Hey everyone! Finally managed to piece this chapter together and edit the entire fourteen pages it contained. It's by far the longest update in this story, but I think that part of the reason why may have been some kind of subconscious urge within me to give you guys as fulfilling a chapter as possible to make up for the ending I'm unfortunately going to have to leave you on. In any case, I hope you enjoy it. As always, please leave a review if you like the update. I hope you guys all have a wonderful evening!
A voice blasting to life over the loudspeaker system has Kirk and Spock diving for cover the moment they hear it. Fearing they've been found, they stay hidden and listen to the broadcast.
"Detonation sequence: active. Three minutes until self-destruct."
"Are you kidding me?" Kirk whispers.
He quickly surveys the corridor to be sure no more guards have arrived. Three minutes? Fate was just acting petty now.
"Captain, we must move quickly," Spock says.
"You read my mind," Kirk answers, promptly exiting their cover. He takes the lead and keeps his phaser at eye level.
When they finally reach the entrance Sulu had described to them, Kirk and Spock both move to either side of the door. Kirk leans in closer, listening for any kind of noise from the other side. He hears none and proceeds to nod once at Spock. The first officer steps forward, kicking the door inward and then charging into the room, phaser drawn.
Kirk files in directly behind him and quickly scans the immediate area for any threats. The room is enormous; large cells lining both sides of a long corridor. The entrance they've arrived through puts them halfway between the stretch of cells, so Kirk motions for Spock to search the right side while he takes the left.
Each cell is opened, but Kirk quickly comes to the realization that none of them are filled.
"Captain!" Spock calls.
Kirk turns and quickly runs the distance back to his first officer. Spock is stood in front of the only closed cell; an unconscious man clearly trapped with a thick wall of glass sealing him inside.
"Two minutes to detonation."
"We can't leave him," Kirk says.
Spock considers this for only a moment before lifting his phaser and aiming at one of the glass's weaker structure points. He fires twice at the lower left corner and the wall immediately shatters into a thousand minuscule shards.
The man inside stirs; glancing up in surprise when he notices both officers. Kirk sees the man closely analyze his uniform, as well as the Starfleet insignia on his chest. The man struggles to stand at first, but he manages to balance himself and walk to meet Kirk and Spock outside the cell.
"I'm Sigmen. You're Pavel's crew, aren't you?" The man asks.
"We are," Kirk nods. "Do you have any idea where we can find him?"
Sigmen is taken aback; expression thoroughly puzzled.
"I thought-" He stops mid-sentence, realization dawning on his face
"Oh my god, you don't know yet," the man breathes. "Listen to me, get back aboard your ship now. Everit administered the serum again and ordered Pavel to kill Hikaru."
Kirk feels like someone has physically punched him straight through the chest.
"What?"
"You're running out of time. He won't be able to stop himself if you don't find him first! You need to go now!"
Kirk, suddenly overwrought with a new wave of panic, glances hurriedly at Spock.
"I'll inform the crew," Spock says, already turning to go. "I'll issue an immediate emergency lockdown aboard the ship until we locate Ensign Chekov."
Kirk nods, pivoting on a heel to follow after his first officer. He pulls up short when he doesn't hear the sound of Sigmen's footsteps behind him. Kirk turns to see him standing a few feet back, staring at the ground in intense contemplation.
"Come on!" Kirk calls. "We need to leave now!"
The man looks up and, unbelievably, shakes his head.
"There's something I have to do."
Kirk gapes at him incredulously.
"Are you nuts? This place is coming down any second!"
"One minute to detonation."
"I can't let Everit leave here. As long as he's still alive to rebuild this organization, this won't ever end."
"There's no time! You're going to die if you stay here!" Kirk very nearly pleads.
"This isn't up to you!" Sigmen yells back. "Now, go!"
Kirk can't help but feel a tug at his conscience; a force compelling him to physically make Sigmen evacuate the facility, especially when any other option means certain death. But he's clearly made up his mind, and right now, Kirk is needed elsewhere.
He nods, reluctantly acknowledging the man's choice, and then tosses his phaser across the room to him. Sigmen catches it, confusion writ across his face.
