Thank you for the birthday wishes, and for everyone who's reviewed so far! This has been the most complicated story I've written to date, so I hope you're all enjoying/understanding/ loving what's going on!

Chapter Ten: Lies, Damn Lies

Chekov expected an interrogation the minute he reported to duty. Walking into the sunlit Starfleet Headquarters', his hat firmly atop his curls and his posture erect, Chekov anticipated a more forceful reaction to his appearance. Perhaps he'd be surrounded and escorted to some basement room. Or brought in front of a panel of admirals. Instead, all that happened were a few surprised glances casted his way as he hurried through the atrium, no one stopping him as he made is way up to one of briefing rooms.

Top command was meeting to discuss the attack on the rechristening the day before, trying to figure out who, what, and why. As the only member of the Enterprise's bridge crew left, both Carol and Chekov agreed that it made sense for him to attend the meeting. Not only would they have a direct link to what was unraveling in the investigation, but they'd have courtside seats if something suspicious was happening, like they both suspected.

Stepping into the conference room while removing his hat and tucking it under his arm, he noticed the alarm on many of the admirals' faces, but no one jumped up and grabbed him. He felt his ears warm in discomfiture, all the attention new for the twenty-year old Ensign. Never having to be the one to attend those types of meetings, Chekov felt far removed from his element and he briefly thought about hightailing it out of there. But thinking of the captain and his missing crew, he stood a little taller and pushed down his fear, reminding himself that it was for them and Rima's little girl. Even if he wished he had taken a shot of vodka beforehand.

"Need some help, Ensign?"

Chekov jumped in surprise, not seeing the small woman as his elbow. Petite was almost too big a word to describe her. Her white hair was up in a high, curling bun atop her head, and her sparkling sapphire eyes were lined with wrinkles. She came up to maybe Chekov's chest and appeared as frail as a bird. But she had the bars of an admiral on her uniform, and while her eyes were kind, there was an underlining steel.

"Uh, yes, Ma'am," Chekov answered hesitantly. "I wanted to come, to find out what happened to my crew and contribute anyway I can."

She smiled, but was wary as she directed him toward a seat. "Well welcome. I was under the impression that all of the bridge crew for the Enterprise disappeared yesterday."

"Da, well, I was fortunate to have been nowhere near ze anomaly zat stole ze keptin and crew, Admiral-?"

"Mitchell, Ensign," she answered, taking the seat next to him. " We haven't had the chance to meet yet."

"No. I am pleased to meet you. I am Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreievich."

"If heard tale about you, Ensign Chekov. Acting Chief Engineer, graduating from the Academy at seventeen. You've developed quite the reputation."

"Ah, da Ma'am," Chekov said uncertainly. "I just do what ze keptin asks."

While Admiral Mitchell's smile never shift, her stance turned condescending, as if she couldn't believe his achievements were not from ambition. It's not that Chekov wasn't trying to get promoted, but it wasn't his main focus. Traveling the stars, the exciting adventures, his connection with the Enterprise crew were all that mattered to him.

At the precise moment the bell on campus tolled the hour, a small contingent marched into the room, led by a formidable looking woman. She was tall, lithe, and her features severe. Her salt and pepper hair was piled on her head, her dark eyes sharp as she scanned the room, holding Chekov's just long enough to make him squirm before she moved on. Everyone rose to their feet as the assembly stood behind their respected places. With a nod from the woman, everyone sat, picking up the PADD in front of them.

As she read the report, the lines around her mouth turned them into a permanent scowl. She tucked herself into her seat in the middle of the table, her back remained ramrod straight as she scanned the room again. Chekov internally shivered, reminded of some of the Russian teachers he had before the Academy.

"Good morning." Her voice was clipped and higher pitched than Chekov would have thought. "Thank you for assembling so quickly. I see we have a few new faces among the group." She again caught Chekov's attention. "For those who don't know, I am Admiral Mae Jemison, Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet and a member of the Federation President's Joint Chiefs. I am here because we have a problem, ladies and gentlemen. A big one."

