Second Star To The Right.....For 2 Days (Part 1)

Posted on Tue Aug 25th, 2026 @ 1:48pm by Lieutenant Commander Nicolette De St Pierre & Lieutenant Commander Dean Villarreal

8,255 words; about a 41 minute read

Mission: The Hand That Rocks The Babe
Location: ESD / Shuttle

The shuttle bay was already busy when Dean arrived. Earth Spacedock never truly seemed to sleep. Even within the confines of the cavernous bay, there was a constant rhythm to the place, the low mechanical hum of station systems, the hiss of pneumatic equipment, the occasional announcement from station control, and the distant thrum of maneuvering thrusters as another vessel came or went. Dean paid little attention to most of it. His attention was on the Type XI shuttle sitting in its assigned bay.

Sleek, compact, and considerably more capable than its size suggested, the shuttle looked almost pristine beneath the harsh illumination of the overhead work lights. Almost. Dean made a slow circuit around it, PADD tucked beneath one arm while his other hand traced along the hull plating. He stopped beside one of the access panels and crouched, running his fingers carefully along the edge before removing it with a twist of his hand. Inside, the familiar arrangement of conduits and isolinear connections greeted him. He leaned closer, checking the connections before running his fingers carefully along the primary power-transfer assemblies. Nothing looked out of place, but Dean checked twice before replacing the panel and moving on.

The landing gear received the same treatment. He inspected the hydraulic assemblies, checked the locking mechanisms, and crouched low enough to examine the manoeuvring thrusters beneath the hull. A small diagnostic tool was produced from the equipment case beside the shuttle and connected to one of the maintenance ports. 1 by 1, the thrusters responded, their systems reporting within nominal parameters. Dean made a note on his PADD before moving toward the shuttle's compact warp nacelles.

He climbed onto the maintenance platform alongside the shuttle and began examining the warp assemblies, field-control interfaces, and alignment readings. Once satisfied with the physical inspection, he stepped back and brought up the diagnostic controls.

Nicolette stood in her temporary quarters, the few personal items she carried on her were already packed in a suitcase, ready to take with her to board the shuttle. Anything else should have already been transported to the shuttle from the ship she had arrived on prior. She walked across to the view ports, staring out at the ships moving about for a moment, contemplating how many times she had seen this view, and how different each time had been.

As a child, following her parents between assignments, shocked and awed by the expanse of the universe beyond.

As an orphan, returning from the Delphinium, waiting to be collected by a distant aunt she didn't even know existed.

As a cadet, bright eyed, yearning for adventure as she boarded her cadet cruise, ready to prove herself in the universe, to earn her place and make her parents proud.

As a new wife, returning from her honeymoon and preparing to join her husband on their first assignment.

As a new mother, showing her infant daughter the ships and the stars that represented the universe surrounding them...

As a widow, lost and confused, hurt by what the stars had brought to her...

And today.

Today she was nothing special, no one special, just another officer waiting transport to her new assignment, no different to any of the no doubt thousands of other officers around doing the exact same thing... but this time felt different.

Leaning in, she double checked the suitcase again, making sure everything was packed and secure before she closed it once more and looked back toward the view port, taking one last glance before lifting the suitcase into her hand and heading for the door. She hadn't been summoned yet, but she felt compelled to leave these empty quarters. There was nothing left here for her now, all that remained was what was to come.

He climbed onto the maintenance platform alongside the shuttle and began examining the warp assemblies, checking the plasma conduits, field-control interfaces, and alignment readings. Once satisfied with the physical inspection, he brought up the diagnostic controls. "Computer, initiate a low-power warp-field diagnostic."

"Warning. Warp systems are currently locked out by station safety protocols."

Dean gave the console an unimpressed look. "I know. I'm asking for a diagnostic." There was a brief pause before the computer acknowledged the request, and a soft blue glow appeared along the nacelles as the field generators cycled through their sequence. Dean watched the readings closely, occasionally tapping something into his PADD before finally marking the system as satisfactory.

Inside the shuttle, he powered up the primary systems and waited as the console displays illuminated one after another. Navigation came online, then communications, sensors, flight controls, and inertial dampers. Rather than relying entirely on the automated sequence, Dean checked each system individually. The environmental controls received the same attention. Cabin pressure, oxygen mixture, temperature regulation, and atmospheric circulation were tested and verified. He even adjusted one setting manually, waited for the system to respond, and then returned it to its original configuration.

The passenger compartment wasn't overlooked either. Dean moved through it methodically, checking emergency equipment, medical supplies, survival provisions, and the emergency beacon. Storage compartments were opened one by one, their contents inspected before being secured. A missing hypospray cartridge was replaced, while a damaged restraint strap was removed and exchanged for another from the equipment locker. None of it was particularly dramatic, nor would most of it ever appear on an official Starfleet inspection report, but Dean had always believed that the little things mattered.

