Endless Crossroads

by pebblekit

After a horrible incident, Spock, Sulu, Uhura, and another find themselves in a very compromising position. Now, not only do they have to get out of it, but they have to act as though nothing's wrong at the same time.

Pebblekit: Hello there everyone. This marks my first ever Star Trek story. Considering the fact that I've stuck strictly to "Fire Emblem" fan fiction up until this point, I'm slightly nervous about posting this. Please tell me if there's anything I can do to improve the quality of my work via review- I'd really appreciate it. Also, just so you all know, I'm well aware that McCoy is in the first episode of the "The Next Generation" as being 137 years old. However, that kind of made this story difficult, so I've come up with a way around that. That'll come into play later though. If this bothers anyone, I apologize, but if you read, you'll understand my dilemma. Thanks for listening to my ranting up until this point, and now, on with the story.

Endless Crossroads

Chapter 1: Reunion

Spock examined the expanse of space outside the window of the enormous station. The stars twinkled back at him, oblivious of the problems in the universe, and most certainly, not monopolized by them. Perhaps the Vulcan was, as humans said, imagining it, but it seemed to him that the giant, gaseous bodies were smiling to everyone that was there to see them. Reflecting on this for a moment, he tended to find this prospect fascinating to no end.

Before his journey on the Enterprise, and his encounters with the crew and people involved in it, he would never have been able to see past what his eyes were able to discern. Now, however, he could examine every aspect of certain things- such as their beauty, and the difference between superfluous and…interesting. He now understood somewhat the reason that his old human comrades had often decorated their courters with semblances and mementos from their homes, or instances in their lives that they saw fit to remember with a certain clarity.

Now that he looked back, he realized that he had done the same, to some extent, with his sparse collection of items from Vulcan that he had included in his final decisions to take with him on his five year trip.

Brushing these thoughts from his mind, Spock turned away from the oversized window, slowly walking over to a seemingly more secure wall to lean against. He had received a message earlier that day, and he had neglected to read it. Though it was outside of his Vulcan nature, he had had some sort of…intuition that there was something in this message that he would not delight in finding out about. Even though he hid them, it was very foolhardy to deny the fact that he had emotions, deep down inside his being.

This was an instance where those feelings made an appearance, and he wasn't about to ignore them. Although he didn't like the fact that this innate…worry was overwhelming his logic, making it so that he was delaying important protocols, he still had this lingering thought that he wasn't going to particularly enjoy these next few minutes.

Slowly and stiffly, he pulled the PADD in his hand up and looked at the screen, tapping the control that would allow him to read the notice he had received earlier that morning, approximately 2.9 hours before this period in time. The letter was much shorter than he had suspected, but its words definitely aroused the misgivings he had had from the beginning all over again.

Captain Spock, it read, its concise letters practically mirroring the contrite manner of speaking that whatever admiral had written this was probably using at the time. I regret to inform you that we have reached a complication in your ship's departure. Your first officer, Commander Saavik, is unable to report to duty at this time due to an unfortunate mishap regarding her husband.

It is my obligation to inform you that with your third in command, namely Commander Riley, being head engineer, it falls onto your shoulders to find a suitable replacement before the U.S.S. Gryphon leaves space dock. If you are unable to do so, or there is no one readily available to you, we will appoint someone to your command that will report within the next three weeks. Of course, this would mean that we would have to postpone your flight by at least two weeks.

Once you have made your decision, whether it be a replacement, or word to appoint someone to you, please respond as quickly and efficiently as possible so that we may document the result.

Speaking for Starfleet, Admiral T'Pol

At the bottom of the notice was the copy of a rather sparse signature that seemed to match its owner's personality down to a tee. Had he been in better straights, Spock may have reflected on whether all creatures emitted a bit of themselves in their hand writing, such as…Kirk had. However, he did not see the significance of such an endeavor at the moment.

Despite his stoic appearance as he dropped the hand holding the PADD down to his side again, his intuition and thoughts were extremely jumbled in what he had come to know as confusion and exasperation. Indeed, what humans called "Murphy's Law" seemed to come into play here- the theory that anything that could possibly go wrong would go wrong.

Saavik had been waiting for this post for years- to the point that if anything was to stop or delay her from it, it would have to be nothing short of a miniature apocalypse. He inwardly wondered what in the galaxy had happened to her husband, a despicable man that the woman practically despised. Indeed, the "happy couple" had run into some…complications in the past couple of years that were only serving in driving an ever-widening wedge in their relationship.