There was distinctive shuffling. "This the second attack we've experienced on our soil in less than eighteen months. I want answers. Who was this group? Why did they attack Captain Kirk and his crew? And most importantly, where are they now?"

No one made a sound. Chekov's eyes roamed the group, the only one who kept attention while Admiral Jemison was talking and not shuffling around like they had to explain why the dog ate their homework.

"Does no one have an answer?" Again silence.

"Ensign Chekov," she called, forcing the attention to move to him. Chekov visibly swallowed, his cheeks heating. How'd she know who he was?

"D-da, Ma'am," he answered.

"Perhaps you can answer me. Why does it seem your captain is always at the center of these incidences?"

Chekov blinked, unprepared for the question.

"Ah, bad luck?"

He could have kicked himself as the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Luckily, Admiral Jemison sat back smiling despite herself. "Not the answer I was looking for, but may not be entirely wrong." Once the coast was clear, the rest of the admirals chuckled. "What did you notice yesterday? And how were you not affected like the rest of your crew?"

Chekov's gaze scanned the table, but he found no support around the group. "As I told Admiral Mitchell, I was too far back to be awected by ze anomaly. I do not know how ze group triggered it or what it did with Keptin Kirk. Zey had some type of weapon that targeted our nerwous system. Ze closest weapon I could find came from ze 20th century Earth. A taser was what zey called it. But zis one zat was used against us was done wirelessly."

"So you're saying that this group took an ancient weapon that only worked on one person at a time and made it applicable for an entire assembly of people?" Although she asked the question, she didn't appear surprised, as if she knew something no one else did.

"Da. I do not know how."

She nodded, absorbing that information. "What else can you tell me?"

"Zey wore black cloaks?" he shrugged. "I apologize. Ze weapon zey used was so debilitating and ze anomaly so destructiwe, I do not know more zen zat."

"Were you able to get any readings once the anomaly disappeared? Any information of who they are, or how they created that anomaly?"

Chekov paused, trying to decide how to play the cards in his hand. Although Captain Kirk was the best at chess on the ship, Chekov was the only other one who could give the Vulcan and captain a run for their money.

"No, zere was nothing I could find." Her black eyes narrowed a fraction, sizing him up, but Chekov kept his poker face.

"Thank you," she answered. "It's good to have a firsthand account. What else do we know?"

"There are indications this may be the same group that gained attention on stardate 2259.09," a portly commodore spoke from the corner, throwing up on the screen in the front of the room still images of several small incidences. Every picture the group or individual wore a long black cape, and in a couple of the pictures they had on white masks with the image of a dark ring on the forehead. "They used similar tactics yesterday as what we've already recorded. Ancient weapons, large explosive presence, vanishing before we can respond."

Jemison studied the images, comparing the ones on the screen the ones on the PADD. She saw what Chekov did. They were the same.

"Alright, so then what do we know about this rogue group? Where do they originate from? Who are they affiliated with?"

"Unknown at this time," Admiral Mitchell spoke. "We've been working diligently with intelligence to learn as much as we can, but they act as ghosts. Appearing and disappearing on a whim. We do know that there was no evidence of their tactics before stardate 2259. They seem to have appeared right after the Boradis Situation. Now how they came into being, we don't have that evidence yet."

Chekov tried to not let his astonishment show. Whoever this group was showed up around the same time Charlie did. That could not have been a coincidence.

"Well then, what do we know? And if you say nothing, this conversation is going to go very differently," Jemison scowled, her eyes narrowed threateningly.

"The incident yesterday has actually garnered some information that may help us," an Andorian captain said, sitting two chairs down from Chekov. "We were able to record a few unique signatures before the first blast. We believe it was their transporter signal, although it's unlike any transporter we've come across. That in itself may help us find them."

He turned to the screen, and using a flicking hand motion, broadcasted the information for the rest of the group to digest. Chekov swung his chair to face the wall, highlighting the information before he swung back toward the Commander-in-Chief.

"Good," she nodded, analyzing the readings herself. "This is priority one, ladies and gentlemen. We find this group, perhaps we can find where Captain Kirk and his crew disappeared to. Suggestions?"

