The Criminon Effect///Sulu/Chekov
Title: The Criminon Effect, Chapter 4
Fandom: Star Trek: TOS
Characters: Hikaru Sulu/Pavel Chekov
Prompt: 35.Doctor
Word Count: 1'061
Rating: PG
Summary: In this multi-prompt episodic adventure, the crew of NCC 1701 are faced with a fanatical enemy with powers unlike anything they've yet encountered.
Disclaimer: I don't own it. :(
Notes: There will be links to proceeding and preceding chapters as the story updates.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
As if summoned by instinct alone, the hissing of the ship’s lift doors announced Kirk’s arrival on the bridge, McCoy on his heels, the tension pricking slightly as Spock and Sulu both moved to announce their findings simultaneously. As their eyes fleetingly met, Sulu lost the urge to speak; even if Spock’s deadpan stare didn’t convey the most passion, it certainly had the tendency to make others swallow their words.
“Spock, status report?” the captain asked, his tone brisk but nonchalant. It was his practice to keep business at an amiable level, even if it ruffled Spock’s feathers.
“Captain,” Spock replied, waiting for Kirk to take the captain’s chair, “It would appear that an un-manned space craft of questionable origins has been spotted by the ship’s navigation system. Our current trajectory puts us on a collision course. However, alteration of our present course would require significant recalculation, or else risk our cargo.”
“On-screen,” Kirk ordered as he acknowledged Spock’s words and their import, but Sulu was already thinking ahead of him; with a quick tap of his monitor, he transferred the enhanced image of the Khanate’s hull to the main screen, the faded blue-and-gold looking more cracked and feeble thanks to the grainy quality of its hyper-magnification. The captain didn’t speak immediately, narrowing his eyes as he studied the image, his calm befuddlement slowly clearing to a shocked realization.
It was the doctor’s turn to lose his cool first, though.
“Jim, I think this would be a pretty good time to change course,” McCoy murmured, so quietly the captain barely caught his words. “In fact, I’d say now’d be as good a time as any.”
Kirk threw him a questioning look, but it was clear the thought had already crossed his mind, too. Flying headlong toward a derelict, that was something Enterprise could handle; if the rumors of this ship were true, however, there was no way they could get anywhere near her without falling off the star charts completely, or worse, turning into a decaying ghost ship themselves.
Kirk got to his feet, taking a step down from his elevated chair to the deck of the bridge, his eyes transfixed on the view screen until he stopped between Sulu and Chekov. He focused his attention to Chekov’s console suddenly, tapping his screen for a wide-angle view of their current path, bringing up secondary paths and routine bypasses in that quadrant, and then heaved a definite sigh as he turned back to the enlarged image of what was considered one of the most notorious horror stories of the Federation.
“I’m afraid I must concur, captain,” Spock intoned gravely, grimacing as Kirk turned on his heel to regard him sharply.
“Now listen here,” the captain began, a bit of his vigor returning to his features as he spoke, “It’s our mission to explore these…anomalies, wherever we find them, Mr. Spock. Besides, I’ve never been a…superstitious man-“
“This isn’t superstition, captain,” Chekov cut in. Sulu realized as he gladly gave him his full attention that the ensign looked a bit…gray. It seemed all the color had drained from his face and he’d sunk in on himself, like a balloon slowly deflating. “This is проклято, it is cursed, a broch…”
A vacant expression suddenly quelled Chekov’s swirling turmoil. He seemed to go in and out of focus somehow, as if wavering through a bad transporter connection, and by the time Sulu realized what was happening, Chekov was already slumping forward on his console, the weight of his collapsing body sliding off his chair toward the floor. Lunging forward, he barely caught Chekov by the shoulders, cushioning the navigator’s head against his chest.
Vibrations of sound suddenly raced through the bridge, resonating on such a low and powerful frequency that Sulu feared momentarily his heart’s natural rhythm would be offset by its extremity. Looking up frantically, he could see the captain yelling to McCoy, but no sound escaped his lips. Uhura was shouting too, but apart from the way she cradled her ear, flinging her earpiece across her workstation, it was impossible to tell exactly what had just hailed them.
“-to all stations, Code Red!”
