Broken Image

-CHAPTER 3-

He stirred uncomfortably and groaned. Experimentally, he stirred again. His eyes shot open suddenly and stared at the fabric in front of his face.

He sat bolt upright on the couch he'd fallen asleep on and swung his eyes around the empty cabin. HHHHH e lunged for the alert button.

"SHIT!" he swore enthusiastically.

He tore through the section of unruly hair with his comb angrily. He considered swearing again. His eyes shifted to the other side of the mirror as Sulu stumbled into the bathroom from the adjoining cabin and yawned sleepily.

"Morning." Chekov commented, trying a more gentle approach with the piece of hair.

"Go ahead," Sulu mumbled. "Don't invite me to your parties. See if I care, even if it is at six o'clock in the morning on my day off."

Chekov dropped the comb and stared at himself in the mirror, trying to decide if his hair would pass the way it was. It wouldn't.

"It's the Security Team," he bit out.

"I'm not prejudiced."

Chekov glanced over at him and wondered if he was awake yet. He leaned back on the vanity and opened his eyes, so he must have been.

"What is it?"

"An intruder," Chekov bit back.

"God, don't shoot me: I belong here, remember?" Sulu sighed in an apparent attempt to wake himself up. "I was going to come over last night, but I saw you go in with some girl. Who was she?"

"The intruder."

Sulu let out a low whistle. "She can come over and intrude on me any time."

"Tell me about it," Chekov said angrily. "Or better yet, tell Kirk about it because I sure as hell don't feel like explaining this to him." He threw the comb so it smashed against the mirror.

"Hey!" Sulu warned, and grabbed his arm. It was an amazingly fierce grip for someone who was supposed to be half asleep, but it served as a warning signal that Chekov's temper was coming dangerously close to its boiling point. It also served, in more ways than one, to steady it.

"Take it easy," Sulu coaxed after a long moment.

Chekov drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Yah." He went to reach for the comb again, but Sulu tightened the grip on his arm. Unceremoniously, he spit on his hand and wiped it over Chekov's hair. The piece stayed in place.

"I don't know why I bothered washing it," Chekov muttered, turning to leave. He hesitated at the door and glanced back. "Thanks."

"Ehh-," Sulu drew out. "I got plenty of spit, besides, if you get an ulcer I'm the one who's going to have to listen to you complain about your diet."

"People with tempers don't get ulcers," Chekov smiled.

"No, with a temper like yours they get a new cabin-the brig. I had enough trouble getting used to you."

"You need new pajamas," Chekov said critically as he turned to leave again.

"Yah, I know," Sulu muttered. "I'll steal them from you when you're on duty today."

Chekov snickered as the door slid shut behind him.

"Perez, where's Nordel?"

"He was in the bedroom with Finnegan, Sir."

Chekov nodded, but then paused and glanced back at him with a curious glint in his eye.

Perez laughed slightly and shrugged. "Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean it to sound like that. They're conducting a search, as per your orders."

"Yes," Chekov drew out, walking away.

"Sir! Could you sign this, Sir?"

Chekov stopped to scan over the report, but stood with it in his hand a long moment before finishing it. The voices from the bedroom behind him drifted outward and he listened to them.

"God, it's beautiful! Gorgeous. Can he play it?"

"Like a dream, but not in front of anyone. We have sing alongs at defense parties so he'll play. He'll play then because he thinks none of us is listening to him."

"I bet it's hand painted. It must be worth a fortune."

"More than that. You so much as put a scratch on it and it'll mean your life."

Damn, Chekov thought, he hadn't put it away before going on duty yesterday. Pushing the clipboard back at the crewman, he turned into the bedroom.

"Don't exaggerate, Nordel. If getting a scratch on it is going to save someone's life, I'd gladly tolerate one, but for anything less..." he let his voice trail off for impact and carefully slid the accordian in its case.

Nordel watched him uncomfortably, trying to figure out how much the Lieutenant had heard of their previous conversation. He couldn't discern anything from his expression and decided they must be safe.

Chekov placed the accordian in its case beside the bed and swooped up his stack of papers. "Nordel, after they're done with my cabin I want Watch A to relieve last nights watch. Everyone's on watch and watch-everyone-until the intruder's found. Last nights watch gets eight hours sleep before assuming watch and watch."

"Yes, Sir.

