No Future In The Past
By
Donna Reed
"Captain" Uhura's voice rang with alarm. "Admiral Randle of Starfleet Command is on Priority Channel Two. She says it’s urgent."
Kirk handed the duty roster back to Spock, then briskly made his way to the communication’s station. "Did you say Admiral Randle?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Put her on visual, Uhura."
"Yes, Sir: on screen." Uhura's fingers trembled as they searched for the right buttons.
The screen lost it starry background, then lit up again with the image of Admiral Randle. She wasn't a tall woman, standing all of five
feet one. She had an average build, chestnut hair, and compassionate brown eyes. She carried an air of confidence, which she
guarded well.
"Admiral Randle," Kirk said as he gave a curt nod.
"Jim, I wish I was calling just to say (how the heck are ya?). But we both know that I have a job that makes people's stomachs do flip-
flops when I enter a room."
"Who is it Diane?" asked Kirk
"Ensign Pavel Chekov," Diane spoke in a soft but firm voice.
"Chekov," Kirk whispered back, then he made a quick visual sweep around the bridge. Suddenly it dawned on him that Spock had just
told him about the change in the duty roster. Chekov had been temporarily reassigned to Computer Lab Three to aid in research for
Spock.
"I can see he's not on the bridge: perhaps it’s for the better right now. You see, Pavel's mother Alexis and I are old friends. This call is
actually more on a personal level rather than business. Alexis called me this morning. It seems her husband, Pavel's father, has
suffered a series of heart attacks in the past year. Six days ago, he suffered another attack, only this one is taking its toll. He's in
pretty bad shape. It doesn't look good."
"Diane, I don't understand. If this happened six days ago, why is the family just getting around to informing Chekov?"
"Actually, Jim, he was notified within the first twenty-four hours. Alexis claims to have left a couple of messages a day since then on
Pavel's terminal, without reply. She is quite concerned.
“That’s where I stepped in. I assured her that I'd make an attempt to contact Pavel myself." Admiral Randle hesitated for a split moment,
then continued. "Have you been having problems with incoming messages lately?"
Kirk looked behind him to Uhura who simply shook her head. "That doesn't appear to be the case here."
"Perhaps a malfunction in Pavel's personal terminal," Admiral Randle said dryly.
"Yes, that could very well be the case.”
"Well, you will see that he gets the message, won't you Jim? I believe his family could use him right now. This does, of course,
constitute a medical emergency leave: which I am granting at this time."
"It's a good thing we're not being sent out on assignment for awhile. We should be docking at Starbase Eleven by tomorrow afternoon.
In the meantime, I'll inform Mr. Chekov of your call and his mother’s message. Ah, Diane, please assure Mrs. Chekov that her son is
fine, and that we'll have him home as soon as we can."
Uhura stood up and stepped down to the center of the bridge. "Admiral Randle, pardon me, but, could you please tell Mrs. Chekov that
our prayers are with her and her family?"
Diane smiled, her eyes slightly watering over as she replied softly. "I'd be happy to relay that message. I can see Pavel has kind
friends. Well, I need to get off here and back to work."
The image faded, returning the screen back to its original view of space and its many clusters of stars.
"Spock, run a check on Mr. Chekov's terminal in his quarters," Kirk asked
"Sir, I am certain Mr. Chekov's terminal is in proper working order," Spock said
"I don't understand, then. Why isn't he getting his messages?" Kirk asked
"Sir, I left a message last night for Mr. Chekov, informing him of the change in the duty roster. This morning, I received a reply on my
terminal of his confirmation."
"Well, then..."
Just then Sulu cut in. "Sir."
"Yes, Mr. Sulu, what is it?"
"I knew a few days ago something was wrong with Chekov. I realize now that I should have reported it. He's become distant lately, and
rather irritable. When I asked him what was wrong,
He told me it didn't concern me and that in a few days it would all be over anyway."
"Hmm, sounds like the lad is having a hard time with all this," said Mr. Scott.
"Perhaps he just needs a little nudging," Kirk said. "Uhura, inform Dr. McCoy that I'll be dropping in with Mr. Chekov in tow. And brief
him on the situation . . . completely."
"Yes, Captain."
"Spock, you have the con," Kirk said as he disappeared into the turbolift.