Having taken her time walking around, Nicolette finally found herself approaching the shuttle that was supposed to be taking her to her new assignment. There was nothing left to do, at least nothing left that she wanted to do, so she decided to just bite the bullet and show up. Worst case scenario, she was left waiting, but she would be doing that no matter where she went now. She approached the shuttle, holding the small suitcase in her hand, biting down on her bottom lip, white teeth visible against the glossy pink. Tentative steps up the access ramp until she stood in the hatch, suddenly feeling uncertain of her decisions. "Hello?" she called tentatively.

Eventually, he returned to the cockpit and reviewed the steadily shrinking list of checks on his PADD. Fuel reserves were confirmed. Power distribution was balanced. Shield generators responded correctly. Communications encryption was functioning, the navigational database was current, and the flight-control systems were ready. Finally, he brought up the destination coordinates and studied them carefully. The route had already been loaded into the shuttle's computer, but that didn't mean Dean intended to blindly trust it. He cross-referenced the flight path with the station's current traffic patterns, departure lanes, and recommended approach vectors before finally authorizing the flight plan.

"Pre-flight inspection complete. No faults detected. Shuttle is flight-ready."

Dean glanced toward the rear of the shuttle, his brow lifting slightly. He hadn't been expecting anyone just yet, though the presence of someone arriving at precisely the moment he was preparing to depart wasn't exactly unusual. Setting the PADD down against the console, he rose from the pilot's seat and made his way toward the hatch.

"Hello," he answered, his voice carrying easily through the compact interior. As he reached the rear compartment, his eyes settled on the woman standing uncertainly in the hatchway, suitcase in hand. The hesitation in her posture was hard to miss, and Dean offered her a small, reassuring smile rather than immediately bombarding her with questions. "Lieutenant Commander Dean Villarreal. Can I help you with your bag there ma'am?" His hand out to take her bag should she wish to give it.

"Oh.. uhmmm..." Nicolette glanced awkwardly between the bag in her hand and his outstretched hand. "Thank you," she said quietly as she handed it off. "Lieutenant Commander Nicolette De St Pierre, I believe you're expecting me?" She glanced around, eyes widening ever so slightly. "Unless I've got the wrong shuttle, in which case I hope the ground opens up and swallows me right now!"

Dean accepted the suitcase with an easy nod, lifting it without any particular difficulty before turning toward the small storage compartment. "I've got it," he assured her, stowing the bag securely before closing the compartment and turning back toward his unexpected passenger. At her introduction, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Lieutenant Commander De St Pierre," he repeated, extending his hand toward her. "Yes, ma'am. You're exactly where you're supposed to be. I've been expecting you."

Her comment about the ground swallowing her earned a quiet chuckle from him, the tension in the atmosphere easing somewhat. "Although, for what it's worth, I don't think the ground is going to be particularly cooperative. We're several thousand kilometres above it." His smile broadened slightly as he gestured toward the interior of the shuttle. "So unless Spacedock has suddenly developed a rather impressive gravity problem, I think you're safe."

Dean motioned toward the passenger compartment. "Come on in and make yourself comfortable. We're not quite ready to launch yet, but I've finished most of the pre-flight checks."

Nikki nodded, moving into the shuttle and taking a seat where he had motioned. "Are we waiting on anyone else?" she asked curiously.

Dean glanced back over his shoulder from the cockpit as she settled into her seat. He picked up the PADD again, giving the manifest another quick look before answering. "Not unless someone has decided to make a last-minute appearance," he replied, a faint smile touching his features. "You're the only passenger on my flight plan."

He turned back toward the console, tapping through the final pre-flight information. The shuttle's systems hummed quietly around them, the familiar sounds of a vessel coming fully to life filling the brief silence. "I was expecting you, though. Your name was on the manifest when I was assigned the flight." He glanced back toward her. "So unless Starfleet has decided to surprise me with an additional passenger between now and departure, it's just the two of us."

A fleeting look of alarm crossed her face, but she tried to hide it, coughing back her initial protest. "You're the only one piloting this thing?" she asked carefully. "No one else is going to be here to assist if needed? Because, you know, I'm sure they told you I'm have the worst piloting scores in the history of StarFleet Academy... I... You..." She stumbled over her words before gulping in a breath. "You're piloting alone?"

Dean slowly turned in his seat to look back at her, taking in the fleeting alarm that had crossed her face and the increasingly concerned expression that followed. For a moment, he simply stared at her.

Then one eyebrow rose. "Well ma'am..." He glanced toward the empty co-pilot's seat beside him before looking back at her. A small grin tugged at his mouth, though he quickly softened it when he realized she was genuinely concerned rather than joking. He turned in his seat fully, resting one arm against the backrest. "Yes. I'm piloting alone."

He let the answer hang there for just long enough before adding, "But before you start looking for the emergency hatch, I should probably point out that the Type XI is designed to be operated by a single pilot. There's nothing particularly unusual about this." Dean tapped the console beside him. "Flight control, navigation, propulsion, communications, sensors, the shuttle can handle all of that without a second person sitting beside me. I'm here to make the decisions and intervene when the computer needs a little help."

