Pavel Andreievich Chekov stole silently through the quiet and near deserted corridors of the USS Enterprise, his grip firm on the hilt of the sword he carried. How the phasers of the ship's crew had been replaced by these crude - yet still deadly - weapons, he did not know, or particularly care at this moment. A burning need drove the young ensign now...a need to kill any Klingon monster he came across.
It had begun when the Enterprise arrived at Beta XII-A in response to an urgent call for help from a Federation colony under attack, only to find no life, nor the slightest sign it had ever been there. Chekov beamed down to the planet's surface with the landing party led by Captain Kirk when the Klingon battlecruiser appeared in orbit. When a group of Klingons beamed down and attacked them, their commander instantly accused Kirk of firing on and crippling their ship and killing half his crew, demanding Kirk surrender the Enterprise to him.
Only the ingenuity of Kirk and Spock prevented the Klingons instantly seizing control on beaming them aboard. But it was after the rest of the crew of the stricken vessel were transported over and they were all incarcarated that the strangeness started: The bulk of the Enterprise crew being sealed off on the lower decks...the ship jumping to warp of its' own accord and refusing to stop as it hurtled through space...communications going down completely...and then the Klingons breaking free when the swords appeared. The dirty, swarthy bastards soon turned the corridors of the ship into a slaughterhouse, and the fighting still raged.
But no...that was not how it all began. Not for Chekov. It went back further than the Enterprise, to Piotr...his brother. Again the memories came back to him, and he whimpered slightly at the recollection...
Pavel was nine, and Piotr was twelve, and this Christmas they screamed in joy as they hurtled down the snow-covered slope of the hill some short distance outside Saint Petersburg on their sledges. Mother and Father and Uncle Boris laughed and applauded as the boys coasted to a stop. "Remember when we did that, Andrei?" Pavel heard Uncle Bboris say to Father with a chuckle.
That was when the snowball impacted against the side of Ppavel's face, and he turned to see Piotr laughing at him. In a second Pavel had tossed his own at his brother. A minute later, all five of the Chekov family were engaged in a merry snowball battle...
Pavel was seventeen. He stood with his family at the travel port to say goodbye before boarding the flight that would take him to Starfleet Academy in San Francisco. Having exchanged hugs with his parents, he now grasped his brother's hand. "Take care, Pavel," Piotr said. "At the Academy, and in space."
"You too, Piotr," Pavel replied. "Who knows, with you going to Archanis IV, after I graduate, we may see one another among the stars before long..."
Pavel, nineteen years old, looked up from the book he was reading as Irina entered his room at Starfleet Academy. His pleasure at seeing her changed to concern as he saw her expression. "Pavel," she said shakily, "You...have not yet heard, have you?"
"Heard what?" He rose and went over to her, gently grasping her shoulders. "Irina, whatever is wrong?" Irina did not speak, just walked over to the computer on his desk and activated the screen, calling up the Federation News Service. Pavel saw the words 'Archanis IV', and instantly felt cold and sick. The feeling grew worse as he read of how the research colony on the planet had been found devastated, all personnel slaughtered. Not one single survivor..."Piotr," he gasped...
The rest of his family had moved on, but Pavel remained at the side of the grave as the coffin containing all that remained of his brother in this universe disappeared shovelled mounds of earth. Word was the Klingons were responsible for what had happened, considering the Archanis system's close proximity to their territory and their ongoing feud with the Federation. There was no hard evidence, and the Klingons themselves fiercely denied any involvement, with the Federation itself officially treating the incident as being perpetrated by an unknown party. But many believed the Klingons had done it...Pavel thought so now, as he made a promise. "Klingons will die, Piotr. This I swear. I will kill them myself...one day."...
With a groan, Chekov opened his eyes to find himself looking up at the ceiling of the Enterprise sickbay from where he lay on a biobed. "Doctor McCoy?" he said, raising himself up on his shoulders to see the ship's chief medical officer standing, along with Nurse Chapel, over the bed of an injured crewman, just finishing routine examinations.
Noticing Chekov awake, McCoy turned to Chapel, said "You can take it from here, nurse," and at Chapel's affirmitive, walked over to Chekov. "Easy does it, ensign. How are you feeling?"
Chekov rubbed the side of his face, which ached slightly. "I've felt better...but...what about the Klingons? The ship, are we still -?"
"The fighting's stopped, Chekov," McCoy responded. "Our little war is thankfully over, and we're on our way back home." He went on to explain how Kirk and Spock had discovered than an unknown alien lifeform had been behind the entire thing, taking control of the ship and getting the two groups, Starfleet and Klingon, to fight one another. Kirk had managed to convince the leader of the Klingons to join him in opposing it, and it had left the Enterprise, which was now back under control. "It worked up our aggression. It even affected our memories, in your case..."
"Then...Piotr?" Realisation set in then. "I never had a brother...he was never killed by Klingons, because...he was never alive. All that hate I felt was for nothing. But it seemed so real. I wanted to hurt them, kill them for what I thought they had done, and...bozhe moi" He hid his face behind his hands as he remembered how he had come across the Klingon commander's mate in a corridor; how he pinned her against the wall, about to cut her down with the sword...before other, even darker impulses took over. He tore the front of her uniform, exposing the tops of her breasts, eliciting a cry of revulsion from her before forcing his mouth onto hers. "What I was about to do..." he gasped.
McCoy laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Chekov, you weren't to blame. It was the creature, it got to all of us. Luckily for both you and Mara, the captain found you just in time, knocked you out, and brought you here himself. It's all over now...we're safe."
Chekov moved his hands away from his face, breathed deeply, and faced McCoy. "All the same, doctor," he said, "I think I would feel better confined to my quarters until after the Klingons are gone. If I were to see Mara again...I don't think I could bear it, knowing what happened."
McCoy nodded sympathetically. "Alright. I'll let Jim know, I'm sure he'll understand." As the sickbay doors parted before Chekov and he walked out into the corridor, the memories he now knew were false still lingered faintly, along with the fury at his soul having been violated so deeply, and the horror at what it had turned him into. For a brother that never was.