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.
Disclaimer- I own no one, except the security guards. If the person who owns Chekov would like to sell him, I have some Halloween candy...
Again- you people are wonderful! Thank you, Danke, Gracias, Merci...the list goes on.
The Almighty Panamint: I know the feeling. Callahan is a jerk :) Sorry you had to wait for the update. Thank you again for reviewing!
Kame-sama: Nice little tie-in piece, that. Actually, my DAD, of all people, inspired that. Thank you for the review!
Aly L: Sorry, again, for the delay. Glad you're enjoying the friendship development.
Stormyrose: Thank you so much for the plushie and cookies:)
Sonar: Thanks for the review!
I'm sorry for the delay, but school started full force and I have quarter tests and essays. It didn't help matters that I was trying to figure out my plot. Silly me, writing how many chapters without deciding on how the story will end. Inspiration is a great thing.
I'll be leaving on Thanksgiving vacation soon, and probably will not be posting til December. But be rest assured that I'll continue! Please bear with me!
Swiftly taking account of his crew, Kirk turned his attention to the room in which they materialized in.
The transporter pad was unlike any he had ever seen. The only familiar thing about it was the glowing circles arranged in a circular formation. The room was dark, the only source of light coming from small glowing orbs which cast a muted light. From what little he could see, the room looked like a cave. Were they underground?
"Welcome." A man stepped out of the shadows.
"I am Rankest, Jorrel's aide. Please come with me." He touched a glowing pad on the wall, which slid back to reveal light streaming through a transparent dome, housing a large craft. It was a dome, with a flat bottom, standing on four supports. Her hull was a patchwork of many metal sheets, in different stages of aging. On the side, hand painted in red paint, was the name Rachel Marie. There was a collective sound of disbelief. She didn't look worthy to stay together, much less fly.
In the light, Kirk saw that their escort was a slender young man, with blue eyes and golden hair, and the start of a beard. He was dressed like Jorrel.
"Which of you is the helmsman and the sailing master?" Sulu and Chekov stepped forward. You two will come with me. If the rest would get into the passenger compartment and put on the restraining belts, we will leave shortly."
Kirk, feeling a bit abashed at the curt manner of their guest and, unused to receiving orders, decided to get a few answers. He faced Rankest with folded arms, in an assertive manner.
"We're not going to leave til we have some facts straight. First off, where is Jorrel?"
The youth, who seemed immune to Kirk's slightly aggressive stance, looked genuinely confused. Then, as a cloud passes from in front of the sun, his face brightened. "Oh! He's in the city. Where else would he be? He sent me here to pick you up, since he's busy. You'll see him soon! That is," he added, eyes sparkling with good humor, "If your crew can get us there."
Chekov looked around at the control panel for the hovercraft. It was a jumble of every kind of machinery he had ever seen, plus a few extra. He gave Sulu a look of mild confusion, and it was returned. Jorrel climbed into the hatch behind them and cranked it shut. Turning to his companions, he gave a grin.
"Our technology is a bit of everything, since we like to reuse and recycle. We even have some machine parts from the 22nd century. Andorian, Rigellion, Vulcan, you name it, it's probably here. You think you can fly it?" He hit a remote, and the housing dome slid back. Chekov had the sensation of being in a delicate egg which was buffeted about. The winds threw dust everywhere, making the visibility hazy.
"I'm sure we could, if we had some directions." Sulu was studying the consule, and Chekov was fingering each area lightly, committing to memory the strange layout.
"I don't know how to fly this myself, but-" he broke off as two pairs of eyes whipped around and burned through him. "But I do know where we need to go, and how to get there," he added hastily.
Chekov settled in his seat, calming himself. The thought of his uncles' letter made him grin. You are Russian. And Russians did not fail.
Sulu was putting on a headset. Chekov grabbed his from under the seat. Putting them on, he adjusted the microphone. "Sulu, can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear. You see the starter anywhere?"
Rankest's voice reverberated in their headsets loudly, making Chekov wince. He had not bothered to adjust the mouthpiece of his set."She starts by pushing the ignition button. Then, ease her into the air, and ride the air currents."
Chekov rolled his eyes. "Vind currents. Right. Do ve flap our vings too?" Rankest seemed a nice fellow, but he did not seem to understand that they were a bit out of their depth.
