Star Trek Red

Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so I've been wanting to write another fic like Star Trek in Wonderland… pretty much since I finished that fic actually, and at the time, I did ask for recommendations, but most everyone seemed to just want me to choose my own thing… I recall one reader specifically saying "Just pick one of your favorite movies so you enjoy the writing."

Well, that's easier said than done. My favorite movie of all time is Repo! The Genetic Opera. If you've never seen that movie, watch it immediately. Get off the computer and don't come back til you've seen it. I'll wait. It's a beautiful movie about genetic manipulation, drug abuse, treachery, doomed romance, and singing goths and it's SO FANTASTIC! I can sing every word to this movie, don't even test me on this. But it's an opera, so, you know… there's deathy goodness and no one really gets a happy ending. Not really what I want to write, even when singing Zydrate Anatomy for the millionth time… (Zydrate comes in a little glass vial – a little glass vial? – a little glass vial. And the little glass vial goes into the gun like a battery. And the Zydrate gun goes somewhere against your anatomy. And when the gun goes off, it sparks and you're ready for surgery… surgery… surgery…)

My second favorite movie is Silence of the Lambs. I'm sure I don't have to explain why that's a TERRIBLE choice… even if I AM kind of unhealthily entertained by the idea of Chekov as Hannibal Lecter… (incoherent squeaks)… … Screw it, someday I'm writing this fic! But that day is not today! (Fuck, this doesn't say anything good about my mental stability, does it?)

My third favorite movie is called Devil's Carnival and that's another movie I demand you watch if you get the chance cuz it's SO FREAKING AMAZING! It's basically all the same people from Repo and it's about these people who die and go to hell to be creatively tormented for their sins using Aesop's Fables and everyone sings and because they're in hell, everyone is screwed over except Lucifer… Also, the really hot blonde brother from Boondock Saints is in it, and he is still so very fine! And it's only an hour long. It's pretty freaking amazing. But yeah, everyone's in hell being tormented or tormenting others and that just seems like a terrible idea for a fic. I can sing every word to that one too. A sheep has left the fold, hoofbeats go a-trodding trotting up to heaven bold, at the gates a-knocking knocking, sheep in wolfish clothes, holy jaws a-dropping up in Heaven's hold, plant my hooves, my hooks, my books… Um… yeah. It's an awesome movie, it's irreverent and beautiful, with very complex moral lessons… I could write a freaking fifty-page thesis on all the stuff that goes on in that movie and what it says about the creator's views of heaven and hell and God and justice… it's so glorious… But very very bad for a Star Trek fic!

And now that I've demonstrated my ability to rant like a lunatic for several minutes about how I watch incredibly dark movies that have no place being made into Star Trek fanfics (and goddamnit to hell, I am SO writing a fic where Chekov is Hannibal Lecter and Sulu is Clarice and it's going to be dark and horrible and terrifying as shit because these thoughts deserve to be shared with the world in a way that (probably) WON'T get me sent to the loony bin)… Allow me to present: Star Trek Red!

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, Red, or the movies I ranted about in the author's note. (And if ANYONE steals my idea about Chekov as Hannibal, I will descend upon you with an army of Fannibals and we will eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.)

Inside a small dark bedroom, the only illumination came from a digital clock. The numbers read 4:59 AM, and the second they changed to read 5:00 AM, a figure rose from the bed, slipping on a tattered bathrobe and making his way to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee.

Hikaru Sulu, a handsome Asian man with tidy black hair and sparkling black eyes, went through the same routine every morning. Following his cup of coffee, he worked out… simple weight lifting, push-ups, sit-ups… simple exercises that didn't require fancy equipment, but certainly helped him maintain his slim but very muscular physique. After a quick shower, he drank a second cup of coffee while eating two eggs and dry toast. The dishes were done promptly and set in the rack to dry.

This morning was sunny and pleasant, so he stepped outside to tend to the roses in his simple front garden. The roses were withered and sickly, and he shook his head in disgust.

