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Erica slid into the mess hall, spotting Jenna Mitchell already at a table in the back, a PADD open in front of her with diagrams and stats.
Jenna waved her over, eyes barely leaving the screen, “I’ve been reviewing Kyle and Kirk’s last game. Honestly? They were sloppy.”
Erica grinned, pulling up a chair, “Good. Gives us a little advantage.”
They leaned in, heads close over the PADD, debating serve orders, angles, and tactics. It was the kind of easy, tactical talk Erica usually loved, numbers and timing and reaction instead of emotion.
The mission, though, still sat heavy in the background. Both of them had done their jobs, Mitchell operating the tractor bean and Erica holding the ship steady and yet both watching the shuttle blast apart. Then the twist: the boy was alive, but chose sacrifice. It was the kind of ending that didn’t fit neatly into any Starfleet report.
This? This was a welcome distraction.
At the back of the mess, a table had been set up for the doubles ping pong tournament.
Erica wandered over and picked up a paddle, spinning it once in her hand. “Alright, theory’s great, but we need more practice.”
They started volleying. Light, fast, non-competitive. Erica adjusted the angle of her wrist, her pilot instincts translating into each quick return. Jenna countered smoothly, controlled and unflinching. When Erica overextended for a shot and nearly lost her balance, Jenna snorted.
“Careful,” she said, smirk tugging at her lips. “Your style might get you in trouble.”
Erica waved a hand, still grinning, “Risk is part of the fun. Besides, if I’m going down, I’m taking Kyle with me.” She mimicked a hard return with her paddle.
Inside, though, she watched the precision in Jenna’s movements, methodical, focused. Secret weapon material, she thought.
“But you are right,” Erica said, “I can confidently say that Team Mitchell-Ortegas has a secret weapon waiting and it is not me.”
“Had a ping-pong table growing up,” Jenna explained. “Every night after dinner my dad and I would play.”
Erica groaned, “Figures. All this practice and you still make me look like I’m swinging a warp core instead of a paddle.”
They laughed, the sound echoing softly in the mostly empty mess. Somewhere behind them, a few engineers cheered over a card game. In a corner, a couple sat close to each other, talking quietly. Life on the Enterprise, in all its messy rhythm, went on.
As they volleyed back and forth, Erica felt a surprising sense of ease settle over her. The mission had been ugly, the kind that leaves you second-guessing even your best decisions. But here, sweat, laughter, and a little friendly rivalry, felt like proof that you just keep flying forward.
Tomorrow there'll be another game. Another mission. Another risk.
But tonight? Tonight was for ping pong and breathing again. She let herself savor it.