The Furnace
Summary: Friendships are forged, but will they stand the testing? Ensign Chekov adjusts to bridge life, and gets to know his shipmates. But when disaster strikes, how will the bonds stand the strain? Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, Uhura, and the gang.
This is my first attempt at an epic. sees people rolling their eyes and sticks out tongue I have been tinkering with this off and on for about two months, and I think it shows promise. I might be revising it a bit as I go on, though, so if you got any suggestions on it, I'm all ears.
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to someone else. I own no Russian. :(
The plot is mine, though. All mine! NOBODY touch!
Ensign Pavel Andrievich Chekov was going to be late for his first official shift to the bridge.
After only two weeks on the Enterprise, he still was learning from trial and error his way around. He had been assigned to the bridge, due to Mr. Riley's 'permanent AWOL' on Ternara Six.
He turned a corner and ran, no, smashed, into another person. Their heads cracked, and both staggered back, holding their foreheads. Through swimming eyes, he made out a gold uniform.
"I'm so sorry, sair, but I'm late to the bridge!" Chekov said desperately. The other officer gave a wry smile.
"In that case, you must be the new navigator. I'm Lieutenant Sulu, the helmsman. Don't worry, we'll be only a little late. Follow me."
Grateful for directions that he didn't have to ask for, Chekov followed him down the hall, and into a turbo lift. Grabbing one of the handles, the lieutenant said, "Bridge," and they started to rise.
Chekov realized he was sweating and his left hand was twitching. Nervously, he straightened his shirt, then ran his fingers through his hair. He was secretly proud he had managed to remeber to tame the rebellious mop into a neat combing. He glanced at the lieutenant, who was mildly watching the door. The lift stopped. He took a shaky breath. The doors opened.
He felt all eyes turn on him as he entered the bridge, a step behind Lt Sulu. They were obviously interested in the new unknown quantity. The Captain turned, and said, "Ensign Chekov." Chekov snapped to attention without thinking, witch made the Captain laugh and say, "At ease. Take your consule." Face reddening, Chekov nearly ran for the navigation's booth. Sitting down, he now fully realized how in the front the helmsman and navigator were. This did nothing to help his nerves.
"Ensign, set a course for the Gamma Quadrant, . . . one-five-oh-six-mark four."
"One-five-oh-seex-Mark four. Course plotted, Keptin." The Captain nodded. "Mr. Sulu, warp three." He then turned to the Science officer. Chekov surveyed the room without turning his head. It was a talent of his he had learned early in life.
The Science Officer was Mr. Spock, one of the first Vulcans in a mostly human crew. At the communications booth, was Lt Uhura, a beautiful black lady that was well known for her skill with languages. He looked at his helm partner, who was gazing avidly at the viewport as he made the jump to warp. He was Asian, with a wiry build, and a tad taller than Chekov.
A bit later, two men came from the turbo lift. The man in the red shirt was Commander Scott, who Chekov knew from the time he had lost his way and ended up in engineering. He was a formidable Scotsman, who had a very frank personality. He said what was on his mind, with no word mincing. The other was CMO Dr. McCoy, another intimidating, ornery presence. Chekov busied himself by familiarizing himself with his consule. It was reassuring to see all the switches and buttons that he knew very well from the academy.
Nothing happened out of the ordinary for the rest of the alpha shift. When the watch change came around, people slowly filtered to the turbo lift. Chekov hung back, not wanting to get in the way of his superior officers. As the beta shift came on, only Chekov and Uhura were left to leave. They got in, and Uhura said, "Galley." As they went down, she turned to her silent traveling partner.
"So you're the new navigator? What's your name again?"
"Ensign Chekov." "Oh, you're Russian. I can tell by your name and accent." He nodded. "The best accent to have," he said proudly.
In the galley, Chekov went to the replicator and looked at the menu. He chose only a protein drink and a biscuit, because he was feeling rather queasy from nerves. He never did well being in close with people at first. He glanced around, looking for the most unoccupied table. Seeing one with no one at it, he made to it with his tray. As he passed by a table with mostly security red, he tripped and went flying. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a huge beefy man laughing at him, with his foot in the walkway. Shaking with rage and shame, Chekov got up to his knees and picked up his spilled lunch. Aware that all eyes were on him, he went to the disposal, threw away his food, and silently strode out of the galley.
"Did you see his face?" laughed security chief Lt Callahan. "The little sniveler didn't even fight back!"
"Leave the lad be."
"Oh? And who are you to tell me what to do, Mr. Scott?"
Scott stood up from his seat next to Uhura and Sulu. "I'm a senior officer who has a mind to learn ye a thing or two. Bully yer own men if ye must, but I see you pull that stunt again on anyone, I'll do me best to get ye in the worst trouble I can." Callahan glowered, and muttered something under his breath.
Sulu got up as the two men faced off, and went after the new navigator.
As soon as the door of the galley closed, Chekov went to his new quarters. He was not in berthing anymore; being on the bridge had its advantages. He only needed to share a bathroom. He threw himself on the bed and took deep breaths. The sight of the security chief's spiteful face made him want to punch something. A knock came from his door. He groaned. Why couldn't he be left alone?
He opened the door and was surprised to see Lt Sulu.
"I was on my way to a fitness room. Want to come?"