"Take it," Kirk tells him, knowing it's all he can really do to help.
With that, he turns to leave. However, Kirk only makes it a few steps forward before Sigmen stops and yells out to him.
"Captain!" he calls.
Kirk looks back.
"When you find Pavel...please tell him I said thank you. For everything."
Kirk can't even begin to understand the depth of what that final request might mean; but he's going to do everything in his power to honor it.
"I will," Kirk promises.
Sigmen offers a grateful nod before he takes off running. He disappears through the room's exit and then hurries across the facility without caution. Now that most everyone is gone, no one is left to stop him. Sigmen sprints down a twisting corridor towards the transportation bay entrance.
"30 seconds until detonation."
He slams the door and flings it open, phaser drawn. There's one escape shuttle left and only three people trying to board it. Sigmen fires first at the small shuttle; effectively damaging it beyond any practical use. He then shoots both guards before advancing towards the third man, latching on to the back of his white lab coat and throwing him to the ground.
Everit hits the floor hard, groaning as he rolls over onto his stomach. Sigmen lifts his phaser once more and aims to end this once and for all.
"20 seconds to detonation."
Hearing that, he hesitates. There's no time for means of escape now, why should he make any more blood for his hands during these last few seconds of his life? He lowers his weapon. Sigmen decides Everit's life is not his to take, no matter how much pain he's caused him. When this place goes, Everit will go down with it. And Sigmen knows that won't ever fix or heal everything that's been done here, but perhaps it can begin to atone for it: by ensuring nothing like this ever happens again.
"15 seconds to detonation."
Sigmen isn't afraid to die. Fear of his own mortality is something he lost long ago, back when he'd already forgotten all the things that made him who he was. But if he does have just one regret, it's that he wishes he had more time to help Pavel. He silently prays that the boy's crew will find him in time. Sigmen had briefly considered Everit's question to him: why was Pavel the one to make him finally do the right thing? Of course, it was just as the doctor said: Sigmen had seen himself in Pavel that day they brought him here. Young, afraid, and desperately in need of just one person to reach out a hand and tell him it's all going to be okay. Sigmen never got that, but he made damn sure Pavel did.
"10 seconds to detonation"
Sigmen glances at Everit. The man's glasses are shattered and there's a line of blood slowly trailing from his nose. Sigmen spares no pity, even as Everit tries and fails to push himself up. The doctor sighs, resigned to his fate. He looks up.
"I'm so disappointed in you, Sigmen."
"5 seconds to detonation."
"I believe I'll consider that my life's greatest achievement," Sigmen answers. He tosses the phaser away and listens to the last seconds of his life broadcast over the intercom.
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
Sigmen shuts his eyes.
Sulu stifles a painful groan as McCoy mends the three-inch gash on his leg. He rests on his stomach, arms bunched under his chin.
"Almost done," McCoy assures him.
Sulu hears the soft hum of the protoplaser gradually knitting his skin back together. The residual sensation is faint; like a couple dozen microscopic needles lightly pricking his skin. The real pain comes as the damaged nerves slowly regenerate without the influence of anesthetic. Sulu had passed up the option for it; the sooner he was healed the sooner he could help.
"You gave us a real scare for a while there," McCoy comments. Sulu can't see the doctor's face, but he can hear the concern in his voice.
"We're not out of the woods yet," Sulu replies. He knows McCoy understands his unspoken words: this isn't over until Chekov is back home and safe. There's a pause and Sulu shifts uncomfortably through another wave of pain.
"They'll get him back," McCoy says.
Sulu swallows roughly against the lump in his throat.
"I know."
Neither man speaks after that. McCoy finishes repairing the wound in silence. He wraps a few white bandages around the scar and then stands.
"You'll need to stay off that leg for a little bit. Give it some more time to heal."
Sulu rolls over onto his back and sits up.
"Kirk and Spock are still down there. There has to be something I can do to help."
McCoy crosses the room to grab his communicator. The small device beeps rhythmically to alert the doctor someone is trying to contact him.
"The best thing you can do right now is rest. You'll damage that leg five ways to Friday if you try and strain it anymore."
