Second Star To The Right.....For 2 Days (Part 3)

Posted on Sat Aug 29th, 2026 @ 2:19am by Lieutenant Commander Dean Villarreal

3,790 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: The Hand That Rocks The Babe
Location: Shuttle

The stars had begun to shift almost imperceptibly as the Type XI shuttle dropped out of warp, the familiar distortion of faster-than-light travel collapsing into a seemingly endless field of pinpricks scattered across the blackness. After two days of travel, the sudden stillness was almost strange.

Dean sat comfortably at the helm, eyes moving between the forward viewport and the navigation displays as the shuttle's systems settled into normal-space operations. He made a few minor adjustments to their heading before leaning back slightly in his seat.

"Well..." A faint smile crossed his features. "We're here." He glanced toward the sensor display, bringing up the latest navigational information. "Technically."

A quiet chuckle followed. "We've arrived in the system, but we've still got a few hours before we rendezvous with the Dreadnought." Dean adjusted their heading by a fraction, settling the shuttle onto its designated approach vector. The system ahead was quiet, stars scattered across the viewport with several brighter points marking distant planets and moons. Somewhere out there was the Dreadnought, still several hours away and likely moving along its own course.

He glanced across at Nikki. "Feels a little strange, doesn't it?" His gaze returned to the controls. "Forty-eight hours ago we were sitting on Earth Spacedock, and now we're several light-years from where we started."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Although I suppose you've had longer journeys than this." Dean leaned back, stretching his shoulders slightly after the long period at the helm.

"We've got a few hours to kill we meet the ship."

He glanced toward her.

Nikki shifted awkwardly, adjusting her position on the seat. After two days of spending every waking moment in his presence, the fact that they were about to go their separate ways actually made her a little sad.

She turned her attention to him, her gaze roaming over his face and upper body. “Well,” she said softly. “What shall we do with our last few hours in each other’s company?”

Dean glanced across at her, catching the subtle shift in her expression. After two days of sharing the confined space of the shuttle, he had become rather accustomed to having her there. The realization that their time together was drawing to a close brought a quiet pang of his own, though he kept it from showing too obviously.

He eased the shuttle onto its new heading and settled back into the pilot's seat. "Well..." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I suppose that depends on what you want to do."

He turned his head to look at her properly, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment. "We could make something to eat. You've already discovered that I'm incapable of cooking for only two people, so we'd probably have enough leftovers to feed half the Dreadnought." A quiet chuckle escaped him.

"Or we could find somewhere comfortable, put some music on, and just talk." He paused.

"That sounds good," she said with a soft smile. "What kind of music do you want? And we can always replicate a small snack?"

"Computer, access my personal files and play playlist Delta 3-2-9."

Within moments soft jazz filled the room, just loud enough to be obvious enough in the background but still allow them to talk easily.

She stepped up to the replicator, next to him, her shoulder brushing against his arm. "What do you think snackwise?"

Dean glanced toward her as the jazz began to fill the cabin, the familiar warmth of the music immediately changing the atmosphere. His eyes flicked briefly toward the replicator before settling back on Nikki, a small smile forming. "That's a good choice." He nodded toward the speakers.

"Very fitting for a final few hours in the middle of nowhere." Her shoulder brushing against his arm didn't go unnoticed, though Dean made no effort to move away. Instead, he leaned casually against the counter beside her, considering the replicator menu.

"Snackwise..." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, adopting an exaggeratedly serious expression. "We could keep it simple." He tapped a few commands into the interface.

"Something warm. Something we can pick at while we talk." The replicator hummed. "Warm garlic Parmesan knots, definitely. A little selection of cheeses, some grapes, strawberries..."

"And chocolate," she added with an easy smile. "Definitely have to have chocolate!"

Dean laughed softly, the sound blending easily with the mellow jazz filling the cabin. "Excellent." He gave her an approving nod, as though she'd just passed some particularly important test.

"I was beginning to worry we'd discovered our first serious disagreement." He selected a generous assortment of chocolate from the replicator, then added the rest of the snacks they'd settled on. Moments later, the machine hummed its approval and produced a neatly arranged platter.

Dean picked it up and glanced toward her. "Now that's what I call an appropriate farewell." He carried the platter toward the small table, setting it down carefully before pulling out a chair for her.

"Although..." He looked at the spread, then back at her. "I may have slightly misunderstood the meaning of small." There was a faint grin on his face.

"But in my defence, you've spent two days with me. You should know by now that portion control isn't one of my strengths." He took the seat opposite her, relaxing back as the music continued around them.

Nikki sat neatly in the chair, crossing her ankles and leaning forward onto the table, eyeing the platter with wide, excited eyes. "Believe me, when it comes to chocolate, I have no portion control at all!"