Sulu pushed the ignition button, and the craft roared to life like a beast, groaning and heaving. Sulu took the steering yoke which were as Chekov flipped the toggles labeled, "take off" and the thrust "lift". With lurches and vibrations, Sulu rose the Rachel Marie rose into the air unsteadily, buffeted by the currents. Dust inside the cockpit was unsettled, adding to the distractions.
"When you get up to 450 meters, switch to going forward,"Rankest informed them.
Chekov, who was watching the altitude gauge, changed their engine pattern from propelling them upward to forward and hit thrusters forward.
He heard Sulu's voice in his ear. "Ready to go?"
"Not quite yet. Rankest, vhat is our heading?"
"Hm? Oh, um, northeast by east, 0.24 east." Scanning the controls, Chekov saw key board with the faded labels of the directions and a number pad. Punching in "northeast", "east", and then the decimal, Chekov pressed "Enter" and prayed that it would work. The Rachel Marie vocally protested this new task, and there was one split second of terror when she went quiet. But the panel blinked "Processed."
A glowing green web blossomed across the screen, showing the air currents and a compass based on the coordinates. Sulu's face was grim with concentration as he hauled the ship to remain riding the rough current. Chekov was looking ahead, and pinpointing the next current. He indicated it to Sulu, who nodded and turned the bulky Rachel Marie into the next airstream.
Time melted away. The world shrank to just Chekov and Sulu, trying to keep the protesting and old hulk in the air and on the currents.
Rankest's voice broke the spell. "We're nearing the city. Follow the landing signals, and lower down when they turn red."
As they lowered their altitude, they followed the yellow lights, which were all converging to one spot. The hub of these lights was a circle of red. Sulu flew them into the center of it, and Chekov had the thrusters lower them to the ground.
Suddenly they felt a huge jerk and the controls were suddenly inoperative. Sulu frantically tried to regain control, and Chekov hit the up thrusters.
"Whoa! Easy! It's just the tractor beam that lowers us down into the city. We had so many people crash when they tried to enter, we decided it was better automated." Rankest explained this in a light manner.
The ground opened up under the Rachel Marie, and they were lowered into the ground. The hatch closed above them, and their eyes had to adjust to the near-darkness. Chekov let out a sound of amazement. They were in a huge cavern, which had a marked landing pad. Beyond that, there was...a city. A lattice of canyons, differing in size and depth from which lights could be seen shining through openings.
The Rachel Marie landed heavily, the jar drawing attention back to the cockpit. Rankest opened the hatch and a gust of air blew in, exciting the dust and made Sulu sneeze. Taking off the headsets, Chekov wiped the sweat and dust off his face. As he exited behind Sulu, he heard the captain before he saw him.
"Mr Rankest, are all your vehicles this... ancient?"
Rankest's cheery voice answered, "No, the Rachel Marie is one of a kind. Our smaller topside vehicles are a little more used, and we keep our mining equipment in peak condition."
As soon as they were gathered together, Rankest led them through the city, which was located in the widest canyon, about 700 meters wide. Chekov couldn't help but crane his neck to look around. The ceiling of the cavern was so high it was lost in the darkness. The houses were carved into the walls of the canyons. The path they were on twisted into a particularly narrow canyon, barely 5 meters wide. The homes that lined this canyon had no doors, and the Enterprise crew saw through the doors and windows children and adults going about their daily lives.
Something caught Chekov's attention, though. Outside some of the houses, and inside the other's, were animals. In fact, there was at least one in each home. They were covered in thick black or brown fur, had stubby tails, and were the size of a medium-sized dog. Their similarities ended there. Their feet were spaded, with flat claws. They had large, deep eyes, meant for darkness. They had long snouts and small ears. They were the strangest creatures Chekov had ever seen. One, a smallish black one, got up from the doorway where it had been sleeping. It ambled up and began to follow them.
The thin security man, who had been bringing up the rear, gave a yelp, and trained his phaser on the creature. Faster than any eye could follow, Rankest sped from the front of the line to the back, and ripped the phaser from his grip. His normally cheery face was hard and flinty.
"Do not," he said, slowly and deliberately, "Ever, ever harm one of our delvers." Then he turned toward the creature and stroked it. "Are you alright?"
I'm fine. Who are they and why is that man so angry?
Chekov gasped in surprise. "They speak?" The delver trained it's gaze onto him.
