The shift ended without Pav returning. I reported to both our replacements which meant I was a little late leaving and missed the shift end rush for the turbo-lift. However, the captain joined me right before the doors closed, gave me a big grin, and said, "Let's go see what happened. This is the least boring thing to happen in days."

I usually eat late. I'd forgotten how crowded the mess can get at shift change. We pushed our way through crowds with no luck for several minutes. Then Captain Kirk decided he'd worked up an appetite and beelined for the replicators. I filled a plate too, and just as we started looking for seats, I heard Pav call my name. They were in a booth. They'd been there all along, almost impossible to see unless you were standing in front of them.

"How did it go?" asked the captain, dropping his tray next to Scott.

"Excellently, sir," replied Mr. Scott, sliding over to make room for us. "We've been watching for a while, and everything seems to be working perfectly."

"Chekov fixed it?" asked the captain.

"More it fixed itself," Mr. Scott said.

"Huh," said the captain, looking speculatively at Pav, who tossed up his hands as if in amazement.

Scott stabbed a carrot and waved it around as he spoke, "It took a while to get started as our Mr. Chekov whined, belly ached, and argued every step of the way and then took his sweet ass time digging his PADD out of that filthy dungeon that passes for his quarters. When we finally got down here, I had just suggested he shut his mouth and get to work when the lights on the replicators blinked and the machines cut out. Ten seconds later, they rebooted. We ran some scans; they seemed perfect. I called Giotto and had him send down the affected lieutenants. Everything they ordered came through with no mistakes."

"Huh," the captain said again, "and that was about what time?"

"I'd say, 1400?" Mr. Scott said. He looked at Pav for confirmation, and Pavel nodded thoughtfully, not at all offended by the whining comment, which shows, I think, that it was unquestionably true.

"And the explanation?" the captain asked. Pav shook his head slowly, eyes wide like he couldn't imagine.

Mr. Scott talked around a mouthful of carrots. "Obviously, there was a destruct built into the program, and let me tell you; it was well done. Other than seeing it with my own eyes, I can't prove it ever happened. The history doesn't show any discrepancies at all. Even the weights of the ingredients slurry are correct. That's brilliant."

"Interesting," the captain said to Pav, "that it happened to go in effect at 1400. You were scheduled to be on the bridge and couldn't possibly have had anything to do with it."

"I thought the same thing," said Mr. Scott.

"Your work was an alibi, Chekov, how convenient," Captain Kirk said.

"That is also true of you, sir," Pav said coolly, "and of Mr. Sulu."

Mr. Scott snorted derisively. Captain Kirk raised an eyebrow and said, "Don't play with me, Chekov."

"Yes, sir," Pav said, dropping his eyes contritely but sounding confident when he added, "Mr. Scott no longer has concerns that it was me."

"No, lad, I said it doesn't concern me, which means I don't care that it was you." Mr. Scott shoveled some more food in and then said, "I probably should care, but I can't. It's the victims. Honestly, they deserve any bad thing that comes their way."

"I got the impression Hendorff thought something similar," the captain agreed. "Just who are these guys?"

Mr. Scott pointed with his fork over his shoulder. "They're the five great looies hogging a full table in the middle of the room."

The captain stood to see over the booth, then shook his head. "I'd bet anything they pose with their phasers on dating apps," he said, retaking his seat.

Curious, I leaned out. The middle of the mess has a line of conference tables for communal meals. The largest one had five young men in red sprawled across it. They had finished eating and, despite the crowd, had pushed their dishes aside, spreading out to discourage anyone from joining them. I realized I'd seen them all before, even had words with one, Lt. Msa, about how long he stays on the weight machines in the gym. Our eyes met, his lip curled contemptuously, and he said something to his friends that made them look over and laugh.

Mr. Scott said quietly, "You know, captain, those lads are also pretty sure it was him. They got a little threatening before they realized I was there. You may want to have a word with their boss."

"I can take care of myself," Pav said, in a tone that suggested they'd already had this discussion.