Dean's eyebrows lifted, and a genuinely amused smile spread across his face as he watched her eye the platter with such obvious enthusiasm. "Well, that's reassuring."

He reached for one of the chocolate pieces, turning it between his fingers before looking back at her. "For a moment there, I thought I was going to have to exercise some restraint on your behalf."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. "Clearly, that would have been a terrible mistake." He pushed the platter slightly closer to her.

"Go on. I'm not judging."

She reached forward, hand hovering over the platter tentatively, almost as if she were second guessing her decision.

After a moment she giggled softly and grabbed a piece of chocolate, dropping the whole piece straight into her mouth and closing her eyes, a happy expression on her face as she sucked on the sweet treat.

Dean watched the little display with an increasingly amused expression, his eyebrows lifting as she popped the entire piece into her mouth and closed her eyes as though she'd just discovered the meaning of life. He couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped him.

"Well..." He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms loosely. "I think that answers the question of whether you were serious about the lack of portion control."

A grin tugged at his lips as he reached for a piece of chocolate himself. "I've never seen someone look quite so pleased with a single piece of chocolate." He paused, studying her expression with obvious amusement. "Although, I have to admit, I'm starting to think I may have underestimated just how dangerous that platter is."

He selected another piece and held it up. "Perhaps I should have included a warning label." His expression became mock-serious.

"Warning: excessive consumption may result in Commander De St Pierre becoming completely unmanageable."

He let the seriousness linger for barely a second before laughing again.

"When it comes to chocolate, I'm always serious," she said, meeting his gaze with unwavering eyes, her hand hovering over the platter as if she was trying to decide what piece to grab next. "Chocolate is absolutely no laughing matter it all. It's... it's..." she plucked a piece and held it up to her nose, inhaling deeply before dropping it into her mouth, repeating her previous actions, only this time covering her mouth with her hand as she spoke with a mouth full of chocolate. "Chocolate is life.'

Dean stared at her for a moment, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and genuine admiration for the sheer seriousness with which she was apparently approaching the subject. Then he laughed. Not loudly, but warmly, shaking his head as he reached for his glass.

"Chocolate is life." He repeated the declaration with solemn consideration, as though committing it to memory. "Right. Of course."

His eyes dropped briefly to the platter as she selected another piece, then returned to her. "I've learned a great deal about you over the last two days, Commander."

He lifted one finger. "You're terrible at piloting." A second. "You're apparently very good at counselling." A third. "And you've demonstrated a worrying tendency to regard chocolate as a fundamental food group."

He paused, his expression becoming mock-serious.

"You mean chocolate isn't one of the five food groups?" she asked, feigning shock as she fluttered her hand above her chest and gasped in faux horror. "I've been lied to my whole life, I tell you! Lied to!" She exclaimed, watching him carefully through her entire charade.

Dean froze with his piece of chocolate halfway to his mouth, staring at her with an expression of utter disbelief. For a moment he said nothing, as though he were genuinely reconsidering everything he had ever been taught about nutrition. "Wait." He slowly lowered the chocolate.

"You're telling me..." His eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. "...that Starfleet Academy never taught you about the sixth food group?" He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Chocolate."

He nodded gravely. "Clearly, someone has been withholding vital educational information from you." Dean glanced around the shuttle as though checking whether anyone might be listening before leaning slightly closer across the table. "I'll tell you what. When we reach the Dreadnought, we'll file a formal complaint."

His expression became increasingly solemn. "Possibly several complaints." A beat. "We'll demand an investigation into the nutritional curriculum of Starfleet Academy."

Nicolette tried to maintain the same level of seriousness as he showed, and managed to succeed for just a few minutes before she burst into genuine laughter, tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she continued laughing.

“I give up, I give up, you win…” she said. Still laughing.

Dean couldn't help it. The moment her carefully maintained seriousness finally broke, his own composure collapsed with it. A warm laugh escaped him, genuine and unrestrained, as he leaned back in his chair. "I win?"

He shook his head, grinning across the table. "I wasn't aware this was a competition."

He reached for his glass, taking a sip while still trying, and failing, to suppress his amusement. "But I'll graciously accept the victory."

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, the laughter still evident in his expression. It was different from the nervous smiles and quiet moments they'd shared earlier. This was effortless, uncomplicated laughter, and Dean found himself enjoying it more than he probably should. "Although, for the record..."

He pointed toward her with the hand holding his glass. "You lasted considerably longer than I expected." A pause. "Which means you're either remarkably disciplined..."

His gaze dropped toward the chocolate platter. "...or you were simply trying very hard not to laugh at me."

“I’m a counselor!” She replied resolutely. “Of course I am disciplined! My body is a temple, my mind and spirit are one….” She paused. “I think that’s how it goes, isn’t it?”

