The doors to Main Engineering parted with a soft hiss, and Lieutenant Commander Lorra Niala stepped through, the familiar heat of the space meeting her like a forgotten embrace. The scent of warmed metal and faint ozone filled her lungs—a scent that had become more familiar than home.

The warp core loomed ahead, its deep, rhythmic thrum resonating through the deck plating, a heartbeat she hadn’t felt in weeks. The pulsing blue light cast shifting shadows along the walls, painting the space in cool luminescence. For a moment, she stood still, just listening. The Sovereign-class ship had its own presence, its own life. And she had missed it.

Around her, engineers moved with the same quiet efficiency she had come to expect. Some barely glanced up as she entered, too absorbed in their work. Others stole quick looks, offering nods of acknowledgment. One or two smiled, small but genuine, before returning to their stations.

“Lieutenant Commander,” a voice called from the main diagnostic console. Ensign Talet, fresh-faced but sharp, stood waiting. “We weren’t sure when you’d be back.”

Niala stepped forward, her fingers instinctively grazing the edge of the nearest LCARS panel, feeling its smooth, reassuring warmth. “Neither was I,” she admitted, her gaze flicking up to the warp core. “Status report?”

Talet hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding. “Everything’s stable. Minor fluctuations in plasma flow last shift, but within parameters. We compensated.”

Niala’s brow lifted slightly. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She moved past him, her hands already dancing over the console, pulling up readouts, feeling the rhythm of the Valkyrie again through the data.

The hum of the core, the beeping of consoles, the murmur of engineers—it all wrapped around her like an old song she had almost forgotten.

She was home.