"Those guys are too big for you to handle yourself," the captain said.

"I am not going to fight them," Pav said dismissively.

"Good," said the captain. "Because you wouldn't win."

"There is more than one kind of victory," Pav said.

The captain turned to him. "Life's not chess, Chekov," he said sharply. "Strategy isn't enough. You need to be able to back it up with a good left hook."

I'm not sure what the captain would have done if he'd seen the eye-roll Pav started, but fortunately, Dr. McCoy chose that time to throw his tray on the table, and Pav was distracted by needing to jump to attention. "Sit," the doctor snapped while taking Pav's place on the bench, probably unintentionally. Pav stared at his tray, uncertain of what to do. "Sit," the doctor growled again. I pulled Pav's tray over, and he slipped in beside me. There wasn't much room, and he had to perch precariously at the very end of the bench, but I couldn't help him; you don't nudge a captain.

"A pleasure as always, doctor," Captain Kirk said, "you seem particularly cheery today."

McCoy frowned and said, "Is it asking too much that you let me know before you decide to have days with nothing for the crew to do? I'd hide. In the last eight hours, I've seen every hypochondriac on the ship. They all had time to come by and insist they were sick."

"I think you're lucky. I'd like to have a little uneventful downtime, too," lied the captain. "unfortunately, Chekov picked today to starve security."

Pavel sat his fork down. "Sir, there is no definitive proof that anything happened to the replicators. If there was something wrong with them, nothing connects it to me."

The doctor grunted. "Just what is it you people do up there on that bridge all day? Sometimes I'm glad I'm nothing but a simple country doctor."

The captain laughed at him, the doctor snapped back, and then they were bickering. I didn't listen. We get plenty of that on the bridge. I finished my meal and was ready to leave, but Pav was chatting with some ensign from engineering and blocked my escape route. I heard her say, "Oh, come on. Everyone's talking about it. They couldn't get anything but bread and water. Everyone hates them so much no one would order for them. They missed their special high-protein weight lifting breakfasts for days. How funny is that?

Pav glanced at the captain. Satisfied our leader was still busy with the CMO, he asked, "They were angry?"

"Lieutenant Tsao got so mad he punched the replicator. He hurt his hand. People applauded."

Pav smiled. "I wish I had seen that."

"It was great," the lieutenant agreed. She leaned closer and whispered, "People think you did it."

"Why would anyone think that?" Pav asked, and I couldn't help noticing that once again, he didn't deny it.

"The way you said, 'I will make you sorry. It was perfect, not threatening, more like a promise, like a cowboy or something."

"Howdy, howdy, I'm a cowboy," Pav replied happily, smiling at the young woman, who looked, frankly, delighted.

"Yeah, well, hold up there, cowpoke," said the captain. Pav's shoulders sagged, and his smile evaporated.

The young woman's eyes got as big as saucers. She gasped, "I beg your pardon, sir." I'm pretty sure she was so focused on Pavel that she hadn't even realized Kirk was at the table.

"Relax, Ensign," Captain Kirk said in his most friendly way. "Who did Chekov say would be sorry?"

"Mr. Chekov could tell you, sir. He was there," she squeaked.

Captain Kirk eyed Pav doubtfully, then said, "Mr. Chekov says he doesn't remember. Take your time; tell me everything."

She looked apologetically at Pav, who gave her a brief, reassuring smile before sitting up, back straight, face impassive, like a cadet or, possibly, a defense attorney.

The ensign took a deep breath and said, "We'd had kind of a tough shift, sir, and several of us came down here when we got off."

"Jensen works beta in engineering," Mr. Scott interjected, still chewing, "often quite closely with our Mr. Chekov."

"Yes, well, we were talking," she said. "Then Lt. Jerome and his friends came in."

"Were there four friends?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Five total, I thought there might be," said the captain, looking at Pavel.

"Yes, sir," repeated the young woman. "They took Mr. Chekov's PADD and tried to get him to play keep away, but he just stood there and waited."

"I didn't fight," Pav clarified, glancing at the captain.