Without waiting for an answer she stood up and studied the platter carefully before selecting one of the larger pieces of chocolate.

“Now, for your prize you get this delicious sweet morsel to whet your insatiable appetites.” She said firmly, holding the piece of chocolate toward him.

Dean's expression settled into exaggerated seriousness as she delivered her declaration, though the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away. "Of course you are. My apologies, Counsellor."

He inclined his head solemnly. "Disciplined. Focused. Mind, body and spirit in perfect harmony." His gaze dropped to the platter as she began inspecting the chocolate with the concentration of someone selecting a surgical instrument.

"Although I have to admit..." A faint grin appeared. "I'm beginning to question the definition of discipline in the De St Pierre household."

When she selected one of the larger pieces and presented it to him, Dean looked from the chocolate to her face. "For me?"

His eyebrows rose. "That's incredibly generous."

“Generous to a fault, that’s me!” She exclaimed with another giggle as she turned her attention back to the chocolate, selecting another piece and popping it into her mouth, dropping lightly into the chair and doing a little happy dance as she enjoyed the treat. “All we need now is a good bottle of wine,” she said as she smiled at him.

Dean watched her little celebration with a grin, the sight eliciting another warm chuckle from him. There was something wonderfully infectious about the way she'd let herself relax, especially after the vulnerability she'd shown earlier in the journey. "Generous to a fault," he repeated, nodding solemnly. "I'll be sure to put that in the official report."

His eyes dropped to the chocolate platter as she selected yet another piece. "Although I'm beginning to think your definition of generosity involves making sure the rest of us don't get any."

He laughed softly, then rose from his chair. "Wine, however, is an excellent suggestion." Dean crossed to the replicator and considered the available selections for a moment. "Something good enough to celebrate the end of our little adventure, but not so good that we'll spend the next few hours mourning its disappearance."

He glanced back at her. "Any preferences?" Without waiting too long, he began browsing the selections. "Earth wine? Something from Betazed? Andoran? Or perhaps something completely unfamiliar?"

“Oh! Let’s be adventurous!” She exclaimed, rising from the chair and joining in at the replicator, leaning in close so she could read along with him.

Dean glanced sideways as she joined him at the replicator, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "Adventurous?" He gave her an exaggeratedly suspicious look.

"That's a dangerous word to use around a man who has spent the last two days piloting you through space." He shifted slightly to give her room at the interface, though the closeness didn't seem to bother him. The soft jazz continued behind them, mingling with the quiet hum of the shuttle's systems. "Alright."

He brought up the wine database. "Let's see what we've got." His finger moved through the selections, scrolling past familiar Earth varieties and then into the more unusual entries.

"Something from Vulcan..." He grimaced playfully. "Probably tastes like someone dissolved a philosophical argument in water." Another selection.

"Ferengi wine." He glanced toward her. "I have absolutely no idea what they consider a 'vintage.' Knowing Ferengi, it'll probably come with a warranty."

He continued scrolling. "Cardassian..." Dean considered it. "Given the current state of interstellar politics, perhaps not the best choice for a relaxing evening."

Finally, a selection caught his attention. He tapped it. "What about this?" The display populated with information about a relatively obscure wine from Risa, described as a delicate blend with floral notes, subtle fruit, and a slightly spiced finish. Dean looked toward her. "Risan spring wine."

A small smile appeared. "Apparently it's traditionally served chilled and paired with light food." He glanced at the chocolate platter.

“Oh that sounds perfect!” She smiled and bumped his arm with her shoulder playfully.

“It’s totally ok to meet one’s new Commanding Officer just a little bit tipsy…. Right?”

Dean laughed softly, glancing down at her with an amused shake of his head. "Technically?" He lifted one shoulder in a thoughtful shrug.

"I suppose there isn't a regulation specifically prohibiting arriving at a new assignment slightly tipsy." He paused, his expression becoming deliberately serious. "However, I'm fairly certain there is something somewhere in the Starfleet regulations about reporting for duty while intoxicated."

He picked up one of the bottles and examined the label. "And considering you're a counselor, I suspect the Chief Medical Officer would have a field day if you showed up for your first briefing smelling like Risan wine and chocolate." His grin returned. "Especially if I delivered you to the transporter room personally."

She gasped as she looked up at him. “You wouldn’t dare!!!”

Dean's eyebrows rose at the outrage in her voice, and for a moment he simply stared at her. Then the corner of his mouth curled into an unmistakably mischievous smile.

"Oh, I absolutely would." He lifted the bottle slightly, holding it just beyond her reach. "In fact, I'm beginning to think I may have to reconsider this entire arrangement."

