"Captain," Engineer Scott's voice slipped through the speakers. Captain Kirk tapped a button on his chair, leaning over the armrest.
"Yes, Scotty, what is it?"
"Nothing major, Sir, since we're not stopping off anywhere, but the pressure readings in Shuttlebay are a wee bit off-kilter."
"Anything I can do, Scotty?"
"Yes, Sir, if you'd be so kind; I could use an extra set of hands, if you can spare it."
Doctor McCoy, standing idly in the Bridge, immediately pulled his hands away from the chair and folded them behind his back. When the captain looked at him, he shook his head.
"Not that desperate," he shrugged. Kirk nodded and looked to the Navigators.
Sulu and Chekov glanced at one another, in precise, silent communication. Their eyes moved together, as they watched an invisible coin, spinning undecided on the table. It settled, and they looked up.
"I thought it vas your turn," mumbled Chekov, squinting.
"No," Sulu corrected, "Do you remember, oh, it must've been—"
They spoke at once:
"Last week," said Sulu
"Last veek," said Chekov.
The younger man nodded, stood, and turned to face Captain Kirk.
"I vill report to Engineering, Keptin."
"Thank you, Ensign. Noted."
Chekov straightened his shirt upon exiting the lift. Scotty met him in the corridor, leaning casually against the wall.
"Vhat vould you like me to do, Mester Scott?"
The engineer extended his hand.
"Scotty," he explained, as the ensign hesitantly shook it.
"Ve have met before…" Chekov began, following him toward the shuttlebay.
"Aye," Scotty said quietly. He said nothing else until they reached their destination; they stood and stared into the bay, then at the readings on the panel beside the door.
"What do ya know about regulation readings for pressure fluctuations?"
Chekov glanced up, eager to compose a worthwhile exaggeration.
"I studied zis at Academy, Sir. It vas the subject of my dissertation."
Scotty turned and took a single step away from the shuttle room.
"It's a miracle ya graduated, then," the engineer chuckled, "because I just made that up."
The ensign coughed and rolled back his shoulders. Scotty watched, entertained.
"I'm not gonna give ya a quiz, Mister Chekov."
"May I ask zen, Sir, vhy you called for me?"
The engineer continued walking down the corridor, followed intently by his pupil.
"I didn't call for anyone in particular… just like to keep the captain on his toes."
"Zhere is nothing wrong?"
Engineer Scott shook his head, and ran one hand longingly over the railing as they passed it. They were spiraling toward the Engine Room.
"Could ya give that button a tap, Laddie?" Scotty tossed his arm against a line of buttons, flashing blue and yellow in quick succession.
Chekov complied. The colors and rhythm did not change.
"Vell?"
"Well I had to say ya helped me with something. That alone was worth a bottle of scotch."
"I don't like scotch," muttered Chekov, into his shoulder.
"But you'll learn to, won't ya, if I forward a commendation to the captain?"
The ensign gave a slow, cunning smile.
"Zis sounds like a fair trade."
"Not a trade, my boy. A gift."
Again, they shook hands. Both turned and walked to their respective cabins, satisfied with their evening off.
When Chekov returned to his seat on the Bridge the next day, he found what was obviously a bottle of scotch, wrapped up in a set of scrubs from Sickbay. When asked, Sulu said he 'hadn't noticed' anyone depositing the gift. Chekov shrugged, and set it on the ground beneath his feet.
"Scotty said you got everything sorted out in record-time, Mister Chekov," the captain hummed, "I'm very impressed."
Chekov sat tall and proud in his chair, earning a friendly pat from the captain and a raised eyebrow from Sulu. They looked at each other for a moment.
"Zhank you, Sir," Chekov said, glancing comfortably at the poorly-wrapped bottle, "It vas nothing."
Go tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere.