Chapter 15

"Can I take a moment," Araxis went on after stifling an unsettling laugh, "to say that it's pretty pathetic how well that worked? I think the real lesson here, though, is to never leave your technology unattended. Don't tell me your mother never got after you for leaving your stuff lying around." With an admonishing nod, he indicated a pile of crates to his right. Sitting wide open on top of it was Chekov's laptop, the schematic of the ship, complete with his meticulous programming, filling the whole display.

"I found it sitting on the lift all by itself." The man sniffed in mock sadness. "It looked so…so lonely, I just had to take it with me. Newsflash, turns out, it's really easy to find and track someone using their own program on their own computer."

Chekov could only stare in humiliated silence. All of his precautions, all of his planning, and he had to lose his mind and drop his laptop at the worst possible moment in the worst possible place.

"As much as it pains me to admit, I guess I owe you one, kiddo. You would not believe the endless galactic scavenger hunt I've gone through to finally arrive at this moment. Ha, until a few nights ago, I didn't even know what I was looking for. I mean, I knew I was close, but that very informative brush with death you experienced saved me a lot of trouble, let me tell you. Good thing, too, because I was about to throw that sphere in the box with the other junk I'd been packing up to sell."

"That…that was you stealing from the archives?!" cried Briony.

"Great cover, huh?" Araxis beamed. "Ahh, and to think I'd been so wary of commandeering this self-centered human at first."

"What are you talking about?"

"Pay attention, because I'm only going to explain this once. I can't survive without a physical form, therefore Araxis and Schvanevedt are two different beings in a single body. I'm lucky to have found him just before my previous host so inconveniently succumbed to extreme exhaustion. I call it 'body hopping'. Clever, isn't it?"

"No, it's disgust—" started Briony.

"I wasn't talking to you!"

"Sorry, geez."

"Yes, anyway, what an amusing game this is turning out to be. Stealing older-than-dirt technology, duplicating artifacts, getting filthy rich on the side with minimal effort—not that I care about such primal desires, but one must sometimes satisfy the petty needs of the host to further one's agenda. Speaking of which, I would have successfully framed Dr. Sylar, but kid-genius here had to go berserk all over the bridge and I got buried under rubble instead. I mean, I was right in the middle of exchanging the—agh!" He squeezed his eyes shut and took a steadying breath. "I won't lie, that hurt in more ways than one. Curse this stupid, clumsy cage of a human body with its endless defects and limitations."

"But I…I saw you in medbay," Chekov spluttered.

Araxis plowed in with an obnoxious and incredibly accurate imitation of a sports buzzer.

"Wrong! You saw the projected hologram I activated while everyone stood there watching you run out of the psych ward dragging wires and screaming like a maniac. Nice distraction, by the way. Very classy exit; both useful and entertaining. I love it when things are entertaining."

Despite the insult, Chekov's memory rolled back to the empty biobed that caught his fall only minutes before. The device casting the image of an injured Schvaneveldt must have been shaken loose by the explosion…

Wait, the explosion… If he remembered correctly, there had been a couple others before the one that knocked him off his feet in medbay, both of which had sent personnel, including the senior staff, rushing off in every direction away from the archives. Even a citizen of a developing planet unable to so much as comprehend the idea of space travel would understand that the archives couldn't possibly be essential to basic ship function during a crisis…

And now here he was, alone, weaponless, and barely able to see straight. He'd wobbled right into the hands of a warped and dangerous man he could no longer be sure was actually sane. Or human, for that matter.

Instinctively, Chekov clutched the sphere to his middle, stepping back.

"Aw, come oooon, no fair," whined Araxis. "Don't make this difficult. You'll only cause yourself more pain and embarrassment and I don't have the time to sit back and actually enjoy it right now."

"Don't you dare give it to him!" shouted Briony. "There has to be another—"

"Will you quit—" He jabbed the phaser into her neck a little harder. "You are so annoying! I just…how?! Where does it all come—" His attention returned abruptly to Chekov. "Never mind, getting off topic. Listen, twerp, if you're gonna play, you need to get one thing straight; this is my game and we're playing by my rules. That means I'm calling the shots and I want the sphere. Now."