“-try and triangulate the source-!”
“-God’s sake, it’s like nails scraping the inside of my skull.”
Kirk, Spock and McCoy all ceased shouting simultaneously, realizing in unison that the glowering growl had ceased its transmission, and the bridge was once again silent. There was an uneasy quietude about the place, as yeomen and officers steadied themselves, took account of their fellows, and stared awkwardly around in bewilderment. Apart from Kirk’s half-heard battle cry, there were no orders issued.
“C-Captain,” Uhura said gently, shocking the other personnel on the bridge despite her meek tone, “I-it…came across all frequencies, all at once. It’s garbled, but…I think there’s a message here, somewhere-“
Sulu suddenly was caught by a violent bought of shame; in his flustered state, he’d simply been sitting on the floor with Chekov in his arms, cradling his fallen comrade, and to his bemusement, stroking his hair while the ensign sloped further into unconsciousness.
“-Doctor,” he interrupted Uhura, now garnering all the crew’s unwanted attention from her onto himself, “I hate to interrupt, but you’ve got a patient here.”
Rushing across the bridge, McCoy sank to one knee, checking immediately for a pulse and respiration, asking: “And what the hell happened here, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Sulu responded softly, “He just…collapsed.”
“Could it have been from the recording?” Kirk asked, approaching a step before McCoy’s savage ‘don’t-bother-me-while-I’m-working’ glare cut him short.
“It wasn’t a recording, sir-“ Uhura interjected, but Sulu kept on talking.
“It was before the…tone, or whatever you’d call that noise,” the Lieutenant pressed, reluctantly allowing McCoy to move Chekov from semi-upright to prone on the floor. “He-he hasn’t been acting himself recently, either.”
For another moment McCoy worked feverishly before sitting back on his heels slowly, as if recoiling from a very stunned realization. He didn’t react further, though; just sat on the balls of his feet, looking dazed, until Spock suddenly cleared his throat, and the doctor snapped back to reality with the power of a whiplash.
“Somebody help me get him up,” McCoy demanded, his eyes fixing immediately on Sulu, “Get him up and get him to sick bay, STAT. I’ve got no idea what this is…but I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.”
Fandom: Star Trek: TOS
Characters: Hikaru Sulu/Pavel Chekov
Prompt: 35.Doctor
Word Count: 1'061
Rating: PG
Summary: In this multi-prompt episodic adventure, the crew of NCC 1701 are faced with a fanatical enemy with powers unlike anything they've yet encountered.
Disclaimer: I don't own it. :(
Notes: There will be links to proceeding and preceding chapters as the story updates.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
As if summoned by instinct alone, the hissing of the ship’s lift doors announced Kirk’s arrival on the bridge, McCoy on his heels, the tension pricking slightly as Spock and Sulu both moved to announce their findings simultaneously. As their eyes fleetingly met, Sulu lost the urge to speak; even if Spock’s deadpan stare didn’t convey the most passion, it certainly had the tendency to make others swallow their words.
“Spock, status report?” the captain asked, his tone brisk but nonchalant. It was his practice to keep business at an amiable level, even if it ruffled Spock’s feathers.
“Captain,” Spock replied, waiting for Kirk to take the captain’s chair, “It would appear that an un-manned space craft of questionable origins has been spotted by the ship’s navigation system. Our current trajectory puts us on a collision course. However, alteration of our present course would require significant recalculation, or else risk our cargo.”
“On-screen,” Kirk ordered as he acknowledged Spock’s words and their import, but Sulu was already thinking ahead of him; with a quick tap of his monitor, he transferred the enhanced image of the Khanate’s hull to the main screen, the faded blue-and-gold looking more cracked and feeble thanks to the grainy quality of its hyper-magnification. The captain didn’t speak immediately, narrowing his eyes as he studied the image, his calm befuddlement slowly clearing to a shocked realization.
It was the doctor’s turn to lose his cool first, though.
“Jim, I think this would be a pretty good time to change course,” McCoy murmured, so quietly the captain barely caught his words. “In fact, I’d say now’d be as good a time as any.”
