There was something wrong with the pattern of stars. Chekov adjusted the view screen to 0 magnification and studied the star field displayed before him. It was nothing the sensors had detected, nothing any instruments had picked up--and yet he knew there was something wrong with the stars he stared at.
Like many people who ended up in space, he had grown up gazing at the stars. Happy memories of cuddling with his father and staring up at the darkened canopies of the heavens filled his childhood. It was even family legend that only the sight of the stars would soothe his fitful crying as an infant.
Of course, the Chief Navigator thought ruefully, part of his father's job was to collect and preserve fairy tales. He had found the man adept at creating his own tales as well, so the young man was quick to discount any such stories about himself.
Still…Chekov thought, his eyes raking the stars almost angrily. He did not have his father's photographic memory, but patterns instantly became etched into his brain. He needed symmetry to be at peace. He could not stand artwork to be askew, rooms to be disorganized: Sulu was known to move things about in his cabin simply to drive him insane.
Insane--like the stars he now stared at were driving him. His skin was crawling and his spinal cord vibrated resolutely into the base of his skull.
"Are you sure you want to do this with a Fleet Admiral coming aboard, Boss?"
Chekov turned wide brown eyes on Riley and fixed him with a steady and unwavering gaze. The 'Boss' comment was a good-natured ribbing that had eased Chekov's transition to his Chief Navigator position. Riley outranked him, had been in navigation longer, had been on the ship longer: but when the Chief Navigator had died it was Chekov the Enterprise's Captain had given the position to. A potentially explosive situation, he had found instead the entire Navigation department thrilled by the choice. He was not only a better Navigator than any of them, he was a better supervisor and they knew it just from their time working beside him.
He was the kind of supervisor that took the time to teach those working for him, the kind of supervisor that had earned a respect that made his team know, in a fundamental way, that any task he asked of them was important.
Chekov was also the kind of man whose sense of humor and irreverent view of life made him easy to work for. It was amazing how long he was able to hold the gaze of Riley's green eyes without allowing his smile to creep out. The Lieutenant dissolved first, laughing and throwing his arms into the air in a great show of melodrama.
"Fine. If the Chief Navigator wants the ship torn apart, than we'll tear the ship apart," he announced loudly as he spun on his heel and moved to dissolve back into the Navigation center of the ship.
"Riley." Chekov's word stopped the older man and he turned back, interest in his eyes.
The Chief Navigator gestured with his wide brown eyes past Riley, though the dark-haired person he'd seen had quickly vanished from his line of vision. "Who's that?"
"Nick Paul," the Irishman answered without having to turn. "New crewman that posted just yesterday. Good navigation skills, although personally…well, he's quite…intense." Riley leaned closer, his green eyes sparkling. "Already ousted the person in the 'most likely to be a Klingon agent' spot."
"Humph," was Chekov's response, understanding completely after only having briefly glimpsed the new man's glare. "Make sure he keeps all that hair out of his face," he added absently.