His expression became slightly more amused. "So, relax, Commander. You're not going to have to fly." A beat passed. "Unless, of course, something goes horribly wrong." He allowed the silence to linger for half a second before giving her a reassuring smile. "Which it won't."

He was trying to ease the tension and make her more relaxed, and she clearly needed it from what his senses were telling him.

Nikki smiled slightly, taking a seat in the passenger area and settling in. There was something about him, it was like she could feel the confidence and assurance oozing from him into her. She crossed her legs neatly, smoothing her skirt and tugging at the top of one of her boots. "Then I guess I'll trust you," she replied with a soft smile, feeling reassured by his words. "How long until we depart?"

Dean caught the change in her demeanour through the reflection of the cockpit display, the tension that had been evident only moments earlier seeming to ease from her shoulders. He couldn't help but smile faintly at that. Trust wasn't something he expected from someone he'd only met a few minutes ago, but he wasn't about to take it lightly.

He glanced down at the flight controls, checking the final status indicators before looking toward the station's traffic display. "Not long now," he replied. "I've completed the pre-flight checks, and we're just waiting on Spacedock Control to give us our launch window." Dean leaned back slightly in his seat, comfortable despite the machinery humming around them.

"So are you joining the crew?" Nikki asked quietly, examining her fingernails carefully, not looking at him. "Or are you just playing taxi?"

Dean glanced back toward Nikki as he heard the question, catching the way she seemed suddenly fascinated by her fingernails rather than looking at him. There was something almost amusing about the careful casualness of the question, as though she was trying very hard to make it sound like it didn't matter. "That depends on whether you're asking because you're curious about your pilot," he replied, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, "or because you're hoping you won't have to see me again once we arrive."

Dean continued to wait for a flight window to become available, but as long as they departed soon, they should arrive on time. "As for the actual answer..." He paused briefly, glancing at the manifest displayed on the console to make sure no new names had been added. "I'm joining the crew." He looked over his shoulder toward her. "Lieutenant Commander Dean Villarreal. Dreadnought's new Chief of Security."
"Though technically," he added, turning his attention back toward the viewport, "I suppose I am playing taxi first."

A small smile appeared.

Nicolette glanced at him again, taking in his profile before turning her attention back to the PaDD she pulled out of her bag, thumbing into it and then staring blankly at the screen. “What’s the Dreadnought like?” She asked curiously. “All I know is it’s big, I can’t remember what it was though…” she smiled faintly. “Not that I’d recognise it even if I could remember. Engineering was never my strong point.”

"The Dreadnought?" he repeated, considering the question for a moment. "Big is probably the safest description if you don't know much about her."

Dean's eyes immediately moved to the communications display. "Speak of the devil." He reached forward and accepted the incoming transmission. "Type XI shuttle, this is Spacedock Control. Your departure window is now available. You are cleared to proceed to launch corridor three."

Dean's fingers moved smoothly across the controls as he acknowledged the clearance. "Spacedock Control, acknowledged. Launch corridor three."

"She's a Valkyrie-class Command Carrier. And yes, she's big. Very big. The sort of ship where you can walk from one end of a deck to the other and start wondering whether you've somehow ended up in another deck entirely." There was a faint amusement in his voice. "But you don't need to know what every conduit does to appreciate her. That's what we have engineers for." He glanced toward Nikki briefly. "And I'd suggest making friends with them early. Engineers have a remarkable ability to know when someone has just pressed a button they probably shouldn't have."

Dean settled back slightly into his seat. "The Dreadnought is impressive, though. She's built for more than just hauling people around. She's got the firepower, defensive systems and facilities to handle herself when things get unpleasant, but she's also got enough room aboard to feel like a small community." His expression became thoughtful for a moment. "There's a promenade, civilian areas, an arboretum... places where you can actually forget you're aboard a starship for a little while. Then you turn a corner and find yourself looking at enough equipment to remind you exactly what sort of ship you're standing on."

With that, Dean brought the shuttle's engines fully online. The quiet hum beneath their feet deepened as the shuttle came alive, ready to leave the safety of Earth Spacedock and begin the journey toward their new assignment.

As the shuttle came to life Nikki settled back, not wanting to distract or disturb him during launch. Instead she fixed her attention on the PaDD in her hand, pulling up the crew manifest of the Dreadnought and scrolling through it to help pass time.

Dean noticed Nikki settle back into her seat as the shuttle's engines came fully online, though he made no comment about it. The shuttle was already beginning to move, manoeuvring thrusters gently pushing them away from the docking bay and into the designated departure corridor. He kept both hands relaxed on the controls, making small, precise adjustments as the shuttle slipped through the station's traffic lanes.