I sighed. The girl must have misunderstood why; she sounded a little defensive when she said, "There are five of them, and he could have been in trouble for assaulting a superior officer."

"Very wise," the captain agreed. "Go on."

"Well, Mr. Tsao held the PADD out, like he was going to hand it over, but when Chekov reached for it, he flipped it away, and it landed in a big bowl of pasta. Chekov fished it out and started drying it off on his shirt. They teased him about getting dirty, and he said he didn't care." She looked at Pav for confirmation, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

The silence stretched until the captain asked, "And then?"

The lieutenant looked uncomfortable but replied, "Then Mr. Jerome said, "If you like it that much, take it all," and emptied the bowl over Pav's head."

The captain's jaw tightened.

"Oh, yes," Pavel said softly, "I believe I do remember that."

I choked, trying not to laugh, but the young woman didn't notice. She was far too busy giving Pav the google eyes, "And then you looked up at him and said, 'I will make you sorry.' It was so great."

Pav shrugged dismissively and said, "You forget to mention that then they laughed much harder."

"It was still great. You didn't even seem scared."

"I wasn't," Pav replied.

"Yeah," the young woman said fondly, "you were only worried about the PADD-all your equations that are going to change the universe." She looked back at the captain. "Anyway, about then, the maintenance guy showed up, and they took off."

"Leaving me to be blamed for the mess," Pav added.

The young woman nodded sympathetically. "That wasn't fair."

"Very interesting, thanks," the captain said and treated her to one of his best smiles. She was properly dazzled and scurried away, eager to tell her to her girlfriends all about it.

Captain Kirk leaned across the table, rested his head on his fist, and stared at Pav.

Pav stared back for several seconds. Then, very calmly, he said, "Go ahead and laugh; I know it is funny."

"It's not funny," the captain said.

"My bunkmates thought it was. There were noodles in my underwear. I didn't care. It took all night to clean it, but I saved the PADD, and that was the important thing."

The captain shook his head and said, "Not the important thing."

Pav said, "It is alright, sir. I understand. Say what you need to."

"Actually," the captain said slowly, "what I want to say is, 'Good job, Chekov,' but I can't. And you get why, right?" Chekov nodded, and the captain sighed. He fidgeted, looked toward the lieutenants, back at Pav, and finally said, "In the long run, it's not important that we figure out who reprogrammed the replicators. The essential thing is to see that it never happens again. Chekov, I want you to work with Mr. Scott. Figure out how they got in, then write something to keep anyone else from doing it."

Pavel considered for a few seconds then said, "Theoretically, I believe I could do both, sir."

The captain tapped the table and said earnestly, "My concern is that next time they'll mess with life support or something else essential."

Pav shook his head. "No one would do that, sir. It would be irresponsible," he said gravely, "potentially catastrophic."

"You can depend upon it, captain," Mr. Scott added. "No one would do that."

Captain Kirk nodded, "Then I don't think there's much more we need to say about this, except under no conditions do we discuss it with Spock."

"Oh, Mr. Spock knows," Mr. Scott announced. The captain looked at him skeptically, and Mr. Scott added, "Well, he knows he didn't do it." He reached across the table and put his hands on Pav's shoulders to give him a little shake. "There are very few heads like this one among our shipmates, sir, Mr. Spock knows that."

"We all do," said the captain. Pav smiled, but in this kind of melancholy way that I'd never seen before. It worried me a little.

The red shirts stood up to go, leaving their trays on the table. Jerome saw Pav sitting half off the bench and stopped to smirk at him. Pav lifted his chin and stared back, not cocky, more like he was analyzing an interesting new species of water beetle. I was proud. But then, Tsao tapped his chest and pointed at Pav with three fingers. It's the gesture security units use to mark targets during silent exercises. I started off my seat, but the captain beat me to it. He stood up and growled, "What's funny, Tsao?"

You could have heard a pin drop in the mess. I think even the robots stopped working to watch.

