Chapter Four

Chekov actually felt the blood drain from his face as the lift spiraled out of control. Spock slammed his hand down on the emergency brake, a horrible screeching sound as the backup systems attempted to take on the burden of stopping the motion of a machine weighed down by passengers, and still the lift continued to shimmy down the shaft, although at a much decreased speed. Frantically Chekov flipped open his communicator. "Chekov to de bridge!" he rasped, trying to prevent himself from hyperventalating.

The channel remained silent. In desperation Chekov shook the device but in vain. "Mr. Chekov," came Spock's voice, "panicking will not help our situation. Please attempt to remain calm."

He had seen the vulcan's calm cool logic displayed countless times in difficult situations, but never had Chekov been given an order to remain calm when his first reaction was terror. "But ve can't contact de bridge, Mr. Spock," he protested, "dey don't know ve're trapped in here."

"They will become aware of our predicament soon enough. In the meantime, we must be patient."

That was easier said than done, Chekov thought but kept his opinion to himself.

Uhura had insisted that dress uniforms be worn to the Christmas eve celebration, and since Kirk cut a fine figure in anything he wore it wasn't a request he particularly minded. McCoy on the other hand would grumble as he squeezed himself in to the outfit which he claimed was too uncomfortable and hot. But since it was Uhura organizing the party, her choice of dress had to be observed. Kirk wondered if the carolers who had harolded them during the decorating of the tree would return for an encore performance. Anticipation of the party was growing, a respite from the rigors and perils of space life they all desperately needed. Even nonhuman members of the crew were eagerly awaiting the celebration, their human friends and colleagues outlining the reasons for the joyous occasion. All in all everyone's moralle was high, and when his crew was content, most times so was Kirk. The muted silence of the bridge was shattered by the wailing klaxon of an emergency alarm. Instantly the crew sprang in to action. "What's causing the alarm, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk barked.

Sulu skimmed his fingers across his console. "Unknown, sir. There's nothing on sensors. But wait... Yes, it's turbolift three. It's malfunctioning."

"What!" Kirk shouted, trying to make himself heard over the din, "are there people inside?"

"Confirmed, sir." Sulu reported.

Kirk snapped open his communicator. "Mr. Scott, we have a malfunctioning turbolift."

"Aye, sir," came Scotty's brogue, "I see it on sensors down here. Stoppin' it shouldn't be tae difficult."

"Do it!" Kirk snapped, although he knew an order wasn't necessary.

Scott didn't acknowledge his command, doubtless he had disconnected the link. "Sir," Uhura called from communications, "whomever is in the lift, I can't raise them on the com."

"Cause?" questioned Kirk.

"Our communications have just been jammed."

Inwardly Kirk sighed. "Keep trying to reach them, Uhura."

"Yes, sir."

Chekov's stomach protested the downward motion it was being forced to endure, and it was all he could do to keep from losing his breakfast. Thoughts of humiliating himself in front of the first officer also helped in tamping down his fear, and he'd managed to slow his breathing to normal. His heart still banged uncomfortably, pumping adrenoline through him, making him slightly dizzy, but at least those were symtoms he could deal with in silence. The grating of the emergency brake and Chekov trying to keep some semblance of normalcy over himself, made conversation nearly impossible. Spock stood erect, his eyes betraying none of the anxiety Chekov felt, although a slight tenseness in his jaw gave Chekov some measure of comfort. At least Spock wasn't completely oblivious to the situation as he had at first seemed. Chekov wondered if the lift would reach the bottom of the shaft before anyone became aware of its occupants. At least if they arrived at the bottom of the shaft, at the rate of speed it was moving, their injuries would be minor. This thought bolstered Chekov sufficiently so that he was finally able to think more rationally. An abrupt jolt sent Chekov stumbling across the lift, and even Spock staggered slightly at the unexpected movement before quickly regaining his footing and assisting Chekov to do likewise. It was then Chekov became conscious of the motionless stillness surrounding them. A wide grin burst through his pale features. "Dey have stopped de lift, Mr. Spock!" he shouted jubilantly.

"Evidently, Mr. Chekov." came Spock's dry tone.

Now it was Spock's turn to pull open his communicator. 'spock to captain Kirk."

Silence. "Spock to the bridge, do you read me?"

Still nothing. A cold forboding began seeping in to Chekov. How long would they be confined here until help arrived? Spock must have registered the anxiety in Chekov's face for he said, "If the lift has stopped, most likely it was due to Mr. Scott's ingenuity. Therefore it is reasonable to presume that the crew is aware that someone is aboard the lift. Once again patience must be employed."

