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Ensign Chekov’s Very Confusing Week

Summary:

Pavel Chekov knows that working in Starfleet will be adventurous, but the incidents that his new crewmates keep referencing are surely too absurd to be real. (Spoiler alert: they’re not.)

Or: In which Chekov starts work on the Enterprise and discovers just how weird his new job is.

Notes:

New year, new fic! I'm posting this on library wifi, as you do. I had a lot of fun writing this one and I hope you enjoy it too! :D

Note: I watched TOS in production order so that's the chronology in my head, and as such, I'm treating Amok Time as happening at the beginning of season two and Who Mourns for Adonais? as taking place shortly afterwards.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

 

Ensign Pavel Chekov’s first week aboard the USS Enterprise is, all things considered, calm. 

There are no significant missions during the time. Pavel has settled into his quarters, begun to get accustomed to his duties, and learned his way around the corridors. All that is left to do before he begins his first real mission, he thinks, is to get to know the rest of the crew. 

The first person he meets is Doctor McCoy. Pavel comes to the sickbay for his routine physical exam and immunization update. McCoy is welcoming, for the most part, if somewhat gruff. The checkup is normal until the very end.

“How’s your tolerance for drugs and alcohol?” the doctor asks. 

“What?” asks Pavel, startled.

”Do you get high or drunk easily?”

”I… do not know, sir. I have not been of legal drinking age for long.”

”Ah,” says the doctor. “Oh well. I guess we’ll find out.”

”Excuse me?” asks Pavel, becoming rather alarmed. 

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ve just had a fair few incidents with the accidental introduction of alien mind-altering substances. I like to keep tabs on anyone especially vulnerable.”

This does nothing to assuage Pavel’s alarm. “What sort of incidents?”

“Some happiness pollen, an inhibition-lowering infection, that sort of thing.”

“Ah,” says Pavel, hoping he sounds like a seasoned Starfleet graduate and not as baffled as he feels. 

“It wasn’t that bad, really. It tends to be entertaining. One time, Sulu ended up fencing with Kirk on the bridge, shirtless.”

“That sounds… interesting.”

The doctor chuckles. “That’s one word for it. Now, I’m done with you. Get back to your quarters and get some rest. God knows you’ll need it on this ship.”

Pavel leaves, somewhat more uneasy than before. 

 

The next person Pavel meets is Lieutenant Sulu. It is actually Sulu who seeks him out — since they’ll be working together on the bridge, apparently the helmsman wanted to get to know him. Their conversation is enjoyable. Sulu seems intelligent, funny, kind, and not like someone prone to fencing shirtless across the bridge of a starship. 

“How are you at history, by the way?” Sulu asks suddenly.

Pavel blinks. “Um. It has never been my specialty, sir.”

“Ah,” says Sulu. “Oh well. Don’t worry about it.”

“May I ask why you wanted to know? Is it a requirement for this position?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I was just hoping. We’ve accidentally time traveled a few times, and Uhura and I agree that it’d be nice to have a historian on the bridge if it ever happens again. We haven’t had any luck yet.”

“…I see,” says Pavel, who does not at all see how time travel can be accidental or why Sulu is discussing it so calmly. What is going on?

“Don’t worry,” says Sulu, misinterpreting Pavel’s hesitation. “Usually this kind of thing only involves the Captain. And maybe Mister Spock. And Doctor McCoy. If you stay on the ship, you’re usually fine.”

“Thank you for the advice,” says Chekov, and hopes desperately that this will never come up. 

 

The crew of the Enterprise, Pavel decides, has some bizarre hazing rituals. They are definitely fucking with him. He doesn’t know why, or how long it has been going on, but he knows it’s true. How else can he explain the conversation currently going on at his table in the mess hall? It began, as far as he can tell, with complaining about paperwork, but quickly dissolved into a discussion of past missions that are obviously too absurd to be real.

”Remember the time the Captain split in half?” asks Uhura, chuckling. 

“Aye, I remember it all too well,” says Scott grimly. “Getting Starfleet to send me replacement parts because the Cap’n damaged the engine room while wrestling with himself is not an experience I want to repeat.”

“And I remember, of course,” says Sulu. “I was the one stuck on the freezing planet!”

“Damn the transporters,” says McCoy, and everyone except Pavel raises their glass and takes a simultaneous swig of alcohol in apparent agreement. Pavel also drinks, a beat later. He doesn’t want to get left out. 

“At least it wasn’t as bad as the time I had to patch him up after he got beat up by the illusion of his academy rival,” McCoy says after he finishes drinking. He pauses for a moment, then adds, “And a fake tiger.”

Uhura laughs. “You’re one to talk! Didn’t you get killed by the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland that same day?” Scott and Sulu both laugh.

“Excuse me,” says McCoy with what Pavel is fairly sure is mock offense. “I only saw the rabbit. I was killed by a knight or something. And my death was an illusion anyway.”

“At least a knight is a reasonable opponent,” says Sulu, amusement clear in his voice. “Remember that time with the teenager?”

Scott shudders visibly. “If I never have another adolescent in control of my ship, it’ll be too soon.”

“Not my favorite experience, no,” agrees Uhura. 

“I much preferred the time Spock committed mutiny,” says Scott.

“That’s fair,” says Sulu. “Personally, I think the hivemind thing was kind of entertaining, in retrospect.” 

