FIC: Untitled [Star Trek XI]
Jun. 14th, 2009 04:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darktrent182TITLE: Untitled
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek XI doesn't belong to me – the universe belongs to Gene Roddenberry and so many people that if they were all to sue me, various descendants would be in debt up to their eyeballs. Written for entertainment purposes, no money made, please don't sue, yadda.
FANDOM: Star Trek XI
PAIRING: Scotty/Chekov
WORD COUNT: 5,085
RATING: R for implied sexual situations
WARNINGS: Alternate universe Jonathan Archer? I've never seen Enterprise before, so I could be butchering the character by accident. Many apologies!
SUMMARY: Admiral Archer doesn't like that Scotty's on the Enterprise, and he's taking steps.
CHALLENGE: Written for the Star Trek Kink Meme, because I'm a sheep.
PROMPT: Click here for details.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Unbeta'd liek woah. Probably rather crappy as well?
***
"I really don't see why I have to get dressed up for this sort of thing, Captain," Scotty complained for the seventh time in two days. "No one's going to want to talk to the Chief Engineer, much less anyone who isn't part of the bridge crew."
Kirk smiled. "I know you don't, Scotty, but we've got to play nice with the admirals, show them that we're taking care of their favorite ship. Who knows, maybe one or two of them will know a bit about engineering and want to ask you about how she's holding up."
Scotty sighed. "Admiral Atwood isn't going to be attending, and he's the one who actually knows how she's put together, sir. Anyone else who attends is going to be far more interested in talking your ear off than mine. I can stay in my quarters and be quiet as a mouse, promise."
Kirk chuckled. "I'd let you if I knew for a fact that you wouldn't sneak back to Engineering to keep tinkering with the water turbines."
"They have been acting a bit dodgy lately," Scotty replied.
"Could it be from the swim you took when you first arrived on her?" The captain grinned and didn't wait for a response. He clapped Scotty on the shoulder. "Remember, dress uniform and report in at 1900."
Scotty watched him head for the bridge at a light jog with an annoyed look. "Aye, captain."
***
There were admirals and other high-ranking officers of Starfleet milling around, drinking replicated champagne and chatting up the bridge crew while the engineers like him stood around hoping for a quick escape.
At least the holodeck program was running smoothly.
Scotty had been working on it for the past few days, working out some of the kinks that had cropped up (fuzzy resolution with some surfaces, incongruous textures with others), but it had paid off in the end.
"Mister Scott," a familiar voice spoke up behind him, and when he turned, he saw Chekov beaming up at him, armed with two champagne flutes. "Care for a drink?"
"Sure." Scotty accepted the proffered flute and took a sip, ignoring the replicated taste as best he could. It was the twenty-third century, and people still couldn't make replicated food taste as good as the real thing. "How's it going?"
Chekov shrugged. "It is all right. Wery important admirals, wery important talking that says nothing at all. It is like... white noise."
Scotty grinned a little before taking another sip. "Anyone caught you tuning them out?"
Chekov shook his head, smiling. "No. I am wery good at looking like I am paying attention."
"I certainly hope you've never used that trick on me," Scotty said.
The Russian smirked. "What if I have?"
Scotty narrowed his eyes, knowing that Chekov was baiting him, but not minding being drawn into the trap. "Then I'd say that you're due for a good--"
"Gentlemen," a new voice cut in, sounding like any number of admirals there, and of course, it came from Scotty's blind spot.
When he turned, he saw an elderly gentleman wearing the dress uniform of an admiral, and sure enough, Scotty knew this wasn't going to be good.
"Admiral Archer," Chekov said, brightening a little (probably because he'd just squeaked out of getting teased inappropriately in public), "how are you this evening?"
Admiral Jonathan Archer stood roughly two inches taller than Scotty, giving the impression to anyone who looked at him that he was ready to plant his feet and take on a charging bull. Despite the fact that he was 148 years old, his shoulders were straight, his hazel eyes were clear, and when he spoke, he sounded like a man a hundred years younger.
"I'm doing well, Ensign," he murmured before seeming to notice Scotty for the first time. "Why, Lieutenant Commander, what an unexpected surprise."
Scotty tried to slap on the best smile he could. "Admiral, you're doing well, I trust?"
Archer nodded. "I hear that you were made Chief of Engineering here aboard the Enterprise."
Archer was getting at something, Scotty knew it. Ever since the mishap with the man's prized beagle, and the subsequent assignment to Delta Vega, Scotty had been expecting something like this to happen. Granted, he'd "borrowed" Porthos for the transwarp experiment, but he'd been fully intending on returning the dog after he proved his point to his professor. The fact that the dog never showed up was something Scotty hadn't counted on at the time.
"Yes, he has," Chekov replied. "He is wery good at keeping the ship together when the captain asks the impossible."
Archer glanced at Chekov, nodding slowly. "I remember a few times when Trip saved the day. I'd expect nothing less from the Chief Engineer."
The man was playing pleasantries now, and it might have been the fact that he'd been on his feet for two hours with the replicated potted plants for company, but Scotty reached the end of his rope. "Begging your pardon, Admiral Archer, but what's the real reason you're talking to me here? I'm sure there's other diplomats and captains that'd be more worth your time."
Hazel eyes flashed, but the admiral merely sipped at his champagne. "If there's one thing I've liked about you, it's your directness," he murmured. "I've learned a few troubling things about your involvement here on the Enterprise that I'm going to be investigating further. If you interfere, I won't hesitate to have you court-martialed. Is that clear?"
Scotty's grip on his champagne flute tightened. "May I hear what they are, sir? Perhaps I can clear up matters right here and save you the trouble of having to stay on more than you need to."
The admiral's smile wasn't amused. "I appreciate your willingness to be candid, Lieutenant Commander, but I'd rather get my ducks in a row before we speak again. This was merely a courtesy."
Scotty gritted his teeth, and tried to keep smiling pleasantly. "Thank you for the courtesy, then, Admiral."
Archer nodded. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I see another guest has arrived who I must speak to."
Chekov watched the admiral's retreating figure wander through the crowd before turning back to Scotty. "What was that about?"
Scotty glared after Archer's back, taking a sip of his champagne. "He's trying to screw me over, that's what." He turned back to Chekov, still looking furious. "Y'know, it's not enough that he has me sent to that hellhole for using his dog for a transporter test. And it's also not enough that he blocked my promotion to a full commander. Now, he has to make my life miserable because of that damn dog."
Chekov blinked. "He blocked your promotion?"
Scotty nodded tersely. "It's not that much of a difference in pay grade and whatnot, just the fact that there's fewer syllables to pronounce, but it's the principle of the thing."
"But why would he do that?" Chekov asked, still looking shocked, but now starting to look intensely curious. Normally, Scotty wouldn't mind that sort of look, since it was usually followed by something extremely inventive while they were in bed, and something devilishly clever when they were out of it, but now it was a little annoying.
"I told you about what happened to his dog, right?" Scotty asked.