The enormous interior of Earth Spacedock gradually fell behind them. Beyond the forward viewport, the station's massive superstructure framed the blue and white curve of Earth, sunlight glinting across the planet's surface. It was a view Dean had seen countless times, but there was something about leaving Earth that always made him appreciate it. He glanced briefly toward the passenger compartment and found Nikki absorbed in her PADD. From his angle he couldn't see exactly what she was reading, though the scrolling motion suggested she had found something to occupy herself with.

The faintest smile crossed his features. "Doing your homework already?" he asked, his voice carrying easily through the shuttle. He didn't wait for an answer, returning his attention to the controls as the shuttle cleared the final station traffic marker.

“Reading up on the crew,” she said with a smile, setting the PaDD down on the seat next to her and looking across at him. “Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you while you were launching. Not sure I would make a good hood ornament for a shuttle craft.” She laughed softly. “So what’s our journey time expected to be?”

Dean laughed softly at her comment, glancing over his shoulder toward her before returning his attention to the flight controls. "I appreciate that. Although, for the record, I don't think the shuttle has a designated hood ornament mounting point." The corner of his mouth lifted as he checked the navigation display. With the shuttle now clear of Spacedock and settled into its cruise profile, there was considerably less for him to do manually. The shuttle's computer was more than capable of maintaining their course, leaving Dean free to monitor the systems rather than constantly adjust their heading.

"Journey time depends on how the Dreadnought is positioned and whether we're going directly to her," he explained. "I've got the next stop location, and assuming nothing changes, we're looking at a 2 days." He brought the navigational display up on the console, briefly reviewing the plotted course.

"I'll take us at a comfortable cruise rather than pushing the shuttle unnecessarily. There's no point arriving twenty minutes earlier if I've spent the entire trip making the engines complain."

"Two days?" there was a hint of surprise in her voice as she spoke. "Well, I guess it gives me plenty of time to catch up on reading," she finished. She didn't return to the PaDD, instead she glanced toward him again. "So how long have you been in Star Fleet?" she asked curiously.

Dean glanced toward her at the surprise in her voice, then gave a small, apologetic smile. "Two days, give or take," he confirmed. "It's not exactly a hop across the street. The Dreadnought gets around a little faster than we do, so we are meeting them where they are going to be next."

He made a minor adjustment to their course before settling back into the comfortable rhythm of monitoring the shuttle. The stars drifted steadily beyond the forward viewport, the faint vibration of the engines almost becoming background noise. Her question about his Starfleet career brought his attention back to her. "How long?"

He considered the question for a moment, doing the mental arithmetic before answering. "Long enough that I've stopped counting the days and started counting the years."

A faint smile crossed his face. "I've been in Starfleet for..." He paused, briefly checking the exact figure in his head. "A little over fifteen years now. Started young, went through the Academy, and somehow nobody thought it was a good idea to kick me out."

Nicolette laughed, unable to help herself. "What made you want to join? Family?" the tone of her voice seemed genuinely curious as she spoke, the PaDD seemingly forgotten about.

Dean's expression softened at the question, his eyes remaining on the stars ahead for a moment longer than necessary. It was a simple enough question, but there was something about the genuine curiosity in Nikki's voice that made him actually consider the answer rather than simply giving her the usual rehearsed response. "Family?" he repeated, a faint smile touching his features. "No. Not really."

He made a small adjustment to the shuttle's heading before continuing. "My family were good people, but Starfleet wasn't exactly a family tradition. Nobody was waiting around expecting me to put on a uniform. If anything, they probably thought I'd find something a little less... adventurous." A quiet chuckle escaped him. "I suppose I joined because I wanted to see what was out there."

Dean glanced toward her briefly. "Growing up, space always seemed enormous. Endless. There was Earth, there were the colonies, all these worlds sitting out there that I'd only ever seen through a screen. I wanted to know what was beyond the next horizon."

His fingers rested loosely against the controls. "And, if I'm being completely honest, I wanted to prove something to myself. I wasn't entirely sure what at the time. Maybe that I could actually make something of myself. Maybe that I could stand alongside people who seemed smarter, braver, or more capable than I thought I was."

He gave a small shrug. "Turns out you don't have to be the smartest person in the room. You just have to be willing to learn."

"That's a good stance to take," she replied softly. "I think, especially in security, too many people get caught up in wanting to be the best of the best, rather than just being their very best self." She shrugged one shoulder. "It's surprisingly common, especially among younger men and at the Academy level."

"Do you enjoy it? I guess that's really the most important question, isn't it?"

Dean listened without interrupting, his eyes occasionally flicking between the forward viewport and the instruments. At her mention of security, a thoughtful expression settled across his features. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I think you're right." He gave a small nod, considering her words.

"There's always someone faster, stronger, smarter, or more decorated. Especially in Starfleet. You spend enough time around people who are exceptionally good at what they do, and it's easy to start measuring yourself against them instead of asking whether you're actually doing your own job well." His fingers made a subtle adjustment to the controls before he continued.

"And security probably brings that out more than most. There's a certain... culture around proving yourself. Being the one who can handle the toughest situation, win the fight, make the right call when everyone else hesitates." A faint smile appeared. "But the people I've respected most weren't necessarily the ones trying to be the best. They were the ones who knew their people, knew their limitations, and could still be counted on when things went sideways."

Her question made him pause. "Do I enjoy it?" Dean glanced toward her, then back through the viewport. "Yeah."

Nikki smiled again, removing her seatbelt and standing up so she could move around the cabin a little. "My Dad used to tell me to do what I love, then I'll never have to work a day in my life." She laughed softly. "I'm not sure anyone else really loves what they do that much, but he certainly did."

Dean watched her rise from her seat, one eyebrow lifting slightly as she moved around the cabin. He didn't seem particularly concerned about it; the shuttle was well into its cruise and the inertial dampers were keeping everything steady enough that she could move about without difficulty.

Her words, however, drew his attention more than her movement did. "Sounds like your dad was a pretty wise man." There was something quieter in Dean's voice now, the usual teasing edge replaced by genuine interest. "I've heard that saying before. Never really thought much about it, though." A small smile appeared. "I suppose there's a difference between loving what you do and loving every part of what you do."

He leaned back slightly. "I can't imagine anyone loving every part of Starfleet. If they do, they're either lying or they've never encountered a personnel report." A quiet laugh escaped him. "But loving enough of it to make the difficult parts worthwhile? That's probably closer to the truth."

"The only thing Daddy loved more than his job was Mamma," She sighed and walked across to the pilot seat, standing behind and gripping the back of the seat, her fingers accidentally brushing against the back of his shoulder. Leaning forward, she peered curiously at the console in front of Dean, long blonde curls falling in front of her face like a curtain.

Dean's expression softened at the mention of her parents, a quiet smile touching his features. There was something in the way she said it that suggested there was more behind the simple statement than she was willing to put into words. "Sounds like they had something pretty special," he said quietly.

He felt the brief brush of her fingers against his shoulder as she came to stand behind his seat, but he smiled and a slight glance in her direction. He shifted a little to give her a clearer view of the console as she leaned forward, blonde curls falling across her face. "Careful," he said with a hint of amusement. "This is where the magic happens." Remembering her earlier mention about should she need to pilot.

He gestured toward the displays in front of him. "Well... magic might be giving the navigational computer a little too much credit." Dean tapped the primary flight display. "This is our current course. The computer's handling most of the actual flight control at the moment, but I'm monitoring everything. Navigation, power distribution, environmental systems, impulse output..."

Dean was trying to put her at ease, he had everything under control, but some people needed more than others in order to relax.

"So what do those numbers mean?" she asked, pointing a long manicured nail at one of the displays. "I know that's our speed, or, at least, I think it is, but I don't remember that one."

Dean followed the direction of her finger toward the display, leaning forward slightly to see exactly which readout she meant. A small smile appeared when he realized what she was looking at. "That one?" He pointed toward the display beside the primary navigation readout. "That's our relative velocity. You're right about the other one being our current speed, although the computer is doing most of the work keeping us at the requested cruise profile."

He tapped the display, bringing up a secondary information panel. "This one tells me how we're moving in relation to our planned flight path. It's particularly useful when you're making course corrections, because I don't just need to know how fast we're going. I need to know whether we're going where I actually told the computer to take us."

He gave the display another tap, highlighting a series of figures. "These numbers here are the deviation tolerances. Right now they're almost nothing, which is exactly what I want to see. The computer is keeping us pretty much dead on course." His gaze shifted toward her, noticing the genuine curiosity behind the question.
Amethyst — Yesterday at 05:32
"Oh." She laughed softly and stood up, still standing behind his seat. "I failed basic piloting skills," she explained. "Probably has something to do with the fact that I almost landed a shuttle in the Academy Commandant's living room."

For the first time since the conversation had started, Dean actually turned in his seat to look at her properly. His eyebrows rose slowly, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "You almost landed a shuttle..." He paused. "...in the Academy Commandant's living room?"

A grin began to spread across his face despite his best efforts to suppress it. He looked forward again, shaking his head as a quiet laugh escaped him. "Okay." Another brief pause. "That explains a few things."

Dean glanced back at her, the amusement in his eyes unmistakable. "First of all, I'm impressed. Most cadets spend their time trying very hard not to attract the Commandant's attention. You apparently decided to bring the shuttle directly to his doorstep."

He turned back toward the controls, still smiling. "Although I'm guessing the Commandant didn't appreciate the gesture."

"Not in the slightest. There were some choice words and raised voices, and threats of expulsion, but in the end they just failed me and let me go about the rest of my time at the Academy. At least, until it came to firearms training." She laughed as she looked at him. "When I finally graduated the Commandant told me that I was one of the few students he would never, ever forget."

Dean stared at her for a moment, his expression slowly shifting from amusement to something approaching genuine admiration. "Firearms training too?"

