"Energize." He had said it with the confidence of a brave and bold man. However, the second that the tingling sensation of being beamed down to the planet surface wore off, he was snapped back into reality, to his true, rational self. What was he even doing here? He was a child prodigy, a brain genius, not a man of brawn and build. He'd never had cause to use his phaser before, so who was to say he could use it now? Grunting, he attempted to move his legs, still numb from the travel, and found his Starfleet issued black shoes covered in some sort of thick, red mud. Or, not so much mud as soil, damp from a morning rain, the trees still drizzling water droplets off of their leaves.

Looking up, Chekov's pale face was met with a fat water droplet, which plopped down against his forehead. Rolling slowly down the side of his nose and off of his face, Chekov left the water be. He wasn't going to worry about a little bit of precipitation. He tried to think of what Captain Kirk would do, and he knew for sure that their fearless ship's leader would never have a problem with a little bit of rain. Besides, he reasoned with himself, water was used to cleanse the body and soul. Could it really be that harmful to wander around in a bit of a morning dampness?

It did seem to be morning upon this strange earth, but Chekov wasn't entirely sure. The sky was a milky grey color, dark clouds rolling above him. They seemed so close that he could touch them if he climbed one of the trees surrounding him. That was all the planet seemed to be - vegetation. Dark green trees grew from the ground, with coiling and twisting trunks that stretched endlessly to the sky. When Pavel was a boy, he had spent his days climbing towers and buildings in his city, rock climbing when he could. How he had wished for trees to scramble up, with thick trunks and sturdy branches like these! He slapped his palm against a nearby one, somehow amused by how hollow it sounded. There was a thick moss growing upon it, plushy and spongy. When Pavel drew his hand away, he noted that it smelled like some sort of strange mixture of peppermint and cinnamon, which was not at all unpleasant.

The young member of Starfleet took a few tentative steps, noting how his feet sunk a little lower with every footfall. The red soil felt exceedingly healthy, and full of something. It was like a mixture of seeds and mulch, with maroon wood chips mixed in. Chekov actually began to warm up to this new planet. Everything was very cushioned and soft, touchable. He felt as though no harm would come to him. As a few more water droplets fell upon his face, he smiled towards the sky. Though there was a lack of sun, there was still an ever-present brightness to it all. It was a wonderful day, he felt. He began to question Kirk and Spock's decision even more-what was so dangerous about this planet, whose atmosphere was so calm, inviting even? His cares seemed to wash away with the rain, and it took a great deal of effort to remind himself that he was here on actual Starfleet business.

Wandering, he noticed that there wasn't much action. When he was a child he did grow up in a place mostly void of vegetation and such. However, he'd taken trips to see such places, and he knew that there should be animals. There should be some sort of sound, any place in the area. The scuttle of a chipmunk or other small creature shuffling through the wood chips and leaves on the ground. Perhaps the call of a bird high in a tree, or even just wind rustling through the branches. Even with the strange, rainy weather, there was absolutely nothing. His shoes sinking into the moist soil made hardly a squeak with every step. He couldn't fathom it.

At first, the silence was comfortable. It gave him the room in his mind to think. Though he had always been a musical man, he realized the quiet was good for him. As he walked, in no general direction but forward, his thoughts wandered to the ship he had left behind. His first day in Starfleet Academy had been eventful, one he'd never forget. He remembered seeing Spock and James Kirk and Nyota Uhura, wandering around campus. He'd spotted Leonard McCoy even, boozing on the front steps of his dorm, still mulling over that ex-wife of his with a drink. That was before everyone started calling him Bones. It was even before Chekov really knew anyone. There had been a time when he was a little bit of a loner, with no one to talk to but his friendly dorm mate, Hikaru Sulu. However, even then communication between them was difficult. He could barely speak English in a way that was understandable. He was quite used to living with people who knew Russian, or could understand his thick accent. Going to Starfleet was definitely a challenge, but he learned to accept and enjoy it. Learning was always his area of expertise. He constantly wanted to know new things, to discover and experiment, to find out just what this world and all the rest of them had to offer.

As he stumbled along, the silence became a bit louder. White noise was buzzing in his ear in an incredibly distracting manner, and he slowly realized that he had no clue where he was going. The forest felt like a movie screen stuck on repeat, the same trees passing by him every moment or so. Even though he knew he had to be getting somewhere, he felt like there was no where to go at the same time. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, and no way out of these damn trees. He closed his eyes, running his right hand along the line of tree trunks to guide him as he walked, trying to think around the sounds his mind was creating. The crinkling sounds of white noise were getting to him in a way he couldn't even explain. He let his mind wander again in an attempt to distract himself, and inexplicably thought of his mother.

This was a relatively touchy subject for Pavel, but he embraced the thought this time, rather than shoving it to the side as he usually did. His widow mother, contrary to what he had led people to believe, was not at all the kind of mother one would read of in storybooks or see on television shows. No, those mothers were what Pavel had called "diamond ladies" as a child. They gleamed and sparkled and radiated kindness to everyone and everything, offering advice and guidance and support in whatever their children or anyone else in the lives had wanted to do. Those were the kind of mothers he saw everyday, not just in the media but around his neighborhood as well. The area where Pavel lived had diamond ladies everywhere, but not one of them had ever picked up on how much the boy had respected them. They never really picked up Pavel's very existence to begin with. At first it had bothered him, but as he grew older he came to realize that it wasn't their fault. The diamond ladies had a lot on their minds, a lot of people to care for. Just because his own mother refused to do the same didn't mean he should try to barge in on their lives, no matter how much he wished he were a part of them.

He had never tried much to start with, but seeing the other children with their own mothers had made the boy fantasize about how different his life would be if his mother were more like them. If she would take him out for ice cream during the summer, or sled with him down the hill near their house when Russia's famous winters set in. If she would read to him at night instead of tossing him in his room, and if only she would hug him. Just once in his life he wanted his mother to hug him, to show some sort love towards him, to prove that he did actually mean something to her. He tried his hardest in school, he followed all the rules and he never once talked back to her, but still she refused to acknowledge him. And on those rare occasions where she did realize he existed, it was either to slap him for being a fool or drag his self-esteem down in different ways, verbally or otherwise. Pavel never let on to any of this, of course. He could never force himself to demean his mother, no matter how much she did the same to him-it was a matter of loyalty. Even now, during his years in Starfleet, if the subject ever came up, Chekov simply painted a picture of the mother he had always wanted-a diamond lady-and spoke about her. So far, the Enterprise crew knew only of Pavel Chekov's late, perfect mother, who had died of cancer with the pride of her son making it this far.

The part about cancer, at least, was true. It had happened a few months before the Narada incident, and he had gone back to Russia to attend the funeral. It was small, only a few family members there, but Pavel had hardly spoken to them. He focused only on his mother, noting how still she was, and how she appeared strangely.. happy. Her cold, pale face held a small smile, her corpse somewhat amused by something. He couldn't help but wonder.. was she happy that she was gone, so that she wouldn't have to deal with her "no-good wreck of a boy" anymore, or was there something else? Pavel couldn't be sure, but he personally liked to believe that maybe, just maybe...it was that something else. He had sent her a letter through Starfleet Academy's digital communication system a few weeks before her passing, telling her of all he had done, and adding lastly that he had forgiven her. He had never really been angry to begin with, but he knew he should say it just in case she didn't know, or if she actually cared. And it was along with his newfound forgiveness at that funeral that he had realized that he was living for himself now. He didn't have anyone now that he wanted to be proud of him, now that both of his parents were gone. Being an only child didn't help things any, although he had always wanted a brother. And he thought he had found siblings in Kirk and Hikaru, found a family in the rest of the Enterprise. He loved them more than anything, and he had thought they did, too. Kirk was always so kind to him, as was Hikaru, and the pranks and stories they would share had confirmed for him that having elder brothers was just as he imagined it would be. He wanted them to be proud of him, and he had always thought that they were.

But just the fact that he was here alone proved to him just how wrong he was. They had explicitly told him just what they thought of him, but Pavel did not want to dwell on their unfair opinions any longer than he had to. Instead he now concentrated on walking, and tried as hard as he could to block out the white noise, which despite his earlier efforts seemed to have doubled in volume. It made his head swarm, tangling up his once focused thought, and he had to stop and press a hand against his forehead in a vain attempt to clear it. The noise was persistent, however, and seemed very good at getting under his skin and even further and louder into his head. The next few steps he took were so jumbled and confused that he knew he couldn't keep going until the white noise had died away. He leaned against one of the many tree trunks again, agitated beyond belief. The planet's initial welcoming and inviting feel had long since evaporated, and now everything seemed to blend together even more than it had before. There was still a light drizzle in the air, but it had actually increased since Pavel had last registered it. He welcomed the rain at first, hoping it would clear his mind, but the sensation of the droplets hitting his skin made his head as foggy as the mist hanging above him. He pressed himself against the tree trunk, the notion of just how terrible an idea this had been finally dawning on him, and it felt like a punch in the stomach. Pavel winced as the white noise reached it's peak, causing him to slide down the trunk and hit the spongy ground, his head throbbing.

Great. He thought dismally, tightly shutting his eyes as if that would make the pain stop. Way to go, Pavel. Look what you've gotten yourself into...they'll never believe you've grown up now, not when they find you passed out against a tree because you had a headache. Maybe they were right...maybe you are still just a kid... That last coherent thought passed through his head as the world began to blur around him, the trees and ground morphing into a thick wall of green and red. The soft soil was so plushy, so comfortable to rest in. He felt his eyes fluttering closed. Though half of him willed himself to stay awake, another part of him just yearned for sleep, uninterrupted and well deserved.

As his vision began to cave in, creating just a small tunnel for him to see through, he saw a pair of feet. Silver shoes, glittering with moisture from the mist, were coming towards him at a slow pace. The red ground made not a sound beneath the feet, though Chekov knew that there should be something. His ears were ringing with only white noise, his head was pounding and his thoughts were a jumbled mess of confusion. He watched the approaching stranger for as long as he could before his eyesight gave out. He was unable to hear, could not see a thing but the despairing blackness surrounding him. He was too tired to feel, to full of anguish to even think of anything more than finally sleeping, than giving up. He had failed the simplest of missions, and would just have to rest until Captain Kirk arrived to save the day. With guilt and shame tearing through his mind, he breathed in deeply and sighed, leaning forward to fall onto his stomach for a nice nap.