No, Saavik would never give up her dream for that man if it weren't something extremely important.

However, though Spock was as close to curious as was possible for a Vulcan such as him, he had more important matters to attend to at the moment. His flight aboard the U.S.S. Gryphon had already been postponed four times, due to some problem or another; whether it was a faulty plasma conduit that caused the rest of the supply to be tested, or an enlarged threat from the Romulans in the neutral zone. Either way, his crew was starting to get restless. They had been scheduled originally to take off almost a year before, and some of the more volatile members were getting impatient.

It seemed that in order to keep something rather unpleasant from taking place, Spock would have to find a new first officer, and fast. However…he couldn't think of anyone that he trusted more than Saavik; at least, not someone that was currently commissioned and not already in duty elsewhere.

Uhura, at the moment, was cast as his own Communication's Officer, and if she suddenly got a promotion of such a magnitude, passing at least three others on ladder to the Captain chair, there would definitely be some problems. The next most obvious choice was Mr. Sulu, but he was already a Commodore and still in command of the U.S.S. Excelsior on its next voyage.

Out of everyone else he could possibly think of, that only left one other person that he would even consider as his second-in-command. Spock thought for a moment, suddenly realizing how…perfect it would be to have the ability to rely on this person. After all, they had worked together before, and it was obvious that the man was very talented. With age, all of his eagerness and arrogance had faded as well, leaving a wise, open-minded human in place of his former self. The Vulcan reflected on how effective this person had been before and compared his past abilities to the reports Spock had read on him previously.

Of course, he was a little old to be a Commander. And there was another little problem- rank.

But, as Spock lifted his PADD to look at it once more, his eyes falling on the next letter he had received that day, he couldn't help but try to think of a way to make this arrangement work.

----------

Sulu walked purposely through the space station, his steps following an erratic, unequal beat. The Japanese man smiled gently to himself as he saw an ensign, probably newly assigned, trip over his own feet in his hurry to whatever vessel he was a part of, bumping into several older crewman that just shook their heads in amusement. The hallway was crowded, almost every single square foot taken up by one person or another, all hurrying busily from place to place.

The Commodore tried to look in all directions at once, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be a perfect example of a Starfleet Officer to other, younger members. No, for just a moment, he was an ensign himself, overwhelmed and infatuated with every little thing he came across. His eyes darted to and fro, from ship to cargo box, from human to Tellerite, in excitement and apprehension. Once more, he was about to head out into space, in charge of the U.S.S. Excelsior, which had served him very well in the past.

However, no matter how old or experienced he got, he never got over the shock of how busy and exciting the spaceport could get. He was so immersed in everything going on around him, in fact, that he completely lost track of what was happening close to him. That was why, when he found a somewhat- promising looking food area, he turned to his partner in order to announce his discovery…only to find that his partner wasn't there.

Sulu blinked in confusion and started to search the immediate area, not sure what else to do at that point. "Pavel?" he asked hopefully, though he wasn't exactly expecting an answer. His friend didn't seem to even be close by, and the Japanese man inwardly wondered when he had lost the Russian. "PAVEL?" he tried again, slightly longer.

For what seemed to be the longest several minutes he'd ever endured, he looked in every direction, asking random people if they'd seen anyone matching Chekov's description, only to be disappointed. He was about to give up and turn to talk to a security guard when he suddenly caught sight of a hand waving eagerly above the crowd. Sulu felt a small bit of hope stir in his chest and stood on his tiptoes, trying to see who the owner of the limb was. It was impossible in the crowd, so he started to fight his way towards whoever it was that was heading his way.

It was a long while before they finally met in the middle; the crowds were so brutal in their movements that they could have knocked even the most well-built man over onto his back. As he grew closer, Sulu saw someone that was roughly four inches shorter than himself, sporting a command uniform and a head of gray hair. A few seconds later, Pavel finally got to him, grabbing the fabric of the Commodore's shirt tightly in order not to be swept away again.

There was a wide smile on the Russian's face and a bright light in his eyes as he looked around. "It ees more busy than I remember," he stated, turning back to Sulu, who nodded in response.

"Yes, I believe Starfleet gets more people applying to it every year. Now, come on. We have to find that restaurant. What was it called again?"

Pavel shrugged. "Some Ih-talian place or somezing of the sort," he said, his accent as thick as ever.