McCoy answers his comm and Sulu sighs, absentmindedly running a hand over the soft gauze around his calf.
"McCoy here." There's a short pause.
"Yes." Another pause.
"What happened?" Sulu can barely hear the frantic voice on the other line.
"You mean to tell me no one saw anything?"
McCoy gruffly cuts off whatever explanation he's being offered.
"Damn it, just don't do anything. I'll be right there."
The tone in his voice does not bode well.
"What's wrong?" Sulu asks.
"Someone found a lab technician unconscious on B deck. I gotta get down there. You gonna be okay here?"
"I'll be fine," Sulu answers.
McCoy nods once and quickly gathers up a few supplies in a pack.
"Stay off that leg, Sulu. I mean it," he orders.
"I'm not going anywhere," Sulu says.
McCoy shoulders his pack and then goes. Sulu releases a deep exhale and falls back against his bed pillow, defeated. He glances around the room, trying to find anything to take his frantic mind off of the rescue mission still underway on the planet below. Medbay is quite empty; he's the only patient residing in this wing and there are just two nurses milling about and fulfilling their duties.
He glances down at his leg, annoyed. He resents feeling this helpless. There has to be something he can do beside sit here.
Sulu decides maybe it wouldn't hurt to test out the strength of his leg for a minute or two; he won't even stay on it that long. He takes a deep breath in and swings both legs over the edge of his bed; allowing them to dangle a couple inches above the ground for a few seconds. He first lets the foot of his uninjured leg touch the floor, and then follows it carefully with the next one. Immediately, a flare of pain shoots up his leg and he stumbles slightly.
He glances up at the nurses to see if they noticed and is relieved to see them still turned around. Sulu sucks another breath in and takes one step forward. He winces at another wave of pain, but it quickly subsides. After a few steps, he's able to walk pretty well despite the extent of the injury he's received.
He's just considering a short walk to the next wing when, from behind, he hears the doors to medbay slide together. Sulu turns around and, sure enough, sees that the entrance is sealed shut. He hears the nurses' shout of surprise. Slowly, an uneasy feeling builds in Sulu's chest. He recalls why McCoy was called away from medbay; something about an unconscious crewmember on a lower deck. Sulu has to quell the panic that rises inside him when he tries to come up with a reason for how that happened. Certainly, he's just being paranoid. But, despite telling himself that, he can't quite dispel the suspicion now.
Sulu hears movement to his right; the faintest sound of a scuffing footstep. Gripping the bedframe to steady himself, he turns toward it. What his gaze meets causes him to freeze instantly.
Chekov stands across the room, silently staring down the injured pilot. He looks far worse than when Sulu last saw him; there's a purple bruise stretching up the right side of his face and a faint trail of blood coursing down his cheek. And Sulu can tell right away something is wrong. His posture is too rigid; too formal. Sulu has no doubt what is to blame.
"Chekov," he says warily, lifting his hands in surrender. Taking a cautious step back, he spares a quick glance over his shoulder and catches sight of the two nurses still in medbay.
"Go!" He orders. Both hesitate at first, but quickly they realize the danger they're in if they stay. They exit into an adjacent wing of medbay and Sulu accepts the small relief of knowing they'll at least be out of any line of fire.
He turns his attention back to Chekov. A few breathless moments pass as Sulu waits; silently attempting to anticipate what will happen next. Luckily, he does just that; sensing the moment just before Chekov makes his first move.
He reaches for his phaser and Sulu knows without even looking that it's not set to stun. In a flash, the older helmsman makes a dive from his bed to the floor; narrowly missing the shot that scorches straight through the wall behind him.
Glancing up, Sulu sees Chekov charge him. Sulu reaches up to the table by his bed and grabs a metal plate with spare medical equipment on it. Swiping the tools away, he wings the plate across the floor, catching one of Chekov's legs as his foot hits the ground. The navigator falls forward but swiftly catches himself with a forward tumble. He's up and running again instantly.
Sulu waits for the boy to get close enough and, upon Chekov kicking straight for his face, slides to the right; grabbing the navigator's leg as he does so. Sulu twists himself around, forcing Chekov to turn with him. The boy hits the ground roughly and his gun skids from his hand.