The next hour was spent brainstorming ideas, plans, and strategizes for locating the rogue group. Should they use the signal to directly track their location? The surveillance footage provided insight in the nano black hole that appeared; Chekov watching with lead in his stomach as Charlie jumped in while the rest of the crew, including the captain were pulled into the vortex. Arguments broke out over who could possibly be behind the attacks. Are they spies for the Romulans or Klingons? Another unknown group?

Chekov didn't say much. Not only was he outranked by several degrees, he found it far more valuable to sit back and listen. Unlike on the bridge of the Enterprise, where they bounced ideas off one another, building and collaborating until they reached a reasonable solution, this group of admirals, captains, and commodores were more trying to argue why their idea was the best over the others. For Chekov, silence made it easier to dismiss egregious theories the moment they were said rather than counter why they were wrong with people that were not his crew. Plus, he could mark unique ideas for when he was back with Carol and Rima.

The only other silent one was Admiral Jemison. She merely sat back and watched, her black eyes assessing, finding many in the room wanting. Her calculating gaze felt as if Chekov was being probed like a scan, and he had to mentally remind himself that he'd done nothing wrong. He kept is face neutral, at least he hoped it was neutral, and tried to mark who said what when.

Finally, Jemison called an end to the discussion, authorizing the use to track the group, as well as using the footage to figure out how they created the black hole.

As command was dismissed, Jemison called out to Chekov, "Ensign. Please stay a moment."

Like caught at the principals, Chekov stood at attention with his ears heating painfully.

"I know the amount of loyalty among your crew," she began, her eyes never leaving the PADD in her hand as she jotted some notes down. "But your first priority is to Starfleet and the Federation." Her eyes flicked up to meet his.

"Ma'am?"

"If you happen to come across information that can lead to the capture of these people, even if it jeopardizes your crew, you will inform me. That is a direct order. Am I understood?"

Chekov held her gaze a moment, his lightning quick mind finding no alternatives. Frowning slightly, he gave one curt nod.

"Good. If more information becomes available as to the whereabouts of Captain Kirk, I will have my yeoman reach out to you. Dismissed."

Once he was left the doors of Starfleet HQ, Chekov headed back to his own apartment to shower, change, and check his room for bugs. Something about Admirals Jemison and Mitchell had his hackles raised. They were surprised to see him, but not relieved. It was as if having the Enterprise crew gone made something easier for them, whatever it was. Chekov couldn't put his finger on it, and he honestly wasn't one for intrigue or political maneuvering. He usually left that for Commander Spock and the Captain. He was just there to solve problems, and defend the ship in a combat situation.

Although he spent several diligent hours going over his apartment with a fine tooth comb, he didn't find any evidence of surveillance equipment, but he made sure to leave his communicator and Starfleet pin in his room.

Trekking across the campus of Starfleet, all he could do was replay the ceremony and the destruction with it. Thirteen people had been killed in the raid. And that didn't count the loss of the captain and others. Where were they? What happened when they were sucked into the vortex? The only other time he'd seen anything like that, was when Charlie's friends were sent back to the 21st century.

Chekov tripped over his feet and almost crashed into the sidewalk. That's it. That's what he was missing. His head on swivel, he sprinted down the sidewalk, double-backing a couple times to make sure he wasn't followed before he found himself outside Rima's hotel door again.

He knocked, and after a few quick verification processes, Carol let him into the suite.

"I've got lots to tell you," he sprouted out the minute the door shut behind him.

In a mad rush, it took Chekov twice as long to let the two women know everything he saw during the meeting, slipping between Russian and English. He told Carol and Rima about the footage of the vortex and how similar it was to Charlie's situation. He also explained the dynamic between all the command personnel in the room as well as his interactions with Admirals Mitchell and Jemison, the latter had Carol scowling.

"She's a hard ass, and that's being nice."

"You know her?" Chekov asked, shocked.