His expression became mock-serious. "First you nearly convince me that chocolate is a legitimate food group. Then you inform me that being tipsy when meeting your new commanding officer is perfectly acceptable." He shook his head slowly. "And now you're challenging the authority of your pilot."

A beat. "This is becoming a serious disciplinary matter, Commander." The amusement in his eyes made it impossible to take the words seriously.

He lowered the bottle again, stepping just a little closer. "Fortunately for you, I'm feeling merciful." He retrieved the two glasses and carried them back toward the table.

"One glass." He glanced back at her. "Possibly two."

She smiled as she returned to the seat, taking a strawberry this time and popping it into her mouth. “Have you ever been to Risa?” She asked curiously, her gaze following him as he moved across the room and uncorked the bottle, pouring two glasses.

Taking one glass as he handed it to her, she held it up, smelling it for a moment before taking a sip, closing her eyes and savouring the delicious taste.

Dean watched her reaction to the wine with a small, satisfied smile before settling into the chair opposite her, his own glass resting loosely between his fingers. "Have I ever been to Risa?"

He considered the question for a moment. "I have. Once." He took a small sip, letting the wine linger before setting the glass down. "Not for anything particularly glamorous, I'm afraid. We had shore leave there after a rather miserable deployment. Most of the crew were interested in beaches, resorts and generally forgetting that Starfleet existed."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. "I was more interested in finding somewhere quiet." He glanced toward the viewport.

"I found a little restaurant away from the major tourist areas. Family-owned. Open-air, overlooking the water. They had live music, decent food and a rather impressive selection of local wines." His expression softened slightly at the memory. "I stayed there most of the evening."

Dean looked back at Nikki. "I suppose that's where I developed a taste for Risan wine." He lifted his glass slightly.

“Is it as beautiful as I’ve been told?”

She asked curiously, picking up a couple of strawberries and crushing them slightly before dropping them into her wine glass before licking the traces of juice from her fingers.

“I would love to go there one day and see it for myself.”

Dean watched the strawberries disappear into her wine with an amused little smile, clearly intrigued by her improvised addition to the drink. "You're making me reconsider everything I know about Risan wine."

He lifted his own glass, giving it a thoughtful look before returning his attention to her. "Beautiful?"

He leaned back slightly, considering the question. "Yes. Very." There was something almost wistful in his expression now. "The beaches are exactly what you'd expect. White sand, warm water, forests that seem almost impossibly green. But I think the thing that stayed with me most wasn't any particular place." He glanced toward the viewport, where the stars continued their silent journey past the shuttle. "It was the atmosphere."

A small smile appeared. "People go there to forget about schedules. Orders. Duty. Everything that's waiting for them when they leave." He looked back at her.

"For a little while, nobody seems particularly interested in where you came from or what rank you hold. You're just another person enjoying the day." Dean took another sip.

"I think you'd like it." The words came naturally, without much thought. "You'd probably find somewhere quiet, away from the resorts. Somewhere with a good view and a decent breeze."

Nikki paused for a long moment, contemplating his words, a wistful expression on her face.

Finally she offered him a smile and held her glass toward him. “To the good things that must come to an end, and the good things still to come,” she said softly.

There was a slight hint of sadness in her voice as she spoke, contemplating the fact that this particular was almost over.

Dean's smile faded into something softer as he heard the sadness beneath her words. He lifted his glass and gently touched it against hers. "To that."

He held her gaze for a moment before taking a slow sip. There was a quiet pause afterward, the jazz continuing softly around them while the stars slipped past the viewport. Dean glanced toward the navigation display almost reluctantly. The rendezvous point was getting closer. Their time really was running out. "Although I'm not sure I like the first half of that toast."

A faint smile returned. "Some good things don't necessarily have to come to an end." He set his glass down and leaned back, his expression thoughtful.

"Sometimes they just change." His eyes returned to hers.

She met his gaze, smiling softly. “They do say change is as good as a holiday, right? Do you think it could be as good as a trip to Risa?”

Dean's smile returned, though there was something thoughtful behind it as he considered her question. "That's a rather high standard you're setting." He lifted his glass, glancing at it briefly before looking back at her.

"Risa is difficult competition." He took a slow sip, then leaned back comfortably in his chair. "But..." He allowed the word to linger.

"I think change can be just as good as a holiday." His gaze drifted toward the stars beyond the viewport. "Sometimes better." He looked back at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "A holiday eventually ends. You go home, unpack your bags, and everything settles back into whatever routine you left behind."

He gestured gently around the shuttle. "Change doesn't necessarily work that way. It can take you somewhere you never expected to go." His eyes settled on hers.

"Sometimes it introduces you to people you never expected to meet."

She smiled, reaching out and lightly touching her glass to his again. “In that case, here’s to whatever the winds of change blow our way.”

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