Seeing this, Chekov scrambles to stand again. Sulu, fully aware of the pain racking his every move due to his unhealed injuries, pulls himself up quickly using the edge of his bed. He meets Chekov toe to toe and the navigator punches first; sending a quick cross-hit directly for Sulu's face. The older man ducks it but isn't able to avoid a swift blow to the stomach. He stumbles back; regaining his footing quickly.
There's sudden pounding on the doors to medbay. Sulu can hear familiar voices calling his name. His opponent takes no head of the distraction.
Kirk finds the hall outside medbay a panicked mess of people trying desperately to unlock the doors.
"Bones!" He calls.
"Jim, over here!"
Kirk weaves his way through the crowded security officers and finds McCoy on the outer edge of the group.
"What's going on?" He asks.
McCoy shakes his head.
"Can't get the doors open. We think he…may have sabotaged them somehow. I got Spock's message and locked down the bay on my way back, but I just got word from one of my nurses that Chekov's in there with Sulu. There's no way to get in through the system. We'll have to open them manually."
Kirk looks over toward the entrance; watching intensely as two men insert a large electric pry bar into the slit between both doors.
They're running out of time.
Chekov advances and sends a roundhouse kick into Sulu's right leg. Sulu blocks, if only barely. He redirects the boy's leg downward and the unprepared navigator slides forward, traction gone from his stance. Sulu sends an unsatisfying elbow straight into the kid's chest; wincing even as he does so. Chekov plummets, landing harshly on his side. Sulu takes a step back, but it's not enough as Chekov uses his own foot to sweep the older helmsman's legs out from under him.
Sulu finds himself toppling backwards. Luckily, he catches himself on the edge of his bed and pulls himself back up quickly. Fists raised defensively, he watches Chekov manage a swift kick-up, and he's back on his feet as well.
There are successive and repetitive thuds on the entrance to medbay now; resounding echoes reverberating distantly as those on the outside frantically try to break their way in.
Chekov runs forward once more, fist flying towards Sulu's head. The older helmsman blocks the hit and punches forward to deliver a blow of his own. But in familiar anticipation, Chekov slides to the right, latching onto Sulu's arm as he goes. It's a quick move the pilot isn't expecting and he frantically tries to recover; though he can't do it fast enough before Chekov sends an inward kick straight for the older helmsman's knee.
It's the use of this move that has realization dawning on Sulu almost instantaneously. He knows what's coming next, but in his injured state coupled with the serum's combat enhancement still coursing through Chekov's veins, he's just not quick enough.
Chekov turns and bends Sulu's wrist backward without hesitation, this causing the helmsman to turn awkwardly and thus lose his balance. Chekov takes immediate advantage and knees Sulu straight in the abdomen. The pilot groans as all the air leaves his lungs and he drops to the ground. Sulu quickly pushes himself up so that his back is leaning against the side table next to his bed. He gasps fervently, chest aching with a furious pain.
He sees Chekov sprint a few feet away to retrieve his gun. He picks up the weapon and instantly whips his aim straight towards the defenseless pilot, who is still reeling from having the air knocked out of him. Sulu raises a single, tired hand, the other bracing himself up so that he doesn't topple over.
"Chekov," Sulu rasps, "You have to listen to me."
Chekov lifts the phaser to take aim; finger hovering a breath away from the trigger.
"Pavel, please," Sulu pleads desperately.
And then there's a second, a sudden, single moment, where hesitation flashes across Chekov's eyes. The navigator stumbles slightly on his feet; as if Sulu's last plea physically hits him.
Chekov takes a small breath in, hand tightening around the handle of his phaser. He can feel it; he knows he can feel it. He knows he can feel himself beginning to break through again; beginning to fight back. His eyes dart frantically from his shaking hands to Sulu, who has undoubtedly noticed his sudden change in demeanor.
"I know how you're feeling right now," Sulu explains gently; cautiously. "I know it feels like a wall pushing against you; pushing you away from control. But I need you to push back. I need you to fight it."
Chekov blinks once, his arms shaking.
Shoot him, the voice of that doctor still echoes in his head. Shoot him.