"Not directly, but my Father had to deal with her," Carol answered. "She was basically his CO's CO. There's no rank higher than her position unless you're the President of the Federation. This is big if she's involved."

"Da, she led ze meeting," Chekov said. "Everyone seemed terriwied when she walked in. Here, let me show you."

Chekov opened his bag, searching around until he pulled out his PADD from its depths. He then withdrew a small stick from his pocket, no bigger than a toothpick, and inserted it into the side. With a few more deft keystrokes, a video image materialized. It was as if someone was observing the room from a chest pocket. Carol and Rima huddled around Chekov as the video continued, first with the interaction with Admiral Mitchell, and then the moment Jemison walked in.

"Yep, I'd know her anywhere," Carol said, squinting as she saw different people around the room who her father had interactions with, pointing them out as the meeting continued. They watched as Chekov was interrogated and the revelations about their signal. Chekov paused the video when the Andorian Captain provided the signal signatures they recorded.

"Zis was the ze most telling," Chekov said. "Zey beliewed zat zere signal was a transporter. But I do not zink so. I zink it was something different, like ze anomaly."

"I agree," Rima finally added to the conversation. "Transporter signals don't typically involve this frequency here," she pointed. "And the matter-energy conversion threshold shouldn't be this high."

"Zat was exactly what I was thinking."

"It looks like a weapons signature." Carol squinted, taking the PADD from Chekov as she pulled it to within an inch of her nose. "Rudimentary one, but very similar."

"You're not wrong, but how could they use a weapon to travel?" Rima asked.

"I'm not sure," Carol answered. "Maybe red matter has something to do with it? You said that vortex was like Charlie's," she added, handing the PADD back to Chekov. "Red matter was what you used, and Starfleet classified it as a weapon after the who Nero thing."

"We're still missing ze fact zat zere is no more red matter. I don't even know how to find any."

"Well," Rima said slowly. "Red matter is manufactured from decalithium, a rare isotope that the Narada was equipped to mine."

Both Chekov and Carol blinked at her. "Maybe if zat is what zey're using—"

"We can scan for that isotope," Carol finished. "Rima, do you know the exact composition that we can use to track the element?"

Rima's lips pursed. "I don't. But I may know someone who does. Give me a moment."

Rima grabbed her communicator and a PADD, disappearing into her bedroom and shutting the door. Meanwhile, Carol and Chekov hacked the hotel rooms computer, intertwining the tricorder into the mainframe, and hiding its signature. If they were going to scan Starfleet campus and the city beyond, they had to make sure they flew far enough under the radar to not trip off the admiralty to their plans. Starfleet was until recently considered the most secure area within the Federation – nigh impenetrable for unauthorized scans. Since Khan, security was beefed up further.

With their knowledge, Chekov and Carol knew they'd be able to get a wide enough range, and make it through the firewalls, but they would need to go slowly and subtle enough to blend it into the natural magnetics of the planet.

An hour later, Rima came out of the bedroom, slightly haggard and her eyes were red rimmed, but her composure was strong.

"I got it," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Had to call one of my contacts, but he got me the information."

"Are you ok?" Carol asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she swallowed. "We'll talk later. Let's see if we can find these people."

Chekov entered the information into the tricorder, being careful to keep the signal weak enough to lack detection, but strong enough to catch even the smallest signatures.

"Zis may take a while," he said. "Give me a few hours, and I'll see what I get."

The women nodded, going to back to the research they were working on before Chekov returned from the advisory meeting. True to his prediction, three and a half hours later, the tricorder began beeping. Chekov's head snapped up from the table as he wiped away the drool from the corner of his mouth. Blinking blearily, he pulled the machine toward him, checking the information. The points were faint but distinctive. Quickly jotting down the coordinates, he calibrated their locations a map of Starfleet and the surrounding city of San Francisco. The first drop was right in the middle of the square where the ceremony had taken place, exactly as he expected. The second one, however, was a few miles away down by the piers of San Francisco Bay.

"Gotch ya," Chekov said, feeling the first reactions of success he'd had since the captain and crew disappeared.

