The soft hum of the station vibrated through Lorra’s chest as she quickened her pace down the polished corridor, her boot heels clicking in a steady rhythm. Her breaths came fast, not from exertion but from the thrill simmering beneath her calm exterior. Around her, officers in crisp uniforms strode purposefully, their muted conversations blending with the occasional chime of comm alerts and the distant whir of maintenance jobs.

She gripped the data padd in her hand tightly, her knuckles whitening as her mind raced ahead to what awaited her. The thought of him—Lieutenant Rinches—messing with her systems on the Valkyrie made her lip curl. Her ship had been in his hands for months, and she didn’t need to see the diagnostic reports to know there’d be “adjustments” to fix. The imagined sight of jury-rigged conduits and poorly tuned plasma relays sent a chill prickling along her spine. She could almost hear the soft sputter of a subsystem not running at optimal efficiency, almost feel the vibrations of a misaligned power regulator.

Pushing the thought away, she focused on the corridor ahead, its clean white walls lined with directional panels and blinking status monitors. She passed a pair of ensigns leaning against the bulkhead, exchanging quiet laughter. One of them glanced at her, straightened, and snapped into motion. Lorra didn’t pause or acknowledge it—she had no time for pleasantries. The holodeck was just around the corner, and the Valkyrie’s future hung in the balance.

The air shifted as Lorra neared the holodeck, the sterile, recycled atmosphere of the station giving way to something warmer, more tangible. There was a faint, almost electric tang in the air—a subtle ozone scent that made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She rounded the corner, and the holodeck doors came into view, glowing faintly, almost as if beckoning her forward. The hum of the station faded, replaced by a soft rustling sound. She took a breath, her heart quickening—not from fear, but from the rush of anticipation that always came with stepping into the unknown.

As the doors slid open, a flood of light poured out, and for a moment, it felt like stepping through a doorway into another world. The scent of freshly baked bread and earthy spices hit her first. Then, the cobblestone streets unfurled before her, winding through towering stone buildings, their facades adorned with intricate carvings. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the market square, where carts were stacked high with vegetables and goods. The noise of the marketplace was almost deafening—vendors shouting over one another, children laughing as they darted between legs, and the rhythmic clatter of horses’ hooves on the cobbles.

Lorra blinked and surveyed the scene. It felt real—too real. The warmth of the sun, the bustle of the crowd, even the faint scent of horses mixed with the smell of roasted meats—it was all meticulously designed. But something about it felt… foreign. She furrowed her brow, trying to place the city. Florence? She’d heard the name, but that was all. Earth’s history wasn’t her area of expertise.

“Computer, where am I?” she asked, her voice steady, but her eyes still scanning the crowd for any signs of the Captain.

The computer’s response came quickly, cool and efficient, but a little too detached for Lorra’s liking. “Holodeck 5 on Deck 457, Sector Kilo-Indigo.”

Lorra shook her head, a small frown tugging at her lips. “No, no, no. Computer, that’s not what I meant.” She glanced around, her hand on her hip as she exhaled sharply. “When and where is this program set?”

There was a moment of silence, and Lorra almost thought the system had glitched. Then the computer beeped softly, its voice flat as it answered, “You are in the City of Florence, Italy, on Earth, in the year 1473.”

The words barely had time to register before Lorra’s mind processed the meaning. Florence, 1473? Earth’s history wasn’t something she knew intimately, but the name still struck a chord. She looked around again, taking in the scene with a different eye this time—every detail more vibrant. The way the light glinted off the bronze of a nearby statue, the soft murmur of a conversation between two women haggling over fabric, the stall with small jars of honey and homemade candles, their scents mingling in the air.

The crowd seemed oblivious to her presence, moving with a fluidity that made her feel like an intruder. Her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she walked forward, her eyes locked onto the square ahead. It felt like time had slowed as she made her way through the market, every movement around her sharp and clear. But she couldn’t let herself be distracted by the charm of the place. She had a mission.

A narrow alleyway opened up to her right, and she slipped through it, the stone walls rising on either side like silent sentinels. The sounds of the square grew muffled as she emerged into another open space. And there, near the center of the market, she saw her.

Captain Saffiya Nassar.

The Captain’s back was to her, her dark hair cascading over the shoulders of a simple, flowing gown that blended seamlessly with the time period. She stood in front of a vendor, engaged in a quiet conversation, though Lorra couldn’t hear the words from this distance. The sight was so at odds with the woman Lorra knew—the no-nonsense, tough-as-nails officer now standing in the middle of a 15th-century Italian market.

Lorra couldn’t help but smile. The sight was almost surreal. She stepped forward, quietly, until she was just a few paces behind Nassar. The low hum of the holodeck seemed to fade into the background as she leaned in and called out, her tone playful, “I bet you weren’t expecting me to show up in 1473’s Italy?”

Truth be told, Captain Nassar had not expected Lorra at all, and her surprise was evident as she turned to face the woman. She eyed her up and down with exaggerated approval, then, without a word, turned back to the vendor. “I will take your word for it.”, she said, as a small vial with amber liquid was exchanged for a handful of coins. Only then did she deign to grace Lorra with her attention.