The Commodore looked back to the place he had stopped before and sighed deeply. They had been wandering around aimlessly now for almost an hour and a half, and didn't seem to be any closer to their destination. There were so many different ethnicities in the station that almost every sign was in a different language, only half of which they could read, and only slightly at the best. Thankfully, his companion's chronic happiness seemed to be infectious as Sulu looked back to tell Pavel they had had no luck, only to see an enormous grin. The Russian patted his shoulder gently, chuckling somewhat. "Do not vorry, Hikarushka! Ve Vill find it. Just be patient."

The Japanese man felt his mouth break into a smile as he nodded again. "I know. It's just kind of frustrating, you know? Here we are, two men that are fully capable of navigating to the outer corners of the universe, and yet, we can't even find our destination in our home base. Am I the only one that finds this disturbing?"

"Da. I find it amusing."

Sulu shook his head in mock exasperation, but couldn't stop himself from grinning wider. "Leave it to you to say something like that. Come on. Let's go find our friends."

"Da."

As they set off this time, the Commodore felt a relentless pressure where Pavel had seized his shirt sleeve and refused to let go. He didn't complain- after all, he would much rather prefer this to the possibility of losing the Russian again. As they fought through the crowd of beings smothering them on all sides, both men tried to read signs as they passed, stumbling through words in different languages that they only knew the barest minimum of.

"Here," Pavel said, his voice slow and confused, "I zink zis is it. It's in Ih-talian."

Sulu glanced to where his partner was pointing and squinted, puzzling in vain over the blurred words. "No…" he said finally. "Right language, wrong words. I think the place we're looking for starts with a 'w'."

Pavel frowned at him. "Hikaru, I'm pretty sure there are no ws in Ih-talian. It ees based from Latin, right? Latin doesn't haf any."

The former helmsman shrugged. "I have no clue. Just keep looking, okay?"

"Da. I shall."

After several minutes, it was Sulu's turn to get his hopes up. "I think this sign says we're supposed to go that way," he said, nodding in the indicated direction.

"Nyet. I don't zink arrows mean ze same zing in zhis language, othervise, they vouldn't haf one pointing to the ceiling. Ve're on the top lefel. This sign, howefer, says ve should go that vay." He pointed.

Sulu, however, shook his head, recalling a class from long ago in his mind's eye. "No, I think that's saying we should go that way after we eat at this place. If I'm not mistaken, there's a head down there. What about this one?"

Pavel looked at the sign and frowned, staring at it for a good minute before responding. "I vas not avare that Wulcans used such…colorful vords on zeir signs."

"That's not Vulcan."

"Really? Zen vhat is it?"

"It's…I have no idea, but it's not Vulcan."

"Hikaru! Pavel! Over this way!"

Both men turned around, somehow miraculously able to hear that one voice over the sound of hundreds of others, and saw Uhura waving excitedly to them, obviously standing on a box or something of the sort to be visible over everyone else's heads. Sulu shot a glance to Chekov, who nodded and gripped his arm tighter, and the two began to weave their way to their old friend.

It was a difficult process, but they were finally able to reach their destination, watching as Uhura slid carefully off of a cargo container to stand with them. She was positively beaming at them, her smile offsetting her silver hair as she pulled them both into an awkward hug. "It's so good to see you, Hikaru. The helmsman on the last ship I served on couldn't fly for the life of him. And you-" she said, turning to Pavel and looking him up and down, "You somehow seemed to have grown even taller. How do you do that?"

The former navigator shrugged, his face filled with as much happiness as usual. "I don't zink I'm growing…Perhaps Hikaru is shrinking," he answered, turning to his old friend.

Sulu frowned at him as Chekov finally let go of his arm, even though he found the joke to be somewhat funny. Shaking his head slightly, he turned back to Uhura. "Nyota, do you know where we're supposed to go? Pavel and I have been wandering around for a long time now."

The Communications Officer laughed softly. "Of course I know where to go! This way." As she turned and started walking, Pavel grabbed her arm, reaching behind him for Sulu's as well. Forming a human chain, the three by some miracle were able to navigate their way through the immense number of people, supplies, and shops. Uhura seemed to know exactly where they were going, and within fifteen minutes had them shuffling into a brightly lit restaurant that wasn't nearly as crowded as anywhere outside it. Immediately, a girl with bright red hair, dressed in a dark green apron approached them. "May I help you?" her voice was cheery and bright, despite her expression that clearly said the opposite.