Chekov felt like screaming in to the useless communicator until someone responded, but knowing that would only elicit a logical lecture from his commanding officer, he refrained himself. He thought it best to remain silent, as his sentences were jumbled and the last thing he wanted was to ramble on aimlessly. Surprisingly it was Spock who interrupted the silence. "It appears we may be remaining in here for quite some time, Mr. Chekov. I suggest we make use of the inactivity to converse."

"Conwerse?" was all Chekov could think to echo.

"That is what I said," Spock affirmed, "if you would rather continue in silence, I will understand."

Chekov shook his head. "No, sir, maybe talking vill help pass de time."

"That was my thought as well." Spock said.

Chekov frantically searched for something to say, wondering if Spock had yet witnessed the changes to his quarters. If so, he was keeping his protestations quiet. Granted, Spock wasn't proan to outbursts of anger or fits of indignance, but he used other means to display his displeasure, and most of the senior staff was aware of every nuance, every nonexpression that expressed the emotion vulcans claimed to suppress. "May I ask you a question, Mr. Chekov?"

His heart sank. Perhaps he had thought in haste. With no duties to occupy him, and nowhere to escape, Chekov could do nothing more than nod in wordless acceptance. As was his custom, Spock minced no words or cautiously eased in to his question. "Where were you after the completion of your duty shift?"

Braced though he was for the interrogation, it still took Chekov frantic seconds to gather his scattered thoughts. Fabricating an excuse under pressure didn't come easy to him. Sulu had all but promised they wouldn't get caught, and even if they did, they shouldn't own up to the chaos they had caused. The first officer's eyes drilled in to him, and Chekov thought he must be watching every expression, every movement of his body, silently formulating his own theory of the ensign's involvement. There was simply no way to be dishonest with Spock. And even if he was able to conjure up a lie, it didn't sit right with him. If he was dishonest with Spock in this instance, the vulcan might never trust him again. And perhaps after his admission, the result would be the same, but at least in the end, Chekov would prove himself honest. "I vas... I vas... um... in my quarters searching for...ornaments."

If the vulcan noticed his halting words he made no comment on them. "For what purpose?" was the only thing he asked.

Swallowing his nervousness, Chekov spilled out the entire story, how Sulu had wanted to get Spock in to the joy of the Christmas holidays, and how they had decorated his quarters in the hopes of involving him more directly in the cheer they felt. "Ve shouldn't have done it, Mr. Spock," Chekov concluded shame-faced, "ve had no right to sneak uninvited in to your quarters. But if it helps to know dis, ve only had your best interest at heart. Ve vill come and remove de ornaments and tree and replace everything ve rearranged."

There was a brief pause that seemed to drag on interminably before Spock spoke. "That will not be necessary, Mr. Chekov."

Chekov's eyes widened. "It von't be, sir?"

"No," returned Spock, "my quarters were in need of rearrangement. There will be no need to remove the decorations until after the holiday. They are not permenant and will do no lasting damage to my property. Most every crew member is participating in these festivities, therefore it would only seem logical that I make an attempt to conform, at least for the few days of this festival."

Chekov's eyes lit with pleasure. "Dat's great, mr. Spock," he exclaimed, "vait until I tell Sulu!"

"However," Spock cut in, his tone shaded with faint sternness which to Chekov almost sounded like goodnatured scolding, "next time you wish to festoon my quarters with meaningless trinkets, I would prefer you ask my permission first."

"Oh yes, sir." Chekov said hastily.

The quiet returned but was soon interrupted again. "I am assuming it was yourself and Mr. Sulu who caused the malfunctions in the computer in order to cause a diversion so I would be kept from my quarters."

It was not a statement. Looking bewildered, Chekov shook his head. "Ve didn't touch de computers, Mr. Spock. Ve knew such a distraction vould only make you suspicious."

Now it was Spock who was confused. He'd been so certain that whomever had decorated his quarters had also had a hand in the computer's problems. "Ve thought ve vere lucky ven you didn't return to your quarters after your duty shift," Chekov explained, "ve knew you could return at any time, but it vas a risk ve had to take."

Spock's communicator suddenly came to life. "Kirk to Spock."

"Spock here."

"We're having a bit of a problem with the turbolifts, Spock," came the captain's voice, "could you come to the bridge and give us a hand?"

Chekov had to suppress a grin as Spock replied. "Regretfully I cannot, captain. Myself and ensign Chekov are currently confined to the malfunctioning turbolift."

There was a moment of surprised silence. "Are you two all right?" Kirk finally asked.

"Affirmative, captain. However, haste would be desireable."

"Yes, yes, of course," Kirk said, "don't worry, Spock, we'll get you out as soon as possible."

"I am not worried, captain." Spock assured him.

And for once, neither was Chekov. He supposed being stuck in a turbolift with Spock wasn't so bad after all.