"No," Chekov said immediately. "I will never—"

"Nobility alert! Somebody didn't get the memo that I make the rules! Here, I'll lay them out for you in nice, small, simple words." Araxis cleared his throat. "You, brain-challenged hooman, have shiny magic ball. Me, mega-brain genius, want shiny magic ball. If you no give shiny magic ball…uh-ohhh, me make spaceship go boom. Then me take shiny magic ball from cold, dead fingers anyway. Ooh! Me even prepared with visual aid! Three…two…one."

"OY, NYET—" Chekov went sprawling as another nearby explosion rocked the whole ship.

"Whoopsie."

"Stop! Please, you hef to stop doing zat! People are getting hurt!"

"I'm a busy guy. I have places to go, things to do, and I could care less about blowing up your ugly boat once I leave it. Until then, however, I'm afraid I have no choice but to detonate another surprise, each more exciting than the last, for every minute of my time you waste." A grin crawled along Araxis's thin, nearly colorless lips. "Your move."

"What is wrong with you?!" Briony struggled in the man's hold. "How did you even—"

"Oh, so easy. Just like I've been stealing artifacts, I've been building and stashing explosives every couple of weeks since I got on this garbage tank. Lack of security much?" He snorted. "Here's a suggestion: if you don't want awkward situations like this coming up, don't build ships with such conveniently camouflaged crawlspaces. Also, update your technology already. Ugh, I can barely stand it."

Climbing back to his feet, Chekov glanced down at the sphere still clenched in his fist. The lives of everyone aboard the Enterprise were now on his shoulders. All of his friends, his entire family, everything he knew and loved would be systematically destroyed if he didn't hand over this tiny piece of metal…

And yet, it wasn't just a tiny piece of metal and they both knew it. He was the sole beacon of hope to a world full of real people with real lives yet to live. A world depending on him to return them safely home. How could he deny them what they had been waiting unfathomable ages for?

"Still not working for you? Wow, you're a lot more dense than I thought! I know, let me pull out the big exposition guns and take it from another angle. I know who you are, squirt, and I know exactly what part in this tale you play. In fact, I probably know more about it than you. Question is…do you know anything about me?" He let go of Briony, shoving her to the floor before taking a menacing step toward Chekov. "Get lost, chubby."

"Hey!"

"Do you know that I've literally spent an eternity taking on countless forms, living countless lives in search of the artifact you're holding in that inferior, shaking hand?"

He paused to allow Chekov space to answer, but the boy remained frozen.

"No? Well, let me tell you a little about myself. My name is Araxis and I love stirring up trouble and making messes and I live for pulling the cosmic rug out from under anyone within reach and watching everything fall apart because it's infinitely entertaining…" The grin faded into a disturbingly child-like expression of irritation. "Except when things don't go my way."

"Shut up, you moronic freakshow reject!" Something long and metallic glinted in Briony's hands as she suddenly rushed Araxis from behind.

He turned on her, flinging out an arm, and to his horror, Chekov could see flecks of orange and yellow energy flowing from the man's fingertips. Araxis seized the solid shard of metal as Briony took a swing, wrenching it from her grasp and twisting it until it snapped in half. Then, after throwing it aside, his eyes flared and a massive, scorching ball of wind and flame swirled into existence above him.

"I said…GET. LOST."

"Briony, MOVE—"

Chekov's warning came too late. With the flick of a wrist, Araxis sent the whirlwind thundering toward the petrified girl, hurling her backwards to crash into the opposite wall.

"NO!" There was no hesitation. Despite his unsteadiness, Chekov broke into a full sprint for his fallen friend. No more than three bounds in, he heard the phaser, then felt an excruciating burning in his left leg just above the knee joint. Screaming in agony, he dropped to the floor, but he didn't have the pleasure of staying there for long. A white-hot, suffocating force, almost the exact opposite of what he'd experienced when Matharus had frozen him in place, enveloped him completely.