Uhura smiled radiantly at her as Pavel let go of the two of them. "Why yes," she said, "we're here for the party that was reserved roughly a month ago."

The woman nodded, "Oh, yes, someone's already arrived. Please," she started to walk away, "follow me." They complied, moving through the shop until they reached the back wall. She pushed against a dense wooden door, straining as it creaked open. Sulu reached his arms out to help, just as Pavel did the same, but she shook her head at them.

A few seconds later, they were able to advance into a considerably darker room, its lights dim and its short tables grungy. The three wandered in and immediately, Sulu heard an intake of breath next to him. The Japanese man looked over just in time to see Pavel practically yell "Meestair Spock!" before running almost to the opposite wall and launching himself onto the Vulcan that had nearly disappeared into the shadows of the room.

Spock simply stood there, his expression unchanged as Chekov wrapped his arms tightly around his old Science Officer's waist, squeezing as hard as he could. Uhura chuckled slightly at the sight as the waitress closed the door behind them. "Now," the Bantu woman said softly, "there's only one person left to arrive."

Sulu nodded, trying his very hardest not to laugh at Spock, who was now trying to deftly pry Chekov off of him. It almost looked like the stoic alien was scowling, except that was his regular expression. "Captain Chekov," he said stiffly, "It is illogical to perform a full body attack such as this one. Please cease in your efforts immediately."

"But, Meestair Spock," the former Navigator argued back, almost sounding like he was about to pout, "I hafen't seen you in a long time! Humor me for a moment. You' haf either been busy, or in deep space for avhile now."

If he could, Spock probably would have sighed, judging by the way he shifted his weight slightly. Sulu couldn't help but feel a wry grin find its way onto his face. Uhura chuckled again.

At that precise moment, the door behind them slammed open with so much force that when it hit the wall, the ceiling seemed to rattle. Sulu jumped and turned, his hand going to his hip on impulse, until he realized that he wasn't holding his phaser at the moment. However, there was no need to be as a woman stumbled in, clutching her chest and breathing extremely hard. Her dark brown hair was streaked with random strands of gray and she wasn't very tall. "I'm…so…sorry," she was able to croak out after a moment, gasping for breath. She had obviously been running for at least a little of a distance to get there.

Sulu couldn't help but stare. He had not even seen a picture of Johanna McCoy for almost twenty years, and he was very curious about how she had grown. As she looked up, he almost did a double take. Staring back at him was Leonard McCoy's bright, frosty blue eyes. He couldn't stop himself from meeting her gaze, or holding it for what seemed like the shortest second, and yet the longest year as she spoke again. "Is something wrong?"

She sounded just as interested in him as he was in her, and Sulu had to sternly remind himself that he was a Commodore. "No," he managed after a moment, "No, nothing at all. I was just noticing how you have your father's eyes." The last part was out before he could stop it, and he was about to slap himself when Johanna smiled.

"You must be the romanticist, Hikaru Sulu. It's been a long time since we last met. It's very nice to see you again." She walked forward and extended a hand, which he promptly shook.

"The pleasure's all mine," he assured her, nodding.

She looked at him for a moment longer before turning to Uhura. "Are you Ms. Uhura?" she asked, sounding a little unsure of herself.

The Bantu woman grinned encouragingly at her. "Yes, that's me. I've wanted to meet you for a long time," she said, pulling at Johanna's outstretched hand to tug her into a tight embrace. "Your father was a great friend of mine."

The younger woman drew back after a moment, seeming to struggle to keep her smile in place after this. "Thank you," her voice was very quiet.

Uhura suddenly looked worried and upset. "Oh…no, I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't mean to…oh dear…" she broke off as Johanna shrugged and shook her head.

"No, no, it's fine." She turned to look at Spock, still trapped by Chekov, who was just tall enough for his eyes to poke up over the Vulcan's shoulder. She surveyed the odd couple for a moment before saying anything. "You must be Mr. Spock," she said, walking over to shake his hand, which was an awkward affair around Pavel.

"Indeed. You remind me of your father, Ms. Johanna."

She blinked and Sulu sighed. "Spock, we were just talking about how that was NOT a good topic to discuss at the moment." He felt so much exasperation that he could have gone over to the wall with no problem and started banging his head against it.

The Vulcan seemed to be as confused as was possible for him. "In my experience, humans tend to seem much happier if they are compared to someone famous, or a wise member of their family. I don't understand how this would bring any negative emotions into this introduction."