He speaks? the delver asked Rankest, in a politely interested tone.
Rankest stared at Chekov in astonishment, and his eyes flashed. Chekov took an unconscious step back. "Mr Chekov," he said in a too-loud voice, "your questions will be answered in a short time. Let's continue." And with the delver in his arms, he led them again, with a much faster pace.
By the time they reached the city center, which was in the largest canyon, Rankest had them at a fast jog. Stopping abruptly in front of one of the only independent buildings, he gave a quick "wait here," and darted inside. They had barely time to catch their breath when, like a jack-in-the-box, Rankest popped out of the door and said, "Come in," before disappearing again.
Callahan opened the door cautiously, and they filed into the dim room, lit only by small, multicolored lights set in alcoves. Chekov was tensed, and his hand wandered to his phaser. They were in a conference room, with one long table surrounded by chairs, with one old holoprojector. It was Spartan in all accounts, except for glass cases lining the walls. A dozen or so of these chairs were occupied by men, whose appearances were as undecorated as the room. The man seated at the head of the table rose.
"Welcome, crew of the Enterprise. I am Jorrel. Please be seated."
Kirk sat down at the other end of the table, and the rest filled in. Chekov took a seat between Rankest and the female security guard. Kirk took control of the situation.
"You asked us to come here because of secrecy. Please explain your reasons for this."
Jorrel paced to one of the cases, and stared at it. Then, turning about to face the table, said finally,
"Are you aware of what this planet means to the Federation?"
"Other than the fact that Serenoa is a mining colony, not really, no."
Jorrel turned his penetrating gaze upon him.
"This colony was founded by miners. And while there was a wealth of ores, metals, and minerals, they found something, here inside this planet, found no where else." He took a light from it's alcove and removed the shade. Chekov stared in amazement. In his hand, Jorrel held a rough cut frosted crystal, and from within it shone a golden light. This perpetual inner light seemed alive, with small particles dancing along the facets. Looking at the faces around him, he saw that Callahan alone was unimpressed. Sulu's mouth was slightly open in astonishment.
"Now watch." As Jorrel gave this command, his eyes stared intensely at the jewel, whose light suddenly flared to an almost unbearable brilliance. They raised their hands to shield their eyes. Just as quick as the light increased, it diminished to it's former glow. Jorrel carefully replaced it in its alcove.
"What you just saw was a Serenoan sun gem. They are like mood rings. Their light will change according to your mental concentration- the more intensely focused your mind is, the brighter it gets. They are commonly used for lighting, but we also sell them for high prices to wealthy doctors, as they claim they have calming effects on patients. They are extremely valuable."
Kirk gently interrupted. "This is very captivating, but could you tell us the reason that you called us?"
"I am coming to that, Kirk. About half a year ago, some of our scientists discovered that these gems, which have amazing potential energy, could be substituted for dithilium crystals, and could, theoretically, achieve warp 15." There was a sharp intake of breath at that statement. Warp 10 was theoretical, but warp 15?
"Not two months after we shared this information with Star Fleet, murders started." This statement dropped like a winter's frost inside the room, sucking out any of the warmth that had been there before. Jorrel's deep voice took on a tight tone.
"First, delvers went missing, only to be found, dead. While this caused considerable distress, we believed we could handle the situation. Then," he stopped, as if to muster the power to utter his next words. "We found miners killed." Four faces flickered from the holoprojetor. Three men, one woman. "You understand, we have been here for five generations, and never found any other animal life other then the delvers, and some reptiles on the surface. There has never been any unnatural deaths until this time."
"How many have died?" Kirk asked.
"Four miners, nine delvers." The grief made Jorrel's voice rough, and Chekov felt a warm surge of sympathy and affinity for the powerful man. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one before their time.
Kirk, too, looked at this man with understanding. He had lost crew, good men and women, since his ship first embarked. Each one was precious, unique, and somewhere, there was a person who treasured them. He had written too many letters to parents, spouses, children, giving them words of comfort that he knew would not heal their hurt. There was one thing that he was missing; he could feel it. The grief was not just for the miners, these animals were important to these people. Why?
"Jorrel, what are these delvers?"
Jorrels eyes strayed to the black furred creature that Rankest held. His eyes softened as he spoke.