Lieutenant Tsao, whose expression made it clear he hadn't seen the captain sitting in the booth, came to attention. "Sir?" he asked.

"You're grinning like an idiot. Something must be funny," the captain said. "Enlighten me." He doesn't do threatening very often, but I am telling you. When he does, he is the master.

"Nothing, sir," Tsao said respectfully.

Captain Kirk let him hang a few seconds, then snarled, "You boys forgot your trays."

The lieutenants sprinted back to clean up; Msa even used a napkin to rub the table. The captain said nothing, just stood there watching until they dropped their things in the recycler and looked over at him anxiously. Still grim-faced, he pointed toward the main hatch, and the five of them sprinted for the door.

"Those boys are so stupid they could throw themselves to the ground and miss," the doctor remarked casually.

Captain Kirk dropped to his seat, looking like he resented not getting a fight. He shoved his tray away and growled, "I hate guys like that. I see those entitled, smug faces, and I just," his voice cut off, but I knew what he meant.

Pav said, "I have not found that hating them makes much difference."

His subdued tone bothered me. I think it bothered the captain too. "You should have told someone about this, Chekov," he said.

"I can," Pav began.

"Take care of yourself, I know. You still should have said something."

Pav finished the eye roll this time, but carefully, so the captain couldn't see.

Mr. Scott interrupted, "Don't you think they look odd?"

"Odd how?" asked McCoy.

Mr. Scott nodded toward the passageway and the lieutenants waiting for the lift. "I noticed earlier. Their uniforms don't fit."

Mr. Scott was right; their pants were too short and a little too tight. They looked like they'd shrunk in the wash, which is impossible. It didn't make sense because they obviously put a lot of time into their appearance. Their boots shone like glass, and every one of them had elaborately teased hair.

McCoy said, "Jerome can't hardly walk; his britches are so tight."

Mr. Scott continued, "Giotto won't like it. He's a stickler for uniform compliance."

I looked at my friend, diligently buttering his bread. "They look fine to me," he said innocently, without I noticed, even glancing at them.

"Seriously?" Scott asked. "That's going to be your story?"

Pav shrugged.

"This is perfect!" the captain said, sounding awestruck. We all turned to look at him. He dropped his voice, "Here's the plan. Scotty, no matter what they say, the laundry facilities are fine, their measurements are in there, and everything is great. Refuse to discuss it, and do not fix anything."

Scotty nodded. "As you say, sir."

"Chekov," continued the captain. "In a week or so, change things up, nothing major, just something annoying. Maybe shorten their shirts. That's a bad look on everybody. In the meantime, stay out of their reach and don't get left alone with any of them."

"Aye, sir," Pav said confidently. "It was my plan already."

"I'll mention to Giotto how sharp the troops look. He'll love that. He'll start paying extra attention, and those uniforms will bug him every minute of every day. He'll be watching those guys so tight he's bound to catch them doing something. With any luck, he will transfer them out of here. Or he'll ride them so hard they'll request transfers."

"Slow down, Jim," McCoy said.

The captain shook his head. "No, Bones, it's perfect."

The doctor said, "You need to think about this."

The captain rubbed his chin and stared off into space for a few seconds. Then he said, "Thought about it. Still love it. Great idea."

"I love it too," Pav announced.

The captain grinned. "Then, we are agreed."

"We are not agreed!" the doctor nearly yelled. He took a deep breath, got himself under control, and hissed, "Jim, the boy broke Federation law because he was mad about being embarrassed in front of some girl. Are you not going to address that? For God's sake, you're his captain, not his frat brother. Act like it."

The captain rolled his eyes. He and Pav really do have some things in common.

"Fine," said the captain. He put on a severe face. "Now, Mr. Chekov," he said. "While this, specifically, was a great idea, as a general rule, revenge is not an appropriate way to handle problems." The captain looked at McCoy and asked, "What should he do instead?"

McCoy scowled. "How 'bout something reasonable? Maybe use a little sense?"

"Reasonable and sensible," the captain repeated, sounding like he'd never heard the words before.