Bright, crackling ribbons of red, orange and yellow light wound tightly around his limbs and body like ropes of pure flame, jerking him into the air. Heedless of his flailing attempts to maintain contact with solid ground, they flung him twenty feet across the room, slamming him against the row of lockers.

"You have no idea how satisfying this is." Araxis paused to allow himself another inhuman chortle. "I haven't had this much fun in centuries. Oh, and look! The big guy's symbolically shoving the little guy into the lockers! How cute is that?"

Through blurred vision and heatwaves, Chekov watched him draw closer until the amber eyes hovered less than a foot away from his face. Apparently unsatisfied with the amount of terror and discomfort his victim was already enduring, the creature resembling Schvaneveldt decided to take things a step further and seized him by the throat. The move was wholly unnecessary, as the blazing particles had already immobilized Chekov.

"First Briony, now you. Aww, and look at you, the high and mighty bridge-crew officer, so vulnerable and scared with nowhere to run…even if you could. Too bad nobody volunteered to babysit tonight."

Araxis reached for the sphere, which had miraculously remained in the teen's grasp through the pummeling thus far. Forcing an involuntary, pain-ridden gurgle of fear through clenched jaws, Chekov gripped the round artifact, channeling into his fingers every last shred of strength and determination he had left, but it was no use. Araxis plucked it easily from his hand like an apple from a tree. Eyes gleaming in triumph, he studied Chekov a moment. Then, the fiery power released the teen and he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

"I guess I should have told you earlier, but better late than never, right? This is my stop. I'm finally getting off this glorified shuttle and you get to come with me. Surprise!"

…

"Captain on the bridge!" someone shouted as Kirk bounded off the lift into controlled chaos with Spock and Uhura on his heels.

"Sulu, status report," he commanded over the din.

"Aye, sir. Multiple explosions on decks A through C, gradually increasing in severity and quantity—"

"Captain," another crewmember addressed him from behind. "Phaser fire…in the archives."

He whirled. "The archives?"

"Sir," came a third petition for his attention, "unidentified vessel off the port bow…"

"Now what?" Kirk muttered through gritted teeth, turning back the other way. "How big?"

"Small…uh, possibly a cargo vessel of some—"

"Any distinguishable Klingon or Romulan markings?"

"No, sir—"

"Good. It can wait, but keeps tabs on it just in case."

"Aye, sir."

"Captain," Spock said by his side.

"What is it, Spock?" The question came out with a little more force than he'd intended.

The Vulcan continued despite his friend's exasperated outburst. "Given that the explosions seem to be concentrated in the upper levels of the ship, it is only logical to assume that the culprit is endeavoring to draw our attention away from the lower decks."

Kirk blinked. "Did you say they're trying to..."

"Affirmative."

"Oh, no. It's not sabotage—"

"—It's a distraction!" finished Uhura. "Someone wants to keep us occupied up here, but why?"

Kirk stared at her, eyes widening suddenly. "Phaser fire in the—Spock, you have the conn."

"Aye, sir."

"Uhura, you're with me! The archives—go-go-go!"

…

Someone was shaking her shoulder and calling her name repeatedly. Was it time for work already? She could have sworn she'd just flopped into bed, but…but her head…it ached terribly. What could she possibly have done to cause such an ache? Bits of memory floating just out of her reach began connecting…artifact…with a mandala…the vault…glowing eyes and sparks…a powerful, scorching blast of wind—

"I'M NOT DEAD!" Briony gasped, snapping bolt upright, which she immediately regretted. "Aagh, my head—make it stop…"

"Easy. Just take it easy…"

That voice… But how…? She blinked, trying to bring the face in front of her into focus.

"That's it," Dr. Sylar encouraged with a hand on her back.

Dr. Sylar? Schvaneveldt—he was innocent! Dr. Sylar was innocent and she'd…

"Oh—oh, no—I shot you!" she blurted, noticing the nasty gash on one side of his head. He must have hit something on his way to the ground.

"Yes. Yes, you did. On the lowest stun setting, fortunately."