"Yes." The Russian nodded. "Your math was off, and it never reappeared." He blinked, and then looked back to where the admiral had disappeared. "He is still upset?"
"Aye," Scotty growled. "Apparently, that dog was over seventy years old. They'd done some sort of life-extension on him to test out whether animals could benefit from longer lifespans, and it had actually gone well. And of course, no one had bothered to tell me before I..." He paused, and then figured what the hell, "Well, let's just say that I borrowed him without telling the admiral I was doing it at the time."
Chekov blinked.
"I was going to put him right back!" Scotty objected. "It was just an accident that he didn't reappear where he was supposed to."
"The calculations said he was supposed to appear in the Mars colony, yes?" Chekov asked.
"Aye, and no one reported a dog fitting its description anywhere in it," Scotty grumbled. "I'll bet that someone swiped the poor thing and took him home, but ever since the miscalculation, Admiral Archer's been after me."
"What will he do now that he knows you are here?" Chekov asked slowly, frowning.
Scotty sighed through his nose. "Probably dig up some dirt on me from somewhere and make my life hell. He's done this before to a few cadets who crossed him, from what I've heard."
Chekov shrugged. "You should be safe then. There is no dirt to dig up."
Scotty looked at Chekov for a moment before smiling a little. "I appreciate the effort, but I'm sure he'll find something. He's like his damn beagle like that."
***
After the function had ended, and Admiral Archer had requested to stay on the Enterprise while the ship made its way to Hadoran III for a fairly run-of-the-mill mission, Scotty found himself waiting for the hammer to fall. Whenever he made his way to the bridge because the captain had requested his presence, Admiral Archer had been there, staring at him like a snake stares at a rather plump-looking rat.
There were a few times that Scotty had had the nasty shock of finding the admiral roaming around Engineering, talking to crewmen and "touring the ship", but it hadn't happened but once or twice, and Scotty would get too wrapped up in his work to remember to mention it at night when he and Chekov were getting ready for bed.
It was one night in particular when they lay cuddled next to one another, Chekov's head resting against Scotty's shoulder when Chekov said, "The admiral wanted to speak to me about our relationship."
Scotty, who'd been idly tracing a few equations into the soft skin of Chekov's back, frowned. "Did you talk to him?"
"I had no choice," Chekov replied, his voice dropping to an apologetic murmur. "He asked about when we started seeing each other, how long we've been together." He paused before adding, "Things that wouldn't be in personal logs."
"No need for apologies," Scotty said, kissing the top of Chekov's curly hair. "Though I must say, I think this is the first time I'm glad I managed to resist you as long as I could."
"I certainly did not make it easy for you," Chekov admitted in a low voice.
"Hey, now, hold on," Scotty objected, using a finger to tilt Chekov's face up so that he could look the young man in the eye. "You have nothing to feel sorry about. Hell, I was flattered that you were chasing me around like you were. Neither of us did anything wrong, at least nothing that the good admiral can get his paws on."
Chekov frowned skeptically. "What about when we were in the turbolift, after the battle with the three Klingon cruisers?"
A month or so after Scotty had broken down and agreed that they really were actually dating, and not just getting friendlier than two friends normally would, the ship had been on a mission close to the Neutral Zone, and just like out of the Kobayashi Maru, three Klingon warbirds showed up and had given the Enterprise a hell of a walloping before Scotty had been able to pull a miracle out of his arse and warp them out of there. The bridge had barely survived the fight intact, and by the time they'd gotten a safe distance away and the red alert had finished, Engineering had had a hell of a time putting out several fires that had come close to frying some of the important systems.
After Chekov had finished his shift, he'd practically run to Engineering like his feet were on fire and tackled an exhausted Scotty in the turbolift.
That had been the first time Scotty had seen Pavel have an orgasm. The delightful blush he sported when they'd gotten out of the lift had brightened Scotty's day considerably.
"Scotty?" Chekov asked, pushing himself up to lean over Scotty's face, frowning down at him.
"It was stress relief after the battle," Scotty reasoned.
"It happened two months before my eighteenth birthday," Chekov pointed out.
"We didn't do anything wrong," Scotty said firmly.
"You couldn't get to the security footage in the turbolift to erase it," Chekov said, his lips thinning.
"That would have gotten me into more trouble, don't you think?" Scotty snapped, watching the Russian's blue eyes steadily.
"The captain saw, and he talked to you about it," Chekov murmured.
"Yes, and if you'll recall, I explained the situation, and I promised nothing else would happen until after your birthday," Scotty said. "And nothing did. I didn't even get a official reprimand in my file."
"Scotty--" Chekov began, another objection on his lips, but Scotty was getting tired of it.
In one smooth move borne from years of practice, Scotty reached up and flipped the Russian onto his back, surging forward to kiss him deeply, one hand sinking into thick, curly hair while the other kept a pale shoulder pinned down. He could feel himself getting interested by the movement, by the way Chekov moaned and reached up to rub a hand over Scotty's short hair, but when the need for air outweighed the need to keep the kiss going, Chekov's eyes were worried.
"Whatever happened-- hell, whatever happens," Scotty declared, "I don't regret a bit of it, and neither should you."
Chekov shook his head. "I don't regret it. I..." He sighed and ran his thumb over Scotty's cheekbone. "I don't want to be the reason you get into trouble."
"You won't be," Scotty murmured, leaning down to kiss him gently. "I promise."
***
"Kirk to Engineering," sounded over the commlink.
Scotty frowned, glancing up at Keenser, who had climbed up onto one of the dilithium chamber supports yet again. "Get down from there!" he snapped before answering. "Scotty here."
"Scotty, I need you to come up to my ready room. Admiral Archer wants a word with us."
Scotty's jaw clenched. "On my way." He glared up at Keenser, who was watching him steadily. "Do you need a hand down?"
Keenser shook his head, climbing down from the support. "This gonna be bad?" he asked.
"Most likely," Scotty admitted, not pleased with the situation.
The small green alien was quiet for a moment before he said, "Good luck."
Scotty nodded. "Thanks. I've a feeling I'll need it."
The trip to Kirk's ready room had been quick and uneventful, and when the door opened, it revealed Kirk sitting behind his desk, and Admiral Archer sitting across from him. If it weren't for the calculating look on the captain's face, Scotty would have thought they were having a friendly chat.
"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Scotty spoke up, trying to sound like he wasn't expecting this.
"Hey, Scotty," Kirk said with a nod. "Feel free to sit." He gestured to the empty chair right next to Archer.
Scotty sat down, nodding to Kirk and eying Archer before turning his attention back to the captain. "What's going on?"
"It looks like you're about to have charges brought against you that could get you court-martialed," Kirk said, looking at Scotty.
Scotty frowned, looking at the admiral. "What's this all about?"
"You disobeyed a direct order from an acting captain when you first arrived on this ship, Mister Scott," Admiral Archer replied evenly. "An order that the acting captain of the time had clearly stated was an offense that carried the penalty of a court-martial."
