Chapter Text
Consequences
Chekov sat silently at his station, unable to explain what had happened. McCoy squeezed his left shoulder, but the young man couldn't look up.
Lieutenant Kyle had confirmed that the coordinates Mr Spock had calculated and saved on his computer, had been correct. Furthermore, Kyle was able to confirm that the beaming process hadn’t been impacted by the ship’s shields. He also ruled out that the process could have been influenced by the unknown energy field, as no impact had occurred during the transportation process. Spock's computed coordinates correlated directly to the object on Adelous 4 and the landing party should have materialised right next to it. However, there was no sign of human life on the planet. Neither of the Cassiopeia crew, nor of the landing party. Nor was there any sign of dead bodies. Uhura’s repeated attempts to establish contact to the men proofed futile. All they knew was that Scotty, Brown and Monet had dematerialised and if they had indeed re-materialised elsewhere, they had done so anywhere but on Adelous 4.
Kirk and Spock concluded that as things stood, the most likely explanation was that Chekov made a mistake when transferring the coordinates to the transporter. After all, he had been under significant pressure during the recent peril when he communicated the coordinates to the transporter.
"Did you double check that the coordinates Mr Spock had computed before the attack, did still correspond to the object on the planet before you sent them to the transporter computer?"
"No, Sair, I didn't... I believed zere was no time, Keptin."
Chekov lowered his eyes in shame. He just couldn't believe that he had probably cost three men their lives. He didn't even think about the consequences for his career. His career was over before it started. He was a murderer, unintentionaly, but a murderer nevertheless.
"You had 8.2 seconds to double check the data, Ensign."
Spock stepped down from his station and came to an halt opposite Chekov, Kirk and McCoy. The doctor sent the Vulcan a look that would have shut up a Harry Fenton Mudd on Klingon energy pills. Unfazed, the Vulcan continued in his assessment of the situation.
"Unfortunately, the actual coordinates you transferred to the transporter computer can't be checked at the moment due to a fault in its memory banks, inflicted by the recent impact with the energy field."
"So zere is no way we can find out where Mr Scott and ze others have been transported to…", Chekov stated, looking even more beaten.
"That is correct, Ensign", Spock replied matter-of-factly "at least for the moment."
The FO turned to Kirk who was watching Chekov intensely.
"Captain, I would like to examine the transporter computer and see if I can retrieve any useful information."
Kirk nodded and walked back to his chair where he hit the com button. "Kirk to Lieutenant Kyle. Mr Spock is on his way to assist in the repairing of the transporter memory banks."
"Acknowledged, Sir", came Kyle's muffled reply.
"Kirk out." He ended the communication by smashing his palm on the button. The captain positioned himself in front of Chekov, demanding his attention.
"It is likely that you've made an error under pressure, Mr Chekov."
"I know Keptin...I'm sorry", was all Chekov managed to respond.
"Until the situation has been fully examined and we have determined the actual coordinates you transferred to the transporter computer, you remain on duty. Disciplinary action will become necessary if your fault has been confirmed beyond the reason of a doubt." Kirk continued in his strict command tone.
Chekov stared at the floor, but nodded.
"You know, Chekov, unfortunately we all have committed a serious mistake at some point in our career", McCoy sighed. Spock raised both of his eyebrows at this but remained silent. "It's how we deal with them, that matters."
Chekov felt that even though the doctor was probably right, such insight didn't make him feel much better.
"Yes, Sair. I understand." Chekov pressed his lips and held his head up high. He had to remain strong. There was still a tiny bit of hope that the men would be located alive. And maybe, just maybe, this would mean that he hadn't made a mistake after all.
Suddenly, a warm smile appeared on Kirk's face. Chekov had expected anything, a tirade, shouting, unforgiving blame from the captain but this genuine smile took him by surprise.
"Pavel...", Kirk put his hands on Chekov's shoulders, which startled him just as much as hearing his first name coming from the captain's mouth.
"...you're a talented and promising ensign. Being under such pressure as we have just experienced is not an excuse for a mistake, but it makes them possible. We will find out what has happened. Until then, I'm expecting your full attention."
"Yes, Sair...but Mr Scott and the landing party...", Chekov muttered quietly. He felt Sulu's compassionate glance, but he felt too ashamed to look at his crewmate.
Kirk strengthened his grip on Chekov's shoulders: "Don't beat yourself up, Ensign! I want you to assist Mr Spock with repairing the memory banks of the transporter."