"B-but you didn't steal the—I destroyed the door! How did you get out?"

"I found one of those passages you mentioned. Schvaneveldt's probably been using it for months and we never even noticed…" he trailed off, clenching a fist in frustration and shaking his head.

A shiver ran down her spine. "Uggh, I don't know what that was, but it wasn't Schvaneveldt."

"What are you talking about? Schvaneveldt's still in med—"

"No, he's not. I ran in here after I…" She swallowed. "He's not Schvaneveldt. I don't even think he's actually human."

"What do you mean?"

"He was waiting for me here in the vault. His eyes were glowing this weird, creepy…and he said his real name was 'Araxis'."

"Araxis?"

"Yeah, and he has some seriously freaky powers going on all of a sudden. I mean, he used a sort of…telekinetic…" she waved a hand around, sifting through her muddled mind for an appropriate word, "…force…on me—took the phaser right out of my hands—kind of like how Chekov…"

Her eyes widened as she searched the room in vain.

"Wait, Chekov! Where's…"

She was interrupted by a shout from just outside the doorway and two people, one in red and one in gold, came dashing into the vault to join them, each armed and looking as if they had just completed a marathon.

"Captain!" Briony said, not entirely sure what to make of this reappearance.

"Phaser fire," were the first breathless words out of his mouth. "There were reports of…phaser fire…"

"Thank every star in the galaxy you're here! Chekov…Chekov's missing!"

Gasping, Captain Kirk leaned over with his hands on his knees and shook his head. "Not…not anymore. I got him back to med—"

"No, he's not in medbay!" Briony exclaimed urgently, scrambling to her feet. "He was here—both of them were!"

"Both of who?" asked Lieutenant Uhura.

"Chekov and Schvaneveldt—except Schvaneveldt isn't really Schvaneveldt and he escaped medbay to use me as bait to lure Chekov to the vault so he could take the sphere and they had this whole confrontation…" Briony squeezed her eyes shut, grinding her fists into her temples. "Gah—t'ghjust—okay, I don't know how it all fits together chronologically, but they were definitely here and they're definitely not here now—"

"Bridge to Captain Kirk…"

The captain swiped the communicator from his belt. "Go ahead, Spock."

"We are picking up an unauthorized beaming signal from the transporter room."

The four of them froze before exchanging wordless, openmouthed glances, each having already put together the sparse pieces of information they were lucky enough to have.

…

Zyrete had always worked alone.

Her ship, the Mouruka-Riibu, was compact and sleek in design, one of the fastest in the business and ideal for those looking to move small amounts of goods—legal or not—quickly and without attracting too much attention. Never one to shy away from a fresh challenge, she'd made a name for herself taking the odd gigs nobody else would touch. Her travels took her to interesting places, she made friends and connections, even an enemy or two, and the abundant payment and reputation she gained in return weren't so bad either.

That was how he must have heard of her, why he'd approached her one day in a busy trading cross-roads hub. Though something about his voice made her tail bush out just a bit, Zyrete listened calmly, leaning against the bar and sipping a drink as the tall man talked over his offer like a parent would talk to an exceptionally slow child. He was arrogant, brash, impatient, and seemed to be trying to intimidate her, but a job was a job and he was nothing she hadn't dealt with before.

The task sounded easy enough. Typical black-market run, this time dealing in valuable artifacts. She maintained certain boundaries, of course, but as long as there was a profit to be made, she usually didn't care what kind of goods she was transporting, preferring to stay as far out of the current client's personal business as possible.

The deal went down, they parted ways and she didn't hear from him again…until today, a few hours ago. Luckily, she'd been in the area when the message came through, which meant a shorter trip, and in turn, less time standing between her and another well-earned remuneration.

Her confidence took a dive, however, as she approached the specified coordinates. It wasn't unheard of to meet practically in the middle of nowhere for a drop or pick-up, but this particular piece of nowhere was already occupied by a Federation starship. A big one at that.

Immediately wary, Zyrete eased up on the throttle, giving the ship a wide berth. She'd had dealings with several Starfleet officers before, a couple of them pretty high up the command ladder. Every organization had its dirty little secrets and the Federation was no different, but a whole ship? That was bizarre.

