Prologue Woohoo! Short but hey, it's a prologue.
Disclaimer- Not mine.
Prologue
Pavel Chekov was young. He knew this. His shipmates knew this, and they never let him live it down. They had no idea their constant "aw Chekov" s and "come on kid"s were slowly driving the poor teenager insane. And the hair ruffling! Why did every single member of the crew feel the need to pet his head? He hated his tight, impossible curls, and all the attention only made them even more unmanageable.
The native born Russian had graduated top of his class at the Starfleet Academy, disproved several commonly used scientific theories, and had gone on to become Enterprise's youngest Ensign ever, and all at an astonishingly young age. Yet to the distinguished ship's inhabitants and crew, he was merely known as "that adorable Russian wiz kid!"
Well Chekov was sick of it. He was eighteen now and he deserved to be treated like it! He would show them all he deserved the same amount of respect as anyone else on this stupid ship! Then, maybe, he would finally-
"Chekov?" a curious voice broke through his internal ramblings. The Russian jumped.
"...Yez sir Keptin?"
"Bring us up to Warp 6 please. I'd like to arrive on planet Pybas a bit sooner than anticipated, if possible."
"Yez sir. Warp ein 3…2…1…" Chekov expertly coaxed the throttle forward, and the ship shot out of the visibility range. "Warp obtained sir."
Captain Jim Kirk lazily bit into a shiny red apple- his favorite snack. "Ensign, where is Navigator Sulu?"
Spinning his chair around, Pavel immediately answered, "He ees ein ze Medical Bay sir. He was complaining of wertigo…"
Kirk stared blankly. "… What?"
Chekov's brow furrowed as he attempted again. "V-vertigo, sir. Vertigo." He beamed at his near perfect pronunciation.
The young and rather handsome captain laughed. "Oh, well thank you Chekov. You performed his job admirably." Then, in a lighter voice, "Good work kiddo."
Said "kiddo" twitched and fumed silently at this supposed compliment as the captain leisurely swaggered away; only stopping for a quick ruffle through his now red-faced Russian friends hair.
Oh yes, Pavel Chekov was young, and very determined to prove himself otherwise. Angrily punching coordinates into the computer, he had no idea his long awaited chance would come the very next day, and he would soon be wishing it hadn't.