Chapter 16

The ship's computer labs were strangely eerie with how empty and dim they were. The computers whirred and beeped as they worked, but there was a striking absence of people monitoring or working with them. As Sarah stood at the doorway, she was struck by how they looked no different than every other Constitution-class ship's: but their emptiness made them appear triple the size. With most of the crew gone on shore-leave the entire ship seemed cavernous and multiplied in size.

She located the sole source of light in a back corner and made her way over to it.

Spock looked up as she approached. "Ms. Kipiani," he acknowledged. With a swipe of his fingers, he changed the image on the screen in front of him.

A rueful smile tugged at her mouth and she thought of reminding him of her clearance level, but thought better of it. She swept her eyes to encompass the room. "The heart of the ship," she observed.

"The brain," Spock corrected. "I was unaware that you were still on board," he continued. "We are not scheduled for any computer upgrades," he added, voicing the only logical reason for her continued presence on the ship.

"I'm on my way out," she told him. "But…." She hesitated. "Pavel just reported to the jail yesterday in response to his arrest, right? They didn't actually come get him: pull him out unexpectedly. Right?" she asked again. She hadn't been there when he had left.

Spock's dark eyes remained on her steadily, without blinking. After a moment, he turned his chair towards her, shifted it out from under the console, and stood up. "Is there something I can assist you with, Miss Kipiani?"

"Yes." The word rushed out of her with relief. "I'd love to get your opinion on something. When you have a minute."

"My work has been interrupted. Now would be the time which would not require a second interruption." And the sooner you leave the ship…. The thought was so clear in his eyes that it was nearly audible.

"Great. It's in Pavel's cabin: c'mon."

He matched her pace silently down the corridors, in the lift, down more corridors: but Spock hesitated outside the door to Chekov's quarters. When she realized it, she motioned to him.

"I need you to see this."

"It is not appropriate for the First Officer to enter an officer's quarters without their permission."

The Captain and First Officer were able to conduct announced and surprise inspections, but neither on the Enterprise agreed with the practice. They didn't care how a person kept their personal space and relied on the maintainers to alert them if there was an actual safety concern. A person's quarters were the only modicum of privacy on their traveling 'city in space' and they both felt that was key to keeping its inhabitants sane.

"For God's sake, you're his friend," she said in exasperation.

The Science Officer did not object to her classification of his relationship with the Chief Navigator, but neither did he make any move to enter the cabin.

She paced back to the door. "I'm inviting you into my quarters," she said pointedly.

Spock's eyebrow raised. There was no arguing that point: he'd entered her assignment to the cabin into the computer himself.

"I need you to give me your opinion about the way he left his desk." Sarah had decided that dealing with a First Officer or a Vulcan was best done with direct communication: and Spock was both. She turned and moved over to the desk without waiting for his reply.

Spock followed her and stopped on the nearest side of the desk. "Mr. Chekov did not shut off his computer," he observed. "You need neither my permission nor instructions to shut down his terminal," he concluded.

Despite the even tone, Spock seemed annoyed to her: though she couldn't tell if it was because she bothered him needlessly or because Chekov had so obviously violated security protocols.

"Obviously." There was no question that her tone was annoyed. "I brought you here because of the totality of it all. He wasn't suddenly dragged out, but…"

On the desk where the computer monitor gleamed was a data tape, a pen, and a small leather booklet.

Spock's hand reached out to touch the data tape.

"That's his resignation from Starfleet."

His fingers recoiled as if burnt. He clasped his hands behind his back.

"It is not a resignation until it is submitted it to a person of authority."

Sarah was struck with the level of loyalty Pavel inspired. "Yes, well…." She picked up the booklet. "This is his Internal Passport from the Historic District."

"I will arrange for these things to be delivered to him," he assured her, then turned to leave.

"That's not…" She shook her head fitfully. "He wasn't dragged out of here but he left his computer on, his resignation there, his passport….and he didn't pack anything."

"His Yeoman and the Logistics Officer will pack and dispatch his belongings," the Science Officer advised her.

A guttural laugh came out of Sarah. She pointed to the shelf beyond the desk: where several brass nautical instruments lay. "Pavel Andrievich is going to let someone else pack his 500-year-old sextant?"

"Improb…," Spock began, then turned back to her. "No." He fixed dark eyes on her. "What is your point, Miss?"

Opening the passport, Sarah pulled a folded piece of paper out of it. "This, Mr. Spock."

She held it out to him, but he made no move to take it. She relaxed her arm slightly. "I'm not offering a page from his personal diary: and I know he trusts you, Mr. Spock."

The Science Officer straightened, an eyebrow raising.

She sighed, shaking her head. "'The work is challenging, and I enjoy it'," she recited. "That's all he's told me of his work with you," she reassured him. "And it's the full scope of emotional depth we've shared." Their relationship as 'friends' was a cursory one at best. "But I know he trusts you implicitly. Please," she repeated, offering him the paper again. "You have to see what he left here."

She stood there, hand outstretched to him as his eyes remained steadily fixed on her. She couldn't tell what he was debating but she just stood there: insistent, and he finally took the paper from her.

He unfolded it and looked at what was written on it. He titled his head, eyes narrowing as they studied the paper.

She watched him, waited – until she could wait no more. "A lot of people create 'cheat sheets' for their logins," she observed without much conviction.

"Mr. Chekov does not need 'cheat sheets'."

And yet…there was a paper with hand-written access information for the backdoor servers for 3 of the largest governments on Earth: the Russian Federation, the United States of America, and the United Earth government. It detailed not only the servers' location but Pavel's logins and passwords.

She shifted uncomfortably. "I was looking for a logical explanation."

"That is not it."

No, she agreed with him silently again. Pavel had just left confidential access information for top-secret government servers laying on his desk in front of a working computer terminal: knowing she would still be in the cabin after he left.

Not even if he'd been dragged out after being drawn and quartered….

"Mr. Spock," she said evenly. "I just got a job working for the Russian Navy. I can't…"

His eyes shifting to hers stopped her. She felt his judgement, his accusation. Shifting, she swallowed hard. "There's a quote on the bottom. Do you read Russian?"

Maybe Pavel knew she wouldn't have the courage to do what he was asking. Maybe the quote would give it to her.

"I do read Russian," Spock replied. "This, however, is not Russian." He refolded the paper, slipped it into his palm, and clasped his hands behind his back. "The quote is written in Vulcan."

Her breath caught in her throat. She was wrong about there being judgement in his gaze. They both understood why the items had been left there – the quote categorized who precisely it was left for.

Pavel had known she would seek out Spock.

"Bring Mr. Chekov his passport."

She shook her head. "He doesn't need it: it's symbolic. There's no one checking for them at a border."

His voice remained steady. "Bring Mr. Chekov his passport."

"But…" A wave of self-recrimination washed over her as she realized that giving Chekov the passport would silently tell him they'd found what he'd left for them.

She slid the passport off the desk and tucked it into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder. "It was good to put a face to the name, Mr. Spock."

He dipped his head almost imperceptibly, but stood frozen in place otherwise as she left the cabin.