"I can care for some of the most exotic plants in the galaxy… and I can't care for simple Earth roses?" he asked himself out loud. He shot a resentful glance at the house next door, with their colorful array of flowers in bloom. Then he slowly pushed himself to his feet and limped back into the house.

Today was one of his good days… He didn't need to use the cane to get around…. So Hikaru decided to go to the grocery store, where he stocked up on plenty of canned goods and other non-perishable items. By the time he arrived home, his leg was starting to ache, so he put the groceries away as quickly as he could before limping into the living room to peruse his mail. Tossing aside several envelopes of junk mail, he stopped when he reached a green envelope, seeing that it was a check from the government. A smile crossed his face for a fleeting moment before he reached over and grabbed a very old cordless phone, the sort that had been used in the 21st century… He knew he should get rid of the silly thing, but he was pretty sure it was original to the house.

"May I have your social?" the operator asked when the phone was answered.

Sulu rattled off the digits from memory before adding, "Disability services please."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu," the crisp voice said. "Please hold for your representative."

Sulu waited quietly.

Somewhere in a sterile and efficient office, a very young man in his 20's was straightening some postcards on his cubicle walls. He had curly brown hair and intelligent hazel eyes; and he looked desperately bored.

"Hello, dis is Pavel," he said, answering his headset with his heavy Russian accent.

"Hey. It's Hikaru Sulu," Sulu said.

Pavel Chekov's posture straightened, his whole demeanor lightening up at once. "Hi Hikaru," he said cheerfully. "Vhat is going on?"

"Nothing really… I was just calling because I didn't get my check again."

"Oh! Oh, dat is terrible! I cannot believe dey haff not vorked dis out!" Pavel exclaimed. "I vill make sure dat another one is sent out today!"

"It's no big deal," Hikaru said. "Whenever you get around to it."

"I am just so sorry dat dis happened again," Pavel said.

Hikaru allowed another small smile to cross his face as he leaned back in his chair and methodically tore up his check. "Well, what are you gonna do?"

For a few beats, they were silent.

"So how are your roses doing?" Pavel suddenly asked.

Hikaru chuckled. "It's a massacre. I've got rust AND mold… Now I've sprayed them so much, they have chemical burns."

"I vish I knew how to help dem…" Pavel mused. "But I haff not tried to garden…"

"I thought I would be better at this," Hikaru said with a rueful chuckle. "But maybe I'm stressing them out with all the attention."

"You haff a lot of free time, do you not?" Pavel mused, smiling a little.

"Little bit, yeah…" Hikaru sighed. "I don't have the faintest idea what to do with myself anymore."

"It must be so difficult… being injured vhile vorking for Starfleet like dat… And to be stuck on Earth after all dat trawelling…" Pavel sighed. "I vish I could trawel."

"Believe me, it's not so fun when it's business," Hikaru tried to joke.

"I vant to quit my job and go into space," Pavel sighed.

"You should," Hikaru said. "You'd have an amazing time."

"I can see vhy needing to retire early because of your injury vould be hard," Pavel said, sounding a little sad. "Maybe vat you need is to fall in love vit something different."

Hikaru smiled a little sadly now. "Yeah. I guess so."

Pavel guiltily glanced up when he realized that a stern-looking woman was glaring down at him from the doorway of his cubicle. "My superwisor… I haff to go." And he hastily disconnected the call.

Hikaru hung up and then sighed, limping to his room and lying down on his bed with a novel.

A few days later, sorting through his mail again, Hikaru found another green envelope.

Pavel chuckled into the headset. "You need excitement. A passion. Something dat makes you feel dat you are liwing."

"Excitement is overrated," Hikaru said.

"How can you say dat? Eweryone needs excitement. The most I get is arguing vit my mother."

"What about?"

"Ahh… it is embarrassing…" Pavel stammered. "She is alvays vanting to set me up on blind dates… She vants grandchildren, and she is in denial because I… vell…" He trailed off uncertainly.

Hikaru's ears perked up a little at that.

"I am not liking girls," Pavel spat out hastily.