Scotty blinked before he remembered what had been happening at the time. "With all due respect, Admiral--"
"I wasn't finished, Mister Scott," Archer cut in, a hint of steel in his even tone. "Even if that offense has been forgiven by now, as well as your leaving your post at Delta Vega when you transported yourself and Captain Kirk onto the Enterprise, having sex with a minor isn't something that you can just sweep under the rug."
Scotty's jaw dropped. "What...?"
Kirk's jaw, on the other hand, clenched. "That was a stress overload from having to put out fires in Engineering after an engagement with Klingons, sir. Scotty and Chekov have been good friends ever since Scotty arrived--"
"I'm sure they have," Archer said snidely.
"--and Chekov had been worried something had happened to him," Kirk barked over the admiral, trying his usual tactic of drowning out the opposition by playing the conversational juggernaut. "Chekov didn't leave his station before his shift ended, and the incident was never repeated."
Archer snorted, narrowing his eyes at Kirk. "I understand your desire to defend him, Captain, but this isn't something that you can just ignore because you want to."
"All right, then," Kirk said, leaning forward in his chair. "Why are you really talking to the two of us, then? If you were going to bring charges against Scotty, you could've done it without informing either of us."
Archer paused for a moment, his eyes assessing Kirk with something that looked almost like surprise. "I have a proposition to make for Mister Scott."
"Which is?" Scotty asked, knowing that he wasn't going to like it.
"You can be reassigned to the outpost on Delta Vega, effective upon your return to the planet, and this whole matter of a court-martial will be dropped entirely," Archer said calmly.
"Bullshit," Kirk snapped.
Archer turned a steady gaze on the captain. "You can say whatever you like, Kirk, but it's for the best."
Scotty held up a hand, and surprisingly enough, Kirk stopped. "I heard an 'or' in there, sir."
***
Scotty walked with a deadly sort of calm into Engineering, his face blank, and picked up the wrench he'd been using before.
Keenser looked up from the console he was fixing, and narrowed his eyes at him.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
Scotty didn't answer except to throw the wrench as hard and as far as he could. It landed on the floor with a ringing clang, and Scotty shouted as he kicked at the nearest set of tubing.
"That bad," Keenser answered for him.
"That fucking bastard," Scotty snarled, "is sticking me back in that hellhole!"
Keenser blinked. "Delta Vega?"
"Aye," Scotty growled through gritted teeth. "It's either that, or I resign from Starfleet entirely!"
The small green alien stood still, watching the human he'd been working with for the past two and a half years kicked and ranted at the top of his lungs. When a box of tools had been kicked across the floor and had smacked into a console, Scotty finally stopped, rubbing a hand over his short hair.
"I-- I can't do this now," Scotty announced. "I'll be in my quarters. Don't call me unless the ship's being attacked or something's on fire." With that, he stormed out.
Keenser watched him go silently. When the doors to the turbolift closed behind the human, Keenser tapped his commlink. "Keenser to Ensign Chekov."
***
Scotty was halfway through a bottle of his finest scotch when the chime to his quarters sounded. He glared at the door for a minute, earning another bleep for his troubles. "Who is it?" he demanded, because if it was that damned admiral, he was going to kill him and hide the body somewhere.
"Ensign Chekov," came the muffled reply. "Scotty, let me in?"
Scotty crossed the room and opened the door in moments. "What're you doing here?" he asked, frowning at Chekov. "You don't get off-shift for another four hours."
Chekov pushed past him and turned around, folding his arms over his chest. "Keenser paged me after he heard what happened to you. I would've been here sooner, but I had to wait for someone to relieve me."
Scotty sighed heavily. "Damn interfering busybody," he muttered.
Chekov winced and waved a hand in front of his face. "It is good he called me. You still drink that terrible piss?"
Scotty bristled, looking down at Chekov with something between personal pride and murder in his eyes. "I'll have you know 'that terrible piss' is what's stopping me from killing Admiral Archer right now. Did he tell you everything about what's happened, or just the highlights?"
"Either you accept a reassignment to Delta Vega, you leave Starfleet altogether," Chekov summarized, his voice softening. "Or else formal charges will be brought against you by the time we reach Hadoran III."
Scotty stared at him numbly. "Aye," he murmured.
"Scotty..." Chekov began, but he shook his head and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Scotty's neck and kissing his cheek before burrowing his face into Scotty's neck.
Scotty sighed, wrapping his arms around the Russian's waist. "It's all right."
Chekov nuzzled at his neck. "How?"
"Hmm?" Scotty ran his hand up and down Chekov's back gently.
"How can he do this?" he asked, looking up into Scotty's eyes. "What is his reasoning for this?"
Scotty shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe he wants to see me suffer a bit more."
Chekov blinked, looking confused for a moment before he shook his head. "No, no, not that. I meant, what is he holding over you?"
Scotty looked at him for a long moment, weighing his options. He could lie to him, but Chekov was smart enough that he'd be able to find out the truth sooner or later (and if he asked Kirk directly, it would be soonest). And, even though Scotty wanted to lie, he couldn't. They'd been working on this relationship for two years, give or take, and one thing that Scotty had prided himself on was that he'd never lied to Chekov. Not willingly, at any rate.
"He found out about the turbolift incident," he murmured.
Chekov's jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth, but Scotty reached out a finger and stopped him.
"Don't you dare apologize for that," Scotty said, his voice gravelly from the drink and the look in Chekov's eyes. "Don't you dare."
"I won't, then," Chekov murmured, pressing a kiss against Scotty's finger. "What if I came with you?"
Scotty blinked, not understanding. "Came with me?"
Chekov nodded. "To Delta Vega. Or back to Earth. Whichever you want to choose."
Scotty shook his head slowly. "I can't ask you to do that, lad."
"You are not asking," Chekov said with a small smile. "I am offering."
"No," Scotty murmured.
"But--"
"Pavel, no," Scotty said, firmly this time. "You always said that you wanted to be out among the stars, and I'm not about to take that away from you just because some admiral has a bug up his arse over something that happened three years ago." He leaned down, resting his forehead against Chekov's. "You deserve to be here on the Enterprise."
"And you don't?" Chekov asked gently.
"Pavel..."
A finger stopped his lips. "Nyet, Scotty. Now is my turn," Chekov murmured. "I don't think you should be punished like this, but if these are your only options, I will go with you." He brushed his lips against Scotty's in a soft kiss. "I would rather be with you, shivering in some deserted outpost or living in Scotland than staying here on the Enterprise without you."
Scotty looked into his bright blue eyes for a long moment, remembering the seventeen-year-old genius he'd met two years earlier, seeing the sense of joy and wonder in his eyes. Then he sighed and leaned in, kissing him as gently and thoroughly as savoring a chocolate sundae.
Hours later, when they were laying in bed, Chekov on his side, and Scotty spooned behind him, Scotty had been just about to fall asleep when Chekov jerked upright, his eyes wide open.