"I want hourly reports and section reports," he added as he left.
"Yes, Sir." Inwardly, Nordel groaned and hoped the intruder was found soon. On watch and watch was a murderous schedule for any amount of time. Four hours on duty and four hours off, repeated over and over again. There was barely enough time to fall asleep before you had to get up again.

Chekov strode into the hall swiftly.

"Mr. Chekov."

He hesitated in midstep and turned in curiosity back toward Spock, who approached him. "May I speak with you a moment, Lieutenant?"

Chekov nodded and entered a lounge. "Certainly, Mr. Spock. Is there something wrong?" he asked as the door slid closed behind the Vulcan.

"No, I was merely curious as to your extensive use of the computer last night."

Chekov frowned. "Computer?"

"Yes," he said, presenting the Lieutenant with a clipboard. "You used the computer a gread deal last night. I was merely curious as to your purpose. Perhaps I could be of some assistance?"

Shaking his head, Chekov pushed the clipboard back at the First Officer without even glancing at it. "I didn't use the computer last night, Sir."

Spock indicated the clipboard. "You used..."

"Mr. Spock. With all due respect, Sir." Chekov shrugged. "The storm's distorted everything. It must have been someone else."

Spock's face tightened fractionally. "My information is accurate. If it was someone else using the computer, then they were using it in your cabin."

Kirk strolled into the lounge and hesitated as he heard Chekov's voice.

"Mr. Spock," Chekov said deliberately. "I assure you, no one..." he froze in midsentence.

Kirk noticed the look of anger on Chekov's face and stepped forward. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

"Captain, we've got an intruder."

Kirk stiffened and glared at Chekov. "Where?" he demanded, subdued anger in his voice. "I don't know, Sir. I met that woman again last night, and according to Mr. Spock she may have used my computer."

"I want to know for sure. Spock..."

"Yes, Sir," Spock nodded in silent confirmation and left.

Kirk swung back to Chekov. "What about this intruder?"

"I met her in the hall last night. I took her to my cabin so I could call Security without alarming her. Captain..." There was a painful pause. Chekov was well aware of being in a defensive position. "I fell asleep."

"When?" Kirk demanded.

"I don't know," Chekov confessed thickly.

"Chekov, you're Chief of Security."

"Yes, Sir," Chekov bit out, then sighed. "Captain, I just don't know what happened. I can remember it, but it doesn't seem real!" he insisted. "I can remember talking to her, I can even remember what we talked about, but it's all fuzzy: like a dream. Sir, that just wasn't me."

Kirk straightened slightly. "Are you sure you didn't dream the entire thing?"

"Yes, Sir. I can remember very clearly walking into my cabin, pouring the drinks and sitting down next to her, and then...Captain, it wasn't a dream. The glasses were on the table this morning.

"Drugged perhaps," Kirk said studying him with concern.

Chekov nodded. "I've had Security make an entire sweep of my cabin, with special proiroity to the glasses and their contents."

"I want the whole ship on Red Alert, distribute phasers to all personel. That woman is still aboard," Kirk said evenly. "And I want to know where and HOW."

Chekov straightened imperceptibly, a shadow of guilty defensiveness tracing over his face. "Believe me Sir, so do I. If there's a leak in our new seecruity system, we'll find it. All security details have been put on Red Alert and are presently conducting a priority one search."

There was no mention of what would happen if it was found the intruder came aboard because of a slip up on the part of the Security Team. There would be no mention of that posisibility because the mute fury that was beginning to gleam in the Lieutenant's eyes would take months for the team to work off. And they openly feared the consequences a major mistake would bring from the Chief.

"I'll monitor the search from the bridge, with you permission Captain," he concluded.

"After you've paid a visit to sickbay."

Chekov froze and met Kirk's eyes with an even gaze. "Sir?"

"If you've been drugged or are hallucinating...no one else has reported the intruder, have they?"

"No, Sir," Chekov responded dryly.

"It's logically the next step in security. All possibilities must be examined and a quick check up will rule out many of them."

Chekov nodded slightly after a long moment. Despite his utter abhorrence for doctors, the line of reasoning Kirk had taken couldn't be avoided.

"Yes, Sir."

Kirk smiled slightly in understanding. "It'll only take a minute to find any trace of drugs. Report to the bridge immediately following."

"Yes, Sir."

BI – CHAPTER 3 - 5