Disclaimer: Star Trek and all of its characters are the property of Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: A new crew member presents some interesting challenges.

Author's Note: The blame for this rests squarely on Ventura33 and Jungle Kitty, the latter for planting the seeds, and the former for the 'double dog dare.' Many thanks to Seema for the beta.
Monkey Business
By Rocky

"Doctor McCoy, may I have a moment of your time?" Spock asked. He stood in front of the Sickbay exit, effectively blocking the other man's path.

McCoy sighed. "Actually, Spock, I was just heading back to my quarters. However, Dr. M'Benga is on duty, and I'm sure he can take care of you."

"My problem is not medical. I require your assistance with a personnel issue."

"A personal issue?" For a moment, McCoy couldn't understand why Spock was coming to him of all people. "Oh, you mean personnel?"

"Yes, although your original assumption was also correct, as the matter concerns a junior officer."

McCoy glanced nervously over his shoulder, anxious to get out of Sickbay before a sudden crisis erupted, or the ship was plunged into another red alert--which had been happening with increasing frequency, he'd noticed, especially when he was about to go off duty. Spock, however, didn't seem to be in any hurry to provide him with any more information.

"Spock, you're the first officer--the handling of the crew falls under your purview," McCoy said, shaking his head. "Why ask me? I'm a doctor, not a human resources counselor.  If you need advice on how to deal with a member of your department, you should take it up with the Captain."

"I believe you are better suited," Spock said insistently. "For one thing, as a physician, you may be more impartial than the Captain regarding this recent addition."

McCoy rolled his eyes and  wondered which of the yeomen had caught the captain's eye now. They had taken on several brand-new crew members at Starbase 86 a little over three weeks ago, including an unusually large number of well-endowed females with improbably big hair. And I was so sure our troubles were over when Rand finally took a hint and applied for a transfer... he thought. "Who is it?" McCoy said aloud.

"Ensign Chekov."

"Who?" For a moment, the name didn't register. Or rather it did, but not matched up with a mini-skirt. "Oh, wait, I know him. Little guy with big brown eyes, heavy bangs, heavy accent, walks kind of hunched over?"

"That is the one."

Across the room, M'Benga glanced in McCoy's direction, frowned, then gestured to a nurse. McCoy started edging toward the door, inwardly cursing Spock for delaying his escape.

"What about Chekov?" McCoy said, keeping a sharp look-out for any sudden moves on M'Benga's part.

"Have you noticed anything unusual about him?"

"Other than he's a little hairier than the average recruit--and I can't imagine that haircut's regulation, makes him look like a monkey--no, I haven't. He seems perfectly ordinary."

"Perhaps you are unfamiliar with his background. Pavel Chekov was the son of wealthy if eccentric Russians, who could trace their lineage back to Peter the Great. They were killed in an unfortunate accident 20.3 Standard years ago when their space yacht crashed in a remote jungle on Tyree's Planet during a freak ion storm. The boy, who was approximately two years old at the time, somehow survived and was raised--"

"--by a troop of wild mugato until he was 18," finished McCoy, not bothering to conceal his rising impatience. "Yes, I know. It's in his file."

"That does not strike you as cause for concern?"

"He's had all his shots," McCoy said, brushing past Spock and heading off down the corridor. He was damned if he was going to stand around here any longer. "I made sure of that first thing when he came on board. But I take it there's something about him that concerns you?"

"I find his behavior disturbing—behavior which I believe is directly related to his background," Spock said, following McCoy into the turbolift. "How Starfleet thought he would be a suitable candidate--"

"Deck Four," McCoy said loudly, and leaned back against the wall as the 'lift began to move. "May I remind you Chekov made it through the Academy." He cocked a challenging eyebrow at Spock. "Or are you getting all 'humanoidist' on me? Mugato are a lot more intelligent than you think--"

"I am not disputing their intelligence, nor that of the Ensign."

McCoy sighed. No, as a Vulcan, Spock wouldn't openly display any prejudice. Except maybe toward Humans. Those blasted Vulcans and their high falutin' superiority complexes!

"You are the only person I can turn to," Spock said, staring at a point on the wall above McCoy's head. "Whether because of the connection to Tyree, or for some other unknown reason, it is clear the Captain has taken a personal interest in the young man. "

McCoy nodded ruefully. Kirk had been observed on more than one occasion wrestling with Chekov in the gym, or else inviting him to drop by his quarters after shift for some 'special command tips'.  

McCoy motioned to Spock to exit ahead of him as the turbolift halted. "Why don't you just tell me what's bothering you about our Mr. Chekov."

"He screeches."

"Screeches? What do you mean?"

"During tense situations on the bridge, the Ensign emits certain high pitched noises. During full blown crises, he emits what can only be described as a primal scream."

"Being afraid is a healthy, human response to danger, Spock." McCoy snorted. "Lots of people yelp when they're frightened. Good way of letting off some nervous tension, keeps you from freezing at the wrong moment. Heck, I've heard Sulu let out a squawk on occasion, and even though Uhura keeps her voice down, there's no doubt whatsoever when she's frightened. Besides, I've been on the bridge recently. Chekov's screams aren't that bad."

"Vulcans have a more sensitive hearing apparatus than Humans."