Kirk threw him a questioning look, but it was clear the thought had already crossed his mind, too. Flying headlong toward a derelict, that was something Enterprise could handle; if the rumors of this ship were true, however, there was no way they could get anywhere near her without falling off the star charts completely, or worse, turning into a decaying ghost ship themselves.
Kirk got to his feet, taking a step down from his elevated chair to the deck of the bridge, his eyes transfixed on the view screen until he stopped between Sulu and Chekov. He focused his attention to Chekov’s console suddenly, tapping his screen for a wide-angle view of their current path, bringing up secondary paths and routine bypasses in that quadrant, and then heaved a definite sigh as he turned back to the enlarged image of what was considered one of the most notorious horror stories of the Federation.
“I’m afraid I must concur, captain,” Spock intoned gravely, grimacing as Kirk turned on his heel to regard him sharply.
“Now listen here,” the captain began, a bit of his vigor returning to his features as he spoke, “It’s our mission to explore these…anomalies, wherever we find them, Mr. Spock. Besides, I’ve never been a…superstitious man-“
“This isn’t superstition, captain,” Chekov cut in. Sulu realized as he gladly gave him his full attention that the ensign looked a bit…gray. It seemed all the color had drained from his face and he’d sunk in on himself, like a balloon slowly deflating. “This is проклято, it is cursed, a broch…”
A vacant expression suddenly quelled Chekov’s swirling turmoil. He seemed to go in and out of focus somehow, as if wavering through a bad transporter connection, and by the time Sulu realized what was happening, Chekov was already slumping forward on his console, the weight of his collapsing body sliding off his chair toward the floor. Lunging forward, he barely caught Chekov by the shoulders, cushioning the navigator’s head against his chest.
Vibrations of sound suddenly raced through the bridge, resonating on such a low and powerful frequency that Sulu feared momentarily his heart’s natural rhythm would be offset by its extremity. Looking up frantically, he could see the captain yelling to McCoy, but no sound escaped his lips. Uhura was shouting too, but apart from the way she cradled her ear, flinging her earpiece across her workstation, it was impossible to tell exactly what had just hailed them.
“-to all stations, Code Red!”
“-try and triangulate the source-!”
“-God’s sake, it’s like nails scraping the inside of my skull.”
Kirk, Spock and McCoy all ceased shouting simultaneously, realizing in unison that the glowering growl had ceased its transmission, and the bridge was once again silent. There was an uneasy quietude about the place, as yeomen and officers steadied themselves, took account of their fellows, and stared awkwardly around in bewilderment. Apart from Kirk’s half-heard battle cry, there were no orders issued.
“C-Captain,” Uhura said gently, shocking the other personnel on the bridge despite her meek tone, “I-it…came across all frequencies, all at once. It’s garbled, but…I think there’s a message here, somewhere-“
Sulu suddenly was caught by a violent bought of shame; in his flustered state, he’d simply been sitting on the floor with Chekov in his arms, cradling his fallen comrade, and to his bemusement, stroking his hair while the ensign sloped further into unconsciousness.
“-Doctor,” he interrupted Uhura, now garnering all the crew’s unwanted attention from her onto himself, “I hate to interrupt, but you’ve got a patient here.”
Rushing across the bridge, McCoy sank to one knee, checking immediately for a pulse and respiration, asking: “And what the hell happened here, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Sulu responded softly, “He just…collapsed.”
“Could it have been from the recording?” Kirk asked, approaching a step before McCoy’s savage ‘don’t-bother-me-while-I’m-working’ glare cut him short.
“It wasn’t a recording, sir-“ Uhura interjected, but Sulu kept on talking.
“It was before the…tone, or whatever you’d call that noise,” the Lieutenant pressed, reluctantly allowing McCoy to move Chekov from semi-upright to prone on the floor. “He-he hasn’t been acting himself recently, either.”
For another moment McCoy worked feverishly before sitting back on his heels slowly, as if recoiling from a very stunned realization. He didn’t react further, though; just sat on the balls of his feet, looking dazed, until Spock suddenly cleared his throat, and the doctor snapped back to reality with the power of a whiplash.
“Somebody help me get him up,” McCoy demanded, his eyes fixing immediately on Sulu, “Get him up and get him to sick bay, STAT. I’ve got no idea what this is…but I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.”