.
Above, the bridge waited.
OOC: Short post. Where were you when we got hit?
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
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