Kirk gave his verbal command to the computer system installed into the turbolift to take him to deck six. While waiting, he turned over
the events at hand in his mind. 'Poor kid, must be devastated. Probably why he didn't report this sooner. But his father…’
His thoughts were interrupted by the swoosh of the turbolift doors. He walked down the long corridor to Computer Lab Three. He
stopped short of the automatic sensor above the doors. He needed a minute reorganize his thoughts.
Kirk stepped just inside the doors. Gathered around a terminal were a group of people discussing the subject at hand. Chekov was to
his far right, his eyes trained on the screen before him. Kirk made a mental note that his Navigator looked exhausted. He stood inside
the doors for a moment, listening to the current discussion. Then he cleared his throat and stepped up to the console. The group
immediately stopped midstream.
“Beg your pardon, Sir; we didn’t see you come in,” said Ensign Hartley, who was sitting at the center of the group.
“As you were,” Kirk said, then he clasped his hands behind his back and settled his gaze on a very tired Ensign. Kirk smiled, caution
pounding his mind. “Mr. Chekov, a moment of your time, please. A matter of some importance has arose which requires our attention.”
“Yes, Sir,” Chekov said
Kirk gave a curt nod to his crew, then turned to exit the lab with Chekov in tow.
Once into the corridor, Kirk slowed down his pace to allow Chekov to catch up to him; until they were walking side by side.
“Where are we going, Sir?”
“Sickbay, Mr. Chekov. You’re going to let Dr. McCoy give you the once over. You’re looking pretty run down. Are you sick?”
“No, Sir”
Chekov said nothing more as they stepped into the turbolift. Kirk gave his command to the computer to take them to Sickbay. They
rode in silence, the only sound being the whine of the turbolift.
They entered Sickbay and into the office of Dr. McCoy, who was sitting at his terminal mumbling something about flushing something
down someone’s toilet.
“Afternoon, Bones,” Kirk said with a wry smile.
“Well now, its about time you showed up for your quarterly checkup, Ensign. After all, it’s only a week late.”
“I…I’m sorry Doctor. I’ve been…busy.”
Kirk chuckled as he hiked his hip up on McCoy’s desk. “Bones, I just love it when your southern manners are at their best. And it’s good
to see you’re in a good mood, as always.”
“I’m a doctor, not a secretary, Jim. When I schedule my patients for a checkup, I expect to see them here when they are scheduled. Not
when they just feel like it.”
“I get your point, Bones. I, ah, have a report to do…can I use your computer? I won’t tie it for long.”
“No, not at all: help yourself. You know where it is. If I get any calls, you be sure and tell them I’ll be tied up for a little while. Christine
should be back shortly, she’s on a coffee break. Oh, and I have a new nurse in the back room. Her name is Ensign Rhea Monroe. You
remember Jim: she came aboard a couple of weeks ago. She’s an excellent nurse.”
“Yes, I remember: attractive young woman, very qualified too.”
“You just remember what I said Jim, about my terminal. If it’s an emergency, give me a holler.”
Kirk folded his arms in an animated protest. “I’m a starship captain, not a secretary.”
McCoy pretended to be irritated, resulting in a slight smile from Chekov. “For crying out loud, Jim, just do it: will ya?”
Kirk put his hands up in defeat. “Alright, you win. Just don’t get used to this.” Then he pointed a finger at Chekov. “And not a word out
of you to anyone about this.”
Mission accomplished. Chekov visibly relaxed and even chuckled. “Yes, Sir…I mean No, Sir: not a word.”
Kirk waved them off, then sat down in McCoy’s chair to begin his report.
McCoy shook his head and grinned. He took Chekov by the shoulder, guiding the young man to the exam area. “Son, you know what
makes a leader a good leader?”
Chekov hopped up on the table and took off his shirt for what he knew was going to be a series of poking and prodding with probably
every instrument the Doctor owned. “No, Sir.”
McCoy motioned for Chekov to lie down. “That man sitting in my office, he’s willing to do anything he’d ask you to do. And more if he
thought it would save another from harm’s way. And he’s not just a starship captain you know. He’s also a human being. I guess what I’
m trying to say is that…well…you can talk to him. I mean really talk to him. He’s a good listener, too. And he cares about all of our
problems and us. “
McCoy picked up a medi-scanner, then waved it over the young man’s tense form. Looking everywhere but into Chekov’s eyes, he
said: “Look, son, it’s obvious from these crazy readings that something is eating at you. Why don’t you just relax and tell me what’s got
you so tied up in knots?”
