Pawn

"What?" Kirk demanded - rather more sharply than he'd intended.

"You heard me correctly, Captain. You are to inform the Charex that the Federation is prepared to recognize their negotiated boundaries as set out in the deposition filed on..." The Admiral looked away to another screen. "...Stardate 1947.3. The decision was ratified by the Council fifteen minutes ago. In return, we look forward to the prompt and safe return of our people. The Charex may make some difficulties over the details of the return for the sake of form. But I expect all this to be over - bar the shouting - within forty-eight hours. Well-timed, Jim. You'll get credit for this. The Enterprise goes in and saves the day yet again. The rest of Star Fleet got nowhere in ten years and Jim Kirk sorts it out in less than a day."

"But, sir," Kirk protested, "I didn't do anything."

The Admiral smiled a thin, sour smile. "The updates know your name and they like your face. No one's going to care which diplomatic pen pusher got the punctuation in the right place at last. You're the chosen hero of the hour - whether you deserve it or not. Make the most of it, Captain."

The bridge's main viewscreen went blank. Kirk blinked at the star field that replaced the Admiral's face. "Two hours ago, we finally get through to Command and it's business as usual - no hope for a resolution and now..."

"Perhaps the willingness of the Charex to allow Dr. Kuznetsov to leave in order to receive proper medical care had an impact on Federation authorities," Spock theorized.

"And perhaps this whole hostage situation has just been a good way to keep Kuznetsov out from under someone's feet," McCoy suggested cynically. The doctor came to the bridge to report on the professor's condition. Kuznetsov had suffered a severe reaction to some of his medication. He was now in stable condition, but confined to sickbay. None of this seemed to have done much to improve McCoy's estimation of the man personally. "Once he wriggled his way free, there was no point in delaying things anymore."

Kirk refrained from commenting on the fact that, for once, McCoy's explanation seemed the more logical of the two. "Lt. Uhura, open a channel to the Charex leader."

"Yes, sir." Uhura seemed to be in the midst of already doing so. "I have received a prepared statement of the Council's decision. It will be ready for your signature as the accredited representative of the Federation in this sector in a few moments."

Kirk shook his head. A few moments. Ten years of stalemate and misery and now it was all going to be resolved in a few moments. "Diplomacy," he said to no one in particular, mentally throwing up his hands.

"Minister Afax on line one now, Captain."

"Put the minister on the main viewer, Lieutenant."

They appeared to have interrupted the Charex in the midst of a meal. The alien's clawed hand held something that looked worryingly like a Human thigh bone. It put it aside somewhat hastily. "Captain Kirk, can I do something for you? We passed on the coffee and other supplies. We are most grateful..."

"Minister Afax, it appears that I may have been premature in providing those supplies. The Federation has acceded to your demands."

"Really?"

Two further Charex heads crowded into the camera's field of view. A swell of noise rose from other unseen participants in what appeared to be a lavish banquet.

The minister gently but firmly pushed its colleagues out of the frame. "Captain Kirk, I assure you I could not be more delighted to hear this, but why now? After all this time?"

"At this point, Minister," Kirk admitted, "I really have no idea. May we look forward to the early release of the remaining hostages?"

Afax seemed embarrassed. At least that was how Kirk interpreted the way the alien's great bright eyes flashed reflections from around the room as it declined to look directly at Kirk.

"I think they ate them," McCoy muttered.

Kirk glared at him, but Afax obviously enjoyed acute hearing and a skin as thick as it looked. "Not at all, Dr. McCoy. It's simply that tonight is our winter solstice. Everyone is on holiday. If you want them immediately, you'll have to make do with minimal ceremony."

"I will happily turn a blind eye to any... shortfall in the protocol department."

"In that case..." The Charex gestured at someone, then turned back to Kirk with a nod. "We will transport them up to your ship immediately. If you will confirm the coordinates."

"Uhura, have Mr. Kyle confirm. Minister, thank you. I appreciate your prompt cooperation. I'm sorry to have disturbed your festivities." Kirk could hear a heavy tone of irony creeping into his voice, but the Charex didn't seem to notice. The alien hiccupped slightly and the connection was broken. "Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, come with me."

"Puzzling," Spock observed as the lift doors closed behind them.

"You're going to be more specific than that, Spock," McCoy said. "There are only a few elements of this situation that aren't puzzling."