"What--" he said muzzily, but Chekov was already springing out of bed and trying to scramble into his uniform.
"I can stop it!" he yelped, grabbing a shirt from the floor and trying to throw it on quickly. "I can stop it!"
Scotty blinked, sitting upright just in time to watch Chekov bound out of his quarters, double back to grab a padd, and then sprint out into the corridor, shouting, "I can stop it! I can stop it! Movemovemove!"
Scotty blinked a few more times, and then realized that Chekov had grabbed one of his shirts.
***
The door chimed, and when it opened, Chekov was faced with a rumpled-looking Admiral Archer, who glared at him. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Yes, sir, I do," Chekov said firmly. "May I come in?"
Archer's eyes narrowed, but he stepped back to let Chekov into his guest quarters. "Computer, lights to three-quarters." The lights rose, and he folded his arms across his chest. "I hadn't realized that you'd been transferred to Engineering," he said, sounding amused.
Chekov blinked at him before looking down and realizing that he was wearing Scotty's shirt instead of his own. "The transfer is temporary, I can assure you, but is not my reason for being here."
"Then what is?" Archer asked, watching the younger man steadily.
"I am here to clear up a-- eh, misunderstanding," Chekov said, getting the word right after a second or two to think. "You wish to court-martial Mister Scott for the primary offense of having sex with a minor, yes?"
"It's one of the charges being brought against him, yes," Archer said slowly.
"Then I can tell you, the charge is false," Chekov said confidently. "When I first entered Starfleet Academy, I had to sign waivers in order to serve in space despite being sewenteen. During the process, I became emancipated minor, due to the fact that my parents could not move to America with me because of no money."
Archer's eyes narrowed dangerously, but when he spoke, he sounded calm. "And do you have any proof of this, Ensign?"
"Da," he said quickly. "I mean, yes, I do." He activated the padd he was still carrying, and opened his personnel file. Scrolling to the appropriate page, he offered it to the admiral. "Here is documentation of emancipation. There is also hard copy files at Starfleet and in California."
Archer accepted the padd, and read it silently. After a few minutes of Chekov sweating where he stood, Archer looked at him. "Why didn't your commanding officer present this evidence when the charges were brought forward?"
"Begging your pardon, sir," Chekov said, "but charges have not been formally brought forward. The captain probably didn't realize that I had been emancipated because he treats everyone the same. He expects us to do our jobs, and being young or old has nothing to do with that."
Archer considered this for a long moment, and then nodded. "Very well, Ensign, I'll take this information under advisement."
"Please, sir," Chekov blurted out. "Scotty has saved our lives many times here on the ship. It is like the Enterprise is in his blood. Don't take it away from him."
Archer paused again, this time staring into Chekov's eyes for an uncomfortably long time. "I said I will take it under advisement, Ensign. Now, if you'll excuse me, good night."
Chekov found himself standing outside of the admiral's quarters, holding his padd and wondering if he had made a difference.
***
"Well, Admiral," Kirk said in the transporter room, "I can't say this has been a pleasant experience, but it has been... interesting."
Admiral Archer smirked. "I would say something about respecting your elders, but something tells me that wouldn't work with you."
"'Fraid not, sir," Kirk replied with a smile of his own. "Have a safe trip."
Archer nodded. "You too, Captain."
Scotty, who was manning the transporter controls, kept his eyes very firmly on the console in front of him. It was difficult to resist the urge to have an 'accident' while beaming the admiral down to the surface of the planet, but if that happened, there would definitely be an investigation, and it's not like he could really murder a man in cold blood.
"Before I forget, here is my recommendation," Archer said, pulling a padd out from his uniform and handing it over to Kirk, who accepted it with a nod.
"Thank you, Admiral," Kirk said, glancing down at the padd, his eyes flicking over the screen. "And again, have a safe trip."
Admiral Archer ascended to the platform, and when Kirk gave the order, Scotty beamed him down to Hadoran III.
"Scotty," Kirk said, the beginnings of a smile quirking his lips. "Walk with me."
A bit puzzled, Scotty removed his headset and followed him out of the room. "What is it?"
Kirk grinned, handing the padd over to Scotty as they headed down the hallway to the nearest turbolift. "Start reading here."
He tapped the lower part of the screen.
Finally, it is my recommendation that Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott remain as the Chief of Engineering aboard the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701.
Signed
-Admiral Jonathan Archer
"What...?" Scotty said, staring at the screen without seeing it.
"Something must have changed his mind," Kirk said breezily, causing Scotty to jerk his gaze up to his commanding officer.
"And what exactly do you mean by that, Captain?" Scotty demanded.
Kirk shrugged, looking too casual and smug. "Y'know, I don't actually know. You might want to ask Chekov, though. Seems like he knows about it."
"I see." Scotty's eyes narrowed. "Well, then, thank you, Captain, if you'll need me, I'll be in Engineering."
Kirk pursed his lips and nodded. "Sure thing." He got to the turbolift, but before he activated it, he turned around to face Scotty. "Oh, and Scotty?"
Scotty raised both eyebrows inquiringly. "Aye?"
"Have fun." Kirk winked at him just as the doors closed, leaving Scotty to wonder what the hell was going on.
***
Scotty couldn't get much of anything out of anyone about what had happened with Admiral Archer. Chekov had been conspicuously absent from the bridge, and whenever Scotty had tried to reach him there through the commlink, Kirk would innocently ask to take a message. After the fourth time, Keenser was starting to get annoyed, if the menacing wrench waved in Scotty's direction was any indication, so Scotty took a deep breath and decided to head back to his quarters early.
When he got to the turbolift, however, he was greeted by a familiar face.
"Why, Mister Scott," Chekov said, pretending to look surprised. "Are you off-shift already?"
Scotty frowned, walking inside the turbolift. "No, but I'm heading for my quarters. Was there something you needed, Ensign?"
"Yes, actually, there is," Chekov replied. The turbolift doors closed, the sound of the turbolift starting up almost comforting.
"Which is?"
Chekov didn't answer. After the lift ascended a few decks, he reached out and pressed the halt button.
"Well?" Scotty asked.
"You," Chekov purred, sliding into Scotty's personal space and kissing him deeply, taking his time and keeping Scotty's head in place with both hands.
When they surfaced from the kiss, Scotty blinked. "That's a welcome I can get used to."
Chekov grinned. "It is wery nice."
"So, how'd you do it?" Scotty asked.
"Do what?" Chekov asked, his eyes widening artfully.
Scotty snorted, shaking his head. "One minute, I'm facing a choice of ice-cold exile or Earth, and the next, Admiral Archer's writing a recommendation that I stay aboard."
"Are you complaining?" Chekov asked.
"Of course not," Scotty retorted. "But I'm wondering what you did to get me out of it."
Chekov smiled. "I'll tell you..."
"If?" Scotty prompted.
"You kiss me again."
"Oh, I thought you were going to ask for something terrible, like picking up the dirty towels you left on the floor." Scotty grinned, leaning in to kiss him again.