Sulu felt himself tense as he waited for Johanna's answer, expecting some reproachful comeback, but the woman just looked at him for a moment. "Vulcan," she finally stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Definitely Vulcan, just like my dad told me. I'm flattered by your compliment. Thank you Mr. Spock."

Said alien seemed to examine her for a moment. "Fascinating."

"What?" She cocked her head to the side.

He seemed to think for a moment before he continued. "Forgive my…curiosity, but I am starting to wonder whether or not you are exactly like your father, or the exact opposite."

"Yes, definitely Vulcan," was her only response as she shook his hand again and turned to Chekov. "That only leaves one person left. Forgive me if I'm incorrect, but you are Pavel Chekov, right?"

The former navigator nodded as much as Spock's body allowed him to. "Aye, zat's correct."

Johanna put her hands on her hips and stared at his interesting position before offering one to him. He looked at it for a moment before letting go of Spock and reaching out to grab it tightly, giving her a firm shake before grabbing the Vulcan again. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Johanna laughed out. "Dad told me you were the weirdest left of the bunch. I think he's right."

"Vhy, zank you good meess." Chekov answered, grinning broadly. Spock just stood there, surveying them. The woman laughed again.

"So," Uhura said, breaking in to get everyone's attention. "It's great to meet you, Johanna, it really is. And now, I must say something to a good friend of mine." She turned to Sulu, who looked back quizzically at her. "Happy birthday, Hikaru. May all your stars this year be as exciting, though maybe a little safer, than those of last year."

The Commodore couldn't help but smile at her exuberance. "Thanks, Nyota. And thanks to all of you who came here today." He looked around to the other three, who all gave him encouraging looks, as though to say 'you can make it through this year too!' He chuckled to himself, happy for their faith in him.

Chekov finally detached himself from Spock to run over to Sulu. Seeing the action, the Commodore reacted, but too late. As the weight crashed into him, he struggled to keep his balance before he felt a table to his side and threw himself onto it. The rough wood wasn't exactly comfortable- it was far from it- but it was more preferable than falling to the floor.

The Russian didn't take any notice to any of this as he practically crushed his friend's ribs with his grip. "Happy birfday, Hikarushka. You fly the Excelsior for both of us, da?"

The Japanese man nodded, involuntarily feeling dampness well up from behind his eyes at the words. Pavel was a captain now- there was no reason that he should be what officers called 'land-locked' like he was, but there were apparently no ships in need of his abilities at the moment. However, though no one actually said anything, they were all fully aware of the real reason the Russian had never had command of anything- his age. He was getting up there in years, and since he hadn't been on a ship at the time of his promotion, he had nowhere to slip into the fleet, nowhere to go. Since all the vessels were already under command, save for those that were given to younger candidates for the job, Chekov just didn't have any work.

A couple of months before, they had offered him Admiral stars- told him he could skip the Commodore rank, but he'd turned them down, saying that he wanted to 'be among the stars as long as he could before he retired to the ground'. Of course, at this point, there was really no difference in the jobs that he would be performing. Sulu sighed. He couldn't think of anyone that deserved to be in command more than his friend, but what could he do? He had already recommended Chekov several times, as had Spock, but nothing seemed to work.

Starfleet just seemed intent on the idea that Pavel wouldn't be able to take care of himself in space anymore, much less a crew.

He wiped this from his mind as his friend turned his deep brown eyes up to him, studying his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, sounding concerned.

Sulu forced a smile, trying in vain to leave his thoughts behind. "Yeah, I'm fine. And yes, I'll fly for both of us, at least until you get your own ship," Pavel snorted at this, as though it was an absurd notion, "And I'll log it all and send it to you so that you can watch all of our adventures." He stopped himself and sighed, thinking back to their old days as he pushed Chekov away from him. "You should be up there with me. Captain or not, you're the best navigator in the fleet, not to mention an amazing weapons master. Starfleet must be out of its mind to ignore your talents."

The Russian opened his mouth to reply, but Uhura cut him off. "I'll say! I've never seen anyone able to move as fast as you in danger. Not only that, but everything is so much more lively with you around, right, Mr. Spock?"

Sulu reminded himself that the Bantu woman and the Vulcan were on the same ship again, but he still didn't expect Spock to answer. So, when the alien opened his mouth, Hikaru was caught off guard. "Indeed, your efforts seem to be wasted on the ground. I believe that Starfleet is trying to make you into an Admiral without actually promoting you. That way, next time they offer you the position, you probably wouldn't turn them down. It's an ingenious plan, but it doesn't seem very logical. Why would they not make use of your space experience while they have a chance?"