For a short moment, the navigator looked intimated by the prospect of assisting the FO. But he got up without hesitating.
"Yes, Keptin." Chekov quickly followed Spock off the bridge.
McCoy put his hand on Kirk's arm and took him to the side.
"Do you think it's such a good idea to let Spock ruin the last ounces of Chekov's self-esteem by ordering the boy to assist him?"
"Bones, I'm offering Chekov a way to help solve this mess. We have to find out what happened to our men! If I go soft on him now, he might lose his focus completely."
McCoy sighed a breath of exhaustion: "By God, I hope Scotty and his men are alive."
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Spock and Chekov had been working quietly in the transporter room side by side for several hours. They had checked every single circuit, connection and part of the memory banks possible, in the hope to retrieve the coordinates the ensign had transferred to the transporter computer and determine the landing party's fate. Lieutenant Kyle assisted them as much as he could, but even the transporter expert was short of any fruitful ideas as to how to solve the critical task at hand. Now and then, Kirk dropped by to check the process, only to return to the bridge with a disappointed face and no news for Uhura, Sulu and the others.
Spock knew very well that the ensign was desperate to find a way to somehow undo the mistake he very likely had committed and to prove his worth to his comrades and superiors. Chekov was displaying all signs of a human tormented by guilt, only experienced by those, who had inflicted suffering on others. However, Spock was not willing to try to 'comfort' Chekov with any of the superficial phrases Dr McCoy had used when he tried to convince the navigator that 'There's always hope until we have recovered their bodies' or 'we all have
committed a serious mistake at some point' when in actual fact, Spock had never committed a serious mistake. A rigid Vulcan mind didn't allow lenience. He didn't seize to be amazed by the good doctor. McCoy was somehow maintaining his ignorance towards Vulcan superiority regarding discipline, even though they had worked side by side for a year now.
Spock made sure that Chekov was involved in their efforts to reinstall all transporter functions and its memory bank in the hope to retrieve the coordinates. If there was a chance that the landing party was still alive, Spock wanted to make the young man understand that they would become aware of this fact and act upon it accordingly. If it would turn out that Chekov had indeed committed a serious mistake, rectifying it would be the only realistic option for the Russian if he wanted to continue his career in Starfleet.
"What about default settings, Mr Spock?", Chekov asked after several unsuccessful attempts to reinstall the main memory bank circuit. It had been melted away by a fire near the main computer banks, attained during the second, more volatile impact with the energy field. For hours they had tried to fix a data storage device that actually didn't exist anymore, apart from a few platinum chips and cables, but all their efforts had been in vain.
"Do you mean factory settings such as automatic positional adjustment?", Kyle asked with a frown as he looked up from one of the platinum chips he and Mr Spock were analysing.
"Exactly, zat's what I mean!", Chekov nodded eagerly, "if I remember correctly zere should also be an automatic repeat function which repeats the last used coordinates."
Spock exchanged a quick look with Lieutenant Kyle who just shook his head in disappointment, believing that the ensign was looking for straws to cling to. The approached Chekov who was trying to mend two disconnected cables of the interior memory bank.
"Mr Chekov, none of Starfleet's starships is ever run on factory settings. They are always changed within the first days of a ship's maiden voyage, adjusted and calibrated by the engineers and command personnel to suit their professional requirements and personal preferences."
Chekov sighed. "I know. Transporter engineers hate ze automatic adjustments functions" - Kyle nodded at this - "as it takes ze 'job' out of zeir hands, so to speak."
Spock listened patiently as he could see from the ensign's determined eyes that he had real hope.
"But what if ze factory settings' repeat function could somehow be reinstalled? Subsequently", Chekov asked with a questioning look directed at Spock to Kyle and back to his superior. After a moment of contemplation, the FO raised an eyebrow and nodded.
"Indeed. We could attempt to retrieve the actual data you've sent to the computer as those were the last coordinates used by the machine. Providing the automatic repeat function is still operative and hasn't been damaged."
For the first time since those fateful minutes on the bridge a few hours ago, there was real hope in Chekov's eyes.