Chekov attempts to steady his phaser again.
Shoot him.
Shoot him.
Shoot him.
The command pounds at him mercilessly; encircling his head over and over and over. Repeating just those two words again and again: Shoot him. Shoot him. Shoot him.
Chekov feels his finger touch the trigger. He feels himself losing his grip on what little fight he has left.
This is it, he thinks. This is where he'll kill one of the only people he could never bare lose. This is where that psychopathic doctor that controls him will win. He cannot stop. This is where he will kill his best friend, having to then live with that knowledge and that guilt forever.
This is it.
Chekov glances at Sulu as his finger begins to press in on the trigger of the phaser. He sees the desperation in his friend's eyes; the sadness. He sees the one bit of hope the older helmsman still has left that they might somehow still find a way to pull through this. Find a way to pull through just like they always have.
"I suppose we will be roommates then."
"Yeah, I guess we will be."
Sudden echoes of faded memories crash back over him with renewed life as he registers that hope Sulu still holds on to.
"Thank you for helping me, Hikaru."
"Ah, don't worry about it. I'll be your knight in shining armor, Pav."
Words, laughter; they're all before him in this moment: rushing at him endlessly.
"Good news?"
"Alpha Helmsman on the USS Enterprise!"
Moments in time; long gone it seemed, but suddenly there again.
"Thanks for looking out for me in there."
"Always."
He can feel every small memory, every single moment that's been tucked away for years, resurface; reminding him of a friendship he forged: a friendship he's kept. A friendship that's defined him and shaped him and made him better in more ways than he'll ever be able to count.
There's a distant banging he barely registers as the doors to medbay begin to give way.
More memories spill forward, bringing every moment of joy and love and happiness back to him; enveloping him in an all encompassed feeling of warmth and safety. All of this because of his friend; because of Sulu.
Chekov gasps sharply and stumbles forward; his finger falling off the trigger. There's a deep ringing in his ears. His head is reeling, his heart pounding. He can hear the vague, far off sound of his friend talking to him. But he does not focus on that for favor of breathing freely again.
It's momentary, he knows that. He's only broken a small hole through the wall blocking him from control. He has seconds; barely even that.
Chekov looks up to Sulu, eyes locking with the older helmsman's.
"Pav?" Sulu whispers carefully.
Chekov is barely able to give a slight nod, but he manages. Sulu's eyes widen. Chekov can feel the control he has slipping; his feeble window of time ending. He knows he'll have to do something. He can't resist forever.
He glances down at his phaser and then back up at Sulu. Without a second thought, he tosses the weapon towards his friend; Sulu fumbling in surprise to catch it.
"There's no stun," Chekov tells him. He's running out of time. There's a grating squeal as the entrance doors to medbay are slowly peeled open.
"I can't hold out forever," Chekov says. "You need to get out of here."
Sulu holsters the gun at his side and gradually begins to stand.
"Just hold on," he says, one knee digging painfully into the ground as he struggles to stand. "I'm going to get-"
He's interrupted by a sudden crack of thunder, but it's louder. It's closer. It's too close.
Sulu breathes once, all the air vacating his lungs in a single exhale. In that moment, his mind races through a dozen different scenarios; rapidly stumbling over each one as he frantically tries to process what's just happened.
He expects the pain to rip through him and blind his senses from any other sensation but itself. He expects his hands to fly toward the wound and try in vain to stop the inevitable end fate has fashioned for him. He expects some kind of fear to wash over him as he realizes he's going to die. He expects many things to occur after being mortally wounded.
But none of those expectations really happen. Because, as he takes stock of his surroundings, he realizes his hand is still hovering over the gun holstered at his side. Deductively, he very quickly concludes he hasn't been shot. The only weapon that could have done so is still by his side.
So it happens that he then glances up; face riddled with confusion. Why isn't he dying?
The answer to his question lies but ten feet from him. And what he sees-it's something his mind cannot fathom for three entire seconds. And for those three seconds, he can only stare. Eyes wide, stature frozen, he stares.