Chekov looked just as surprised as Sulu felt at the Vulcan's analysis, but he didn't say anything about it. "It's probably because I'm reaching the end of my years."

"That's not true," Johanna suddenly said. "I'm not exactly sure what you guys are talking about, so I apologize if I'm saying something irrelevant, but my dad lived to be well over eighty and was still serving under Starfleet, and you are not that old."

Uhura sighed. "We all know that, but Starfleet doesn't want to send anyone that old out into space anymore. Sulu and I are lucky- we've been posted on the Gryphon and Excelsior for a long time now, and they can't really get rid of us so long as they need us. However, notice how we haven't been reassigned to any new ships- we're on the ones that are at least a decade old. They won't move us to any others either. Since Pavel isn't on one now, he'll probably never be posted on one again. He's been stuck on Earth for a long time."

Johanna drew herself up and frowned deeply, looking just like McCoy had awhile ago whenever he got angry. "That's stupid! If he has the strength to keep running around and stuff like he is now, then he should be somewhere he can use that ability until he loses it! Unless, of course, he doesn't want to."

"I vant to, beliefe me, but I can't change Starfleet's decisions," Chekov said, for once in his life sounding gloomy. Sulu was about to say something to cheer his friend up, but suddenly, the regular smile was planted on the Russian's face again as he looked up to his friends. "But enough about me, let's talk about Hikaru. After all, ve're all here to celebrate his birfday."

Uhura picked up on the diversion pretty fast and turned to the former helmsman at that point, smiling. "Yes, Pavel's right- let's not talk about this right now. Do you have anything to say in honor of your birthday, Hikaru?"

He looked gratefully at her. He didn't want to muse about Pavel's position anymore- it just disturbed him. As the waitress came back in to leave behind several cups full of what appeared to be a variety of wine, Sulu reached over and picked one up, staring at the deep purple color as he spoke. "I do, if none of you mind listening for a moment."

"Uh-oh," Chekov said with exaggerated irritation. "Now you'f done it Nyota. Ve'll be stuck here for hours."

Sulu ignored him and continued. "It's been roughly forty years since we all- well, almost all of us- stepped onto the enterprise for the first time, hasn't it?"

"Indeed, it has been-"

"Spock, it's an approximation. Don't interrupt."

The Vulcan shot Uhura an interesting look before clamping his mouth closed.

Sulu continued as though nothing had happened. "Well…usually, this would be around the point in time where I'd try to say something memorable, something for all of you to take with you, but to be honest, I'm drawing something of a blank." This was true. There was nothing in his mind that seemed to be of relevance, and he was struggling to come up with something to say. "The only thing I have is actually something of a request." He looked at all of them in turn at this point.

Spock had raised an eyebrow in fascination. Uhura was smiling serenely at him, her eyes bright. Johanna was watching him in curiosity. Perhaps she was thinking of her father the first time he had met the people standing with her now. Was she wondering about what it had been like? Whether or not it had been an awkward engagement or not? Pavel was staring at the ground, his face unreadable, and Sulu had to remind himself that the Russian had not joined the Enterprise until a little while after they had left on their five-year long journey.

Sulu smiled to himself. These people were his friends, his family, and he would give anything to stay with them for as long as he could. It was with this thought in mind that he continued. "I want everyone to promise that in forty more years, everyone that's still here will meet again like this."

This statement was met with silence as Spock's other eyebrow rose and both of them nearly disappeared into his hairline. "This is an…illogical request. Although, I doubt that matters much to you."

Uhura seemed to almost be seething. "Honey, does it look like I have forty years left in me?"

Sulu shrugged, knowing full well that what he had asked might be impossible for most of them. "Maybe you and I can't do it, Nyota. But, Spock doesn't age as fast, and Chekov and Johanna still have a fair amount of life left in them, don't you?" he turned to said two people.

The woman was just staring at him as though mesmerized by his words for a moment. "You're serious, aren't you?" was all she said before shaking her head in amusement or disbelief- Sulu wasn't sure which.

Chekov, however, just kept looking at the ground, silent and frowning, which was extremely unusual for him. Several expressions crossed his face within the next few moments before he looked up again. "Da. I vill try. But, only on vone condition." He looked at each in turn before continuing. "You must all promise ze same zing. I vill try to lif for anozer forty years, if all of you do ze same."