"As I said before, miners settled this planet. We started out on the surface, trying to adjust and to dig. I will spare you the history, but the delvers came to us, and showed us the tunnels and underground spaces which we now live."
"Each miner has a delver, and they keep it for their whole life. Delvers are native here. Their noses and detect all kinds of metals, ores, you name it. Also, they're selectively telepathic. While they all communicate to each other, they choose only a select few people, and will rarely mind-speak to another human."
Rankest leaned over to Sulu as Jorrel went on about delvers. "That's why I wanted you to keep quiet. Delvers don't usually mind bond with off-worlders. I'll need to talk to Jorrel about this, so please don't mention it." Chekov nodded, dazed at the thought that some alien was in his mind.
You're in my mind, too. Chekov felt the equivalent of a mental nuzzle. It was weird feeling, and Chekov, tentatively, thought, Vhat's your name? When he was rewarded with an answer, his triumphant smile made more than one eyebrow raise.
Kirk flipped out his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."
"Spock here."
"I need Doctor McCoy, you, and Scotty beamed down here in thirty minutes. Then Mr Sulu and Chekov are to be beamed aboard."
"Yes, Captain."
"Kirk out." he turned to the rest. "Callahan, come with me. Jorrel has the facts on the investigation. Sulu, you and Tyndall find out about the deceased miners from the computer outlet." He gave Chekov a evaluating look, like you would give a child when deciding if they're old enough to do something. Chekov bristled under the semi-condescending gaze. Early on, underestimation was one thing he'd always hated. In fact, he'd almost done himself in more than once to prove he wasn't too little, weak, stupid. The list went on. With his captain looking at him like that, it meant that, in Kirk's eyes, he was just a kid.
"Mr Chekov, take Tyndall's tricorder and go with Daniels and scan the last place a body was found." Chekov knew that McCoy would do that as soon as he came. Something to keep him busy. His face became stormy and he gave a sullen, "Aye, sair."
As Tyndall gave him the tricorder and the coordinates to the site, Chekov saw Callahan whisper something to Daniels, who gave an unpleasant sneer and nodded. Wary, Chekov eyed him as he approached. The thin whip of a man had small, mean eyes and an repulsive smell. Chekov wrinkled his nose. Had he never had a shower?
"Do you have the directions?"Even his voice was unpleasant: his words rolled in his mouth and slid his tongue. For the umpteenth time, Chekov wished everyone spoke Russian.
"All right, everyone keep in touch. Sulu, Chekov, inform Mr Scott of your position in thirty minutes." Everyone murmured assent and split to their duties. Chekov looked at the readout, and headed down a canyon in the indicated direction. Daniels walked beside him.
After a couple minutes, Daniels deliberately stumbled and fell onto Chekov, who gave a small yip and jumped backward, his heart going a mile a minute.
Daniels gave what was as close as he got to a smile and said, "Sorry, sir. Rocks, you know." He sarcastically stressed the "sir". Chekov, not trusting himself to speak, gave him a look which said he didn't buy it. They continued from the city center, with Chekov's nerves strung as tight as a balalaika. Slowly, the population dwindled, the canyons got shallower, and soon turned to a huge tunnel. Mining equipment stood, well worn but in good repair. The dull glow from unmined sun gems gave off sufficient light. Supplies and crates were scattered along the way, and the gems, less sparse as they went along, cast dark shadows.
Daniels, nervous and twitchy, was randomly aiming his phaser, as if he expected something to jump out at them. Chekov, a little more at home in the darkness, had both his phaser and tricorder out. A figure stepped from behind a crate, tugging a large container. Scanning, Chekov saw it was human. The man paused for breath, and gave a call toward the two crewmen.
"Hey, could you give a hand?"
Daniels, who had about had a heart attack, made no move to help. Giving him the tricorder and a scathing look, Chekov went to help the man. As he picked up one end, he realized how light the container was. Daniels gave a strangled yell, which was cut off in mid-shout. Chekov spun around, and saw another miner over Daniels. He spun back toward the miner near him, and was rewarded with a stunning blow to the neck, followed by a spray of some mist on his face. As his vision blurred and dimmed, he saw the two miners load Daniels into the crate. As they came for him, he could have sworn he saw the skin on one of them change before the darkness took him.
Please review! They are water to the parched writing mind! (Feel free to guess what's going to happen...)