“That was quite the report to write,” says McCoy. “Though I gotta say, not as bad as the time we all had to watch Jim blow up a gorn.”

Uhura grimaces. “That was not a good day.”

At this point, Pavel has had enough. Surely these people have better things to do with their time than play jokes on the newest ensign. He decides to do them all a favor. 

“Excuse me,” he says, because even he is not enough of an idiot to actually complain to his superior officers on his first week aboard the ship, “I am going back to my room now. I am very tired.”

“Good,” says McCoy. “At least someone on this ship has a reasonable sleep schedule.” 

Uhura laughs. “Remember the time—”

Pavel leaves before he can hear more. 

 

Pavel meets Sulu again the next day. 

“It was good to have you around last night,” says Sulu. “I hope you had a decent time. You seemed a little upset when you left.”

“Quite honestly,” says Pavel. “It sounded like you were talking nonsense the whole time.”

Sulu looks startled and somewhat upset. Pavel’s opinion of him grows rather more positive.

“I’m sorry, ensign. I should’ve realized you wouldn’t understand what we were referencing. We didn’t mean to exclude you.” He smiles a little. “If it helps, you kind of feel like part of the team already. I guess I forgot.”

“Oh,” says Pavel. He is flattered despite himself. “Thank you, Mr. Sulu.”

Sulu claps him on the back. “We’re going to be sitting next to each other all day. Call me Hikaru when we’re off duty.”

“All right,” says Pavel. Hikaru smiles at him before excusing himself to attend to his duties. Pavel finds that he is smiling back. 

Perhaps the nonsensical stories are more innocuous than they seemed. Surely, a crew such as this must develop odd in-jokes over their time in space. That is not so bad. 

 

Pavel never really has the chance to meet Mr. Spock before they are ordered to divert to Vulcan on his behalf. The ensuing few hours of navigational ping-pong between heading to Altair-Six (first on the Captain’s order and then on Starfleet’s) and heading to Vulcan, (first on the Captain’s order, then Mr. Spock’s, then the Captain’s again) do not give him a terribly high estimation of the science officer’s logical capabilities. With Hikaru there to share his exasperation, though, it is not so bad. 

He hears rumors later that the detour and subsequent delays were due to some sort of unusual illness that Mr. Spock had contracted. Apparently, it can only be cured on Vulcan. Pavel supposes this is reasonable. 

He finally meets Mr. Spock about a week later, on what will turn out to be the day of Pavel’s first away mission. 

The Vulcan approaches Pavel. Pavel shifts nervously. 

“Welcome to the bridge, Ensign,” says Spock. 

“Thank you, Sir,” says Pavel. 

There is an awkward moment of silence. Pavel thinks Mr. Spock is going to walk away, which would be a shame, since he is genuinely curious about the First Officer. Nothing much is happening on the bridge. He may as well make a move. 

Before the Vulcan can escape, Pavel asks about the project he has heard is in progress in the science labs. He thinks it is something about the influence of ion storms on organisms living in the upper atmosphere of their planets, which actually does sound interesting. Mr. Spock seems perfectly happy to talk about it, and they spend a pleasant ten minutes or so discussing it before he has to leave to do his actual job. 

Pavel sits back in his chair and considers this interaction. He thinks he rather likes Mr. Spock, actually. He is sensible. Also, he does not make strange references to things that cannot possibly have happened. 

Hikaru leans over to Pavel and whispers, “I think he likes you.” Pavel smiles to himself. 

The shift continues as normal. The Captain apparently spends time gossipping about his officers’ love lives with Doctor McCoy on the bridge. This is somewhat surprising but certainly amusing, so Pavel doesn’t mind. He settles in for an unremarkable shift.

And then a giant spectral hand grabs the Enterprise. 

Somehow, this is not even close to the most bizarre thing that happens that day. 

 

“And then he said he was Apollo,” says Pavel, still bewildered. 

“He did,” says McCoy. “It was one of the more bizarre things I’ve seen, and that’s saying something.”

Pavel is sitting in the mess hall with other members of the bridge crew. Doctor McCoy brought him here not long after their shifts ended, and they are now engaging in what is apparently something of a post-mission tradition: sharing gossip. Hikaru insisted that they only meet here because McCoy wants to make sure everyone is properly fed, but everyone laughed when he said that, so Pavel assumes it is a running joke. 

“Chekov here was quite useful, too,” says McCoy. “Helped us figure out where quote-unquote “Apollo” was getting his power from. A good job for your first away mission.”

“I knew you’d make a good part of the team,” says Hikaru with a smile.

“My first away mission wasn’t anywhere near this unusual and I was still confused,” says Uhura. “Good work, Chekov.”

“Wait,” says Pavel suddenly. “Does that mean… all of the things you have talked about are true? They really happened?” 

Everybody laughs.   

“They are,” says Uhura with something approaching fondness. “I don’t blame you for not believing it. I certainly didn’t when I was brought aboard.”

“Welcome to the chaos,” says Scott from somewhere behind him. 

“I think you’ll fit right in,” says Hikaru with a smile. 

This is not at all what Pavel expected when he decided to join Starfleet. This job will apparently be much more interesting than he ever thought. But Hikaru is still smiling at him, insisting that he will fit right into this crazy little team. 

Somehow, Pavel finds that he believes him.

 

 

Notes:

Thank you very much for reading! Commens and kudos are always highly appreciated.