END
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek XI doesn't belong to me – the universe belongs to Gene Roddenberry and so many people that if they were all to sue me, various descendants would be in debt up to their eyeballs. Written for entertainment purposes, no money made, please don't sue, yadda.
FANDOM: Star Trek XI
PAIRING: Scotty/Chekov
WORD COUNT: 5,085
RATING: R for implied sexual situations
WARNINGS: Alternate universe Jonathan Archer? I've never seen Enterprise before, so I could be butchering the character by accident. Many apologies!
SUMMARY: Admiral Archer doesn't like that Scotty's on the Enterprise, and he's taking steps.
CHALLENGE: Written for the Star Trek Kink Meme, because I'm a sheep.
PROMPT: Click here for details.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Unbeta'd liek woah. Probably rather crappy as well?
***
"I really don't see why I have to get dressed up for this sort of thing, Captain," Scotty complained for the seventh time in two days. "No one's going to want to talk to the Chief Engineer, much less anyone who isn't part of the bridge crew."
Kirk smiled. "I know you don't, Scotty, but we've got to play nice with the admirals, show them that we're taking care of their favorite ship. Who knows, maybe one or two of them will know a bit about engineering and want to ask you about how she's holding up."
Scotty sighed. "Admiral Atwood isn't going to be attending, and he's the one who actually knows how she's put together, sir. Anyone else who attends is going to be far more interested in talking your ear off than mine. I can stay in my quarters and be quiet as a mouse, promise."
Kirk chuckled. "I'd let you if I knew for a fact that you wouldn't sneak back to Engineering to keep tinkering with the water turbines."
"They have been acting a bit dodgy lately," Scotty replied.
"Could it be from the swim you took when you first arrived on her?" The captain grinned and didn't wait for a response. He clapped Scotty on the shoulder. "Remember, dress uniform and report in at 1900."
Scotty watched him head for the bridge at a light jog with an annoyed look. "Aye, captain."
***
There were admirals and other high-ranking officers of Starfleet milling around, drinking replicated champagne and chatting up the bridge crew while the engineers like him stood around hoping for a quick escape.
At least the holodeck program was running smoothly.
Scotty had been working on it for the past few days, working out some of the kinks that had cropped up (fuzzy resolution with some surfaces, incongruous textures with others), but it had paid off in the end.
"Mister Scott," a familiar voice spoke up behind him, and when he turned, he saw Chekov beaming up at him, armed with two champagne flutes. "Care for a drink?"
"Sure." Scotty accepted the proffered flute and took a sip, ignoring the replicated taste as best he could. It was the twenty-third century, and people still couldn't make replicated food taste as good as the real thing. "How's it going?"
Chekov shrugged. "It is all right. Wery important admirals, wery important talking that says nothing at all. It is like... white noise."
Scotty grinned a little before taking another sip. "Anyone caught you tuning them out?"
Chekov shook his head, smiling. "No. I am wery good at looking like I am paying attention."
"I certainly hope you've never used that trick on me," Scotty said.
The Russian smirked. "What if I have?"
Scotty narrowed his eyes, knowing that Chekov was baiting him, but not minding being drawn into the trap. "Then I'd say that you're due for a good--"
"Gentlemen," a new voice cut in, sounding like any number of admirals there, and of course, it came from Scotty's blind spot.
When he turned, he saw an elderly gentleman wearing the dress uniform of an admiral, and sure enough, Scotty knew this wasn't going to be good.
"Admiral Archer," Chekov said, brightening a little (probably because he'd just squeaked out of getting teased inappropriately in public), "how are you this evening?"
Admiral Jonathan Archer stood roughly two inches taller than Scotty, giving the impression to anyone who looked at him that he was ready to plant his feet and take on a charging bull. Despite the fact that he was 148 years old, his shoulders were straight, his hazel eyes were clear, and when he spoke, he sounded like a man a hundred years younger.
"I'm doing well, Ensign," he murmured before seeming to notice Scotty for the first time. "Why, Lieutenant Commander, what an unexpected surprise."
Scotty tried to slap on the best smile he could. "Admiral, you're doing well, I trust?"
Archer nodded. "I hear that you were made Chief of Engineering here aboard the Enterprise."
Archer was getting at something, Scotty knew it. Ever since the mishap with the man's prized beagle, and the subsequent assignment to Delta Vega, Scotty had been expecting something like this to happen. Granted, he'd "borrowed" Porthos for the transwarp experiment, but he'd been fully intending on returning the dog after he proved his point to his professor. The fact that the dog never showed up was something Scotty hadn't counted on at the time.
"Yes, he has," Chekov replied. "He is wery good at keeping the ship together when the captain asks the impossible."
Archer glanced at Chekov, nodding slowly. "I remember a few times when Trip saved the day. I'd expect nothing less from the Chief Engineer."
The man was playing pleasantries now, and it might have been the fact that he'd been on his feet for two hours with the replicated potted plants for company, but Scotty reached the end of his rope. "Begging your pardon, Admiral Archer, but what's the real reason you're talking to me here? I'm sure there's other diplomats and captains that'd be more worth your time."
Hazel eyes flashed, but the admiral merely sipped at his champagne. "If there's one thing I've liked about you, it's your directness," he murmured. "I've learned a few troubling things about your involvement here on the Enterprise that I'm going to be investigating further. If you interfere, I won't hesitate to have you court-martialed. Is that clear?"
Scotty's grip on his champagne flute tightened. "May I hear what they are, sir? Perhaps I can clear up matters right here and save you the trouble of having to stay on more than you need to."
The admiral's smile wasn't amused. "I appreciate your willingness to be candid, Lieutenant Commander, but I'd rather get my ducks in a row before we speak again. This was merely a courtesy."
Scotty gritted his teeth, and tried to keep smiling pleasantly. "Thank you for the courtesy, then, Admiral."
Archer nodded. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I see another guest has arrived who I must speak to."
Chekov watched the admiral's retreating figure wander through the crowd before turning back to Scotty. "What was that about?"
Scotty glared after Archer's back, taking a sip of his champagne. "He's trying to screw me over, that's what." He turned back to Chekov, still looking furious. "Y'know, it's not enough that he has me sent to that hellhole for using his dog for a transporter test. And it's also not enough that he blocked my promotion to a full commander. Now, he has to make my life miserable because of that damn dog."
Chekov blinked. "He blocked your promotion?"
Scotty nodded tersely. "It's not that much of a difference in pay grade and whatnot, just the fact that there's fewer syllables to pronounce, but it's the principle of the thing."
"But why would he do that?" Chekov asked, still looking shocked, but now starting to look intensely curious. Normally, Scotty wouldn't mind that sort of look, since it was usually followed by something extremely inventive while they were in bed, and something devilishly clever when they were out of it, but now it was a little annoying.
"I told you about what happened to his dog, right?" Scotty asked.
