Captain Kirk materialised on the planet and surveyed the land that coalesced around him. Open fields dotted with woods stretched into the distance while large yellow insects buzzed at their edges in the evening sunshine. It seemed to be Spring and Kirk found himself standing in a field of bright green crop shoots. Everything looked almost idyllic until the sight of thick black smoke rising from behind one of the woods marred the scene. An acrid smell of fuel stung the air. He glanced over as Dr McCoy materialised next to him. The doctor took in a deep lung full of air but frowned at the smell. He put up his hand to shade his eyes from the setting sun and began to look around him. He quickly spotted a group of men sitting by a small woodland copse a short distance away.
"That must be them," said the doctor. "He's got to be with them."
Kirk nodded and screwed up his eyes. "Let's go."
The two men set across the field, their legs swishing through the knee length shoots, disturbing small clouds of tiny creatures. It had been two months since they had last seen Chekov. Kirk had sent him and two others from the navigation team to the planet Avior in answer to a call from one of the continents to assist with cartography systems in the capital. He hadn't realised that he was sending them into a bitterly fierce and protracted war. It had taken Kirk days of negotiating to receive permission to have one of them, Chekov, returned. And only he had been returned because no one knew where the others even were. It was a sorry situation.
They approached the group. There were about twelve soldiers sat in a huddle around a small fire that had just been lit. Wood smoke drifted up lazily into the still evening air which was just starting to cool after a warm and humid day. Some of the men were sat on the ground while others perched on a fallen tree trunk. A jumble of clothing, helmets and equipment was piled up at the edge of the group. Cans of water were lined up next to the fire, waiting to be boiled. The men were silent, each one hugging a weapon that resembled a phase rifle. One of the men was drawing slowly but absent-mindedly in the dust with a stick. Their uniforms matched the bright green of the surrounding scenery but they looked old, dusty and torn. As Kirk and McCoy neared the group one of the soldiers got up from his position on the end of the tree trunk, still clutching his rifle. He was a tall man with light brown hair and pale, almost translucent blue eyes. A jagged scar ran from the bottom of his right eye to his ear. He had probably been good-looking once, but the war had left his face harsh and lined.
"You must be from the starship," he said by way of greeting. "I was told you were coming. I'm Colonel Fann."
Kirk hesitated, expecting some kind of physical greeting, such as a bow or a hand shake to respond to. When none was forthcoming he merely nodded. "I'm James Kirk, captain of the Federation StarshipEnterprise and this is my chief surgeon, Dr McCoy," he introduced them. "It's taken us a long time to get to this point. Your war seems to have no solution at present and no one seems willing to talk to anyone – not even to me."
Fann looked them both over, thinking at the same time. "Shonen's war with Strite is winnable," he said, as if repeating a well-worn phrase. "They invaded our borders and they will be pushed back – all the way to the Dallanian Sea if necessary. But I don't suppose that concerns your Federation, does it? You could end this war with your Starship in one hour. Just one volley of your phasers could bring Strite to its knees."
"The Federation has no part to play in your war, Colonel Fann," replied Kirk, trying to keep his tone neutral and ignoring Fann's leading conversation. "I haven't come to debate politics. I have come to get my navigator back."
"So where is he?" said McCoy looking at the group, frowning. "I don't see him. Are you keeping him somewhere?"
Fann barked a sound that Kirk took to be a laugh – something Fann didn't do very often, he supposed. The colonel turned to the group of soldiers.
"Chekov!" he shouted sharply. "Over here! Someone wants to see you."
One of the younger soldiers who had been sitting with his back to the captain and doctor on the tree trunk threw down the stick he had been drawing with in the dust. He stretched his broad shoulders and ran a hand up the close shaven dark brown hair at the nape of his neck. He turned his head to look at the colonel – it was Chekov. The high collar of his uniform jutted under his jaw, which was smeared in dirt and blood. His Slavic features and dark eyes contrasted against the flat, robust faces of the other soldiers with their glittering blue eyes.
"Now, Chekov!" said Fann with tired annoyance that spoke of the many times he had been ignored.
The other soldiers turned round with a mild curiosity as Chekov got up with a sigh like a troublesome teenager and walked unwillingly over to the group, trailing the tip of his rifle just above the dusty ground. McCoy pulled round his tricorder from behind his back and turned it on to begin scanning. Chekov looked at it warily as he approached, his eyes assessing the captain and doctor.
Kirk looked intently at his navigator.
"Mr Chekov?" he said, feeling concern knotting at the bottom of his stomach.
He looked the same, although his hair and clothes were different and he was covered in sweat and dirt. Something wasn't right about him.
Chekov raised his chin and looked him directly in the eyes, his gaze haughty and cold. Kirk recoiled inwardly. It wasn't the look that appalled him – it was the complete lack of recognition. Chekov turned to Fann.
"Who is this?" he asked with an arrogant toss of his head, shaking his matted hair out of his eyes. Some of the other soldiers began to move up to join him, to see what was going on. They made a menacing group. One of them threw a blood-stained arm around the Russian's neck and leant on him heavily.
"Are these the people from that starship you're from? Have they come to get you?" he said sneeringly, poking Chekov in the ribs with a grimy finger. Guffaws rose from the men.
Chekov shrugged the man away. "For the last time, Mott, I'm not from a star ship," he said peevishly with a curl of his lip.
"Then why do you keep drawing stars?" shouted over one of the others still sat on the tree trunk. He pointed down to where Chekov had been drawing with the stick on the ground. "You've drawn them talk about them in your sleep. I'd say you were obsessed. Perhaps you do come from the stars."