"You're wonderful!" Carol exclaimed when Chekov told her and Rima after they came back from running to get some food. "I know that area. It's past the bars, where the old city once stood before the great earthquake of 2092. There's lots of underground caverns where the city was rebuilt on top of the rubble."

"How do you know zis?" Chekov asked confused.

"I went on a tour once with my mum when we were visiting my father at Headquarters," she shrugged. "It's a great place to hid out in; nothing but a maze down there."

"Should we tell Starfleet?" Rima asked.

Carol thought a moment. "No, not until we check it out first. I don't want to spook the group if they're down there, and I don't want Starfleet to doubt us if we're wrong. Ensign, go back to your quarters and grab some gear. We're going down there tonight."

A few hours later, Carol and Chekov met up outside one of the bars near Pier 39. They were both dressed in black, a couple tricorders at their waist and their phasers hidden under their jackets. The wind had picked up, blowing off the water and chilling the air while the low hanging clouds promised rain. Slowly the fog rolled in, adding to the already eerie night.

Slowly they trekked along the different piers, their footsteps gradually becoming the only sounds as the streetlight glowed as giant flaming balls of orange. Rima decided to stay behind, tracking their progression in case the worst should happen, but also following up on more leads that had come from the contacts she'd reached out to.

Chekov pulled the tricorder off his belt, checking their location periodically until they were directly above the flashing blue dot. Glancing around, neither he or Carol could see a way down, the fog a shadowed wall. They spread out, searching for a door, manhole cover or stairs that would lead them to their destination, but nothing could be found. Dejectedly, they met back under the light post across the street from the bay. They began discussing other ways they could try to get into the catacombs when Carol threw her hand over Chekov's mouth, shushing him in the process.

Distantly voices echoed around them, thrown because of the fog. It wasn't that others had joined Chekov and Carol, even though they hadn't met another person in over an hour of walking. It was something said, a single phrase that caught their attention.

"They're getting a good response out of the girl, but Scythe lost the captain."

Chekov and Carol ducked around the corner of a building, its shadow hiding them as a group of three materialized through the fog on the other side of the street. They were dressed like Carol and Chekov in blacks and greys, but their clothing was different. They couldn't place it – maybe it was their use of denim, or the patchy look for a world that was clean and ordered. Whatever it was, both Carol and Chekov's instincts knew they were members of the group they were looking for. They were too different not to be.

"He brought Saber and Machete with him. How the fuck did he not get one lowly human?"

"This isn't some weak-ass human. He's got augment blood in him, and it's starting to show."

They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and faced the sea. Crouching down, they each lifted themselves over the short seawall, their landings muffled. Carol and Chekov hurried across the street, trying to remain as silent as possible without losing the group. Chekov whipped out the tricorder, their three signatures appearing under their feet. Glancing over the wall cautiously, all they could see was inky blackness and hear water lapping at the stone.

"Chto za chert?" Chekov cursed. "Where did zey go?"

"One way to find out," Carol answered, swinging her leg over the wall followed by another. Chekov grabbed her arms, helping to lower her downward toward the water. She hadn't gone more than three feet when her feet connected with a solid platform. Chekov quickly followed and once they both were on the other side, each hesitantly stepped forward until they felt a set of stairs leading down to the water's edge. Following, they found themselves outside a metal door cut into the wall.

Chekov checked for an alarm or lock, and finding none, slowly opened the door. A long black tunnel stretched before them, the voices of the group barely a whisper ahead. With one glance at each other, Carol and Chekov started down the black, their phasers in their hands and their ears alert.

The tunnel sloped downward gently, the concrete slippery from years of water and algae. They reached an intersection, three branches heading in different directions, and the voices long since faded.

"Which way?" Carol asked.

Chekov spun, his boots slashing in the inches of water. "Zis way. I think."

They took the left one, travelling further downwards under the city. Three more times they had to decide which tunnel, crawling over debris, and sometimes wading through water to their knees. Finally, they saw a light up ahead, the yellow, flickering glow of fire throwing shadows and demons onto the walls.