A short laugh escaped him as he shook his head. "Commander, I'm beginning to think the Academy Commandant didn't actually graduate you. I think they just eventually decided it was safer to let you out." There was no malice behind the teasing, only genuine amusement at the picture she was painting.

He turned slightly in his seat so he could look at her properly, one arm resting casually against the back of the chair. "Although, I have to admit, being told you're one of the few students he'll never forget is quite an achievement." His grin widened.

She smacked his shoulder lightly, feigning mock indignation at his remarks. "I'll have you know I was actually an excellent student... mostly... at least kind of..." She laughed suddenly and shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. There was something about him, she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it made her feel at ease.

Dean laughed when her hand lightly smacked his shoulder. "Ahh, call a doctor, pilot wounded." He joked. He looked over at her with an amused expression, the corners of his mouth pulling upward. "All right, all right. I believe you."

He raised one hand from the controls in surrender before settling it back down. "Excellent student. Mostly." His eyes narrowed playfully. "Although I'm noticing a pattern here. Every time you describe yourself, there's a qualifier attached."

A quiet chuckle followed as he turned his attention back toward the viewport. The shuttle continued smoothly along its course, the steady thrum of the engines making the cockpit feel almost strangely peaceful. "I'm beginning to think your Commandant may have had a point." He glanced back at her, his expression teasing but not unkind.

"Not about expelling you, obviously. That would have been a terrible waste of perfectly good entertainment." His smile softened as he looked at her for a moment longer. "And besides, I don't think you were ever actually the problem."

He turned his attention back to the controls. "Some people just aren't built for everything they're asked to do. Doesn't make them failures. It just means they have to figure out where they belong." Dean adjusted their course slightly, then settled back into the seat. "Judging by the fact that you're sitting here as a Lieutenant Commander, you seem to have figured that part out."

“Some of us never find what we love, but just end up doing what we’re good at. You’re lucky, you found what you love and it seems you’re good at it as well.” Nikki leaned against the seat, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “So we’re going to be stuck with each other for the next two days, I guess it’s a good thing we seem to get along then huh?”

Dean glanced toward her, considering her words for a moment before his attention returned to the stars ahead. There was something about the way she'd said them that made him smile, though it wasn't quite the teasing smile he'd worn earlier. "I suppose I am lucky." His fingers rested loosely against the controls as the shuttle continued along its course.

"Although I'm not sure I'd say I've always known what I loved. Took me a while to figure that part out." He glanced toward her again.

"Sometimes you don't find the thing you love. Sometimes you just stumble into it while you're busy trying to figure out what you're supposed to be doing with your life."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. "And sometimes you discover that you're actually pretty good at the thing you never expected to enjoy."

"But since we are going to be here for 2 days at least." He stood from the pilots seat. "Could I interest you in something to eat?"

“Now THAT sounds like a good idea!” She smiled. “I didn’t even realise how hungry I was until you mentioned food!”

She stepped away from the pilots seat so he could get up without bumping her and she took a moment to look around the small cabin of the craft. There was a table and chairs, a couple of bunks. Some bench seating and not really a whole lot more. “How about I replicate us some drinks and set the table?” She offered.

Dean's smile widened at her enthusiasm, stepping aside as she moved away from the pilot's seat. "Now that sounds like a good idea." He glanced toward the compact galley area before rolling his shoulders and heading that way. "You handle the drinks and I'll take care of dinner."

There was a subtle change in his expression as he said it, a quiet confidence replacing the usual teasing amusement. Cooking clearly wasn't something he considered a chore. "I actually enjoy cooking. Proper cooking, I mean. Not just telling the replicator what I want and waiting for it to materialize." He opened one of the storage compartments and began examining what was available, already considering the possibilities. "Give me a decent kitchen and enough ingredients, and I can keep myself occupied for hours."

He glanced back toward her. "Unfortunately, a shuttle isn't exactly equipped for haute cuisine." The comment didn't seem to discourage him in the slightest. If anything, he looked almost amused by the challenge. "I brought a few things with me, though. Fresh ingredients, spices, a couple of things I've picked up along the way. I figured two days in a shuttle was as good an excuse as any to actually use them."

He moved toward the small galley and began pulling ingredients from the storage compartment, setting them neatly on the counter. "As for what we're having..." Dean considered the selection for a moment before looking back at her. "I'm thinking something simple. Something that doesn't require me to turn the shuttle into a smoke-filled emergency."

“What do you want to…”. Her words trailed off as she looked at him, eyes widening incredulously. “You cook?” She asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. “Like actually really cook?”

Dean looked up from the ingredients he'd been arranging, catching the incredulous expression on her face. For a moment he simply stared at her, then a slow, amused smile spread across his features. "I do." He glanced down at what he'd been preparing before looking back at her.

"Like, actually cook." There was a hint of laughter in his voice now. "Not 'I can make toast without setting off the fire suppression system' cook. Not 'I know which replicator button produces pasta' cook." He picked up a knife and began working through the ingredients with the easy confidence of someone who had done this many times before.