There was another long moment in which no one said anything before Uhura broke the silence. "Well, what the heck? I can try, can't I? I can't promise either though."

"Same here," Johanna added in, shifting uncomfortably. "I mean…I know I haven't known you guys for very long or anything, but I would like to be your friend, if none of you mind."

"You already are," Sulu said quietly. "I suppose I'll try too. After all, it was my idea."

They all looked to Spock at that point. The Vulcan merely raised an eyebrow in response to the attention. "Yes, clearly an illogical request. However, it seems that humans often make these. I will attempt as well, if it will serve to be a comfort."

Once again, the room fell silent as no one could think of anything to say, until the waitress came back, looking as bored and annoyed as ever. "Alright, is anyone here ready to order?"

----------

"Mr. Chekov, may I speak with you for a moment in private?"

The old captain turned to face Spock in response, his face covered with confusion and surprise. "Of course," he said, his eyes wide as he followed the Vulcan's lead out of the room and back into the main section of the grungy restaurant.

There was no one else there, save for a couple at the far end of the area by the entrance that were giggling softly to one another. Spock turned to look at the man behind him, and for the first time that he could remember, was trying to form the words that he needed to say. He wasn't at all sure why he felt such hesitation- it was like that morning, when he hadn't opened that message right away. He wasn't sure he understood the feelings running through him, and it was obvious Chekov didn't either as he looked worriedly at his former Science Officer. "Meestair Spock?"

The Vulcan gathered himself. Sometimes, the best way to handle things was to leave them up to fate. Even if he didn't want to hear a negative response, he would have to deal with the fact that he might get one. This was turning out to be one of what Kirk had called his "human moments", in which he would drift further and further away from his father's heritage to his mothers.

In this circumstance, logic dictated that he should ask the question, and accept whatever response he got, whether it be what he wanted or expected, or not. However, instinct dictated that he should try to build up to the question, make Chekov feel comfortable and more responsive to the possibility that was about to be offered him.

Spock wasn't sure at that point which was the better course to take, and he didn't see any way of making the choice clearer. Finally, he decided that if he couldn't decide which to chose, he'd just merge them together. "Mr. Chekov, how long have you been a captain?"

The former navigator just stared at him. "Vhere did zat come from?" '

"Just answer the question."

Chekov took a deep breath and looked up, probably counting in his head. "I suppose about…several years now."

"Approximately twelve point seven."

The Russian took on a stony look Spock hadn't seen in awhile. "Zank you so much for ruining my efforts to forget."

This…surprised the Vulcan somewhat. Chekov had never really been angry in a long time- maybe feisty and hot headed, but not angry. He supposed that the Russian had some…'sore feelings', as humans called it, about the subject. Spock tried to brush this uncomfortable thought away as he continued. "You have not been in space for that long, correct?"

"No, I hafn't. Vhy do you ask?"

There wasn't any hope in his eyes, or anything other than curiosity and fading discomfort. He wasn't expecting what was about to come next. Spock thought back to that morning, to the message. Admiral T'Pol had said on no uncertain terms what he was supposed to do. Though the arrangement he had come up with would no doubt be interesting, the Vulcan found that he would much rather do this than have some random First Officer assigned to him- someone he didn't know whether he could trust or not.

At least, not someone he could trust like the man that was standing in front of him.

Spock took a deep breath, knowing full well that it was not something he'd done in a long time- not since he had made the decision to save the Enterprise from the Genesis Wave. "Would you like to be in space again?" It was such a human question. And yet, the face Chekov made was the most brilliant, delighted expression he had ever seen.

"More zan anyzing, sair."

"This is quite unorthodox," the Vulcan began, choosing his words carefully. "However…I know that you worked hard for your promotion to Captain, Mr. Chekov, but it is very unlikely that you will be assigned to a ship anytime soon. That is why I have a proposition for you."

The Russian looked excited and confused. "Vhat is it, sair?"

He paused before answering. "This morning, my First Officer had to resign her post aboard the U.S.S. Gryphon. I am responsible for finding a replacement. I ask you now if you'd be willing to accept a demotion to the rank of Commander, in order to serve under me on my ship for a five year journey of exploration."

Chekov stared at him for so long with such a blank face that Spock actually started to feel a little uncomfortable, though he didn't show it. It was illogical for someone to remain silently puzzled for so long without showing any sign of feeling or anything of the like.

He was about to say something when suddenly, Chekov's face lit up brightly. "You vant me to vork for you? On your ship?"