Uhura had at last been successful in restoring communications, but to learn of Spock's predicament, trapped in a place where he couldn't be of assistance made the irony of the situation a bit difficult to swallow. "It's just like him to pull something like this." complained McCoy who had appeared on the bridge upon learning of the trouble.

"It's not his fault the turbolift broke down." Uhura pointed out fairly.

McCoy didn't have a ready retort for this so turned the conversation to other matters he could grouch about. "Did you know Spock came in to sick bay this morning and interrogated me, Jim?"

Kirk smiled. "He told me he was going to find out who dolled up his quarters, and I guess he wasted no time."

"He certainly didn't," huffed McCoy, "he even questioned nurse Chapel."

At the helm Sulu shifted uneasily. "Is something wrong, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk asked.

"No, sir." Sulu said quickly.

"Maybe we should leave him trapped in there, Jim." McCoy suggested helpfully.

Kirk didn't miss the amusement that rippled around the bridge at these words but chose to ignore it. "What about poor Chekov?" he asked reasonably, "do you want to keep him in there?"

McCoy scowled. "Didn't think of that." he mumbled.

Kirk's impatience was growing thin, especially when he had nothing to contribute in helping free his officers. McCoy's voice broke in to his reverie. "who would've wasted their time on Spock?" he wanted to know, "I mean, he doesn't care about any kind of celebration, not even Christmas. What was the point in going to all that trouble for something he didn't even appreciate?"

Sulu busied himself with a trivial task at his station but Kirk didn't miss the sudden nervousness that had suddenly translated in to jerky hand movements and shifting gaze. McCoy must have noticed the gesture as well for he asked, "What's the matter with you, Sulu? Are you feeling ill?"

"No." Sulu said in a faint attempt at his usual vibrant tone.

McCoy, who had been a physician long enough to be well versed in dishonest patients who claimed to be fine, strode to Sulu. "Are you sure you're all right?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Yes, quite." Sulu said vehemently.

"I don't know," the doctor mused slowly, "you look like a man who's hiding something."

Now Sulu was positively squirming under the doctor's all-too-knowing gaze. "Is it something to do with Christmas?" Uhura wanted to know.

Kirk could see Sulu felt trapped between honesty and confession and decided to help him along. "Is it something you can tell the rest of us, or is it for someone back home?"

"It's not for anyone on earth, captain," Sulu managed, then taking courage he said in a louder voice, "it's sort of for a crew member."

The doctor did a fair immatation of Spock's raised brow. "Really? Is it a woman? Do tell all."

Sulu laughed. "Sorry, doctor, there are no great loves in my life to shower with gifts."

An expectant hush fell over the bridge as a slight flush infused Sulu's face. "Well?" the doctor prodded when no answer seemed forthcoming.

Sulu drew in a deep breath then burst out, "It's Spock!"

Kirk, Uhura and the doctor exchanged confused looks before Kirk repeated, "Spock?"

"Yes," replied a nervous Sulu, "I...I mean we...uh...decided to try and get Spock in to the Christmas spirit so we..sort of well.sort of put up a few ornaments and...a tree...oh and I think we used some garland as well."

McCoy and Uhura turned shocked expressions on him, which rapidly transformed in to amazed delight. It was Kirk who asked, "Who's "we"?"

This time Sulu didn't hesitate. "Myself and Chekov, sir."

"You two have some nerve!" McCoy said, laughing so hard, tears came to his eyes.

"How were your efforts received, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk asked curiously.

"I don't know, sir," Sulu admitted, "I haven't seen him today."

"Well," McCoy chuckled, "I can tell you, he was quite put out by the whole affair. Good job!"

Seeing he wasn't going to be reprimanded, sulu allowed his smile full rein as laughter was shared by all around the bridge. Kirk's communicator trilled in to the merriment, and hoping it was Scott, Kirk responded. "Captain," came the engineer's triumphant tone, "I've managed tae get the turbolift goin'. They should be comin' tae the bridge as we speak."

The lift doors suddenly parted and a relieved Chekov and unruffled Spock emerged. "they've just arrived, Mr. Scott," Kirk informed him, "good work as usual. Take a well deserved break."

"What?" came Scott's astonished tone, "and leave my wee bairns? I couldna do that, sir."

"I must wonder why Mr. Scott continues to refer to the engines as little children," Spock chimed in, "they are neither sentient nor small."

"Told you we should have kept him in the blasted lift." McCoy muttered.

"Doctor, if isolation is something amenable to you, you may return to sick bay on that same turbolift and I will stop it in the middle of the shaft until you request assistance."

Then without giving the doctor a chance to respond, he turned his stern stare on Sulu. "Uh-oh." mumbled Chekov.