"Star Fleet Command has consistently characterized the Charex as willfully uncooperative when it comes to establishing diplomatic transactions. I was therefore surprised by Minister Afax's readiness to release the hostages at such short notice. I would have anticipated that the Charex government would have at least waited until they had received documentation of the Council's statement."

"I don't know, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, shaking his head. "Afax said that it was difficult and expensive to maintain the hostages. Perhaps with Kuznetsov's falling ill it's become too much for them to cope with."

"From what the Minister was saying, it's their version of Christmas down there," McCoy pointed out. "Maybe they were just feeling the holiday spirit."

"Doctor, I want you to get back to sickbay," Kirk said adjusting the lift controls. "Keep me updated on Kuznetsov's condition. I may be sending you a few more patients. Chekov had a black eye the last time I saw him."

"No telling what he'll have after you get through with him for getting into this mess in the first place," McCoy said stepping out of the lift. Before his captain could respond the doctor added, "Send Depp and Hayward to me right away no matter what their condition is. I want to do a full work up on them. God only knows what the Charex have been feeding them for the last ten years."

"Spock," Kirk said as the doors closed behind McCoy. "What do we know about Kuznetsov? Is he in some way a very powerful or important figure?"

"Alexander Kuznetsov is a great political scientist, Captain," Spock replied. "He is also something of a thorn in the side of the establishment. He and other like-minded individuals have often served as part of an important equalizing influence in the administration of the current multi-planetary confederacy. His death would be a blow to the Federation - although few might admit it. He has been missed during the past ten years by certain groups concerned with maintaining a balance of power between the various legislative arms of our government."

"I'd never heard of him except in connection to the Charex incident," Kirk said. "And given his abrasive personality, I don't imagine he'd cultivate many fans."

"His personal qualities are not relevant to his intellectual accomplishments," Spock reminded him as they stepped out of the transporter. "However, I must admit that Dr. Kuznetsov's ideas could also be quite... abrasive. He has never been a popular figure."

Kirk turned into the transporter room just in time to see the opalescent glow of the Charex transport beam pale and vanish leaving three figures on the transporter pads. Chekov was in uniform again, as were the other two officers. It was almost comical to see how much military costume had changed in the past ten years.

"Captain Kirk?" Lt. Hayward stepped forward, looking slightly apprehensive but far from the maniac Chekov had described. "I can't tell you how good it is to be here."

Kirk stepped forward and offered his hand. "And to have you back with us, Dave. It's been a long time."

The officer looked temporarily non-plussed, then his eyes lit up. "My God, Jim Kirk! I had no idea..." The two men shook hands enthusiastically. "Congratulations, you son of a bitch - I mean, Captain, sir. Do you think I can argue that my back pay should be what you've been earning in the meantime?"

"I'll put in a word for you." Kirk turned to the female officer. "Lieutenant Depp. Welcome back."

Depp smiled coldly. She looked as though she thought this was all a great waste of her time.

"Dr. McCoy would like to see both of you right away," Kirk continued politely. "He's anxious to see you both undergo a full medical review... and get back on a diet of standard Star Fleet rations."

Hayward laughed. "It will be a welcome change."

"Mr. Kyle, could you show our guests the way to sickbay?"

"Certainly, sir."

Depp hesitated on her way to the door. "Captain, how is Sasha - Dr. Kuznetsov, I mean?"

"He's undergoing treatment, Lieutenant. He had a relapse and had to be confined to the sickbay, but is now in stable condition. Dr. McCoy is doing everything he can for him."

Chekov stepped forward and opened his mouth as if to say something, but fell silent under his captain's forbidding glare.

Kirk thought that there was a glow of satisfaction radiating from Hayward as the transporter chief ushered the two lieutenants out of the room.

"Captain," Chekov began resolutely as Kirk turned to him, "I request permission to see Dr. Kuznetsov."

"Later," Kirk replied grimly. "Maybe."

"Sir, this is a matter of the utmost urgency..."

"Ensign Chekov," Kirk interrupted harshly, "you disobeyed my direct orders and the orders of Star Fleet by setting up and executing a swap between yourself and Dr. Kuznetsov on Charos. Do you have any explanation of your actions?"