"I vould like thet."
"Great. I bet you want to pound something after Callahan tripped you. I know how you feel," he added quickly after he saw the ensign's face. "He did the same thing to me when I first came here. He gets a thrill out of pushing junior officers around. Just ignore him and he'll lose interest."
"Vhy doesn't anyvun do someting?"
"It's just a fact of life, I guess. He usually leaves off after awhile, though. Just stay out of his way for a bit."
Well, what do you want to do?" Chekov looked around. Handball, bowling, weights . . . hockey.
"Thet." "All right." Sulu was pleased to see the ensign's mind off Callahan.
Two rounds and an hour and a half later, the duo came off the rink, hot tired, and completely exhilarated.
"Where . . . did you . . . learn . . . to play like that?" asked an amazed and exhausted Sulu.
"I vas on the . . . national Russian hockey team . . . for two years. Ve vent to the. . . world finals my last year." panted Chekov. "Hockey vas. . . inwented by the Russians, you know. It's been avhile. . . since I played, sair."
"If I hear you call me 'sir' off duty again, I'll pull rank and have you on matinence duty. Do you understand, Ensign?"
"Yes, Mr. Sulu."
Sulu sighed and threw his hands up in mock despair. "Oh for crying out loud, call me Sulu off the bridge."
With a mischievous gleam in his eye, Chekov answered, "Yes sair, Sulu."
"You're something else, you know that? Anyway, want to go to a rec room and get a drink?"
"Alright."
The two made their way down the corridor to the rec room 2, which was unusually full. Sulu went right up to the synthesizer and ordered a saki. He plunked down at a nearby table and waited for his new friend. Ensign Chekov was an amusing person. Scotty came in with his own bottle of scotch and sat down next to Sulu.
"How's the navigator? My," he said, looking at the ensign coming towards them. "He's as skittish one, i'n't he?" On cue, Chekov quickly stepped out of the way of a towering man in science blue who was coming in between tables. The Russian looked for all the world like a nervous little kid in a cafeteria full of upperclassmen.
He made it to the table with a small glass of clear liquid. Taking a deep breath and looking around, he asked, "Is it alvays this full?"
"No, it isn't usually, laddie, but it seems a new term gets everyone perked up."
Chekov's face went unreadable as he saw the engineer. He spoke in a uncomfortable, stiff voice."Mr. Scott."
"Yes, it's me, and I remember ye from that little mishap four days ago. He got lost," He related to Sulu, "And ended up in engineering. I'm afraid I got a wee bit short wit' him. We got into a bit of a spat. I'm terrible sorry." he said to Chekov. Chekov managed a feeble smile. "Thet's alright, sair."
"In fact, I feel so bad," Scotty went on, now working on an inspiration, " I'm having a party to make it up to ye." Chekov's eyes got huge. The last thing he wanted was any attention brought to himself by an officer. In fact, he would be completely happy if he was treated like he was invisible. He said in a strangled voice, "No, thet's not necessary, sair, really-"
"Nonsense." Scotty said in a dismissing manner, and started talking to no one in particular, lost in his own thought. " It'll be a great way for all of us to get to know one another. I'll invite Uhura -and you, Sulu- and Dr McCoy, and the captain, if he's not to busy, and. . ."
At the mention of the captain, Sulu saw Chekov's face drain of the remaining color. It was amazing that his hair didn't go white also. The thought of James Kirk, the hero and legend, coming to a party for him held by a engineering genius and attended by Starfleet's finest was obviously the last thing he wanted by way of an apology. He tried again, almost whispering.
"No, please don't . . ."
Scott was oblivious to the obvious show of panic on the young Russian's face. "Now then, we'll need a rec room. . . hey Harb! Can I use Rec Room 4 tomorrow nigh'? Thanks. What time, what time, ah, got it! 1800 sounds right. Heck, we'll have a dinner party. . ." And on that note, Mr Scott got up and walked out, murmuring under his breath, leaving two speechless men in his wake.
Chekov slumped in his seat, looking with despair after the engineer. "Stop him," he said weakly to Sulu, who shrugged helplessly. "Sorry friend. But no one can dissuade that Scotsman when he's got his mind set on something."
Half an hour later, the two men parted ways and went to their respective rooms, which happened to be next to each other. Sulu mulled over the day's events. This Ensign Chekov was a decent guy. He had a sense of humor, even if it was somewhat buried, and Sulu could tell he was smart. He was also very shy and a bit rigid, but Sulu figured that would wear off as time went by. He went to sleep with the thought of Scotty's party and the hope it would not be too hard for Chekov. It was nice to have a friendly helmpartner.
Chekov closed his door and locked it. His head was abuzz with the whole day. Running into Sulu, the bridge, Kirk- he hoped he had not seemed as foolish in front of the captain as he had felt- Uhura trying to start a conversation, being tripped by the big security chief, Sulu asking if he wanted to go to a fitness room, playing hockey- he had missed it so much- going to rec room 2, feeling trapped and memories coming back -no, he was safe here- Mr. Scott deciding spur of the moment to have a party -was the man always that impulsive? How was he going to live through this party?- and the time sitting with Sulu, talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other's company. Washing up and getting in bed, Chekov reflected that today had been good, even with the downsides, because he had made his first friend in about, oh, five years.