The disciplinary committee conferred and finally settled for a slap on the wrist—an official reprimand (which Chekov had no problem with) and an official written apology from Chekov to Captain Harriman (which Chekov did have a problem with).
They walked back to his place, Chekov complaining all the way. "I'd like to apologize, all right," he said tersely. "Apologize vit a brick through that thick skull of his."
"Look, Pavel, you'd better own up to the fact that you got off lucky," Uhura informed him. "Lucky that you got a hearing board that was somewhat sympathetic to your state of mind. And lucky that Harriman decided not to press the matter. Otherwise it could have gone extremely badly for you."
Chekov gave a derisive snort, but Uhura could tell that he knew she had a point. By the time they got back to Chekov's home, Uhura was already suggesting language for the apology that Chekov was admitting he could live with.
Upon entering, Chekov immediately noticed that there was a message waiting for him. "You know where everything is." Chekov gestured.
"I know where the vodka is," replied Uhura. "That's about all you keep around here."
"I think of it as having priorities," he said archly as he punched up the message at his computer station.
Uhura managed to turn up some fruit juice, and she sat down on the couch to sip it delicately. "Chekov," she said after a moment, sounding fairly glum, "you want to hear something really depressing? I mean, I probably shouldn't be saying this, all things considered. But I think about everything we've accomplished … and what we're leaving behind. Except … the captain's dead. His son is dead. Sulu's daughter is dead. I have no family, nor do you or Scotty. I feel as if we're going, one by one, like characters in a murder mystery. And when it's all over, all we'll be are names in Starfleet texts somewhere. We struggled and risked so much, and in end … maybe we'll be remembered. But there will be no one left to really love us. Was it all worth it, Chekov? Was it?"
He didn't say anything in response. She turned. "Chekov?"
He was seated at his computer screen, and now he turned to Uhura and gestured quickly. "Come here."
"Were you listening to anything I said?"
"Not a vord. Uhura …"
"Well, I'm certainly glad I told you what was on my mi—"
"Uhura, now!" he said with such urgency that it brought her full attention upon him. She went quickly to him and bent over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.
There was an image of Sulu, frozen on the screen. "What's going on?" she asked.
"I'll play it again," he said. "Vatch."
Sulu stayed immobile for a moment more, and then he said, "By the time you receive this, I may very well have thrown away my captaincy. For all I know, I may even be dead. But it's important to me that you, Chekov, and you, Uhura, understand what I'm doing and why I'm doing it."
"He sent the exact same message to both of us, I'd guess," said Chekov. "That's vy …"
"I figured that out, Chekov," she said dryly.
"I refuse to accept the mystery of Demora's death so easily," continued Sulu. "I've barely eaten, barely slept … barely been able to function since I learned of it. Captain Harriman's quarantine action, while understandable—even regulation—is not one that I can tolerate. I can't wait around for months, even years, to find out why my daughter's life is ashes. Indeed … I can't wait around so much as a week. I have to know, for Demora's sake … and for mine. Because in those moments where I do barely drift to sleep … in those twilight seconds … I still feel like I hear her calling to me. I can't abandon her to an enigma. I can't.
"I am therefore intending to bring the Excelsior directly to Askalon Five. Doing this will be not only a direct violation of the quarantine regs, but directly ignoring the orders of Admiral LaVelle. I suspect the recriminations may be severe, but it cannot be helped. I have to do this. I have to.
"On the other hand, I knew I could not tell you … my friends … because I knew there would be no preventing you from joining me on this potentially career-ending quest. Only a couple of years ago, we came together to help Dr. McCoy rejoin Spock's soul to his body. We emerged from that situation unscathed, largely due to the potentially disastrous—yet, ironically, lucky—problem with the Probe. The timing of that bordered on the supernatural. If we'd arrived days earlier, we'd have been serving sentences on a mining colony somewhere. Days, even hours later … and Earth would have been destroyed.
"So it appears that Captain Kirk had some powerful gods watching over him. But it would seem that even those gods have finally abandoned him, and if they weren't there for him … it's a good bet they won't be there for us. Based on that, I cannot and will not risk your coming along.
"Instead I have decided to handle this matter in the way that Mr. Spock did in the Talos Four affair. By taking these actions on myself, by myself, to shield you from potential recriminations. It's my problem. And she was … my daughter.
"But it is important to me that you know and understand my need for subtrefuge, so that you won't think the less of me. Losing your respect would pain me almost as much as losing Demora … and," he said with a grim smile, "I don't think I can handle much more loss right now.
"So … that is the situation. It's my situation. Wish me good luck, and a hope that whatever gods protected James Kirk for so well and so long … cast a brief and favorable glance my way. Sulu out."
The picture blinked off, leaving Chekov and Uhura staring at the blank screen for a long moment.
"I cannot believe he did that," Chekov said. "I cannot believe he left us behind."
"I can," Uhura replied. "I can believe it, for the exact reasons he said. This is something he had to do. He needs to find peace of mind. And I guess he couldn't do that if part of his mind was on us."
"So vat happens now? Ve pretend that everything is normal? Go on with our lives?"
"That's right," said Uhura. "That's exactly what we do. Oh … and one other thing."
"Vat?"
"We pray."
She floated in a haze of confusion …
She thought she heard voices talking … unfamiliar voices …
There was liquid everywhere … she was submerged in some sort of gelatinous mass. She should have been drowning, but she wasn't … it filled her nose, her lungs, every part of her, but instead of suffocating her, it nourished her …
It was like being back in the womb …
… whose womb … someone's womb …
… her recollection was nonexistent, her awareness of who or where she was at best a distant thing …
… she wanted someone … someone to come to her … someone to save her … but she didn't know what or who she needed to be saved from … or who could possibly find her …
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