Chekov stiffened with anger, then looking the other direction, he said: ‘Why don’t you just tell me that my mother has contacted you? It’
s obvious to me that you all know about it. Otherwise, why would Captain Kirk have come and got me and escorted me to Sickbay
himself?”
McCoy abruptly stopped what he was doing. “Well, at least your mouth is still working. As for the rest of you, your body is on the verge
of shutdown. Your nerves are fried and I’m willing to bet that your stomach is empty. Your blood sugar is probably down to nothing and
by those black circles under your eyes, I’m guessing you’re not sleeping either.”
Chekov didn’t respond to the Doctor’s quick diagnosis. Instead he stared at the ceiling.
McCoy retrieved a chair from around the corner and placed it beside the table. He sat down and crossed his legs. “Look, son, I’m not
trying to feed you a line here when I say that we meant no offense to your intelligence by bringing you down here this way. And you
know as well as I do that I left a message on your terminal last week about your quarterly checkup. I just wish that you would have let
me or someone know your family situation.” McCoy paused to give Chekov a chance to talk. Chekov lowered his eyes but said
nothing. So McCoy continued. “From what I understand, your father’s condition isn’t very good. And sometimes even the best of
doctors can’t fix what isn’t fixable.”
Another pause: still no reaction from his young patient.
McCoy placed a hand on Chekov’s arm. “You have a lot of friends here, son. As far as support is concerned, you have that: from all of
us. Is there anything we can do for you right now?”
“No, Sir: thank you.”
McCoy stood up and pushed the chair away. He reached into a drawer under the bedside table and pulled out a small medicine bottle.
He wrote something on the bottle, then held it out for Chekov to take. Chekov sat up but didn’t take the bottle. He just looked at it. “It’s
alright, son, it’s just a little something for this depression you’ve developed. It won’t hurt you, just take one tonight before bed, then one
every night until they’re all gone. Do you need something to help you sleep tonight?”
Chekov looked at the bottle in McCoy’s hand, then shook his head. “I really don’t need this, Doctor. I would rather not take any
medication if I don’t have to.”
McCoy took Chekov’s right hand and placed the bottle in it, closing the hand securely. “Well, you have to: doctor’s orders. Now scoot
on out of here. Get something to eat.”
McCoy picked up a chart and pretended to be busy making notes. Out of the corner of his eye he watched for a reaction from his
young patient.
Chekov slid down from the exam table and put his shirt on. He looked at the bottle still in his hand, then squeezed it until he thought it
would burst. Moisture filled his tired eyes as emotion came to the surface. With partially controlled anger, he turned to face the doctor.
“I…I don’t want…to go home. I don’t think…I…could stand it.”
“What don’t you think you can stand Pavel? Is it your father’s condition, the fact that he may die? Or is it just seeing your father that
bothers you the most?”
“Both I guess. Mostly I just don’t want to see him. And…I feel guilty because I think my mother wants me to be with her. But…I don’t
want to be there.”
McCoy sighed. “Sounds like you could use a friend to talk to. You obviously have some unresolved issues in your past. Son, was your
father abusive to you?”
Chekov looked up so fast he thought he would pass out from the head rush. He grabbed hold of the exam table for balance with his
right hand. His left hand went to his forehead.
McCoy moved in to steady him. “Are you alright? Here: lie down and let me take another look at you.”
Chekov pulled away, bumping into the exam table. “No, Doctor. Please, I’m fine. I haven’t exactly eaten much today, and I have a
headache to show for it. I’d rather go to my cabin, if that is alright.”
“Wait a minute, I want to give you a couple of hypos first. Just sit on that table for me.”
Chekov wasn’t in any mood for arguing. He hopped back up on the table, grateful for the short rest.
McCoy administered two hypos. “There now, I’ve given you a pain killer for your headache and a vitamin shot.”
Chekov began to weave slightly to the left.
“Woe there, steady your breathing a bit. That’s it, slow and easy, in and out. Feeling better, are you?”
Chekov took in a deep breath, then let it out. “I’m not sure, I think I’m a little dizzy yet.”