The doctor huffed with disgust. "You can't just go around waging revenge on people, Chekov. You don't know what could happen. What if one of those boys couldn't outrun some ruthless alien because their pants are too tight? How would you feel knowing that was your fault?"

Captain Kirk snorted dismissively and asked, "You do understand that security isn't supposed to run away, right?"

"There is no danger. We are star charting, Doctor McCoy; there will be no away missions," Pav said virtuously.

"That's not the point!" the doctor snapped. "Where does it end? What if you got mad at Sulu? Would you starve him? What if you got mad at Jim? Would you make him funny clothes?"

"I will never be angry with the captain," Pav said, shaking his head.

"Why would he? I'd never mess with his PADD," Kirk said.

Dr. McCoy glowered at both of them, then apparently decided that if he wanted Pav intimidated, he'd have to do it himself. He said, "Listen to me, Chekov. Tampering with the computers aboard Starfleet vessels is a court-martial offense. Do you realize that?"

"It would need to be proved that I did it," Pav replied.

The doctor slapped the table. "I beg your pardon," he said, his accent thick like it gets when he's mad. I kicked Pav under the table.

"Yes, sir," Pav sighed.

"You'd be sent to a rehab center for years, waste your life, forgotten, alone, all because you've got no self-control."

"Come on, Bones," the captain said, "not forgotten. Uhura would visit him, almost for sure."

McCoy ignored the interruption. "I don't give a lot of orders, Chekov, but this is one. You are never to change the programming of anything on this ship unless ordered to do so by a superior officer."

"Yes, sir," Pav said again.

The doctor continued, "I'm not saying I don't understand or that they don't deserve it, but you've got to learn to be the bigger man. Ignore them. You keep up this way, son, and you'll end in a world of hurt. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir," Pav said respectfully, but his eyes darted over to me, and I knew he had no idea.

I opened my mouth, but Mr. Scott beat me to it. "The doctor's concerned about you, Pavel."

"Oh," Pav said and, sounding sincerely grateful, added, "Thank you, Dr. McCoy, but don't worry. I can take care of myself."

The doctor got redder. "Chekov, from now on, you let the proper authorities handle these things. If you don't know what to do, ask Sulu."

"Shouldn't he ask me?" laughed the captain.

"No. You're worse than he is. Sulu's the only one on the bridge with any sense," McCoy said. "You tell him, Sulu."

"I think," the captain began, but the doctor interrupted.

"Tell him, Sulu!" he snarled, but before I could, he blurted, "You could go to jail for what you did."

"Allegedly did," Pav murmured.

The doctor threw his napkin to the table. "Did you hear that, Jim? That's your fault. You need to be stricter. Most captains would never let him get away with something like this."

"True, but most captains have normal crews," Kirk said. "These guys require extraordinary leadership."

"Pavel," interrupted Scott. "Aren't you covering for Kyle today?"

Pav's glanced at the chrom and jumped up. "Sirs, please excuse me."

"Go," said the captain.

Pav began to gather his trash. "I will send the information the captain requested to you as soon as possible, Mr. Scott. Often when I'm working on theoretical problems, I have an unexpected insight and solve it as if I already knew the answer; perhaps this will be one of those times."

"Perhaps it will," the captain agreed sarcastically. "Theoretically."

As Pav turned to go, McCoy laid a restraining hand on his arm. "I'm serious, son. Problems are solved by talking, not with odd uniforms or weird food."

"Or the lights in their cabin never going off?" asked Pav quietly but proudly.

The doctor sputtered furiously, but Captain Kirk raised his coffee mug in a salute, and Pavel, looking proud as a peacock, sauntered away.

"That kid," said the captain, "is a genius."

Mr. Scott nodded, "An evil genius," he said proudly, "is a genius nonetheless."

McCoy huffed, "If you ask me, y'all regularly demonstrate that there's a fine line between genius and idiot."

The captain shrugged. "What do you think, Sulu?"

Quickly, before anyone could interrupt, I said, "I think I'm glad he's on our side." And I am.