When the Dust Settles
Posted on 26 Mar 2026 @ 1:14am by Captain Sabrina Corbin
1,173 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Arawyn’s Itchy Trigger Finger
Location: Bridge
// Bridge :: USS Arawyn //
The last of the exertion settled into something manageable as Sabrina Corbin stepped fully into the center of the bridge. She resisted the pull of the command chair, though it was there, familiar and grounding. Instead, she remained standing, posture deliberate, visible in the middle of her people.
They needed to see her upright.
Unshaken.
Even if the truth of it was more complicated than that.
“Report.”
Commander McKinney turned toward her, steady, grounded, the kind of presence that held a room together without drawing attention to itself.
“We are holding position behind the asteroid, Captain. No further contact since the initial strike.” He gestured slightly toward the tactical display. “Engagement was brief. Multiple vectors, no clear origin point. Sensors are… unreliable. Interference across the system. We are picking up echoes, reflections. Ghosts.”
Ghosts.
Corbin’s eyes shifted to the viewscreen. The asteroid filled most of it, a dark, uneven shield between them and open space. Its surface was scarred and pitted. Beyond it—
Stillness.
No pursuit.
No pressure.
“Good,” she said evenly. “The ship needs the pause.”
Her voice softened just a fraction.
“So do we.”
The truth of it settled quietly in the space between them.
A tone cut across the bridge.
A channel opened, and Ryan Collingway’s voice carried across the space. Not steady. Not quite.
“Lieutenant Collingway to the bridge. Commander Harlan has been injured. His condition is critical.”
There was a pause.
Corbin could hear it. Fear, forced into structure. Into something usable.
“It doesn't look good. I… don't think he's going to make it.”
She did not move.
Collingway continued, pulling himself back into the report.
“Engineering also suffered numerous casualties. The warp core's coolant tank took a direct hit. We had to shut it down in order to prevent leakage and a possible breach. We managed to restore power to transporters, communications, and turbolifts. We are continuing to work on restoring systems. Please advise from here.”
Silence followed.
Weighted.
Corbin’s expression did not shift, but something behind it did.
Harlan.
Minutes ago, she had been in Engineering. Had stood in that space while everything was still intact. She had checked in. Observed. Trusted the system and the people running it.
Now—
A brief acknowledgment.
Then it was set aside.
Not dismissed.
Deferred.
“Lieutenant,” she replied, voice calm, anchored, “you have done exactly what I would expect of you.”
She let that settle.
“Power is returning. Transporters, communications, and lift access are back online. That is a strong position given the circumstances.”
She shifted her stance slightly.
“As long as shields are holding, we are stable for the moment. That is your margin.”
A controlled breath.
“Your priority is the coolant system. I want that tank secured and brought back within safe operational thresholds. If we need to move, I will not have propulsion limited by instability in the core.”
“Aye, Captain,” came the reply, still tight, but steadier.
“Report to the bridge every five minutes on the status of the core and associated systems. I want no surprises.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“And Lieutenant—”
She held his attention without raising her voice.
“You are not alone down there. Keep your people focused. One step at a time.”
A quieter response.
“Aye… Captain.”
The channel closed.
The bridge absorbed it and moved on, the quiet efficiency of a crew that understood how to function inside strain.
Corbin exhaled once, slow and controlled, then shifted her attention forward.
“If whatever struck us intended to finish the job,” she said, measured, “it would have.”
McKinney gave a small nod. “Agreed.”
Her gaze lingered on the asteroid, tracing its edge. There was a pull to look beyond it. To know.
There was also discipline.
“Good work getting us clear and under cover, Commander.”
A simple statement.
It carried.
“Thank you, Captain.”
She inclined her head once.
“Confirm our shield status.”
“Shields are holding at reduced capacity, but stable.”
“Maintain them. Prioritize reinforcement unless Engineering advises otherwise.”
“Aye.”
“Science,” she continued, “begin a full passive scan of the surrounding area. No active emissions yet.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Her thoughts narrowed again to the unknown.
Kinetic slugs. Phased energy. Coordinated, precise, enough to cripple.
Then nothing.
Not pursuit.
Not harassment.
If it had wanted them gone, they would be.
Which meant something else.
“Ops, prepare a probe.”
Denari glanced over. “Configuration, Captain?”
“Low-emission sensor package. I want it to drift beyond the asteroid’s edge and along our previous vector.”
“To look for debris?”
“To look for whatever does not belong,” Corbin replied.
“Aye.”
The probe deployment moved forward, quiet, controlled, nearly invisible.
“Let us find out what struck us.”
She turned slightly.
“Open a channel to Commander Batenburg.”
“Captain,” came the XO’s voice after a brief delay.
“Report.”
“I was in Science when the attack occurred. Minor injuries only. I am en route to the bridge now.”
Corbin felt a small, internal shift.
“Understood. We will brief on arrival.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The channel closed.
One more variable accounted for.
Around her, the bridge continued its work. Systems stabilizing. Data building slowly into something usable.
Corbin stood for a moment longer.
Then, finally, she sat.
The motion was deliberate, controlled, not a concession but a transition. The center seat accepted her without ceremony,
familiar beneath her as she settled back, one hand resting lightly along the arm.
A report populated on her console.
Medical.
She opened it.
Her eyes moved across the data, taking it in without outward reaction.
Three confirmed dead.
The words were stark in their simplicity. No context. No detail. Just numbers made personal by the weight she placed on them.
Her crew.
Further down—
Critical condition.
Commander Harlan.
Commander Sorvak.
Her gaze held there for a fraction longer than anywhere else.
Two senior officers. Two pillars in their respective spaces. Both reduced, in this moment, to names on a list and a severity indicator.
Alive.
For now.
The ache in her chest returned, quieter than before but sharper for being contained.
She did not let it show.
Did not let it reach her voice, her posture, the way she held the room.
The report scrolled. More injuries. Multiple decks affected. The pattern of damage beginning to take shape in a way that matched what Engineering had already told them.
Not random.
Directed.
Corbin closed the report with a measured motion.
Her hand settled again along the arm of the chair.
“Maintain casualty updates to my console as they are confirmed,” she said, voice even.
“Aye, Captain.”
Her gaze lifted back to the viewscreen.
The asteroid remained. Silent. Temporary.
A shield, not a solution.
Behind it, her ship gathered itself.
Her crew held.
Ahead of it—
Answers.
“Continue scans,” she said. “And keep that probe quiet.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Corbin sat at the center of it all, composed, steady, carrying the weight without allowing it to alter the line she held.
They had been struck.
They had taken losses.
But they were still here.
And she intended to keep it that way.
Captain Sabrina Corbin
Commanding Officer
RSS Feed