Although I am unable to write often, I do enjoy it very much! Here is the first of 7 bittersweet scribblings that will be my first contributions to the pool of Star Trek fictions. This fiction is based off of the alternate universe created (partly) by J.J. Abrams, as I haven't watched enough of the original series to properly fall in love with that storyline. (I do plan on watching all of the original series and movies chronologically someday.) I hope you enjoy!
Blue Skies Ahead, Captain
By Unclaimed Demigod
Theme Song: "Nature of Daylight" by Max Richter, from the "Shutter Island" movie soundtrack
Chapter One: That Russian Kid
Written 11.26.16
Pavel Chekov joined Starfleet at the age of 15; he was one of the youngest ever to make that kind of sacrifice for their planet.
There wasn't a day that he never smiled; his crewmates can tell you that. Ask any of them.
He was the Enterprise's youngest crewmember, yet not the most incompetent.
On the day he died, everyone was there with him. He was scared, very scared, but with his Captain on one side of him, and one of his best friends Hikaru Sulu on his other, death wasn't as cold.
There had been a mutiny on the Enterprise. Mutiny. No one ever joked about the meaning of that word, yet no one on the Enterprise took it as a possibility on their ship; not with Captain James Kirk aboard.
Living beings can make mistakes, we can guess wrong, but we can't always go back and take the necessary precautions.
They were floating out in space in a partially disabled shuttle when he passed. Almost everyone there cried when at last his labored breathing stopped.
When it was all over, when the Enterprise was recovered, the perpetrators were in jail, and everything was back to "normal," Kirk set himself to the task of pulling together Ensign Chekov's last report.
He was almost too shocked to assemble the documents concerning Chekov. He also didn't know quite where to start. He had hardly known Chekov when he first became Captain, he'd, at first, just called him "that Russian kid," and even when Chekov had been a crewmember for four or five years Kirk had still referred to him as such.
He didn't feel strong enough for any of this. Death is a pull back into reality. You're sitting on your butt, living your somewhat comfortable life, when suddenly a buddy dies and death takes you by the hand and roughly jerks you to your feet.
They hour came when Kirk had to call Chekov's mother. He almost chickened out and ordered Spock to do it for him. The mostly unemotional Vulcan would be the ideal bearer of news; tears wouldn't get in the way of his message. But in a case like this it was protocol, Starfleet procedure, for the Captain to deliver the news. Personally if possible, if not, by an on screen call. A live on screen call.
As soon as the face of Chekov's mother appeared live on his private screen in his quarters, as he spoke the words that he knew would crush her, he was forced to act concerned but not too concerned under federation rule. You were delivering a death notice, not seeking comfort.
After saying hello and all of that, Kirk barely choked back the heavy emotion in his voice as he delivered the weighty message.
"I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you Mrs. Chekov, that on June 19th, around 1600 hours, your son the Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov lost his life from fatal puncture wounds to his upper body."
Chekov's mother broke down, and it was all Kirk could do to not spill the tears that welled up in his eyes.
"He died a hero ma'am."
Kirk knew that nothing he could say could cool and heal the gaping wound in her heart, in all of their hearts, but he had to try.
"He saved 30 crewmembers' lives, and aided in the destroying of several of the mutineers before…" His voice hitched. Mrs. Chekov didn't appear to be listening, but he had to tell her. "Before he was hurt."
He was going to end with another pitiful "I'm sorry" and then end the communication, when suddenly she lifted her tear splashed face and asked, "Did he die alone?"
Alone. She wasn't asking if he was the only one to die, but if he was by himself, if no one was holding his hand, if he went into the unknown without people to help him be brave.
"No. I was with him. I and the rest of the crew that he saved."
She slowly nodded at this. "Pavel was a good boy. He joined Starfleet at 15, did you know that?" Kirk nodded. As Captain he had to know a lot about his crew.
"Most teenagers, even the talented ones, wouldn't give up their years for the good of others. But Pavel,…" She paused for a moment; Kirk wondered if their talk was over.
"Pavel is…was different. Even as a child he was selfless. When he was 7 years old, his father died. There was no money, eventually no food. And Pavel, you know what he did? He wouldn't eat until his sisters, his baby brother, and even I had eaten; just to make sure everyone got a meal. I tried to not allow it, but, you can't break…it isn't right to try to break good….habits….a good nature."
She talked for hours about Chekov, Kirk soon felt as if he knew Chekov less like a Captain, and more like a brother. When Mrs. Chekov saw how tired Kirk looked, she thanked him and broke the link.
Kirk sat there for a while, staring at his reflection in the screen. Wonder, survivor's guilt, and pain all jumbled together to form a boiling, writhing mess inside him.
He turned his screen back on to finish Chekov's certificate of…certificate of death.
()()() Certificate of Passing for: Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov
Date of Birth: 2241
Date of Passing: 2263
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Position(s): Navigator, Weapons officer, Science officer
Ensign Chekov joined the United Federation of Planets and Starfleet in the year of 2256. He was top of his class in stellar cartography and transporter theory. A few notable facts are that Ensign Chekov was an expert in advanced theoretical physic, was the youngest cadet in history to win the Starfleet Academy marathon, and was the youngest Starfleet Academy graduate at the age of seventeen. ()()()
Beat my record of graduating by a year, thought Kirk. The kid was a genius. Had been a genius. As he typed in additions to Chekov's file, he didn't notice that his tears had stopped.
When he realized he had started to add personal notes to the file he paused. These notes wouldn't be cut out unless at the request of Starfleet or Chekov's mother. He decided to leave them in.
()()() Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise: Additional Notes:
Chekov was the youngest crewmember aboard the Enterprise. Even though I'm Captain, I'm still closer in age to Chekov than a lot of the crew. We weren't extremely close, but I knew Chekov well enough to realize that in a fight he had my back. He wasn't the most popular crewmember on board, I doubt more than a fourth of the crew knew his first name. What friends he had though, he was close to, Ensign Uhura and Sulu being two of them.
I don't know if these notes are going to be cut out later on for being too personal, but I feel like I need to put them down. Words aren't enough to really describe a person, but I'm doing my best.
Chekov smiled every day. Whenever he got too excited, Ensign Uhura would end up having to interpret his animated Russian to the rest of us. He was a lot braver and definitely smarter than most of us, and I think whatever supernatural being there is out there for letting Chekov be one of the crew on this ship. ()()()
As he tapped 'Save,' he still felt like he hadn't quite covered who Chekov was. He felt angry with himself for not knowing Chekov better, but as the next days flashed by, he realized that was regret.
Regret. That nauseating little emotion that sprouts from grief.
Kirk buried it away beneath the rest of the regret and pain that made up his life, but as he did so, he found memories. Good memories.
They were still allowed to remember Chekov, even as they mourned for him.
James T. Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, straightened his gold-yellow shirt, and the rest of the crew joined him, and never stopped, in remembering Pavel Chekov: crewmate, brother, boy genius, friend.
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