"Yes." The Russian nodded. "Your math was off, and it never reappeared." He blinked, and then looked back to where the admiral had disappeared. "He is still upset?"
"Aye," Scotty growled. "Apparently, that dog was over seventy years old. They'd done some sort of life-extension on him to test out whether animals could benefit from longer lifespans, and it had actually gone well. And of course, no one had bothered to tell me before I..." He paused, and then figured what the hell, "Well, let's just say that I borrowed him without telling the admiral I was doing it at the time."
Chekov blinked.
"I was going to put him right back!" Scotty objected. "It was just an accident that he didn't reappear where he was supposed to."
"The calculations said he was supposed to appear in the Mars colony, yes?" Chekov asked.
"Aye, and no one reported a dog fitting its description anywhere in it," Scotty grumbled. "I'll bet that someone swiped the poor thing and took him home, but ever since the miscalculation, Admiral Archer's been after me."
"What will he do now that he knows you are here?" Chekov asked slowly, frowning.
Scotty sighed through his nose. "Probably dig up some dirt on me from somewhere and make my life hell. He's done this before to a few cadets who crossed him, from what I've heard."
Chekov shrugged. "You should be safe then. There is no dirt to dig up."
Scotty looked at Chekov for a moment before smiling a little. "I appreciate the effort, but I'm sure he'll find something. He's like his damn beagle like that."
***
After the function had ended, and Admiral Archer had requested to stay on the Enterprise while the ship made its way to Hadoran III for a fairly run-of-the-mill mission, Scotty found himself waiting for the hammer to fall. Whenever he made his way to the bridge because the captain had requested his presence, Admiral Archer had been there, staring at him like a snake stares at a rather plump-looking rat.
There were a few times that Scotty had had the nasty shock of finding the admiral roaming around Engineering, talking to crewmen and "touring the ship", but it hadn't happened but once or twice, and Scotty would get too wrapped up in his work to remember to mention it at night when he and Chekov were getting ready for bed.
It was one night in particular when they lay cuddled next to one another, Chekov's head resting against Scotty's shoulder when Chekov said, "The admiral wanted to speak to me about our relationship."
Scotty, who'd been idly tracing a few equations into the soft skin of Chekov's back, frowned. "Did you talk to him?"
"I had no choice," Chekov replied, his voice dropping to an apologetic murmur. "He asked about when we started seeing each other, how long we've been together." He paused before adding, "Things that wouldn't be in personal logs."
"No need for apologies," Scotty said, kissing the top of Chekov's curly hair. "Though I must say, I think this is the first time I'm glad I managed to resist you as long as I could."
"I certainly did not make it easy for you," Chekov admitted in a low voice.
"Hey, now, hold on," Scotty objected, using a finger to tilt Chekov's face up so that he could look the young man in the eye. "You have nothing to feel sorry about. Hell, I was flattered that you were chasing me around like you were. Neither of us did anything wrong, at least nothing that the good admiral can get his paws on."
Chekov frowned skeptically. "What about when we were in the turbolift, after the battle with the three Klingon cruisers?"
A month or so after Scotty had broken down and agreed that they really were actually dating, and not just getting friendlier than two friends normally would, the ship had been on a mission close to the Neutral Zone, and just like out of the Kobayashi Maru, three Klingon warbirds showed up and had given the Enterprise a hell of a walloping before Scotty had been able to pull a miracle out of his arse and warp them out of there. The bridge had barely survived the fight intact, and by the time they'd gotten a safe distance away and the red alert had finished, Engineering had had a hell of a time putting out several fires that had come close to frying some of the important systems.
After Chekov had finished his shift, he'd practically run to Engineering like his feet were on fire and tackled an exhausted Scotty in the turbolift.
That had been the first time Scotty had seen Pavel have an orgasm. The delightful blush he sported when they'd gotten out of the lift had brightened Scotty's day considerably.
"Scotty?" Chekov asked, pushing himself up to lean over Scotty's face, frowning down at him.
"It was stress relief after the battle," Scotty reasoned.
"It happened two months before my eighteenth birthday," Chekov pointed out.
"We didn't do anything wrong," Scotty said firmly.
"You couldn't get to the security footage in the turbolift to erase it," Chekov said, his lips thinning.
"That would have gotten me into more trouble, don't you think?" Scotty snapped, watching the Russian's blue eyes steadily.
"The captain saw, and he talked to you about it," Chekov murmured.
"Yes, and if you'll recall, I explained the situation, and I promised nothing else would happen until after your birthday," Scotty said. "And nothing did. I didn't even get a official reprimand in my file."
"Scotty--" Chekov began, another objection on his lips, but Scotty was getting tired of it.
In one smooth move borne from years of practice, Scotty reached up and flipped the Russian onto his back, surging forward to kiss him deeply, one hand sinking into thick, curly hair while the other kept a pale shoulder pinned down. He could feel himself getting interested by the movement, by the way Chekov moaned and reached up to rub a hand over Scotty's short hair, but when the need for air outweighed the need to keep the kiss going, Chekov's eyes were worried.
"Whatever happened-- hell, whatever happens," Scotty declared, "I don't regret a bit of it, and neither should you."
Chekov shook his head. "I don't regret it. I..." He sighed and ran his thumb over Scotty's cheekbone. "I don't want to be the reason you get into trouble."
"You won't be," Scotty murmured, leaning down to kiss him gently. "I promise."
***
"Kirk to Engineering," sounded over the commlink.
Scotty frowned, glancing up at Keenser, who had climbed up onto one of the dilithium chamber supports yet again. "Get down from there!" he snapped before answering. "Scotty here."
"Scotty, I need you to come up to my ready room. Admiral Archer wants a word with us."
Scotty's jaw clenched. "On my way." He glared up at Keenser, who was watching him steadily. "Do you need a hand down?"
Keenser shook his head, climbing down from the support. "This gonna be bad?" he asked.
"Most likely," Scotty admitted, not pleased with the situation.
The small green alien was quiet for a moment before he said, "Good luck."
Scotty nodded. "Thanks. I've a feeling I'll need it."
The trip to Kirk's ready room had been quick and uneventful, and when the door opened, it revealed Kirk sitting behind his desk, and Admiral Archer sitting across from him. If it weren't for the calculating look on the captain's face, Scotty would have thought they were having a friendly chat.
"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Scotty spoke up, trying to sound like he wasn't expecting this.
"Hey, Scotty," Kirk said with a nod. "Feel free to sit." He gestured to the empty chair right next to Archer.
Scotty sat down, nodding to Kirk and eying Archer before turning his attention back to the captain. "What's going on?"
"It looks like you're about to have charges brought against you that could get you court-martialed," Kirk said, looking at Scotty.
Scotty frowned, looking at the admiral. "What's this all about?"
"You disobeyed a direct order from an acting captain when you first arrived on this ship, Mister Scott," Admiral Archer replied evenly. "An order that the acting captain of the time had clearly stated was an offense that carried the penalty of a court-martial."