"I mean I genuinely enjoy it." He glanced toward her again. "Is that really so surprising?" A small chuckle escaped him as he continued preparing the meal.

"I've spent enough time aboard starships to learn that if you're going to eat replicated food for weeks or months at a time, eventually you start craving something that tastes like someone actually cared about making it." He paused briefly, considering his next words. "Cooking became a hobby. Then it became a bit of an obsession."

“You surprise me Commander. Most people don’t, but you surprise me.” She smiled, leaning back against the table, just watching him in silence as he worked. Finally, right when she was about sure he was going to get sick of her staring, she pushed herself away from the table and smiled sheepishly. “So what was it that you wanted to drink?”

Dean glanced up at her words, a quiet smile forming as he caught her watching him. He didn't seem particularly bothered by the attention. If anything, there was something almost comfortable about it, as though having someone interested enough to simply watch him work was strangely flattering. "Well, I'm glad I can still surprise you."

He returned his attention to the ingredients, continuing to work with practiced ease. "Although I should probably be careful. If I keep surprising you like this, you're going to start expecting things." The faint grin remained as he worked, but when she finally pushed herself away from the table and asked what he'd like to drink, he paused to think.

"Something simple." He glanced toward her. "Water would be fine, but if you're offering something a little more interesting, I'll leave that up to you." He picked up the knife again, making another careful cut before adding,

"Surprise me."

Replicating a bottle of Bahrain Spring Wine, Nikki opened it and let it sit to breathe for a few moments as she replicated two glasses, carefully pouring a measured amount into each glass and setting one on the counter next to him.

With her own drink in hand she stood in silence just watching him work with deft hands as he made short work of everything in front of him.

Finally, she smiled and took a sip before looking up at him to meet his eyes. “So what are you making?”

Dean noticed the glass appear beside him, his attention briefly shifting from the ingredients to the wine before he looked toward her. He picked it up, giving it a small appreciative glance before raising it slightly in her direction. "Bahrain Spring Wine?" A pleased smile crossed his face. "Good choice."

He took a small sip, letting the flavor linger for a moment before setting the glass safely aside. His attention returned to the meal, his hands continuing their work with practiced efficiency.

Her question earned a faint smile. "Tonight?" He glanced at the ingredients spread across the counter. "A pasta dish, something light and easy, without being too heavy but pleasant to the taste." He added. "Admittedly some ingredients are replicated but that is due to the facilities on the shuttle."

Nikki took another sip of the wine, stepping away from the counter so she could set her glass down on the table. “What can I do to help?” She asked with a soft smile.

Dean glanced up from the pan at her question, a small smile appearing as he watched her set her wine down. "You can help by keeping me company," he replied initially, the answer accompanied by a teasing glint in his eyes. "But I'm guessing that's not quite what you meant."

He looked over the ingredients for a moment before nodding toward the counter. "All right. If you really want to help, there's a bowl over there. The vegetables need to be tossed with a little olive oil, the herbs, and the seasoning I've already measured out."

He gestured toward the ingredients. "Nothing complicated. Just make sure everything gets coated evenly."

Stepping in next to him, Nikki washed her hands quickly and started work on the vegetables, drizzling a small amount of olive oil and then adding the herbs and seasonings and tossing everything with her bare hands until a heavenly smell filled her senses and everything was covered evenly.

Setting the bowl to the side, she washed her hands and dried them on a dish towel before looking up at him with a smile.

“Ok, what next?”

Dean glanced over as Nikki finished with the vegetables, his attention briefly drawn to the aroma that now filled the compact galley. He gave the bowl an approving look before looking back at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That looks perfect."

He reached over, picking up one of the seasoned vegetables between his fingers and inspecting it before giving an approving nod. "Good coverage, even seasoning. You're hired."

His eyes flicked toward her with a playful grin. "Although I suppose I should wait until you've survived the rest of dinner before offering you a permanent position."

Dean stepped aside slightly to give her room at the counter before nodding toward the small preparation area.

Nikki stepped in next to him, suddenly finding herself acutely aware of his close presence.

She reached for her wine glass, taking a quick sip before setting it down again and taking a deep breath.

“Ok whats next on the agenda?”

Dean glanced toward Nikki as she stepped back beside him, catching the brief change in her expression before she asked what came next. He didn't comment on it, instead offering an easy smile and shifting slightly to give her a little more room beside the narrow counter.

"Next on the agenda?" He spoke. "Finish the sauce and hope the pasta doesn't betray me...."

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

"And then, most importantly, make sure my sous-chef gets properly rewarded for her efforts." He picked up the spoon and gave the sauce another careful stir before holding it out toward her. "Here. Tell me what you think."

Dean watched her expectantly, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. "Don't worry. There's no wrong answer."

Taking the spoon she blew across the top for a moment before slipping it into her mouth, savouring the taste.

As the spoon came out, so did a soft sigh.

“That is absolutely delicious,” she breathed.