And all at once everything around him seems sharper; clearer. A trickle of sweat rolls down his temple; his hands are shaking. He can feel that the tear in his calf has reopened. There's fresh blood dripping off his leg. For exactly three seconds, Sulu can only focus on every single thing expect what is right in front of him. And then those three agonizing seconds end, and he finally understands.
He glances first to the man standing behind Chekov. He is someone Sulu only vaguely recognizes as a person he may have passed by once or twice back in the facility. There is a gun held and aimed just below chest level gripped tightly in his hand.
Sulu's gaze next travels to Chekov's face. The young ensign's eyebrows are knit fervently together. His eyes are wet with newly forming tears. Chekov slowly looks downward to where both his hands are pressed against the left side of his chest. Sulu follows his gaze and stops at sight of the blood just barely seeping out between Chekov's fingers.
Sulu's eyes widen and suddenly he can't even find the capacity to breathe. He barely registers the doors finally opening just wide enough for one person at time to fit through.
Chekov drops to his knees and then tumbles sideways onto the floor.
"No," Sulu whispers.
He sees the intruder reposition his gun and aim for him now, but the security detail stops him before he can even reach for the trigger.
Sulu hears the second shot and the sound of the man's body hitting the floor. There's screaming and shouts of orders; people scrambling to secure the room. Sulu leans forward to stand, his injuries burning in agonizing protest. The single hand that grips his bed for support slips and he drops harshly to his stomach. The impact knocks the wind out of him, but he still tries desperately to pick himself up. He can't tear his gaze away from the bleeding, crumpled form ahead of him. Chekov lays far too still, eyes closed and left arm extending outward from where he fell.
Sulu musters his strength, exhaling in pain through gritted teeth. He crawls an inch forward; fingers desperately reaching out towards Chekov's hand. He doesn't know why. He only knows he has to reach him; he has to.
His leg wound screams furiously with every piercing movement. He reaches forward, pushing away the pain that lights up every part of his body. The tips of his fingers barely begin to brush the top of Chekov's hand when Sulu hears footsteps surround him and suddenly he's being lifted to his feet; up and away from the ground. Away from Chekov.
"No!" He screams, furiously trying to battle his way out of a solid grip.
He's dragged backward and a flurry of medical personnel rapidly convene around where Chekov lays. Sulu loses sight of him as he's pulled into an adjacent room and yells out again to be let go. He throws himself forward, but can't quite break the grip around him.
"Sulu, stop!"
Hot, angry tears swell in his eyes as he struggles again to escape. They need to let him go; he has to get back to Chekov.
"You're hurt. We need to get you out of here."
He can't leave. Not now. Not before he knows Chekov is still alive.
"Damn it, Hikaru, please!"
Hearing this, Sulu hesitates. Those words are fraught with desperation; choked with tremendous fear and strained through a fight to hold back unshed tears. Sulu stops struggling. and a few seconds pass before he's finally released. He turns around to see Kirk; face shrouded in panic.
Sulu opens his mouth to speak, to tell his captain he needs to get back in there and be with Chekov, but it seems that all at once everything-the anger, the pain, the fear-comes crashing over him in one almighty wave of exhaustion.
He's tired; he's so tired. He's hurt, and he's bleeding, and he doesn't even know if one of the people closest to him in this world is gone forever, and he's just so tired. He can't stop the tears once they start falling. He bows his head and presses a hand against his eyes as his breath hitches on a painful sob.
Sulu feels himself pulled into a tight embrace, but he can't will himself to return it. He just stands there, Kirk's arms wrapped reassuringly around him, and cries. It's simply too much. He wishes he could take it all back; make it so the last three days never happened. Erase the horror and the pain and the anguish. His shoulders shake with each trembling inhale; his chest heaving as he sobs.
"It's going to be okay," Kirk tells him.
It's most likely all the captain can say. Perhaps if he just believes it sincerely enough, it will be true. But even without looking at him, Sulu can hear the uncertainty in Kirk's voice; his words choked as if the air around him is too thick to breathe.
Sulu knows that despite the agonizing despondency that now envelops them both, they have to find some belief that they'll all pull through this; somehow come out okay on the other side. Because hope is the only thing they can hold on to now.
It's all they have left.