"I believe I have already said that. All I require is your answer, and though this is a sudden arrangement, I need it now. If you don't take the position, I'll have to tell Starfleet to send me a replacement themselves- and I won't have any say in who it is. I need someone that I trust, someone that I can count on in…relations that I don't understand and such matters."

"You trust me, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Mr. Chekov. Would you like the occupation or not?"

For a moment, the Vulcan was sure the younger man would say 'yes', judging by the enthusiasm in his face. However, at the last moment, he did something rather unexpected- not unlike Kirk when he and Spock had played chess together. "Vhy me? Vhy did you pick me? Vhat happened to Saavik?"

"Saavik is undergoing a family emergency and is unable to report to duty. As for your other inquiry, you and I have worked together before. You trained under me to become the Enterprise's back up Science Officer. As such, I've seen what you are capable of. Your ability to adapt to a situation and you efficiency in your work makes you a very plausible candidate for any captain, particularly one that has worked with you before. It is only logical that I ask you, for I believe that you would be a worthwhile addition to my crew."

"Is zat so?"

"It is."

Chekov looked at him for a long moment, and Spock began to wonder if he was expecting too much from his old friend. After all, the Russian had worked for nothing short of years to reach the rank of Captain, and now he was being asked to let that go, to go back to being a Commander, just to get back into space.

"I understand your misgivings," the Vulcan added, "and I respect them. You do not wish to demote yourself to a lower rank. I apologize for asking such an outlandish question."

He turned to leave, thoroughly convinced that there was nothing he could do to change Chekov's mind, but as he took a step, a hand caught his shoulder. He turned back, feeling one of his eyebrows raise on impulse as the Russian smiled brightly. "Thank you, Mr. Spock," he said.

The Vulcan was…confused. "I don't understand. Why did you thank me?"

"Because you'f gifen me vhat I'fe vanted for ze past twelfe point sewen years," he answered simply.

"I don't know what you've wanted."

His friend shook his head good naturedly. "Space, Meestair Spock. Space. If anyvon had asked me but you, I might haf said 'no'…unless if vas Sulu or somevon like that."

Something clicked in Spock's mind at these words. "Mr. Chekov, are you insinuating what I think you are?"

He didn't think he'd ever seen such a big smile as Chekov nodded. "Aye, Meestair Spock. Or should I say, Keptin?"

"Either would suffice, seeing as though I match both titles," the Vulcan answered, completely missing the humor in the Russian's voice.

If he cared though, Chekov didn't show it. "Aye, Keptin it is. So, tell me- vhen are ve leafing?"

"I must clear it with Starfleet first," Spock reminded him.

Chekov waved dismissively. "Yes, yes of course. I hope they agree vith you…I don't vant to be stuck on ze ground anymore. Mees Johanna is right- this might be my last chance. Those bloated Admirals had better not take it avay from me."

Spock knew that he should be stern and tell Chekov that he was not to insult their superiors, but something stopped him. Curious…It seemed that Spock agreed with his friend. What Starfleet had done to the Russian for the past decade or so was completely inexcusable, and the Vulcan couldn't find it within himself to tell Chekov otherwise. He doubted that anyone who cared could, and though he hated to admit that he had a human weakness, he did. Pavel was his friend, like Kirk, McCoy, and Scott had been, and like Sulu and Uhura were now. Even Johanna seemed to have joined in their group somehow.

As the Vulcan took out his PADD to send a message to Starfleet, telling them that he had found a replacement for Saavik, he couldn't help looking up at Chekov again to see that smile that he had had since being an ensign- that smile that would never fade, no matter how bad things would get.

Spock reflected on this before turning back to the task at hand. He had already wasted enough time dawdling in his hesitation when asking his question. It would be illogical and inefficient to put off his tasks any longer. This was the last thought that ran through his mind before his started typing.

Author's Note: Well, chapter one is done. It's not my best piece, but it will hopefully get better. Thanks to all of you that read it through to the end, and I hope you'll come back for the next chapter. I tried to keep everyone at least somewhat in character, but I don't think I did very well at either Spock or Chekov…If anything made you happy or bothered you, please say so in a review so I have some clue as to what people think of this. Thank you all!

Also, I'm writing other stuff at the same time as this, so please forgive me for my update speed. I'll try to go as fast as I can, but I've got a lot of stuff going on right now.

In the next chapter, the real adventure starts. I hope to see you all there. Until then, live long and prosper.