Swinging At Shadows

Posted on Mon Sep 1st, 2025 @ 6:14pm by Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren & Rear Admiral Indi Hawk

2,403 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Second Light
Location: Holodeck 93
Timeline: 242509.01

When she woke up from, was it a night's sleep, or was it a nap, or had she passed out, or was she too tired, whenever Indi woke up, she realised it was late afternoon. Completely disoriented, it took her a moment to know where she was, who she was and how she was - with a blasting headache and a feeling like she hadn't slept in weeks.

The sonic shower helped somewhat. The headache had subsided and she only felt like she hadn't slept in days, instead of weeks. Dragging herself to her couch, she called up the message queue that was waiting for her.

"Holodeck 93, 2200 hours, be in sports gear", signed Sidra.

Indi knew she couldn't refuse. Knew she had to get her act together, show up, and do the best she could. Sending a quick acknowledgment, she spent the rest of the day waking up, feeding herself, trying to not look like she had slept through most of the afternoon. It was true that she had done a good amount of work in the night and morning. She didn't sleep well lately, at least not when she was supposed to, so she was often found in her office at night and early morning before she headed to her quarters.

As the time came, she made her way down to the recreational center and spotted the Admiral a ways away. "What are you up to?" she asked once she'd crossed into speaking distance.

The crack of another ball against the bat echoed in the holodeck before Sidra turned her head, green eyes catching Indi’s approach. She let the bat rest against her shoulder, expression easing into a half-smile that was more invitation than greeting.

“What am I up to?” she repeated, giving the bat a lazy twirl before planting its end against the mat. “Therapy. Old-fashioned, noisy, sweat-and-calluses therapy. Doesn’t cure everything, but it keeps me from throttling half the staff some days.”

The holodeck was running an open program, rows of batting cages, a few occupied with other players sending balls cracking into the netting. Sidra had two lanes reserved. A cluster of scuffed balls lay in the far corners where she’d already driven them, her swing loose but practiced.

The redhead wore navy baseball pants and a loose jersey of the Cold Station Theta Ice Hawks. She fully intended to start teams on 369 and get a league going when time allowed. She suspected Indi had no idea how the game was played, but that wasn’t the point.

Sidra studied her a moment longer, enough to register the faint shadows under her eyes, the way her shoulders carried too much weight. She didn’t call it out, at least not directly. Instead, she tossed Indi a helmet and, a beat later, a wooden bat.
“I wanted some company to slam some balls into the universe,” she said plainly. “Don’t worry if you’ve never swung one of these. It’s not about form. It’s about putting the ball where your temper tells you to. The rest comes later.”

Her smirk softened into something more genuine as she stepped back to give Indi space. “Besides, if you miss every one, I’ll just say it was because you’re rusty. Not like I’m drafting you for a team yet.”

She gestured toward the open lane, eyes narrowing not in judgment but in quiet curiosity. “So. Headaches, bad sleep, work piling up, you want to burn it out, or you want to talk it out while you swing? Either way, I’m here.”

Indi eyed the helmet and bat she'd caught in a reflex. She'd heard of this ancient game, but she'd never seen it played, let alone played it herself. From the looks of it, it wasn't too hard. Then again, she knew from experience that looks could be deceiving.

Ignoring Sidra's last question/comment (for now?), she put on the helmet (at least that part was universal) and looked from the bat in her hand to the people around her swinging the bats. Maybe it wouldn't prove to be too bad. Sid was right. It could be a way to send frustration out into the universe.

Taking the offered space in the batting cage, she merely blinked as the first ball came in her direction and disappeared behind her. The second and third attempt didn't go all that much better, but at least she was getting an idea what to expect. On her fourth attempt, she felt something bounce off the wood, but it hardly 'flew out into the universe'. With a sigh, she ignored the stern Admiral next to her, she ignored her friend, and kept on trying in silence.

Sidra didn’t comment on Indi’s first awkward swings. Everyone looked ridiculous at the start; she’d learned long ago that the rhythm came with time. Instead, she tugged her own helmet snug and stepped back into her cage.

The machine sent another ball her way, crack, she drove it into the far netting. Another pitch followed, and another, her swings steady and sharp.

Only between pitches did she glance across at Indi. “Michael’s still in uniform, isn’t he?” she asked, casual on the surface. Crack. The ball snapped into the net. “What’s he up to these days, flying ships, saving the galaxy?”

Another ball whistled toward her, and she turned it into another solid hit before continuing. “And your wife…” She let the pause stretch, crack, another ball gone, “…are you still together?”

Her tone was easy, not interrogating, but each question was deliberate. Sidra had never been one to dance around what mattered.

She reset her stance, eyes narrowing on the next pitch. “You don’t want to answer, that’s fine,” she said, voice low enough that it carried just for Indi. Crack. “But I’ll keep asking until you do. I’ve got plenty of balls left.”

"We're still together," Indi replied as she took another swing. 'I think', she thought to herself, in an afterthought. When she thought about her wife, a lot of emotions ran through her. Her swing matched her emotions, getting more powerful. Maybe more chaotic, but the balls she did hit, swung further than ever.

"You've got your family here on the station," she added once some of the emotions had ebbed away as the balls flew off her bat. Just as many balls ended up behind her, but she ignored those. She felt awkward, out of sync, but it didn't seem to matter. Not right then. Not with Sidra. Not on this starbase. Hardly anyone knew her here. Little expectations. Or were there?
It was a plain statement, about Sidra's family. Not a question. No emotions. The wood seemed to have absorbed all those.

Sidra let another ball fly off her bat, then dropped the end to the mat, letting the machine cycle on without her. She leaned both hands on the barrel, gaze steady on Indi.