“Lie down and rest: sleep if you can, cause you’re gonna be here for the next couple of hours so I can keep an eye on you.” McCoy
looked around the room. “Nurse…blast it be, where is everybody? Nur…”
“I’m sorry, Doctor, I had to run an errand for Nurse Chapel.”
“Oh, well I need some blood work done on Mr. Chekov here. I want a full work-up done. And be sure to get the results to me as soon
as they’re ready.”
“Yes, Doctor: right away.”
McCoy gave Chekov’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing to worry about, son: just routine. I have to give Starfleet Command a
clean bill of health report to send you home on leave.”
“Leave? What leave, Doctor? I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry, son, Admiral Randle has already approved an emergency leave for you. We’ll let you off at Starbase Eleven in a couple of
days. You can catch a shuttle from there to home.”
Chekov’s glassy eyes never left the Doctor’s. “I’m sure my father is being well taken care of. My presence would only irritate him.”
“How can you say that?”
“Believe me, Doctor, it’s true. If you were to ask him your self, he would say the same thing. I can do more for him right here than I can
if I were there.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing. I think that pain killer is clouding your thinking. So, you just rest awhile and we’ll talk later.”
Chekov chuckled softly, then his smile faded and he closed his eyes. “All the pain killer is doing is making me talk too much. And
I…feel…a little…weird.”
“Well, I have some reports to finish up, but if you feel like talking, Rhea here is a good listener. Rhea, if you need me, you’ll know where
I’ll be.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
McCoy returned to his office and Rhea began her blood work on Chekov. She was just about to ask him a question when someone
said. “Excuse me, is it alright if I visit with Pavel for a while?”
Chekov groggily opened his eyes and a smile escaped his lips. “Hi, Patty: thought you’d be playing racket ball by now.”
“My favorite partner didn’t show up. It’s no fun without you. Oh, Jeff is there, but…he’s not you. Lisa told me what happened with your
father. I’m so sorry, Pavel.” Patty took his hand in hers, but Pavel didn’t notice. His eyes were slowly closing.
Chekov slipped into slumber, dreaming almost immediately. His dream took him to a calm stream in the middle of the woods. He walked
along the stream, following the water around a curvy path. He stumbled on a stone and fell, hurting his ankle.
“Get up, Pavel, we must keep walking. I said get up!” Andrie’s voice boomed in Pavel’s head. He tried to get up, but his ankle wouldn’t
support his weight. A hand grabbed at his shoulder. Andrie was pulling him up. “Stop this nonsense boy, get on your feet.”
Pavel gritted his teeth against the pain. “I can’t, Papa, my ankle is hurt.”
“You are a baby Pavel, should have left you at home with Mama!” Andrie’s voice was getting louder. He pulled Pavel to his feet and
shook him. “Don’t ruin this trip for me, boy.”
“I’m sorry, Papa, I’m sorry.”
“You’re always sorry, Pavel. Damn it, I will not carry you: walk!” Andrie let go of Pavel’s shirt. Pavel stumbled backwards and fell to the
ground. Pavel struggled to get up. Andrie helped him the rest of the way, tearing Pavel’s shirt in the process.
“Now look what you made me do! It’ll be dark soon and I haven’t killed one buck yet, thanks to you! Don’t you cry, don’t you dare!”
Pavel fought back the tears as his father shook him once again. “I won’t cry, Papa, I promise. My ankle hurts real bad.” A single tear
escaped from Pavel’s eye. He couldn’t help it, the pain was getting worse and his boot was feeling too tight.
Andrie’s temper snapped. He slapped Pavel across the face, then slapped him again. “I told you not to cry! Stay here then, I’ll pick you
up on my way back through.” Andrie let go of Pavel and watched as his son sank to his knees, uttering not a sound. Pavel was nine
years old then.
Then his dream took him to another time, when he was fifteen years old. He had just came through the front door of his parent’s home.
He heard his father call to him.
“Yes, Papa.”
“Come here, into my study. I wish to speak to you.”
Pavel did as told. “Yes, Papa.”
Andrie stepped out from around his big disk. “You’re late. Why are you late?”
“I…had to see the Dean after school today, Papa.”
“Why?”
Pavel looked at the floor. Andrie quickly raised Pavel’s chin with his hand. “No, you look at me. Why did you have to see the Dean
today?”