"Nothing wrong with that," Hikaru hastened to reassure him.

"I think ve need to talk about something else," Pavel said, his cheeks aflame.

Hikaru caught the embarrassed tone in the other man's voices and couldn't help but grin. "Okay. What are you reading this week?"

They made small-talk for a few more moments before Pavel hastily said, "I should be getting back to vork."

"Of course…" Hikaru said. "I didn't mean to keep you."

"I'm glad you did," Pavel admitted. "Talk to you soon?"

"You bet," Hikaru agreed.

And that night, he paged through the terribly cheesy spy thrilled that Pavel said he was reading until the digital clock changed from 10:59PM to 11:00 PM, and then he turned off the light and lay down, staring into the darkness.

When Hikaru opened his eyes again, the digital clock read 3:22 AM. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments before reaching out to pick up a glass beside his bed… but the glass was empty. With a little sigh, he got to his feet, shrugging on the tattered bathrobe. His limp was more pronounced and he grabbed the cane leaning next to the door before stepping into the hallway and making his way to the bathroom.

The darkness felt ominous… Hikaru didn't shiver, didn't even think about it… he was too well-trained. But his breathing was slow and steady and his eyes flicked back and forth into every shadow along the length of the hallway.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, safely cloaked by shadows were three figures wearing body armor and night-vision goggles, poised to climb the stairs, watching his slow painful trek to the bathroom. One of the commandos took out a hyo. The trio crept up the stairs, hearing the faint noise of running water behind the closed door, faint beams of light leaking around the edges. They glanced only briefly at the guest bedroom, but it was dark and deserted, so they faced the bathroom together.

And they moved, quickly and precisely, slamming the door open with a thud,

But the bathroom was empty.

And Hikaru Sulu stepped out of the darkened guest bedroom behind them, wilding his cane. He conked the first commando hard on the head before tugging at the cane… It came apart in his hands, revealing a concealed saber, which he used to disable the next commando. The last one, the one with the syringe, stared in mute horror before Hikaru grabbed him. They wrestled for a moment before the needle pierced the commando's arm… the plunger was pressed… and the man fell over unconscious.

Hikaru exhaled slowly. Despite the intense physical exertion, his breathing had barely changed. Frowning down at the still forms, he slowly replaced the saber in its concealing sheath before limping quickly down to the basement.

It was the work of moments to find what he was looking for. A sledgehammer.

It was the work of a few more moments to smash through a thin layer of cement in the middle of the room. A sturdy locker lay there just where Hikaru had left it. It was filled with bricks of cash, cards holding thousands of credits, and an array of identification. Hikaru transferred every item into a satchel before adding two phasers and an old-fashioned .45 semiautomatic. Finally he grabbed some battered military dog tags, stuffing those into his pocket.

Back upstairs, he dressed and grabbed a few changes of clothes before returning to the living room and that beautiful antique phone. He dialed a familiar number.

"May I have your social?" the tinny voice asked.

Hikaru rattled off the digits before adding, "Status RED," he slamming down the phone. But as he approached the front door… the phone rang.

Hikaru froze. That was unexpected. Finally he picked it up, lifting it to his ear.

"Hikaru Sulu?" a voice asked in his ear.

Hikaru didn't speak. Instead he inched towards the window, peering through the small crack in the drapes… There was a hovercar there… waiting…

And he threw himself down the hallway, running as fast as his injured leg would permit him to run as his windows shattered behind him. Three grenades exploded in the wake of the broken glass and a fireball roared down the hallway and through the house. Hikaru hung on to his satchel and his cane and plunged unhesitatingly out a second-story window.

He pushed himself to his feet as his house continued to burn. His leg throbbed, but he only vaguely registered the pain as he ran towards the hovercar. He could see a commando crouched there with a grenade launcher, peering at the house. Just as the man lowered the heat-vision lenses he'd been using, Hikaru hit him like a charging bull, knocking him over.

Hikaru hit the man several times until he was sure the man was unconscious, then he leapt into the hovercar and sped off into the night.