Kirk walked over to the camp fire and looked down. A neat arrangement of the twenty small planets circling its sun in the Avior system was marked out in the light brown earth.
"I was just drawing. I wasn't thinking," said Chekov sullenly. "Stop teasing me. It's not funny."
McCoy finished his scans. "Ensign, don't you know who I am?" he asked intently. He indicated towards Kirk who was still looking down at Chekov's drawing. "Don't you know who that is?"
Chekov looked from one to the other with disinterest. "No," he said bluntly.
"Do you know what your name is?"
"Yes. Chekov, Pavel Andreevich," he replied, slightly insulted. He turned to Fann. "Please, Colonel. Why are you sending me away? Don't let these people take me. I belong here in this unit. You need me."
Kirk walked back over, listening to the conversation with increasing concern. "Colonel Fann, what have you done to my navigator?" he asked, coming to a halt in front of the officer and folding his arms. "Why doesn't he remember us?"
"I'm not your navigator!" interrupted Chekov aggressively, placing himself directly and provocatively in front of Kirk. "I don't remember you, because I've never met you before."
Fann raised a hand to silence the Russian. "That's enough, Chekov!" he snapped impatiently. He turned his cold eyes back to Kirk. "I can't tell you what's been done to him, Captain, because the way he is now is the same as when I first was given him for our troop, two weeks ago. He's become a valuable asset in such a short space of time. His talents are truly remarkable. We're a reconnaissance troop and he holds all the cartographic information for this entire region in his head. We haven't needed our old electronic maps and locating systems that would give away our position to the enemy. Chekov does it all for us. Silently. We can surprise the enemy's out posts, eradicate them and return back to the battalion and direct them where to launch their main assault in twice them time and with half the risk."
McCoy refused to be impressed. "I'm sure he makes a great tool in your war, Colonel, but he's a navigator, not a phaser. With us he'san explorer and a scientist. That's what he should be doing."
Fann gave a grim smile. "For a scientist and explorer, doctor, your navigator is as vicious and ruthless a fighter as I have ever come across. Morals don't seem to trouble his conscience."
"Then that's something else you've taken away from him," growled McCoy.
Kirk put a calming hand on the doctor's elbow. "OK, Bones. I don't think Fann has had anything to do with this," he said thoughtfully. "I think we should take Chekov back to the ship and discuss it with the Shonen authorities as soon as possible. Perhaps this… amnesia is just temporary."
McCoy looked disgruntled. "Amnesia? That remains to be seen. I'll need to start my tests when I get back to the lab. From what I've seen of this war so far, there's not much that either side wouldn't do to each other."
Kirk reached for his communicator. "We've got ambassadors from both Shonen and Strite coming aboard shortly. We'll need to be there to meet them. Like it or not, we seem to have become entangled in this war."
"I'm not going," snarled Chekov through gritted teeth, meeting Kirk's hazel eyes with a look of impudence the captain had never seen before. He turned back to Fann. "Colonel, you have to see this for what it is. They're working with Strite. You know they have spies trying to break up successful units. This Federation starship is being used against us."
"Chekov, I'm not going to argue with you," replied Fann wearily, shouldering his rifle. "I received my orders from Headquarters. Taln verified the code." He looked over to one of the soldiers stood at the back of the group and received a reluctant nod of confirmation. "You're to go with these men."He turned and began to walk back over to the tree trunk. The group of men who had gathered to watch gave Kirk and McCoy a last look before silently turning and following him.
"Why should I go? They're not my people," countered Chekov quietly, trying to keep his voice under control as the group moved away from him. Kirk could see him struggling against a mixture of hurt, anger and maybe just a bit of fear. "Perhaps Taln was mistaken. Get him to check again."
"Chekov, I already did!" snapped Fann, spinning round on his heel. "I don't have a choice and neither do you."
"This isn't fair. I haven't done anything wrong!" shouted Chekov.
Fann stopped and sighed, taking off his rifle and leaning heavily on it in front of him. "I know it's not fair and I don't want you to go. This is just some game played out at a level way above us. You've got to go. Those are your orders. Think about it. All we know is that you were rescued from a Strite prison. Where did you come from before that? You can't remember and we don't know. These Federation people claim you as their own, and they're probably right. You've got to go with them."
Chekov stood silently, his face showing the inner workings of unexpressed thoughts.
"Alright," he said eventually. "I'll go."
Fann nodded, placing an unexpectedly fatherly arm on his shoulder. "Say goodbye to the boys. They'll miss you too. You may never see them again." He patted him once and turned away.
Kirk and McCoy stood to one side as Chekov went over to the group of soldiers. They watched as muttered goodbyes were made, some of the men shaking his hand, others embracing him or slapping him on the back. When he was finished, he walked back over to Kirk and McCoy, refusing to look them in the eye, his jaw set in an obstinate clench.
"I don't think you'll be needing that," said Kirk quietly.
Chekov looked up reluctantly and followed the captain's gaze down to the phase rifle he was clutching. He laid it on the ground and dropped his head again.
Kirk sighed and flipped open his communicator. He hoped that whatever was wrong with his navigator was going to be a quick fix. Uhura had detected Klingon transmissions in the vicinity and, aside from the up and coming peace negotiation attempt with the two ambassadors, Kirk had no intention of hanging around Avior any longer than he had to.
"Mr Kyle, three to beam up".