Carol's heart was in her throat and her eyes were wide as they tiptoed forward, the low sound of chanting reaching their ears. They crouched down and inched their way forward, pressed against the side of the walls as they rose just above the water. Peaking around the corner, both their eyes widen in horror by what they saw.

The room was full of caped individuals, their black hoods drawn over their heads and their bodies wrapped. They all swayed in the same pattern, the voices emitted a deep frequency that caused the hairs on Carol's arm to rise. After a moment, one near the front stood, turning on the platform toward the others, its face hidden behind a white mask, where only two holes for eyes and black circle of an eclipsed sun on the forehead were its defining features.

"Brothers and sisters," his voice echoed through the cavern. "The time is almost near. I have received word from our past selves that the experiments are working. Soon, the time will come where we let this world know who we are; where we will have a renaissance of the past for the future, and bring forth the Rising. They will destroy the Sun and the Earth will be transformed back to its natural state. We will usher in this aeon, and be rewarded with our true immortal forms upon the completion of this task. Our Rising will purify the world which humanity has poisoned and turned on end. Darkness will bring chaos, and that chaos will bring peace.

"The Vril chose us, for we are the purest of humanity. Rising is our power, our destiny, our definition, our vice, and our wisdom. We must be ready when the past calls. We've already started the destruction, and our leaders have linked us so we are stronger than we were before."

"But what about them?" someone shouted. "Every time we've thought we've succeeded, they stop us."

"They aren't here. At least the ones that have any knowledge of the first war. If we can bring the Vril to this timeline, we will be unstoppable."

"What do they command?" another yelled, this time a woman.

Another caped individual stepped forward, taller than the first speaker. The new one regarded the group slowly before turning to the first, his deep voice echoing, "we'd need to find hosts."

"That will not be an issue. We don't have to use the humans. We have been blessed with other species. Andorians could be good conductors. Pretty volatile."

"Command said it has to be the other two groups."

"Well we can't bring them here, now can we?" the leader snapped. "We need to find a way to transport the Vril to them, at least until we have enough to build an army. The girl seems to work. If they can get the captain, they may be able to use them as the keys to hold the gate open."

"What about the augments?" the first shouter asked.

"Yes, of course why didn't we think of that?" the tall one sneered. "Except we did and if we knew where they were, they'd be what we'd need. Once Marcus was killed we lost that insight." Carol gasped, her blue eyes wide in surprise. Chekov quickly snap his hand around her mouth to stop any more sound, his own visage contrite. Luckily, the man kept talking, effectively hiding her voice. "They could be locked in Fort Knox by now for all we know."

The leader seemed to fill the cavern, his presence like a dark cloud, suffocating and ominous. "We didn't wait centuries for them to die off, travel through time, and get lost in that damn quadrant to give up now."

There were grumblings from the group.

"Enough!" the leader shouted. "I asked you here to inform you of our progress. I want each squadron to breakoff, start planning your attacks for when the word comes. You know your assignments."

The group began shuffling, heading off to different corners. The leader and the tall one, however, began walking toward Carol and Chekov's hiding spot, both ducking back and pressing themselves against the wall as the others' shadows fell across the doorway.

"So what do you think we should do?" the leader asked. "We have to have everything ready for this to work."

"I'm thinking," the deep voice answered. "If only that damned Starfleet filth hadn't interrupted our attack."

"What I don't get is how that chit wasn't hit with the electric shock. It didn't even touch her."

"I've been thinking about that too. It's weird, and I don't like not understanding it. She's the one that's sleeping with the captain, right?"

"So she's the flavor of the week, what does it matter? At least Blade was able to get the girl. Scythe got wrecked for not getting Kirk though."

"This is why we cannot fail the Command. Our mission is almost complete after a millennia of hiding just under the surface. In a matter of weeks, the Vril will be brought to this timeline and released so that they may finally be free of their enemies. Centuries of planning, all the lives our comrades lost, all the setbacks, failures, unlaunched wars, our faith has held strong and we will be rewarded as this universe crumbles. We are chaos."

"And Chaos is us," he answered.

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