“I figured you had to be somewhere, 1473’s Italy seems as good as any place to be.”, she said, but couldn’t keep a smile from tugging at the corner of her lips. “Though that clothing really won’t do. If you already have to disturb my very limited time away from the Valkyrie, at least dress the part.”

Lorra’s lips curled into a brief smile, the kind that hinted at an unspoken joke. She entertained the thought for a moment, but then shook it off, straightening her posture and letting the playful energy settle into something more focused. The glint in her eyes remained, but it was tempered by the quiet understanding that duty called.

“With all due respect, Captain,” she started, her voice steady and smooth, but the eagerness still slipping through, “I wasn’t planning on staying here long. Truth be told, if it were up to me, I’d already be in Engineering, hyperspanner in hand, tearing through the systems to make sure she’s the finest Sovereign in Starfleet.”

Her lips curled again, the words carrying a quiet pride, though the hint of a challenge still lingered in the air. “Which, of course, she is. But just imagine—a new tier of Sovereign. That’s where she belongs. She deserves more than perfection.”

Her gaze flickered to the horizon for a split second, her mind lost in the thought of what could be. Then, the reality of her own words brought her back, and she shifted her weight slightly, her shoulders rising and falling in a sigh of acceptance.

“But, alas,” she muttered, letting the word hang like a weight between them, her eyes narrowing in mock frustration, “regulations. They won’t even let me touch the ship’s systems without the Commanding Officer’s stamp of approval.”

She turned her head slightly, letting the pause stretch long enough for the acknowledgment to sink in. “And that,” she added, her voice softening into an almost respectful drawl, “would be you.”

“So, here I am, Captain,” she said, the words almost an afterthought, though they held the weight of duty. “Lieutenant Commander Lorra, reporting for duty, ma’am.”

“You do realise you are essentially your own replacement, don’t you?”, the Captain asked and raised an eyebrow. “Walk with me. I have a husband to poison.” She gestured for Lorra to follow along she made her way through the market, past vendors and visitors alike, until they reached a winding path that led them through a garden, and would eventually end at one of the more prestigious abodes in the area.

“Where was I… oh yes, poison the husband, and you replacing yourself. I requested a new Chief Engineer several weeks ago, but with bureaucracy being what it is, it has taken its sweet time.”

Though she had to admit that part of it was her own fault. With two department head positions vacant, Frisco had been forced to work as CMO and XO at the same time, and she had done the job of a CO and been her own XO whenever the other woman was tied up in sickbay. In addition, she didn’t trust Lieutenant Rinches as much as she would have liked, and there had been evenings she had spent making sure the warp core didn’t blow up.

The cobblestones clicked under their boots as they walked through the quaint streets, sunlight glinting off the curved edges of stone houses. Vendors called out their wares, and the scent of fresh bread mingled with the faint metallic tang of armor from the guards they passed. Lorra barely noticed. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, and she exhaled sharply through her nose.

“Yes,” she said, her voice tight, “I’m painfully aware that I’m my own replacement.” Her shoulders tensed as she glanced sideways, the words coming quicker now. “And I know—” She stopped abruptly, her jaw clenching. For a moment, it looked like she might not finish the thought.

She inhaled sharply, then let the words spill out. “I know Rinches has had his filthy fingers all over her. I can feel it. Every relay, every circuit—he’s probably left a mess I’ll be untangling for weeks.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked ahead, her brow furrowed, as though the image of his work was physically in front of her.

Her pace quickened. “We’re short-staffed, I get that,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no less charged. “But can’t you just… I don’t know, pull some strings? Ship him off to some California-class? Something harmless, like the San Diego? Or stick him on a station somewhere, running the same diagnostics on the same relays every day? I hear Montana station has some excellent facilities!”

“Not a bad idea.”, Saffiya admitted. “He’d probably do less damage there. But it wouldn’t be fair to the team there.”

Lorra let out a heavy sigh, the kind that carried both resignation and a last flicker of defiance. Then, with a wry smile, she tried one more time. “We could always just… ‘forget’ to recall him. Honestly, he’s slow enough that by the time he figures it out, we’ll be light-years away.”

“Or…”, Saffiya said slowly, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “How about I make it your personal project to mentor him. You know what they say about problems – they’re just opportunities with thorns on them.”

Lorra’s grin widened, her eyes glinting with a spark of mischief as she leaned in slightly. “And you know what I always say…” She let the words hang for a moment, her tone light and teasing, before finishing with a wink. “There’s no problem too big for the airlock.”

“Well, I am glad your enthusiasm hasn’t dimmed. How was your time away? And was whatever it is you were doing really worth leaving the Valkyrie for?”

Lorra’s smile lingered, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She glanced away for a moment, her shoulders sinking slightly before she straightened up again. “Captain, you know as well as I do—there’s nothing out there worth leaving the Valkyrie for.”

Her gaze flickered back to Nassar, and with a shrug, she pushed the thought aside. “But enough of that. Where’s the husband you wanted to kill?”