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Kirk sat in his captain's chair, eyes fixed on the screen that showed nothing but empty space in front of them and Adelous 4 in the far distance. They had maintained a wide orbit on impulse power, as he wanted to make sure they scanned the space surrounding the planet for the hostile energy force field that had damaged the Enterprise. Even though he was desperate to find out the origins, and possible objectives, of the energy barrier they had encountered, what tormented Kirk the most was not knowing the fate of Scotty, Monet and Brown. The CEO and his two assistants could be dead or alive, safe or in danger, anywhere or nowhere. Furthermore, despite all evidence at the moment pointing towards Chekov having made a mistake while transferring the coordinates to the transporter, they couldn’t rule out the faint possibility that the energy field and the men’s disappearance were connected somehow. The uncertainty of the situation hung like a dark cloud over the captain's head. Hence, the nasty headache he had developed during the last few hours was becoming worse by the minute. He looked up gratefully as McCoy appeared on the bridge with one of his 'magic' pills as Jim liked to call them.
"Thanks, Bones", Kirk hastily swallowed the yellow pill and smiled at the doctor who scrutinised him with concern..
"Any news from the transporter room, Jim?"
Just as Kirk shook his head, Spock called through the com unit.
"Spock here, Captain."
"What is it, Spock?"
Kirk and McCoy exchanged a serious look.
"Captain, we have successfully reinstated the transporter computer's factory settings, including certain standard functions which can be adjusted and modified according to the requirements of each starship and its mission."
While Spock was talking, Kirk's expression turned increasingly impatient. Full of anticipation, he leaned forward toward the com and grabbed the armrest of his chair.
"Cut to the chase, Spock!"
"I'm not aware of chasing anything, Captain."
The voice coming from the coms monitor sounded slightly baffled.
"Unless of course, you are referring to my pursuit to find a solution for the problem at hand. However, I'm inclined to refer to it as..."
McCoy was about to explode with impatience.
"Are you joking, you green-blooded Vulcan? In God's name, tell us what the hell is going on!"
"Doctor, I believe that..."
Chekov, who could no longer hold himself back, dared to interrupt his FO. The Russian sounded out of breath.
"We have reinstalled ze repeat function, Keptin, and can send a communications probe to ze exact coordinates I have given to ze transporter computer earlier on!"
Spock slowly turned around to face the ensign, his eyebrows sky-high. He didn't approve of being interrupted, however he had become quite accustomed to it during his years in space alongside humans, especially since he had been serving alongside Dr McCoy.
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Captain Kirk poured himself a cup of freshly brewed, and desperately needed, coffee, as he waited for his key personnel to gather in conference room 2 for a crisis meeting. As he had been the first one to arrive, he had the opportunity to reflect on the events of the last couple of hours.
An hour earlier, Kirk had congratulated Spock, Kyle and especially Chekov for their excellent work and the Russian had beamed like a 5 year-old on Christmas Day.
Kirk had praised the ensign's idea of sending a probe to the coordinates he had communicated to the transporter earlier on, to see if it would re-materialise at a location on-planet or in space. The latter scenario would irrefutably confirm that the landing party had perished. But if the first scenario should occur, it would provide them with reasons to be hopeful.
The simple but robust long-range communications probe Hoffmann 7 had been deemed the most suitable candidate by Spock and Lieutenant Kyle. It would be the guinea pig which would hopefully herald a rescue mission. The small metal probe could be used as a communication device to transmit encoded messages. Mr Scott and his assistants were familiar with such codes and if they would encounter the probe they would know how to communicate through it. If the men were able to ascertain their coordinates, they could communicate them through the probe. The landing party could then be retrieved once the transporter was operational again.
The transporter was still so severely damaged that even though they would be able to beam the probe to the last coordinates used, beaming anyone back, once coordinates of the landing party had been received, wouldn’t be possible for a few more days until the transporter was fully repaired.
But Kirk was not prepared to waste any time. Within minutes of having agreed to the proposed plan of action, the Hoffmann 7 was beamed to the coordinates the transporter had used last and had been transferred by Chekov at the time.
Jim knew deep down in his heart that the chances were slim for a positive outcome. There were just too many unknowns at this moment in time to be genuinely hopeful. And there was the significant matter of how the outcome would affect young Pavel Chekov’s future.
If they only could conclusively identify the nature of the unknown energy field that had prevented the Enterprise from entering the local vicinity around Adelous 4. The energy was still present in the same area of space and Kirk deemed it best to not attempt to get closer to the planet again until its nature and purpose had been identified. So far, their limited readings hadn’t provided any clarity. They needed to determine if it was a natural or an artificial object… was it placed there by some alien force? And if so, why? Maybe Chekov had transmitted the correct coordinates after all but this alien force field had altered the beaming process. If that was the case, they would at least know that it hadn't been the ensign's fault should the communications from the probe turn out negative. If the incident could be blamed on the energy field, and possibly an alien power behind it, the youngster's conscience would be freed of its guilt.