"Sir," Chekov entreated uncomfortably, "if I could be allowed to speak with him for only a few moments..."

"Mr. Chekov, whatever you have to say to Kuznetsov is going to have to wait. As I told Depp, he's undergoing treatment. I doubt if he's well enough to see you."

A look of near panic crossed the ensign's face. "Oh, no," he said softly.

"I asked you a question, Mister," Kirk reiterated mercilessly. "Do you have an explanation for your behavior on Charos?"

"I... I... I.." Chekov stumbled for a moment, then sighed miserably. "Not as yet, sir."

"Not as yet? " Kirk repeated with furious incredulity. "Not as yet? What is that supposed to mean?"

Chekov shrugged apologetically. "I cannot offer an explanation at this time, sir."

"Very well." Kirk's lips closed into a thin, hard line. He walked over to the transporter console and pressed an intercom button. "Security, send an officer to the transporter room."

"Yes, sir."

The Russian swallowed hard, but remained stubbornly silent.

The security guard arrived almost instantly.

"Ensign Greaves," Kirk said, addressing her. "Escort Mr. Chekov to his quarters and confine him there."

"Sir..." the protest seemed to burst uncontrollably from Chekov's lips.

"Ensign," Kirk warned. "You're very fortunate that I'm not having you thrown in the brig."

"Yes, sir. I appreciate that, sir. However..."

"At nine hundred hours tomorrow morning you will be escorted to my office," Kirk continued heedlessly. "There, you and I will discuss what sort of disciplinary action will be taken against you as a result of this incident. I strongly suggest you have an explanation prepared for me at that time, Ensign."

The navigator closed his eyes, but said nothing.

"Chekov," Kirk said, resisting the urge to shake some sense into the young man. "Don't throw your career away. Kuznetsov can't be worth this."

The ensign lifted his chin. "Is that all, sir?"

Kirk crossed his arms. "Take him away, Greaves."

"Yes, sir."

Spock remained silent until the security officer had escorted her charge into the corridor and the room's door closed behind them. "Mr. Chekov seems to be intent on protecting a person or persons unknown."

"Almost suicidally intent." Kirk laughed humorlessly. "He almost reminds me of you, Mr. Spock."

"Captain?"

"I seem to recall an occasion in which you disregarded orders for the benefit of someone you considered worthy." Kirk hadn't thought of the Talos IV incident in years. "You took it to the point of letting yourself be court-martialed. I hope Chekov doesn't think he can take this that far. Alexander Kuznetsov is no Chris Pike."

"Yes, sir." Spock had the grace to look embarrassed, or as near to embarrassed as one might expect. "With your permission, Captain, I would like to do further research. There are aspects of this situation that intrigue me."

"Certainly, Mr. Spock," Kirk agreed, suddenly feeling very tired. "Let me know if any of it starts making sense. I'm going to the bridge. It's time we left this sector."

Chekov paced up and down inside his quarters, tormented by the thought of Kuznetsov lying helpless in sickbay while Hayward and Depp were on the loose. If only there was someone he could trust... He knew he had to do something. He just couldn't figure out anything he could do without getting himself deeper into trouble.

This thought stopped him dead mid-stride.

"There is very little I could do that would make my situation worse than it currently is," he told himself aloud.

Encouraged by this grim thought, he decided to put the plan he'd been toying with into action. He purposefully threw himself over a low table in the corner of his cabin - the only piece of furniture that could be easily overturned. A loud cry of pain wasn't terribly difficult to fake. "Ensign Greaves!"

The security officer entered with her phaser drawn.

"I tripped," he explained meekly from the floor.

"Jesus, Chekov," Greaves said, re-holstering her weapon. "Don't scare me like that."

"I think I may have sprained my ankle."

The security guard sighed and hit the intercom next to the door. "Lt. Shelton, this is Greaves. Chekov tripped inside his cabin and sprained his ankle. Can I get clearance to take him to sickbay?"

"One minute, Greaves."

She turned back to Chekov. "You're being more trouble than you're worth right now," she said, shaking a finger at him.

Chekov gave her what he hoped was a charming smile that still managed to convincingly convey that he was in great pain. "I'm sorry."

"Greaves," a voice over the intercom announced. "You have clearance to escort your prisoner to sickbay."