Dean watched her carefully as she tasted the sauce, waiting for her verdict with an expression that was almost entirely serious. Almost.

The soft sigh that followed brought a satisfied smile to his face. "Good." He took the spoon back from her, giving a small nod as though he'd just received the results of a particularly important diagnostic. "Very good." He turned back toward the pan, giving the sauce another gentle stir.

Dean adjusted the heat and continued working, though there was a little more satisfaction in his movements now. "And now that you've officially approved it, I suppose I have to finish the rest." He reached for the vegetables and checked them before returning them to the heat. "You know, I'm starting to think bringing you along wasn't such a bad idea."

His eyes flicked toward her, a warm smile appearing. "Good company, good wine, and apparently a reasonably competent sous-chef."

He paused. "Although I'm still reserving judgment on your piloting abilities."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

“For both our sakes, let’s just hope you never have to find out first hand how truly woeful my piloting skills truly are,” she laughed as she stepped back to let him finish the meal, picking up her glass and taking another sip.

Dean laughed softly, shaking his head as he turned back to the pan. "For both our sakes? Commander, I'm pretty sure there'd be a third party involved."

He gestured vaguely toward the shuttle around them with the spoon. "The shuttle would probably have some very strong opinions about it too."

A grin crossed his face as he checked the chicken, turning each piece with practiced care. The vegetables were nearly ready, their seasoning and herbs filling the small cabin with a warm, inviting aroma. "But don't worry," he continued, glancing toward her over his shoulder. "As long as I'm conscious and physically capable of reaching the controls, I think we're safe."

He paused for a beat. "Probably." Dean's smile widened before he returned his full attention to dinner, clearly enjoying the teasing. After another moment, he lowered the heat beneath the sauce and gave it one final stir.

"Right. I think that's us." He began plating the food with considerably more care than was strictly necessary aboard a shuttle.

Moving quickly Nikki set both their glasses on the table and replicated plates and silverware. On a whim she also replicated a basket of warmed garlic Parmesan knots to serve as a side.

She set the table with precision, making sure everything was neat and in order before she topped off both glasses of wine and stepped back so he could serve their meal.

Dean watched from the galley as she moved around the small dining area, a quiet smile growing as she went about setting everything with almost military precision. When the basket of garlic Parmesan knots appeared, however, his eyebrows rose appreciatively. "Well, that's a dangerous addition."

He glanced from the basket to her. "I was going to compliment myself on keeping dinner relatively healthy, and you've just sabotaged the entire plan."

There was no real complaint in his voice. If anything, he looked rather pleased by the addition. As she stepped back from the table, Dean carried the finished dishes over, serving each plate with the same care he'd given the preparation.

He noticed the precision with which she'd arranged everything and gave an approving nod. "You've got quite the eye for presentation." He set the final plate down before taking his seat.

Slipping into the seat across from him, Nikki smiled and picked up her wine glass, holding it toward him.

“What should we toast to?”

Dean settled back in his chair, his eyes dropping briefly to the glass she held toward him before meeting her gaze again. For a moment, he seemed to consider the question seriously, rolling his own glass gently between his fingers.

"That's a good question." He lifted his glass to meet hers, the soft clink of crystal sounding in the otherwise quiet cabin. "To new beginnings, perhaps." His expression softened slightly.

"New assignments. New people. New opportunities." He paused, a small smile forming. "And to the fact that neither of us has managed to get the other killed before we've even reached the Dreadnought."

There was a quiet laugh behind the words, but he didn't lower his glass. "Although..." Dean looked across the table at her for a moment longer. "Maybe we should make it a little more personal."

His glass tilted slightly toward hers. "To good company." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“To good company,” she said as she looked across the table at him, smiling softly as she watched him. There was something calming about his presence, something she found herself truly enjoying in his company.

Dean held her gaze for a moment after the toast, the soft smile on his face remaining as he took another small sip of his wine. There was something comfortable about the silence that followed, the kind that didn't need to be filled simply because two people happened to be sitting across from one another.

He set his glass down and picked up his fork, finally helping himself to the meal he'd spent the last while preparing. He took a bite, giving an approving nod to himself before looking across at Nikki again. "I think we're off to a pretty good start."

There was a warmth in his expression now, less teasing than before. "And I have to admit, I wasn't expecting this." He gestured vaguely between them with his fork.

"When I looked at the transit manifest this morning, I was expecting two days of flying, checking instruments, and probably talking to myself by the end of it." A faint chuckle escaped him. "Instead, I've got someone who asks interesting questions, knows how to pick a decent wine, and apparently has enough faith in my cooking to let me feed her." Dean took another bite before adding, almost thoughtfully,

"I think I got the better end of the assignment." His eyes met hers again. "Though I suppose we still have another forty-something hours to decide whether that's true."

She laughed again before taking a sip of her wine and setting the glass back on the table to rest. “The journey is still young but it is definitely so far enjoyable. I am surprised.”

RSS Feed