The captain's mind was occupied with all those questions as he watched the young navigator arrive in the conference room. Chekov sat down, nervously playing with his hands, eyes fixed on the floor. A moment later the rest of the officers Kirk had summoned arrived: Mr Spock, Dr McCoy, acting CEO Lieutenant Mendelson and Lieutenants Sulu, Uhura and Kyle were now all present at the crisis meeting.
Lieutenant Uhura delivered her report on how long it could take for a response from the probe to be received, either by the Enterprise or any Starfleet outpost in Federation space for that matter. Her proposed time-scale spanned from an immediate reply to dozens of years in the future, depending on the distance the signal would have to travel between the probe’s location and the ship, or any possible star base that might be closer and would, therefore, receive the signal before the Enterprise.
After his initial enthusiasm, Uhura's discouraging computations made Chekov feel as disheartened as he had been before his breakthrough idea. He was well aware that depending on the coordinates he had fed it, the transporter was capable to beam an inanimate object of small size so far away that a signal could take dozens of years to reach them, but the disassembled molecules of a human body would not survive such a distance. Hence, the longer it would take the probe to reply, the more unlikely it would be that Mr Scott and his men were still alive.
"50.34 minutes."
Spock reminded everyone of the exact time left they were allowed to hope for a reply. After that time the probe would be too far away for any human to have survived the beaming process.
Chekov looked like he'd like to disappear into thin air. McCoy directed a sharp look towards Spock which was received with a raised eyebrow that reached the FO's hairline. The doctor crossed his arms, but uncharacteristically, he refrained from replying to Spock's mimicry with a critical comment. Bones didn't want to unnerve Chekov any further.
The sombre mood in the conference room was becoming more unbearable with any minute that passed. Even Sulu's light-hearted attempt to entertain the attendees with an anecdote about his recently attained flesh-eating plant from Rigel 6, were met with tired smiles.
Kirk sensed how the pressure was straining Chekov's nerves. The navigator was white as a sheet. McCoy exchanged a worried look with the captain. Kirk got up and put a hand on Chekov's shoulder who was startled by the touch and lifted his head.
"You may wait in your quarters if you prefer to do so, Pavel. There's no need for you to wait here. In fact" - at this the captain turned to the others - "you can all choose a way to pass the short time left that seems most appropriate to you."
No one got up. The thought of being alone right now didn't appeal to anyone.
"May I request to stay with you, Sair, I mean with the other officers?", Chekov blushed at his own clumsiness but Kirk replied with a warm smile.
"Of course."
As the Enterprise was maintaining a safe distance from the energy field and the bridge was in the capable hands of the Gamma shift, there was no need for any of the attending officers to be at their posts. Indeed, all they could do at this moment was wait. And they chose to wait together. A soft smile appeared on the captain’s lips.
As Jim thought about the camaraderie of his crew, he felt a knot at the depth of his stomach. Scotty, and his two assistants no doubt, would have also opted to share those tormenting moments with their colleagues, if they had found themselves in the painful situation of those present.
Grateful for some distraction, Jim took a glass of brandy from McCoy's hand. The doctor had left the room a few minutes earlier to 'get some medicine' and had returned with a large bottle of his best Saurian brandy.
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"Time's up, Captain."
Spock's calmly spoken words were still ringing in his ears. Chekov had exchanged a brief look with Sulu, sensing his friend's agony at his own desperation. Pavel had immediately requested to return to his post, stubbornly maintaining a brave face even though he was screaming inside. But he couldn't fool Captain Kirk. His CO had send him directly to his quarters with the unambiguous order to 'try and get some rest' until further notice.
Now, Pavel was lying in his bed but contrary to the captain's instruction, he was wide awake and far from resting. Mr Scott and his men were dead and, in all likelihood, it was his fault.
Pavel turned onto his side and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Tears welled up in his eyes. How he wished to talk to his parents right now. Especially to father who was so proud of his achievements. But how could he ever explain his mistake to them, how could he tell them about his carelessness? He started to sob and wasn't even ashamed to do so. There was nothing he could do.