“You’re right. I’ve got them here.” Her voice was quieter now, the crack and echo of the other cages filling the pause. “And you should sit at our table. Dinner. No excuses.”

She straightened, swung again, crack, harder than before, as though her own nerves needed the outlet. “Will’s talking about the Academy,” she said, eyes narrowing on the net where the ball had vanished. “And that terrifies me more than anything I’ve faced in a uniform. I know what waits for him out there. I’ve seen it. Lived it. I can’t shield him from it, and it kills me.”

Her shoulders eased just a fraction as she turned back toward Indi. “So don’t tell me you’re fine, or that you’ll just keep working yourself into exhaustion. Come eat with us. Let some of that weight out where it doesn’t have to crush you alone.”
Sidra’s smirk tugged faintly at the corner of her mouth, though it didn’t soften the steel in her eyes. “Besides, Stephen cooks better than any replicator on this starbase. You need a real meal.”

Indi shook her head, not taking her eyes off the balls swinging her way. She was getting the hang of this. Not yet like most people around her, definitely not like she'd seen Sidra swing from the corner of her eyes, but well enough to get some real frustrations and emotions out of her system. The continuous swinging was more exhausting than she had expected. It made her head both more of a chaos and more clear.

"I'm fine in my quarters," she added after a few minutes of silence that Sidra had offered her. Besides, she didn't expect to find Dreamdust in the CO's quarters. Let alone when kids were around. Even almost grown up kids. The thought terrified her. Voluntarily locking herself in with the one person who could probably unravel her. It was different here, while swinging a bat in the midst of other people. It was different when you were reporting in to your CO's office. But her quarters? No way.

Finally, she also lowered her arm and stared at the balls around her. "How long do we have to keep doing this?" she asked, almost pleading, the relief from reality that awaited her in her quarters only a thought away.

Sidra’s jaw tightened as Indi brushed off the invitation. She swung again, crack, harder than she meant to, the ball smacking into the far net with a vicious echo. For a few moments, she let the rhythm carry her, pitch after pitch, before finally stepping forward and cutting the machine off with a sharp tap of the control. The silence that followed was sudden, almost jarring after the steady cadence of pitches.

“You know,” she said, voice edged, “I didn’t ask you here to watch you prove how long you can stand on your own two feet before falling over.”

She turned to face Indi fully, the bat now resting against her shoulder. “It’s just Stephen and me at that table. That’s it. No uniform, no reports, no holier-than-thou Admiral speeches.” Her tone softened, but the steel in it remained. “We are still friends, aren’t we? Or did I lose that somewhere along the way?”

Sidra let the question hang in the stillness, no more crack of bats to cover it, no more noise to hide behind.

Painfully aware of the sudden silence, Indi's eyes darted around for an out. She wanted to get away from her friend. Now more than ever. Whatever she had thought she could hide, was obviously plainly visible. It had been her biggest fear when seeing the duty roster, but she'd hoped it wouldn't come to pass.

"No," she finally spoke softly. "I don't think you lost that."

To break the silence, she cleared her throat. She felt the situation needed more. Needed something. But the thought of dust clouded her mind. Made it hard to think. She suddenly felt so tired. More tired than she had felt in a long time. This was nowhere the Admiral they saw in her office. But then again, neither was the friend who was still steadily looking at her. "I think we're still friends," she finally added. Anything to end the silence.

Sidra exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing but not disappearing. She set the bat aside, letting it rest against the cage wall, and met Indi’s eyes without flinching.

“I certainly hope so,” she said, the words steady but touched with something quieter beneath. “Because whatever this is, whatever you’re carrying, I’m ready to hear it. When you’re ready.”

Her gaze lingered, sharp and searching, though not unkind. She didn’t like what she saw: the shadows under Indi’s eyes, the hours she kept, the way she seemed to drift just far enough from everyone else to be untouchable. Yes, the job was getting done. But Sidra knew the cost of letting exhaustion and silence hollow a person out.

“You’re still standing,” she added, softer now, “but I can see the ground shaking under you. Don’t think I can’t.”

Sidra straightened, brushing a stray lock of red hair back under her helmet, though she made no move toward the control to restart the machine. She wasn’t about to chase Indi away with noise again. “I won’t push tonight. But you should know, I’m not letting this go. You matter too much to me to pretend I don’t see it.”

In the blink of an eye, something changed in Indi's demeanor. If you asked her, she couldn't pinpoint the why or the how. It's like something snapped in place, but it was hard to figure out what. On the outside however, to somebody as observant as her current company, it was impossible to miss. Maybe it was even harder to miss for Indi herself.

"I should get to bed. I have an early start," she nodded, more to herself than to the other woman. Was she still aware of her? Probably? Maybe? The thought of her quarters was strong. Invasive. All encompassing.

Turning to head out, she paused. "Thank you for the workout. It was new to me, but it was..." What did the pleasantries demand? "..fun."

Sidra managed the barest ghost of a smile, enough to let Indi go without more pressure. She stood there until the other woman’s footsteps faded and the holodeck doors sealed with their soft hiss.

The silence that followed was louder than the machines had ever been. Sidra swore under her breath, low and sharp, and shoved her helmet off, letting it clatter onto the bench. She left the bat where it leaned, walked straight out, and didn’t look back.

By the time she reached her quarters, the edge of her frustration had burned into something heavier. She poured herself a finger of scotch, her first since setting foot on 369, and sat with it in the quiet. The glass was cool in her hand, the amber burn biting her tongue when she finally swallowed.

Sidra stared at the glass a long while before swallowing the rest in a quick flick.

The burn lingered, but not as long as the questions.

Indi Hawk
Sidra MacLaren

 

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