Scotty blinked before he remembered what had been happening at the time. "With all due respect, Admiral--"
"I wasn't finished, Mister Scott," Archer cut in, a hint of steel in his even tone. "Even if that offense has been forgiven by now, as well as your leaving your post at Delta Vega when you transported yourself and Captain Kirk onto the Enterprise, having sex with a minor isn't something that you can just sweep under the rug."
Scotty's jaw dropped. "What...?"
Kirk's jaw, on the other hand, clenched. "That was a stress overload from having to put out fires in Engineering after an engagement with Klingons, sir. Scotty and Chekov have been good friends ever since Scotty arrived--"
"I'm sure they have," Archer said snidely.
"--and Chekov had been worried something had happened to him," Kirk barked over the admiral, trying his usual tactic of drowning out the opposition by playing the conversational juggernaut. "Chekov didn't leave his station before his shift ended, and the incident was never repeated."
Archer snorted, narrowing his eyes at Kirk. "I understand your desire to defend him, Captain, but this isn't something that you can just ignore because you want to."
"All right, then," Kirk said, leaning forward in his chair. "Why are you really talking to the two of us, then? If you were going to bring charges against Scotty, you could've done it without informing either of us."
Archer paused for a moment, his eyes assessing Kirk with something that looked almost like surprise. "I have a proposition to make for Mister Scott."
"Which is?" Scotty asked, knowing that he wasn't going to like it.
"You can be reassigned to the outpost on Delta Vega, effective upon your return to the planet, and this whole matter of a court-martial will be dropped entirely," Archer said calmly.
"Bullshit," Kirk snapped.
Archer turned a steady gaze on the captain. "You can say whatever you like, Kirk, but it's for the best."
Scotty held up a hand, and surprisingly enough, Kirk stopped. "I heard an 'or' in there, sir."
***
Scotty walked with a deadly sort of calm into Engineering, his face blank, and picked up the wrench he'd been using before.
Keenser looked up from the console he was fixing, and narrowed his eyes at him.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
Scotty didn't answer except to throw the wrench as hard and as far as he could. It landed on the floor with a ringing clang, and Scotty shouted as he kicked at the nearest set of tubing.
"That bad," Keenser answered for him.
"That fucking bastard," Scotty snarled, "is sticking me back in that hellhole!"
Keenser blinked. "Delta Vega?"
"Aye," Scotty growled through gritted teeth. "It's either that, or I resign from Starfleet entirely!"
The small green alien stood still, watching the human he'd been working with for the past two and a half years kicked and ranted at the top of his lungs. When a box of tools had been kicked across the floor and had smacked into a console, Scotty finally stopped, rubbing a hand over his short hair.
"I-- I can't do this now," Scotty announced. "I'll be in my quarters. Don't call me unless the ship's being attacked or something's on fire." With that, he stormed out.
Keenser watched him go silently. When the doors to the turbolift closed behind the human, Keenser tapped his commlink. "Keenser to Ensign Chekov."
***
Scotty was halfway through a bottle of his finest scotch when the chime to his quarters sounded. He glared at the door for a minute, earning another bleep for his troubles. "Who is it?" he demanded, because if it was that damned admiral, he was going to kill him and hide the body somewhere.
"Ensign Chekov," came the muffled reply. "Scotty, let me in?"
Scotty crossed the room and opened the door in moments. "What're you doing here?" he asked, frowning at Chekov. "You don't get off-shift for another four hours."
Chekov pushed past him and turned around, folding his arms over his chest. "Keenser paged me after he heard what happened to you. I would've been here sooner, but I had to wait for someone to relieve me."
Scotty sighed heavily. "Damn interfering busybody," he muttered.
Chekov winced and waved a hand in front of his face. "It is good he called me. You still drink that terrible piss?"
Scotty bristled, looking down at Chekov with something between personal pride and murder in his eyes. "I'll have you know 'that terrible piss' is what's stopping me from killing Admiral Archer right now. Did he tell you everything about what's happened, or just the highlights?"
"Either you accept a reassignment to Delta Vega, you leave Starfleet altogether," Chekov summarized, his voice softening. "Or else formal charges will be brought against you by the time we reach Hadoran III."
Scotty stared at him numbly. "Aye," he murmured.
"Scotty..." Chekov began, but he shook his head and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Scotty's neck and kissing his cheek before burrowing his face into Scotty's neck.
Scotty sighed, wrapping his arms around the Russian's waist. "It's all right."
Chekov nuzzled at his neck. "How?"
"Hmm?" Scotty ran his hand up and down Chekov's back gently.
"How can he do this?" he asked, looking up into Scotty's eyes. "What is his reasoning for this?"
Scotty shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe he wants to see me suffer a bit more."
Chekov blinked, looking confused for a moment before he shook his head. "No, no, not that. I meant, what is he holding over you?"
Scotty looked at him for a long moment, weighing his options. He could lie to him, but Chekov was smart enough that he'd be able to find out the truth sooner or later (and if he asked Kirk directly, it would be soonest). And, even though Scotty wanted to lie, he couldn't. They'd been working on this relationship for two years, give or take, and one thing that Scotty had prided himself on was that he'd never lied to Chekov. Not willingly, at any rate.
"He found out about the turbolift incident," he murmured.
Chekov's jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth, but Scotty reached out a finger and stopped him.
"Don't you dare apologize for that," Scotty said, his voice gravelly from the drink and the look in Chekov's eyes. "Don't you dare."
"I won't, then," Chekov murmured, pressing a kiss against Scotty's finger. "What if I came with you?"
Scotty blinked, not understanding. "Came with me?"
Chekov nodded. "To Delta Vega. Or back to Earth. Whichever you want to choose."
Scotty shook his head slowly. "I can't ask you to do that, lad."
"You are not asking," Chekov said with a small smile. "I am offering."
"No," Scotty murmured.
"But--"
"Pavel, no," Scotty said, firmly this time. "You always said that you wanted to be out among the stars, and I'm not about to take that away from you just because some admiral has a bug up his arse over something that happened three years ago." He leaned down, resting his forehead against Chekov's. "You deserve to be here on the Enterprise."
"And you don't?" Chekov asked gently.
"Pavel..."
A finger stopped his lips. "Nyet, Scotty. Now is my turn," Chekov murmured. "I don't think you should be punished like this, but if these are your only options, I will go with you." He brushed his lips against Scotty's in a soft kiss. "I would rather be with you, shivering in some deserted outpost or living in Scotland than staying here on the Enterprise without you."
Scotty looked into his bright blue eyes for a long moment, remembering the seventeen-year-old genius he'd met two years earlier, seeing the sense of joy and wonder in his eyes. Then he sighed and leaned in, kissing him as gently and thoroughly as savoring a chocolate sundae.
Hours later, when they were laying in bed, Chekov on his side, and Scotty spooned behind him, Scotty had been just about to fall asleep when Chekov jerked upright, his eyes wide open.
"What--" he said muzzily, but Chekov was already springing out of bed and trying to scramble into his uniform.
