Chapter Six: In which we meet our favorite Russian (finally - did I say that out loud?), Karina has some slight internal conflict, Camille is a gem, and there's a lot more cryptic plot devices!

Note: So, in further installments, I will be writing Chekov's accent phonetically. I know y'all could probably fill it in automatically without any assistance, but for one thing, it was fun for me, and for another, I wanted to specify the difference between when he's speaking Standard and when he's speaking Russian. So, for future reference: No accent = Russian, accent = Standard.

I own nothing but my OCs. Star Trek is the property of its rightful owner, as are the characters.

That…was not exactly what Chekov had expected.

When Captain Pike had recommended these lessons, the last person he'd expected to show up and introduce herself as his instructor had been the girl who never looked where she was going. But here she was.

Breathe, he reminded himself. Breathing is a good idea.

So, that was her name then. Karina Bartowski. He sounded it out in his mind. Karina. Karina. Karina. Ka –

"I'm going to make a wild guess here and say you're Pavel?" she said. He snapped out of it only to find her standing right in front of him, where he could have sworn she'd just entered the room only a second before.

Gesturing around the room, she said, "I mean, what with all the other people I could choose from in here."

Other than the pair of them, the xenolinguistics classroom was completely empty. Pike had cleared them to utilize it as much as necessary, a privilege not granted to all.

He nodded. "Da."

She sat down across from him, heaving the bag dangling at her side up on the table. If everything in that thing was for today alone, he would consider feeling slightly intimidated. She didn't mess around, this one.

She looked like she was trying to recover from shock of some kind, or play it cool, or something like that. Either way, something was bothering her. He wanted to ask what it was, but figured such a question from someone she just met might only serve to freak her out more.

Behind her eyes, something flickered, as though she was shaking something off and she held her hand out. "Well, it's good to meet you, Pavel. I'm Karina."

He reached and shook her proffered hand. Attempting to form some kind of reply, the only thing that came out was, "Karina… that's a Russian name, isn't it?"

Oy. Why was he so caught up on her name?

Giving him a quizzical look but at least kind of smiling, she said after a moment, "I guess it is. It's some kind of Slavic, anyways. So, shall we get started?"

As she pulled a huge stack of paper out of her bag and started going through them, Chekov took the opportunity, what with her not looking, to study her – again. She never gave him a second look whenever she ran into him, which was a lot more frequently than should have been normal, but he'd gotten a good look at her a time or two.

She was short, definitely. He was sixteen, almost seventeen, so he probably wasn't quite finished growing, but he guessed her to be at least five inches shorter than him, if not more. Female cadets were required to wear their hair back when in class or at an assembly, but these were off-hours, and brown hair exactly a shade darker than his own was cascading over her shoulders, getting in her face and preventing him from getting a good look at that.

But he remembered her eyes from the last time they'd ran into each other, quite literally. No further study was needed there for him to recall their brown depths.

Snap out of it, Pavel, he told himself.

"Okay," Karina said, looking back up at him. He tried to appear as though he hadn't been staring, but knew he probably wasn't the most convincing of actors. And she did, in fact, frown just a bit before going on. "So, you're in the same boat I'm in here, right? Pike wants us on his crew. Slight obstacles stand in our way."

"I think the language barrier is more than a slight obstacle here," he muttered.

"Not the way I see it," she responded immediately, and he eyed her, impressed. Most people who spoke Russian but not as their first language found it hard to understand when he wasn't speaking up, but she'd picked up on every word. This girl really was as good as Captain Pike had said.

"I think we can do this in a year if need be," Karina said. "Most people taking foreign language classes learn over the course of four years or so before they're fluent. Which is why this is going to be really intense. I'm thinking we can take what most people learn in a year and compress it into three months. And so on, throughout the year." Smiling a little, she asked, "You scared of me yet?"

Slightly, he thought.

"Nyet," he said. "Keep going."

"That's about it, really," she said. "Although I'm warning you: Standard is a tricky one to learn. Even for those of us who speak it as a first language. Most other languages are pretty cut and dry. Not Standard It's actually kind of awful. You will probably hate me at least twice during the course of this for what I make you do for homework while you still have things for normal class to get done. I'm fully prepared for that. I'm a tough girl."

She passed him a sheet of paper. Looking at it and breathing a sigh of relief at the familiar Russian writing covering most of it, he squinted just slightly when he attempted to read the English.

"So, now that I've given you the necessary 'this is going to be awful' speech," Karina said, humor lacing her voice, "let's get started."

