AN: Set after the first two films but not Beyond.
Title taken from The Beatles' song of the same name. This is indulgent as hell, as all fanfic should be. Enjoy!
"Tchaikovsky. Psh. Good one, Hikaru."
"Just keep us posted," said Sulu. The sounds of the bridge chattered behind him. "We miss you up here."
Chekov ended the video call and rolled his eyes. The headphones sat about his neck. Glancing down at the blue device, he snickered.
"Vhy does everyone assume I listen to the Russian dance music? I have never even been to the ballet!"
It pleased him, in no small measure, that none of the Enterprise crew could guess what he listened to in those massive, noise-cancelling headphones, a Christmas gift from Uhura. Finally—the "baby" of the ship had a few cards up his sleeve.
Though Chekov wanted to be annoyed with Sulu and others, they were only worried. Not even a month had passed snice his babushka's sudden heart failure.
Pavel ducked his head and inhaled a long breath through his nose.
"Aww man." A red shirted engineer stumbled over, back arched. He winced when something popped. "Stupid core chamber."
Chekov shook himself. "It's your lunch break, right, McKnight? Vhy don't you go ahead and I'll crawl in the core board. Take a look."
"Are you sure?" McKnight asked. "I know it's only your second day—"
Chekov threw up his hands. "I think I can handle Scotty's job for one week. I've been job shadowing."
"I don't envy him," said McKnight. "Andorian shingles…"
They shuddered.
"Alright." The engineer sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I wish you better luck than me. Thanks, I owe you."
Chekov had already slipped on the headphones. He hummed faintly while sliding through a rake-thin opening in the ship's warp core electrical system. Here, outside sounds and PA system were replaced by the soothing drone of circuitry. Chekov smiled. Army crawling, he burrowed deeper, finally stopping at a coil of frayed wires.
He spoke around a pair of pliers between his teeth. "Gotcha."
"What do you mean the ship is hailing us?"
Uhura licked her lips. "Sir, I don't think it's just a pleasure vessel."
"Targeting systems locked on our starboard side!" Sulu called.
Kirk went cold. A rushing began in his ears. "Shields up!"
A face came on the screen, pockmarked and familiar.
"You've been following us," Jim barked.
"Well you made such lovely hosts." The man smiled.
Kirk stood and pointed at Uhura. "Shut it down. And Mr. Sulu?"
"Captain?"
"Get us out of here."
The laugh that echoed from the screen made Kirk's scalp prickle. "How could we let you part without a little gift? Seeing as you repaired our warp core stabilizer."
Kirk made it Spock's side. His fists shook. He caught Spock's eye when the Vulcan paled further. Jim understood a second later.
His eyes widened. "Everyone out!"
So this is why Scotty got sick and our warp core is acting strange, Kirk thought.
"Captain?"
"Spock, not now." Jim shoved Sulu out of his seat and into the safety of the hall.
"Captain, perhaps we can—"
Almighty thunder rocked the ship. Spock fell over Jim and an alarm blared to life. The screen went black. Smoke filtered from the ventilators.
"We've been bombed! Near the warp core!" Uhura screamed. A trail of blood snaked down her temple. She gripped her console. "Hit to the south dock!"
"Are we functional?" Jim teetered to his feet, offering Spock a hand.
Uhura's lips shook.
"Nyota?" Jim's chest heaved. His vision was speckled with black.
In answer, the lieutenant slammed a button high up on her station board. A robotic, female voice filled the ship:
"Evacuation. Please make your way to the life pods."
Jim stared at Nyota. He'd rarely felt such shock or betrayal. The bridge emptied quickly, crew struggling to stay upright, but the pair remained locked.
Jim finally moved. "No. I…I had it. I just got her back."
Nyota shook her head. "I'm sorry, she's…" Something in her face steeled. "We're going down. She's not salvageable."
Jim broke eye contact and swore. "Not again."
Nyota rose from her chair. A muscle fluttered in her cheek, but her hands were soft when they captured Jim's face.
"I'm sorry. I know the Enterprise is a symbol of your—"
Another blast tipped the ship. They went sprawling.
"There isn't time!" Spock was suddenly above them. "We need to go!"
He hauled both bodily away from the bridge.
Grain mills, particularly chaff separators, not only growl enough to shake a barn floor—but one's teeth, bones, and eardrums so that it can be felt hours later.
Chekov, when at last he removed his hands from protecting his cranium, felt sure he'd been put through ten grain mills. He remembered Grandpapa threshing at harvest season and hoisting Pavel's small body high on aged shoulders.
Something sharp pinched him in on either side. Giant hands pressed his chest. Chekov hazed in and out of consciousness.
The ship rumbled under his hip. At an overwhelming sense of nausea, Chekov knew the ship pitched drunkenly.
Chekov tried to speak. Nothing.
Silly. You still have the noise cancelling headphones on, that's all.
He tucked the headphones in his pocket with the music player. The second try left him worse than before. He felt his throat buzzing, but his ears remained silent. Still lying sidelong in the core's circuitry, Chekov worked to calm his rigid posture.
You're okay. A person can't become deaf instantly like that. You just need to—
The blinking lights went dark.
Chekov sucked in a harsh breath.
We've lost power. Blind too, then.
Chekov, slow to process this, frowned. A scalding bolt of realization suddenly stabbed his chest. Vibrating like a flag in a hurricane, Chekov wormed through the pitch black. He wrestled free of two warped pieces of metal. The once-crisp shirt hung in ribbons about his ribs. He fought to stand upon reaching the engineering room. His eyes closed.
"Слава Bogu. Light."
Though everything insisted on spinning, it was lit. Chekov couldn't stay upright without a hand on the wall. He took in painful breaths and coughed up something sticky.
Ignoring when it seeped into the front of his red shirt, he took stock of the empty room.
Where is everyone?
Chekov called out. Nothing moved in the engineering brig nor in the halls when he wandered through. The sensation of total silence chilled him.
He tripped, following the wall. His jerky gait, coupled with the rocking free fall of the ship, propelled the youth's steps in awkward polyrhythms. Chekov wanted to lie down, to give in to the cold in his veins. He shook himself.
Scotty would be appalled if I stretched out on the job!
"—acuation-ife-ods."
Chekov jumped. The patchy return of his eardrums' function had him whirling at the repeating, automated message.
Nyet…
The bridge opened before him. Chekov gaped. The truth hit him with a final, searing jolt. It couldn't be. They wouldn't…
The bridge was empty. The whole ship was empty.
They…they had left him here…
Betrayal stung Chekov's eyes. He swallowed down something heavy and wondering wrapped around his throat.
"Please make your—"
The message cut out. Chekov jumped again with a cry. He glanced first at his shoes. Then he heard a familiar clip-clop. Chekov looked up and met wide brown eyes.