She guided the Riibu in an arc, observing the starship from stem to stern at a safe distance, hopefully just beyond standard scanner range.

"Hm…the Enterprise," she said with mild interest.

The ship was a beauty, as Federation vessels always were, sleek and powerful with a body built for speed and efficiency. Zyrete couldn't help but wonder what kinds of fancy gadgets and scientific equipment they had onboard and secretly hoped for an opportunity to take a peek inside one of these things someday.

"Don't worry, girl," she said, patting the control panel as the Riibu gave a slight shudder as if in jealous protest. "I still love you the most. They always pack way too many people into those starships, anyway."

She skimmed past the back ends of nacelles, dipping below the ship while her mind raced through various questions and possibilities. This was obviously strange, but there was nothing to indicate some kind of malicious prank or foul play. Not yet, at least. Still, out of habit, one hand lingered over the throttle just in case. After a few more cautious moments of careful surveillance, it occurred to Zyrete that the Enterprise appeared to be at a complete standstill. Not only that, but everything was eerily quiet. Flying so close to a big starship like this, she thought they would have tried to hail her by now, requesting identification and purpose…

On second thought, forget it, something was definitely off with this picture. She was about to call it a bogus gig and bail for the sake of her own skin when a voice finally crackled through the comms panel, making her jump.

"—raxis to Riibu, come in Riibu…"

She fumbled for the button.

"Riibu, here," Zyrete replied quickly.

"Oh, good. At least someone's not being insuff—ly—tupid—"

The transmission sizzled out briefly.

"Wait, what?" Zyrete asked. "Was that an explo—"

"Standby, we're beaming aboard…"

"Aagh, whoa, whoa!" She scrambled to bring the Riibu to a stop. "Do you want your atoms scattered from here to—also, what do you mean by 'we'?"

She bolted from the pilot's seat to the hatch at the end of a narrow passageway directly behind the cockpit. In a fluid movement, she dove in feet-first, catching the worn railing on each side of the ladder and sliding the rest of the way down. Landing lightly at the bottom, she turned just in time to see the glowing swirl of an incoming transport. She shielded her eyes as the miniature tornado of light grew brighter and a shape began to materialize.

"Are you crazy—" Zyrete stopped short, eyes widening in pure shock.

Standing in the middle of her cargo hold was Araxis, the tall, haughty man who had commissioned her several months before, this time in a blue Starfleet uniform. And he wasn't alone. Struggling in his grip was a slightly smaller, much younger, and obviously injured human.

"Shut up!" Araxis hissed to the boy as he attempted to scream something through the hand clamped over his mouth.

"What's this?" Zyrete demanded, motioning to the distressed boy. "Who is this?! Where's my cargo?!"

"My apologies, fuzz-face, but I'm afraid there's been a last-minute change of plans."

"Who is he?!"

"Oh, him?" the man said as if noticing his victim for the first time. "He's the change of plans."

A wave of anger overcame her, flushing out the initial shock. "You told me I would be transporting artifacts. That was the deal."

"You still are." Araxis let go of the boy, allowing him to drop before stepping over him. "And it still is."

"This is a person, you idiot, not an artifact!" Zyrete growled through bared fangs. "I don't traffic people! Period!"

"Well, you do now. Congratulations."

"I don't think so." She planted herself firmly in front of the ladder. "Deal's off. I don't want your business, I don't want your money, and I don't care if I ever see your disgusting mug again. Get off my ship before I shove you out the airlock—"

Araxis's eyes suddenly flared a terrifying, unnatural amber hue before he seized her by the throat and lifted her easily off the ground. Boots dangling, she clawed at his hand as he slammed her into the ladder and held her there.

"You're lucky I just finished giving this brat the beating of his life, otherwise you'd be right there on the floor with him. As amusing as that would be, that's not what I hired you for, is it?" His grip loosened and her feet met the floor again with a heavy thud. "But I'll definitely keep it in mind for later. Now get…moving."