He nodded, and she looked down at her paper, which he assumed was a copy of what he held in his hand. "Basic pronunciation. That's what we're starting with here." Frowning, she paused and looked up at him. "Out of curiosity…how did you manage to get accepted into Starfleet without being able to speak Standard?"

Feeling a fair amount of pride and yet knowing that he was probably turning red, Chekov half-grinned ruefully. "Universal translator," he said. "I've been hiding one under my uniform all year."

Karina' jaw dropped. "How did you get one of those?" Then, shaking her head, she said, "Sorry. Not important. So, how did you get caught?"

Chekov winced. He wasn't sure he'd use that particular word choice, even though that was essentially what it had been. "Captain Pike called me in our first day back to personally request my assignment to the Enterprise. Of course, the translator only chose then to start malfunctioning. So there I am, with no idea what he's saying and absolutely no clue how to respond."

Karina took that in, nodded. "So, here we are because Pike's a man willing to cut deals?"

"Essentially."

She shrugged. "Works for me. So, where were we?"

"Basic pronunciation."

"Right. So, back to business…"

The door slid shut behind her, and Karina leaned up against it, dropping her bag and attempting to pull in a few normal breaths.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to be against her right now.

The last person she'd expected to see when she'd opened the door and walked into the classroom was the boy from the first day back. The one she'd crashed into less than delicately. She should have figured she'd eventually figuratively run into at least one of the people she'd literally run into, but of all of them, why did it have to be that one?

Fortunately, she'd fairly successfully played off the awkward. She was fairly certain Pavel didn't suspect a thing. Heck, the guy probably didn't even remember her. It was one insignificant little incident.

Her mind flashed back to that first day. She'd fangirled to Camille a little bit when they got back to their room, and of course Cam had run with it, getting way more excited than she should have. Where was Cam now? She had to hear this one –

Wait. What was she thinking? No, no, no. Camille couldn't possibly know about this. It was an awful idea on so many levels! She'd start seeing something when there was nothing there to see!

Karina kicked the bag under her desk and flopped down on her bed. Sure, the guy was cute. But she wasn't interested in any…thing, whatever "thing" might be defined as, for at least a few years. Plus, this was a business deal, between the pair of them and Captain Pike. She couldn't let silly, normal teenage stuff get in the way. Which Camille seemed determined to place squarely in her path.

If Cam was informed of this new development, Karina would never hear the end of it. And it would be easier for her to focus on the task at hand if she were to not hear none-too-subtle hints on a regular basis.

Nope. This was business, nothing more.

Karina thought back over their lesson. She'd actually enjoyed it, despite the monotonous beginner's work they'd been doing. Pavel was just as sharp as Captain Pike had told her. She liked the guy. Once they'd gotten past her "the Standard language is a monster that will suck all happiness from your soul" speech, he'd loosened up a lot. And it wasn't just his face that was cute. He was pretty adorable, as well.

If Cam could hear her thoughts, oh, the connotations she'd put to them. Karina buried her face in her pillow and yelled in frustration. It was like she had a little Camille on her shoulder all the time, forcing her to question her own thoughts. Why did this have to be so complicated, just because she was a girl, and he was…well, not?

"You know, I've heard things about Russians being pretty tough, but I didn't think it would be that bad," came Camille's voice from the doorway. Karina shot straight up off the bed.

"Cam," she said. "You freaked me out for a few seconds there…" Karina's voice trailed off as her gaze dropped to Camille's casted wrist. "What did you do this time?"

"You know, I'm kind of tired of telling people this story," Camille muttered, dropping her stuff on her desk, which was cluttered beyond belief. Not that Karina was one to judge. Hers was just as bad. Flopping down on her bed just as Karina had done moments before, Cam added, "Let's hear about your day, and maybe I'll consider telling you about the idiot move that caused this. So, how was it? Your student a monster or something?"

Karina pondered how she could keep this completely gender neutral.

"Nah," she said. "Not at all, actually. Of course, this is just the first lesson. I could be getting a wolf in sheep's clothing for all I know."

Cam nodded. "So what was with that little outburst into the pillow? What did it ever do to you?"

Karina shrugged. "Other stuff, I guess."

Cam sat up, looking like she was about to say something she knew Karina wouldn't appreciate. Karina stiffened, bracing herself.

"So, Kari," she began. "I'm pretty sure you're going to hate me for bringing it up again, but…"

Karina groaned inwardly. Here we go…

"I really think you need to look into what happened with your parents," Camille said. "You know it's going to drive you insane until you find out."

"Cam, that was eleven years ago. I think whatever happened is in the past and no matter what, needs to stay there."

