The Pancakes Died for This Moment
Posted on Thu Dec 11th, 2025 @ 7:44pm by Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren
2,109 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Second Light
Location: SB 369
// MacLaren’s Quarters – Starbase 369 //
The first warning was the smell.
Sidra stared down at the pan as if betrayal itself had taken physical form. The “pancake” inside was blackened, smoking, and barely qualified as matter.
From behind her, Will’s voice floated in.
“…Mom.”
Sidra didn’t look up. “Don’t.”
“No, I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
He stepped into the kitchen fully, the kitchen Stephen had insisted on when these quarters were constructed, all gleaming counters, real burners, real tools, real space.
“Mom,” Will said with pitying reverence, “Da built this kitchen so he could cook like a civilized human. Not so you could… attempt arson.”
Sidra sighed, setting the spatula down in defeat. “I followed the recipe.”
“You followed a recipe,” Will corrected, already reaching for the ventilation panel. “And then you turned the burner to maximum heat like the pancakes insulted your honor.”
Smoke drifted upward; Will waved it away. “You know the entire family has accepted this as a universal truth, right? You can do just about anything, but you cannot cook.”
“That is not accurate,” Sidra muttered.
“Mom.” He pointed at the pan. “This is a war crime.”
Sidra exhaled sharply. “Fine. Replicated breakfast.”
Will opened his mouth—
Sidra cut him off before the words formed. “And don’t even think about suggesting I ruined the espresso too. That part will be fine.”
He grinned. “Well yeah. That’s because you treat it like a scientific discipline.”
As if summoned by the comment, Sidra moved to the espresso station, the one corner of the kitchen she ruled absolutely. She weighed the grounds with precise flicks of her fingers, aerated them, tamped the portafilter with practiced pressure, locked it into place, and pulled a shot with the same steady focus she brought to fleet briefings.
A perfect stream of dark liquid poured into her cup.
Will watched her, amused. “See? If you applied that level of obsession to pancakes, maybe they wouldn’t require a hazard suit.”
Sidra ignored him and began scraping the pan before sliding it into the auto-cleaner. “Get breakfast, please.”
He went to the replicator. “What do you want?”
“Eggs,” she said. “And a bowl of fruit.”
Will ordered his own, waffles of course, and brought the trays to the small table by the viewport. Sidra joined him with her espresso, the only thing in the room she trusted not to mock her.
They ate in companionable quiet until Will tilted his head, studying her.
“You’re… weirdly cheerful today.”
Sidra took a sip. “I’m capable of being cheerful.”
“Yeah, but this is your ‘something is up’ cheerful. It’s like Da’s. He gets a sparkle in his eye, and your ears start—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—they start doing that pink thing, Mom.”
Sidra set down her cup with exaggerated patience. “My ears do not ‘do a pink thing.’”
“They do. You blush from the ears down. You inherited it from Grandpa MacLaren. Uncle London told me.”
Sidra narrowed her eyes. “Traitor.”
Will laughed, finishing his waffle. “So, what’s going on then? You’ve been smiling since you woke up.”
“I smile.”
“You smile at people, not at flooring.”
She stood, picking up her empty plate. “Put your boots on.”
Will blinked. “No explanation?”
“Nope.”
He groaned theatrically. “You enjoy withholding information.”
“I really do.”
// Corridors – Starbase 369 //
The walk to Docking Bay Four carried them through the spine of the station. They slipped onto the faster walking paths through the long stretches, letting the gentle conveyor motion pull them along. It still felt good to move, to stretch out, to feel the station waking around them.
SB369 was slowly shaking off the pre-shift quiet: lights brightening, crew drifting toward their posts, the familiar hum of a city in space settling into its daily rhythm.
For a moment, Sidra found her thoughts wandering.
369 still did not have a nickname. Every station eventually earned one.
SB742 had become Aurora.
1170 had become Cold Station Theta.
204 had become Zetari.
And Raven, she could not even remember the designation anymore, it had simply become Raven.
It will come in time, she told herself.
Will walked beside her, jacket tossed over one shoulder, a half-grown stride already a little longer than hers. He had passed her height months ago, something he pointed out at every possible opportunity, and today he moved with that mix of confidence and awkwardness that came from suddenly having new legs.
“When’s Da coming home again?” he asked.
Sidra hesitated. “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted.
And in the privacy of her thoughts: not soon enough.
Will did not push. He simply nodded and slid his hands into his pockets.
As they stepped off the walking path toward the next junction, his brow furrowed. “We’re heading toward the big bays.”
Sidra kept her expression carefully neutral. “We are.”
“Why?” he asked, suspicion sharpening. “You only come down here when something’s arriving or departing.”
She glanced up at him, at her son who looked more like Stephen every day, who carried her intensity behind his eyes, and who could now look down at her when he wanted to. A deeply inconvenient development.
He studied the map display, realization beginning to dawn.
“…Are you taking me to see a ship?”
Sidra offered the smallest, most infuriating smile. “Walk and find out.”
Will groaned softly. “Mom, that was absolutely a hint.”
“Consider it a gift.”
He followed, taller, curious, and growing more excited with every step they took toward Docking Bay Four.
// Docking Bay Four – Starbase 369 //
The bay opened before them like an aircraft hangar built for giants. The vaulted ceiling stretched upward into shadows and deck crews moved with efficient purpose. Yellow caution lights pulsed across the perimeter, guiding the traffic lanes for the incoming vessel.
Sidra guided Will onto an elevated viewing platform that offered the best sightline for the approach and a clear route to the starboard docking ramp. She checked the chronometer. Perfect timing.
A tone sounded overhead. Approach confirmed.