"Acknowledged. Come on you." Greaves helped Chekov to his feet. She slipped a supporting arm around his back. "Is that going to be comfortable?"

"Oh, yes." Chekov smiled at her. "It is even quite pleasant."

She rolled her eyes indulgently. "I ought to get danger pay for having to do this sort of thing."

Even limping along, it only took a few moments to arrive at the doors of sickbay.

"He's sprained his ankle," Greaves said, handing him over to Nurse Chapel.

"I think I've sprained it," Chekov qualified.

"After I carried you all the way down here, you better hope it's broke," Greaves threatened mockingly.

"You can wait outside, Ensign," Chapel dismissed her. "Mr. Chekov isn't going anywhere. Are you?"

"No ma'am," he replied genially as she helped him to one of the diagnostic tables. Greave's phaser pressed coldly against his back underneath his singlet. He wondered how long it would take her to miss it.

"Well, you're in luck, Mr. Chekov," Chapel said, after running a scanner over his foot. "No broken bones. You must have just wrenched it. All I can do for you is to give you a mild pain killer if you need one."

"Yes, thank you," he said, nervously wondering if medical scanners could detect weapons.

"And let's see if we can't do something about that eye, shall we?" she said, lifting his chin. "That's quite a shiner, Ensign."

"I know." Chekov smiled thinly. "I gave Lt. Hayward a split lip to match it."

"I know," she said with mild reproof. "I just got finished treating it."

"Is he still here?"

"I'm afraid so." Chapel turned and rummaged around through a drawer of medical supplies. "They seem perfectly healthy, but Dr. McCoy is convinced they're suffering from some sort of vitamin deficiency."

Chekov thanked his lucky stars for medical paranoia. At least his fellow hostages hadn't been free to act against Kuznetsov yet. "What about Dr. Kuznetsov?"

"He's doing somewhat better," Chapel said with guarded optimism. "The treatment for his tumors was a little rougher on him than we expected. He's resting comfortably now."

"I'd like to speak with him, if he's feeling better."

"I'm afraid not, Ensign." The nurse gently pressed cellular repair unit to his bruised eye and activated it. "He's asleep right now. It's very important that he gets all the rest he can."

"Of course." Chekov suppressed the disappointed sigh that rose to his lips. It looked like he was going to have to do this the hard way.

Chapel took ensign's hand and placed it against the repair unit. "Now just hold that in place," she said, giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder, "and I'll be right back with that pain-killer."

"Thank you," he said, really quite grateful that he wasn't going to have to shoot her.

Chekov was reluctant to take the repair unit from his eye even after he was sure the nurse was gone. It felt very good. He left in running on the diagnostic bed and crossed quietly to the doorway of a nearby treatment room.

Dr. M'Benga was quizzing Lt. Hayward - or was it the other way around?

"So you retrieved us as soon as you heard from Star Fleet?" Hayward was asking.

"Um," was the doctor's noncommittal reply. "Have you experienced any swelling in your joints?"

"No. When did Kuznetsov collapse?"

"He was undergoing surgery this morning. The additional strain of the anesthetic on top of the treatment for the tumors..."

Chekov swallowed hard as he moved stealthily on. Kuznetsov was in even worse condition than they had initially led him to believe. It was possible that the professor hadn't been able to send a direct message to Earth since coming aboard.

The ensign padded silently to the intensive therapy unit and palmed the door control. It slid open. The spider web sensation of the bio-filter tickled across his face.

Kuznetsov looked like a corpse laid out on the treatment bed. As Chekov drew closer, he could barely discern the slight rise and fall of the old man's chest.

"Dr. Kuznetsov," the ensign whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder. It was cold and thin as a skeleton. "Dr. Kuznetsov, please, you must wake up. Doctor... Alexandr Gregorovich... Please..."

The recumbent figure stirred. "Pasha, what are you...?"

"The Charex released me," he explained quickly. "And Hayward and Depp."

"Don't worry." The old man's eyes fluttered closed. "I've sent the message. Your Lieutenant Uhura helped me."

"Lt. Uhura?"

"Yes. You said I could trust her."

"I would trust her with my life if need be, but..." Chekov wasn't comfortable with the thought of Uhura being exposed to the dangers that he currently was. "You explained to her?"