Camille eyed her with a shrewd gaze. "Karina Louise," she said. "Don't you pull that on me. You are seriously the most curious person I've met. This is still niggling at you, isn't it?"

Karina pursed her lips, trying to come up with a decent comeback. Finally, she gave up.

"You win. I can't stand this not knowing much longer. But once again, Cam, I have no time. I'm not just a student. I'm also teaching now."

"One person," Camille retorted.

"Still! It's no small task, trying to cram what would normally take four years into one," Karina snapped. "Please stop bugging me about this. I just can't do it right now. Maybe a few years down the road, but not now."

Camille was silent for a few minutes. Then,

"I could do it for you."

Karina narrowed her eyes. "Come again?"

"You heard me, Kari. I'll do it for you. I'll call the nuns. I'll search the archives. Whatever you need me to do. Like I said, you've gotta know your past, kid. And if it's your parents, it's you, too. How did your parents really die? Who was your dad? How was he involved with Starfleet? How did you survive that bomb, if that was the real story? And if so, who killed them? I'll find out, Kari. Just give me permission."

Karina sat down next to Camille. "That's a bit of a commitment," she said. "Are you sure you have enough time?"

"Well, I'm still just a student," Cam retorted. "I have nothing occupying my time in the evenings. Hey, I'll get Jim to help. Maybe he can make this his report, rather than just a boring old write-up."

Karina threw her arms around her friend. "You, Camille Osbourne, are an angel."

Camille snorted and returned the embrace. "Yeah, right, honey. I may be a gem but I ain't no angel. Now, incidentally, they're showing a movie in the assembly hall tonight. Sort of a 'congratulations, you've survived your first week back' thing. I vote we haul on some pajamas, pop some popcorn, and grab a couple of cartons of Ben and Jerry's before we head down. What do you say?"

Karina smiled, jumping up off the bed. "Dibs on the bathroom!" she cried, running to it before Cam could even react.

"I'll get the popcorn ready while you're in there," Camille called from behind the closed door.

Karina breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that had gone over well. Hopefully from that point on, Camille would be perfectly satisfied just to know that the lessons were going well and wouldn't dig for details. But knowing Cam…

…that situation was unlikely.

The phone started vibrating so violently the whole desk shook. The hacker uttered a curse of frustration, stared for a few moments at the time slowly running down on his opportunity to get the code figured out, and finally picked up the phone. Normally he wouldn't answer the phone while on the job, but this was the boss. No sense in angering this one, that's for sure.

"Have you found anything yet?" The voice on the other end of the phone was controlled, suave, and had beguiled many a man – or woman – into doing exactly what its owner required of them. The hacker shuddered. Any answer he gave would just inch him to getting him on this man's bad side, a place he'd sworn vehemently never to go.

Resigned, he knew getting it over with was the best option here and said, "Sorry, boss. I got nothing for you. Starfleet is practically under, well, virtually speaking, chains. And we're talking layers upon layers of – "

"Spare me the details," the voice spat, showing its other form, snarling and savage. This was the form that had struck fear into those who managed to see through his charisma. Only a rare few struggled through the fear without complying.

"I want him found, and now," the boss growled. "Now get on it, or you'll be wishing you had never agreed to work for me all those years ago. Was that quite clear, or shall I say it louder and slower the better to get it through your thick head?"

Swallowing but not denying his slight irritation, he replied, "Yes, boss. I'm on it."

"Good. Call me when you find something."

The hacker moved his swivel chair from the computer he'd been working on to his backup console. One would think hacking would have gotten easier in the past two hundred years, but on the contrary, it was practically impossible to hack into these advanced systems. At least, with anything similar.

Fortunately, he'd found another option.

One had to be of genius proportions to break into anything with a new system, and he wasn't quite there. Above average, definitely, but not genius. So he'd picked up a few antique consoles from a pawn shop down the street, managed to get them working again, and used them to hack into the more advanced computer systems. Most hackers would scoff at the idea, claiming the antiques were so out of date there was no way they could possibly best the intellect of artificial intelligence. But in fact, they made hacking relatively simple. Not a lot of thinking involved. As a man of action, that was what he preferred.

A man of action who'd been kicked out of the military and was reduced to this.

Unfortunately, the process was also a lot slower. He never took more than two jobs at a time, so he didn't have to utilize his personal computer – a lot easier to trace. But he began to wonder about the safety of taking these particular two at the same time. He'd lost four hours of work because of the phone call, and they were hours he couldn't afford to lose. And now he had to work on his other job, leaving that one for even longer. It was unclear to him which of his employers he feared angering more.

It was going to be a long night.