Kirk stared at the chessboard in front of him, the pattern of black and white blurring in his vision. Chekov was an excellent chess player even though he only played traditional chess. The young man would offer a rambling explanation for his preference to anyone who could bear to sit still through it, but the board he supplied for the purpose was worth the torture.

Carved by a childhood friend that worked with wood, each space on the birch board was raised from the base and hovered elegantly on its own. Intricate nautical scenes graced all four sides and each piece was an enchanting image of sea life. Mermaids, seahorses and various humans that worked the sea entertained the players.

Kirk had heard rumors that Chekov possessed a similar birch board carved with a space motif, although he had never been able to ply it into use for their games. Klingons apparently battled Starfleet personnel on that board and the Captain had heard more than one hint at who the Fleet 'King' resembled.

"Captain?"

Kirk blinked back to the present, his eyes refocusing on his opponent.

"You appear distracted this evening."

"Yes," he agreed, nodding. "I'm afraid I am, Spock." He moved a bishop and removed the First Officer's rooks. He rolled the edge of it on the table thoughtfully.

Kirk grimaced when his queen disappeared off the board instantly.

"Quite distracted, Captain. May I be of assistance?"

"Yes," Kirk agreed again. He put the rook flat on the table and sat up, leaning forward to peer through the 3-D chessboard. "Do you recall Chekov's blue T-shirt that has a compass emblazoned on it?"

"I believe it is a compass rose."

"That's the one. I believe it also has words on it," the Captain continued absently. "I don't recall what it says. Do you?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he replied. "It is your move, Captain."

"Give me a minute. So what?"

"Sir?"

"What does it say?" Kirk growled with irritation.

"Excuse me?"

"The shirt! What does the Chekov's shirt say?"

"Oh, yes."

"Spock!"

Both the man's eyebrows rose elegantly and he folded his arms across his chest. "If my memory is accurate..."

"It always is," Kirk encouraged.

"That particular shirt describes Mr. Chekov's current duties on board the Enterprise," the Science Officer stated.

The Captain eyed him. "Spock!" he challenged. "Are you being evasive?"

"I do not believe so, Captain."

"Than what are the exact words on that shirt," he demanded. "The English translation of the words," he elaborated, forestalling any more supposed misunderstandings.

Spock cocked his head in a moment of consideration. "Navigator's tell their Captain where to go."

Kirk blinked. He straightened slowly. "What!"

"Mr. Chekov's shirt. It says..."

"I HEARD you!"

"The statement is accurate."

"Move, Spock."

"It's your move, Jim."