Pavel took a shaky breath. “I didn’t do so well on a test today.”
“And why didn’t you?”
“I was sleepy and could not concentrate.”
“Are you sick?”
“No, Papa, just tired.”
“If you didn’t stay out half the night playing in that miserable group you call a band…”
“Papa, it was a fund raiser for the school. We made enough to get new computers for the lab.”
“I find that hard to believe. They must have felt sorry for you to give such generous donations to such little boys.”
“We’re not little boys, Papa. And we are good enough that we were asked to do another concert next week.”
“You will be working for me that day, you cannot go.”
“But Papa, that’s not fair. I gave my word to these people. They are counting on me.”
“You shouldn’t make promises without first checking with me. If you are going to be a successful businessman like me, you must work
hard at it.”
“I don’t want to be like you, Papa, I….”
Andrie’s hand made contact with Pavel’s left cheek before he could get out another word. Stunned, but not surprised, Pavel bit back
his urge to strike back. Why did it always have to be like this?
“Your future has been planned since your birth. You will study hard and someday take over my position to keep the family business
going. I don’t want to hear any more about this boy band of yours. Is that understood, Pavel?”
“I will work at your company until I am old enough to take the Starfleet entrance exam. Then I will join the service because that is what I
want to do.”
There: he’d said it, and it felt good. But only for a moment, because Andrie began to shake with rage. The next thing Pavel knew, he
was crashing into a service tray behind him, containing a glass water pitcher, a drinking glass, and an empty dinner plate made of
china. He fell to the floor, taking the tray with him. Pain and dizziness threatened to overtake him. He opened his eyes just in time to
see a boot coming at his face. His reflexes were too slow. Andrie’s boot struck him in the left jaw, sending Pavel rolling the opposite
direction.
“No, Papa, please! I’m sorry! Please stop!”
Andrie did stop. And for a moment he stood over his son in silence. Then he whirled around and left the room.
Pavel lay on the floor waiting for the nausea to subside. He hurt too much to move. He just lay there while the questions in his mind
whirled about. Will it ever stop? Is there a future as I want it, or as he demands? Is there any hope of a future at all with a past like this?
“Yes, Pavel, there is. You are living in it now. You must come back, for there is no future in the past.”
Pavel swallowed hard, his head rolling from side to side. Slowly he opened his eyes. Standing over him, removing his fingers from Pavel’
s temples was… “Mr. Spock?”
“Yes, Ensign. I trust you are felling better?”
Pavel looked around the room. To his left standing beside his bed were Dr. McCoy, Captain Kirk and Rhea. To his right were Mr.
Spock, Nurse Chapel and Patty. At the foot of his bed stood an attractive young woman Pavel had met a couple of days ago in the ship’
s Observation Lounge.
“Lisa?”
“Hi, Pavel. You gave us quite a scare. I’m happy that you’re back with us.”
“Back with you…where did I go? I don’t understand.”
“That’s my fault, son,” McCoy said, looking sheepish. “That pain shot I gave you sent you into another world. You had an allergic
reaction. You’ve been out of it for eleven hours. I really hate to admit this, but here it goes. If it hadn’t been for Mr. Spock and his
golden touch…well…he brought you back to us.”
Spock arched an eyebrow. “Why, thank you, Doctor.”
Pavel turned his attention to Spock. “Mr. Spock…I…”
“No need for concern, Ensign. The privacy of your thoughts are safe with me. I, too, carry a burden of regret. To this day I have yet to
seek my father’s total approval in my career choice. I have chosen to ride it out, if you will. You may benefit more by working it out with
yourself and your family.”
“Ok, enough mumbo jumbo, this boy needs his rest. My thanks to all of you: now clear out of my Sickbay.”
“I think he’s looking better already, Bones,” Kirk added, as he patted Chekov’s leg for reassurance.
“Yeah, yeah, now go on: all of you.”
“Doctor, may I stay awhile longer? I promise I won’t tire him out too much.”
McCoy began to protest, then thought twice when he looked down and saw a familiar gleam in Chekov’s eyes. Chekov was looking from
side to side. Rhea, the nurse, stood on his right and Lisa on his left. Both young ladies were holding Chekov’s hands with the same
familiar gleam as his young patient.
McCoy shook his head and grinned. “Ah, to be young again.”