James Kirk had long since accepted that the universe was full of wonders, and he expected it to be so. Nonetheless, the universe managed to surprise him on occasion anyway.

Beside him in the turbo lift stood a man he thought he had known for four years. As a Captain--as a friend--he had won Pavel Chekov's trust and come to believe he knew him: but he was wrong. Despite his friendly nature, the Security Chief was a profoundly private individual and Kirk now found himself reminded of this.

"Chekov," McCoy demanded irately. "When in damnation did you go off and get married?"

The Security Chief stood stiffly, his face ashen as he stared off at some distant point far outside the lift they were on. "My freshman year at the Academy," he answered tonelessly without shifting his gaze.

The Captain's insides chilled less at the unexpected answer and more at the emotionless delivery. The man's wife had been on a star cruiser that had crash-landed on the planetoid they now approached. Unable to obtain casualty lists, Kirk had expected the wildly emotional Chekov to be nearly berserk with the enforced ignorance. He was, instead, uncharacteristically cold and uncommunicative.

The Doctor pressed on with undisguised outrage. "Chekov, are you telling me that you've been married the whole time we've known you?"

"Yes, I was married when I posted to the Enterprise," Chekov responded evenly.

Kirk watched the young man's face as McCoy grilled him. Young? No, he supposed this was not the same twenty-one year old that the Captain had hand-picked from his graduating class at the Academy all those years ago.

Second in his class and already a brillant navigator, Kirk had impatiently waited for the new Ensign to take his post on the bridge. Starfleet required that new command officers serve in every department to familiarize themselves with the ship before taking their final posting. An affable, charming young man with a quick wit, Chekov made friends quickly and was well-liked by the time he settled into the bridge. The new Navigator seamlessly became a member of the family that was the Enterprise's primary bridge team.

Despite all this, the friendly Chekov actually trusted very few people as his friends. He never spoke of his background, offering only the pale information that his parents were cultural anthropologists that worked for the government; and that he'd traveled with them extensively as a child. While he lauded Russia in general and spoke with a Slavic accent, no one actually knew where he was born. Uhura pointed out that his various mispronounced English words were attributable to several different regions: something unlikely at best. In fact, one time when she had sat with the semi-conscious Navigator in sickbay, she made the startling revelation that he actually spoke Russian with an accent as well.

Only Sulu–whom he had known from the Academy–did Chekov consider a friend immediately. The Navigator's professional trust of his colleagues came quickly. His personal trust for them, however, was harder won and Kirk had felt a certain amount of satisfaction as he had edged his way into Chekov's personal space. He had thought they'd become friends.

It was obvious now that it was not so.

"This woman who you're married to, who is she? She's a dancer?" McCoy was demanding irritably.

Kirk understood the man's tone and couldn't deny he agreed with it. The Captain felt betrayed that after all this time his Security Chief had failed to mention such a charming little detail as the fact that he was married. Had always been married. Freshman year, he thought irritably. Eight years ago.

Chekov had never acted married and Kirk admitted to feeling self-righteous on behalf of the man's varied girlfriends. The younger man had truthfully always been the one to end the relationships and the Captain now wondered if any of them knew why. Of course, even marriages came in all different forms and he was in no position to judge the nature of another person's relationships, but there had never even been a mention of her on Chekov's part. Hell, had he just left the woman back on Earth and forgotten about her?

The stiff, emotional detachment in the young man's form didn't waver as he answered the Doctor's question. "Tatiana Demidova is currently the principal female dancer with the Maryinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg, Russia, Sir."

Kirk shifted his jaw, casting a wry smirk at his friend. It was so like Chekov, who exaggerated lies, to diminish the truth. "The Prima Ballerina in the finest ballet company on Earth," he translated. "They were on a cultural exchange tour when their transport crashed." He watched Chekov for his expected response to the bait, but was discouraged when he didn't get it. While it was true that the Maryinsky had always been accepted as the finest classical training available, classical ballet was only a branch of the art. It was like claiming Beethoven was better than Mozart, and Chekov wasn't one to accept such simple assertions. That the Security Chief didn't argue with Kirk said something about his mood.

McCoy jammed his arms across his chest and growled. "When we found them, you said Tatiana was 'a close relative of your fathers'!"

"She is," Chekov retorted. "She's his daughter-in-law."

Kirk's hand shot out to stop McCoy's instinctive lunge, but it was the Security Chief's further statement that stopped him in his tracks.

"Tatiana is also my sister."

"You married your sister?"

"Yes," he replied thickly as he stepped out of the turbo lift.

"Bones!" the Captain grasped his friend's arm as the Security Chief moved crisply down the corridor toward the transporter room. "Pavel Chekov is an only child," he reminded him.

"Chekov seems to have a curious problem remembering that," the Doctor observed irritably.

"Tatiana is–was–his parent's ward," Kirk informed him as he moved to quickly follow Chekov. "Not his biological sister."

"He told you that?" the Doctor asked with surprise as he scrambled along beside him.

"No," he replied tartly. "I'm the Captain. I checked his record when I found out he was married."

"Damn convenient."

"Yes," Kirk agreed. "It can be." That Chekov claimed he married his sister was a sobering thought to the ship's Captain. The younger man knew well Kirk's values and it was as though Chekov was now purposely seeking to drive the widest wedge he could between them. It was a reminder that Kirk had not moved beyond the wall with which the Russian kept his non-friends at bay. The Security Chief only seemed to be fortifying the barrier now.

"The man could have mentioned that she was their ward, not his sister," McCoy commented with ill-humor.

"Bones, " the Captain spoke as they entered the transporter room to prevent their minds from becoming mired in the subject. "We have a shipload of battered and traumatized people to attend to. I believe they deserve our attention without the distraction of gossip about Chekov's personal life."

The point taken, McCoy's jaw shifted and he lapsed into silence as he followed Kirk into the room. Chekov had always had a peculiar dislike for gossip; the reasons why seemed clear now.

"Captain," Spock said as Kirk approached him. "We have isolated the wreckage on the planetoid. The survivors appear to have set up a rudimentary camp nearby utilizing available materials. From movement of life signs, we have determined that there are, indeed, injured among them: some are registering as immobile. In addition," he began, but stopped with a glance over to confirm Chekov's location on the platform already.

Kirk often wondered if it was his years among humans or his mother's influence that had made Spock so sensitive to human needs. It was a sensitivity the Vulcan would have denied with feigned ignorance had it ever been pointed out to him.

"There are several organic forms–human from their composition--without life signs," the Science Officer concluded quietly. "They are isolated from the others."

"Can we beam down our party away from all human forms?"

Spock nodded. "I anticipated such a request and located a central clearing among the rock outcroppings, free from vegetation and all life forms. Sickbay teams are prepared to beam down directly to the survivor's camp from the emergency transporter as soon as we establish orbit."

"Thank-you, Spock. Your efficiency makes my job easier."

"As it should."

"Captain," Transporter Chief Kyle cut in then. "The bridge reports that we're in orbit."

"Thank-you, Mr. Kyle. Gentlemen," he prompted Spock and McCoy onto the transporter platform.