"Wasn't necessary." Despite the importance of their topic, it sounded like Kuznetsov was having trouble staying awake. "Watched her process the message... to Earth via the relay station at Questor. Can't be stopped... Only a few more hours..."

Chekov relaxed a little for the first time in over twenty hours. "When did you send it? When will we know...?"

"You're a good boy, Pasha." Kuznetsov weakly patted the ensign's hand without opening his eyes. "Good to do this... Always a good child... Smart like your father and good-looking like your mother." The old man chuckled. "Lucky it wasn't the other way around."

"Sir.." Chekov began, knowing his time was running short. He was sure to be missed any moment now.

"Glad it was you..." Kuznetsov said drifting steadily off. "Sorry too..."

Chekov froze at the sound of approaching footsteps. Hayward, he thought immediately. The lieutenant would have assumed - like he had - that Kuznetsov had been too sick to send the message. Hayward had finished his physical and was coming to make sure the professor remained silent permanently.

The ensign drew Greave's phaser out from his waistband and crouched down beside Kuznetsov's bed. He could hear the soft sound of the old man's snores along with the incredibly loud thumping of his own heart. He could also hear the footsteps well enough to discern that they were too light to be a man's. Not Hayward, then, but Depp.

Chekov gripped the phaser tightly as the woman entered. He could smell her perfume as she approached the bed. Funny, he'd never noticed that she wore perfume... A medical scanner whirred.

"Mr. Chekov," Nurse Chapel's voice said. "Either you're in here or Dr. Kuznetsov has grown an extra heart while I was gone."

The ensign rose. "I hate to do this," he apologized, leveling the phaser at her chest.

"Then don't," she said switching the scanner to her left hand and holding out her right for the phaser like a mother giving a naughty child the opportunity to surrender a slingshot or waterpistol.

Chekov felt a strong urge to give in and be deservedly sent to bed without supper. "Where are Hayward and Depp?"

"Back in their quarters by now," Chapel answered patiently. "They were both released from sickbay a few moments ago."

This was not a comforting answer. Chekov looked about the room speculatively. "Is there surveillance on this room?"

"Yes." Chapel crossed her arms. "I suppose you're hoping it isn't activated right now."

"No." Chekov looked quickly around for camera controls. "I would prefer that this room is monitored closely. I believe there is about to be an attempt on Dr. Kuznetsov's life."

"About to be?"

"Don't move please." The controls were by the door. He crossed to them, keeping his phaser trained on the nurse and his ears opened for the sound of footsteps. The monitoring device was not activated. He turned it on and set it to record, then dimmed the room's lighting. He gestured Chapel towards a supply nook recessed into the far wall of the room.

She rolled her eyes and complied as if reluctantly humoring an idiot. Chekov had to admire her nerve. He knew she was probably much more distressed than she was allowing herself to show.

He followed her into the nook and flattened himself against one wall, then motioned for her to do the same. When she opened her mouth to protest, he put a finger to his lips and turned off the panel illuminating the small chamber.

"Ensign," she whispered. "As much as I am enjoying this thrilling break in my otherwise dull routine, I do have other patients. About how long do you think this is going to take?"

"Shhh," he hushed her.

"If Heyward and Depp have lived with the man for ten years already without killing him, what makes you think...?" Chapel had to pause in the midst her very pertinent question when she was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of someone approaching.

The door to the treatment room slid open. Someone was silhouetted against the light of the corridor outside. Chekov thought for one sinking moment that it was Dr. McCoy and he was going to be stuck with two unwanted hostages, but the man was too large to be McCoy.

The ensign held his breath as Hayward moved to the bed. He knew it would best if the lieutenant was caught actually attempting to kill Kuznetsov. From what he knew of Hayward, he expected the lieutenant to use force. Perhaps he'd try to disrupt Kuznetsov's treatment in some way. Instead he heard the hiss of a hypo.

Chapel didn't wait permission to do something.

"Lights!" The nurse was out and across the room. She pushed Hayward out of the way and tried to wrest the hypo from his hand.

Chekov quickly joined her, grabbing Hayward's arm. The lieutenant managed to shake the nurse off but the ensign held on.

"Damn you." Hayward smiled as he drew back his free fist. "You've betrayed the Federation."

Chekov didn't bother to duck. He just closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger of the phaser that Hayward hadn't noticed yet.

*** Continued ***