"I can stop it!" he yelped, grabbing a shirt from the floor and trying to throw it on quickly. "I can stop it!"
Scotty blinked, sitting upright just in time to watch Chekov bound out of his quarters, double back to grab a padd, and then sprint out into the corridor, shouting, "I can stop it! I can stop it! Movemovemove!"
Scotty blinked a few more times, and then realized that Chekov had grabbed one of his shirts.
***
The door chimed, and when it opened, Chekov was faced with a rumpled-looking Admiral Archer, who glared at him. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Yes, sir, I do," Chekov said firmly. "May I come in?"
Archer's eyes narrowed, but he stepped back to let Chekov into his guest quarters. "Computer, lights to three-quarters." The lights rose, and he folded his arms across his chest. "I hadn't realized that you'd been transferred to Engineering," he said, sounding amused.
Chekov blinked at him before looking down and realizing that he was wearing Scotty's shirt instead of his own. "The transfer is temporary, I can assure you, but is not my reason for being here."
"Then what is?" Archer asked, watching the younger man steadily.
"I am here to clear up a-- eh, misunderstanding," Chekov said, getting the word right after a second or two to think. "You wish to court-martial Mister Scott for the primary offense of having sex with a minor, yes?"
"It's one of the charges being brought against him, yes," Archer said slowly.
"Then I can tell you, the charge is false," Chekov said confidently. "When I first entered Starfleet Academy, I had to sign waivers in order to serve in space despite being sewenteen. During the process, I became emancipated minor, due to the fact that my parents could not move to America with me because of no money."
Archer's eyes narrowed dangerously, but when he spoke, he sounded calm. "And do you have any proof of this, Ensign?"
"Da," he said quickly. "I mean, yes, I do." He activated the padd he was still carrying, and opened his personnel file. Scrolling to the appropriate page, he offered it to the admiral. "Here is documentation of emancipation. There is also hard copy files at Starfleet and in California."
Archer accepted the padd, and read it silently. After a few minutes of Chekov sweating where he stood, Archer looked at him. "Why didn't your commanding officer present this evidence when the charges were brought forward?"
"Begging your pardon, sir," Chekov said, "but charges have not been formally brought forward. The captain probably didn't realize that I had been emancipated because he treats everyone the same. He expects us to do our jobs, and being young or old has nothing to do with that."
Archer considered this for a long moment, and then nodded. "Very well, Ensign, I'll take this information under advisement."
"Please, sir," Chekov blurted out. "Scotty has saved our lives many times here on the ship. It is like the Enterprise is in his blood. Don't take it away from him."
Archer paused again, this time staring into Chekov's eyes for an uncomfortably long time. "I said I will take it under advisement, Ensign. Now, if you'll excuse me, good night."
Chekov found himself standing outside of the admiral's quarters, holding his padd and wondering if he had made a difference.
***
"Well, Admiral," Kirk said in the transporter room, "I can't say this has been a pleasant experience, but it has been... interesting."
Admiral Archer smirked. "I would say something about respecting your elders, but something tells me that wouldn't work with you."
"'Fraid not, sir," Kirk replied with a smile of his own. "Have a safe trip."
Archer nodded. "You too, Captain."
Scotty, who was manning the transporter controls, kept his eyes very firmly on the console in front of him. It was difficult to resist the urge to have an 'accident' while beaming the admiral down to the surface of the planet, but if that happened, there would definitely be an investigation, and it's not like he could really murder a man in cold blood.
"Before I forget, here is my recommendation," Archer said, pulling a padd out from his uniform and handing it over to Kirk, who accepted it with a nod.
"Thank you, Admiral," Kirk said, glancing down at the padd, his eyes flicking over the screen. "And again, have a safe trip."
Admiral Archer ascended to the platform, and when Kirk gave the order, Scotty beamed him down to Hadoran III.
"Scotty," Kirk said, the beginnings of a smile quirking his lips. "Walk with me."
A bit puzzled, Scotty removed his headset and followed him out of the room. "What is it?"
Kirk grinned, handing the padd over to Scotty as they headed down the hallway to the nearest turbolift. "Start reading here."
He tapped the lower part of the screen.
Finally, it is my recommendation that Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott remain as the Chief of Engineering aboard the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701.
Signed
-Admiral Jonathan Archer
"What...?" Scotty said, staring at the screen without seeing it.
"Something must have changed his mind," Kirk said breezily, causing Scotty to jerk his gaze up to his commanding officer.
"And what exactly do you mean by that, Captain?" Scotty demanded.
Kirk shrugged, looking too casual and smug. "Y'know, I don't actually know. You might want to ask Chekov, though. Seems like he knows about it."
"I see." Scotty's eyes narrowed. "Well, then, thank you, Captain, if you'll need me, I'll be in Engineering."
Kirk pursed his lips and nodded. "Sure thing." He got to the turbolift, but before he activated it, he turned around to face Scotty. "Oh, and Scotty?"
Scotty raised both eyebrows inquiringly. "Aye?"
"Have fun." Kirk winked at him just as the doors closed, leaving Scotty to wonder what the hell was going on.
***
Scotty couldn't get much of anything out of anyone about what had happened with Admiral Archer. Chekov had been conspicuously absent from the bridge, and whenever Scotty had tried to reach him there through the commlink, Kirk would innocently ask to take a message. After the fourth time, Keenser was starting to get annoyed, if the menacing wrench waved in Scotty's direction was any indication, so Scotty took a deep breath and decided to head back to his quarters early.
When he got to the turbolift, however, he was greeted by a familiar face.
"Why, Mister Scott," Chekov said, pretending to look surprised. "Are you off-shift already?"
Scotty frowned, walking inside the turbolift. "No, but I'm heading for my quarters. Was there something you needed, Ensign?"
"Yes, actually, there is," Chekov replied. The turbolift doors closed, the sound of the turbolift starting up almost comforting.
"Which is?"
Chekov didn't answer. After the lift ascended a few decks, he reached out and pressed the halt button.
"Well?" Scotty asked.
"You," Chekov purred, sliding into Scotty's personal space and kissing him deeply, taking his time and keeping Scotty's head in place with both hands.
When they surfaced from the kiss, Scotty blinked. "That's a welcome I can get used to."
Chekov grinned. "It is wery nice."
"So, how'd you do it?" Scotty asked.
"Do what?" Chekov asked, his eyes widening artfully.
Scotty snorted, shaking his head. "One minute, I'm facing a choice of ice-cold exile or Earth, and the next, Admiral Archer's writing a recommendation that I stay aboard."
"Are you complaining?" Chekov asked.
"Of course not," Scotty retorted. "But I'm wondering what you did to get me out of it."
Chekov smiled. "I'll tell you..."
"If?" Scotty prompted.
"You kiss me again."
"Oh, I thought you were going to ask for something terrible, like picking up the dirty towels you left on the floor." Scotty grinned, leaning in to kiss him again.
END