Sidra exhaled slowly. Her day ahead was packed, an unbroken line of meetings, briefings, diplomatic follow-ups, and as much time as she could give Indi, but she had carved this moment out deliberately. Giving Will the illusion that he was her only priority this morning mattered more to her than the dozen competing responsibilities waiting on the other side of this reunion.
Sidra’s sharp eyes caught the distant flare as the ship dropped out of warp well beyond the heavy impulse lanes around the station. It turned toward the bay with controlled grace, the kind that came from excellent piloting and a captain who believed a starship should move like it owned the space around it.
She waited for Will to spot it.
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing, then widening. “That silhouette… Mom, that’s a Ross class!” His voice lifted with excitement. “That’s definitely a Ross.”
Sidra allowed the faintest smile. “Good eye.”
The vessel glided into the bay, broad-shouldered and elegant, its hull catching the overhead lights.
Sleek. Command-ready. Built to lead.
As the ship drifted past the threshold, the registry came into view, clean and bright under the illumination.
USS CAELESTIS
Will inhaled sharply. “She’s gorgeous. Are they just stopping over?”
Sidra felt the familiar sting of awe she always experienced when a new ship arrived, but today it carried something deeper, something tied to old corridors and old loyalties. “No,” she said, her voice warm with withheld satisfaction. “They are staying here. Assigned directly for my use.”
Will’s mouth dropped open. “Mom! Why didn’t you—”
The display panel beside them lit with the captain’s name. Sidra nodded toward it, the final piece of the surprise. “She has a Captain, you know.”
COMMANDING OFFICER: CAPTAIN HO’REY’SO RUCKER
Will froze. His eyes widened. His voice cracked. “Uncle Ruck?”
Sidra nodded once, warmth rising beneath her ribs. “The very same.”
Will sputtered. “UNCLE RUCK?! You did not tell me! He’s been out on deep assignments for years! You said—”
“I said to be patient.”
Will grabbed her sleeve, nearly bouncing. “We get to meet him?”
“We are right here, aren’t we?”
The Caelestis eased into its berth. Umbilicals extended, locking in place with resonant clunks that echoed through the bay. The boarding ramp lowered.
Sidra and Will stepped into position as the inner hatch cycled open.
A figure emerged.
Tall. Broad. Stern as a cliff face. Klingon forehead ridges tempered by age and a lifetime of service. His presence filled the doorway before he even moved.
And in an instant, Sidra was no longer Admiral MacLaren. She was twenty-two again, barely an ensign, thrust into the role of acting Chief of Security on the Archer. He had been a cadet on a training assignment, wearing a too-new uniform and carrying a court-martial’s worth of unspent defiance in his stance. They had been thrown together in the Klingon Romulan conflict that erupted out of nowhere, learning command and combat in the worst possible classroom. Trial by fire. Growing up fast or dying faster. Rucker had been her shadow then, and she had been his reality check. They had survived because they learned together.
All of that history flashed behind his eyes the moment they landed on her.
Every hard line on his face softened into a smile that transformed him completely.
Rucker descended the ramp with solid, confident strides. He did not slow. He enveloped Sidra in a crushing embrace and lifted her half off the floor.
“Rucker!” Sidra sputtered, startled. She had not displayed this kind of unguarded affection in public in years and felt heat climbing her neck. “Put me down!”
“You grew soft in the admiralty,” he said, laughter rolling out of him. “I nearly snapped you in half.”
“You did not,” she muttered into his shoulder.
He set her down and held her at arm’s length, studying her with proud, appraising eyes. “Still fierce. Still fire in the eyes. Good. I worried Fleet bureaucracy might have smothered it.”
Sidra straightened her uniform, acutely aware of the watching crew. “I run an entire frontier fleet, Captain.” She emphasized his rank, a subtle reminder of the audience.
“Exactly my point.”
Will cleared his throat loudly.
Rucker turned and his expression melted into pure warmth. “WILLIAM MACCAFFERY!” He swept the boy into a hug that swallowed him whole. “Look at you. You were pocket-sized the last time I saw you."
Will laughed, muffled by Rucker’s shoulder. “Uncle Ruck, I was eight.”
“And you still tried to arm wrestle me.”
Sidra lifted an eyebrow. “He still will.”
Will gave her a wounded look while Rucker roared with laughter.
Rucker set the boy down and planted his hands on his hips. “You are wondering why I am here. Fair question.” He nodded toward the Caelestis. “I did not plan on another command, but your mother offered me something I could not turn down. A posting where my family could finally settle. A home port. Something stable. And the chance to serve close to the MacCaffery MacLaren tribe again.” He smiled at her. “That sealed it.”
Sidra felt her throat tighten, not painfully but full of something warm. “I cannot wait until they get here. We are glad you are here. Truly.”
“I give it a month before you are sick of me,” Rucker said with a grin.
“Impossible,” Will answered instantly.
“Do not encourage him,” Sidra muttered.
Rucker gestured toward the boarding ramp. “Come on then. Both of you. You can be the first from here to step aboard. I will give you a proper tour before the crew finishes securing inspections.”
Will’s entire face lit up. “Really?”
“Of course. You are overdue for your education in real ships.”
Sidra walked a few steps behind them toward the ramp, watching the bounce in Will’s stride. It was rare these days, that open boyish excitement. He was trying so hard to grow up, faster than she wanted him to. But moments like this reminded her he was still young, still hers, still a child in all the right ways, even as he matured toward a future Starfleet cadet.
A new ship.
An old friend.
Her son glowing with joy.
It was, she decided, exactly the right kind of arrival.
Vice Admiral Sidra MacLaren
Fleet Commander
Epsilon Fleet
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