McCoy decided to let that one go. "What else?"

"As you are aware, Ensign Chekov frequently takes over at the science station for me. Afterward, I am always aware of a heavy musky odor that takes hours to dissipate."

"You're saying he smells?" McCoy asked incredulously. "I haven't heard anyone else complain."

"Vulcans have a keener sense of smell than Humans."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "I think you're making way too much of this, Spock," he said. Which was a polite way of saying he considered the whole business to be a load of corbomite. Funny, he'd never figured Spock for such a nit-picker. "Well, if it bothers you, why don't you say something to him?"

"I did."

"You did?"

"Not about the screeching, but I suggested he be more scrupulous in his attentions to personal hygiene."

"How did he respond?" McCoy said curiously. "Was he offended?"

"At first he appeared puzzled, as if he did not understand my meaning. So I elaborated he needed to bathe. Lest he be hydrophobic--considering his upbringing, after all--I told him that many humanoids, myself included, deemed showering a most pleasurable activity."

"Then what happened?"

"He put his hand on my shoulder and bared his..." Spock paused. "Canines."

"Bared his canines?" McCoy said, bewildered.

"In a most feral manner."

"Feral? He threatened you?"

"I do not believe his intentions were hostile. On the contrary, he seemed rather...friendly." Spock paused again, a hint of discomfort on his usually impassive face. "I have often had difficulties when it comes to interpreting Human behavior, and I am hesitant of becoming involved in a 'misunderstanding',  particularly with someone who reports to me."

McCoy closed his eyes, remembering an earlier 'misunderstanding' involving Spock and a member of the crew. Well, Chapel had eventually calmed down and admitted she was in the wrong, as a Vulcan would have no idea such a move on her part wasn't intended as an act of aggression...Forcing his thoughts back to the present situation, McCoy said, "Would you like me to talk to him for you?"

Spock nodded. "I would be most grateful, Doctor."

They had reached McCoy's door. "Tell you what I'll do," McCoy said, hoping this would get rid of Spock. "First thing tomorrow morning, I'll call Chekov into Sickbay for a routine--"

A high pitched shriek echoed down the corridor--from the direction of Nurse Chapel's quarters. McCoy and Spock glanced at each other, and then broke into a run.

McCoy pounded on the locked door. "Christine, are you all right?"

There was no answer except for a dull thud, followed by another scream.

McCoy said, "Computer, emergency medical over--" He stopped when he saw Spock place his hand on the keypad and the door open instantly at his touch. "How'd you do that?"

Spock cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Apparently, the pad has been keyed to my fingerprints."

McCoy decided he'd think about that revelation later. He strode into the cabin, Spock on his heels. "Christine!"

The bathroom door burst open, emitting a cloud of steam and a dripping Chapel, clutching a skimpy towel that left bare much more than it covered.

Spock turned a pale shade of green and turned away hastily. "I beg your pardon, Miss Chapel, but it sounded as though you were in distress--"

"Distress? I'll give you distress!" she screamed. The towel wavered precariously as her chest heaved with the force of her cries. "I was having a nice leisurely soak when he just jumped in the tub with me!" She pointed an accusing finger.

"He, who?" McCoy asked. But Chapel was too distraught to answer.

Seeing no other option, McCoy stepped over the slippery threshold into the bathroom. The overpowing scent of peach bubble bath immediately assaulted his nostrils. Puddles of water covered every surface, even dripping down the walls. An upended crystal bottle dribbled a thick stream of more scented oils into a dark orange pool on the floor a few inches from his foot. In the billowing steam, McCoy could just make out a figure sitting upright in the bathtub.

"Hello there!" Chekov called, bouncing up from the tub at the sight of the two new visitors. His movement caused even more water to splash over the side of the tub and onto the bathroom floor; McCoy and Spock narrowly avoided getting drenched. "Vould you like to join us? Plenty of room for all!" A few bubbles still clung to the top of Chekov's head, as well as some on his chest -- which was thickly matted with hair.

Chapel screamed again.

"Nurse, would you mind stopping that?" McCoy asked. He was relieved when she took a deep shuddering breath but didn't make any other sounds. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am!" she shrieked. McCoy winced. Spock actually put his hands over his ears. "Just get that ape-man out of my bath!"

Chekov started climbing out at once, a puzzled look on his face. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes!" Chapel's face was turning an interesting shade of purple. "Get out!"

McCoy grabbed Chekov's arm and hustled him out of the bathroom, leaving Spock to cope (or not) with Chapel. "Son, would you mind telling me what in the sam hill you were doing in there?" he said sternly, as he handed the dripping ensign a towel.

Chekov's expression faltered. "I was just listening to vat the Commander told me!" he said with a sniffle that threatened to become a sob.
"Spock told you to do this? To invade Nurse Chapel's, er, privacy?"

"I assure you I did no such thing," Spock said, emerging hastily from the bathroom.

"You told me to take a bath!" Chekov insisted.

"I meant alone," Spock said icily.

"Then why did you tell me how much you and your friends enjoyed the water?" Chekov asked. "Didn't you mean for me to join you?"

Spock was rendered momentarily speechless.

"Now, Davy," McCoy said, gently but firmly as he gathered up Chekov's discarded shirt and pants and thrust them into his arms. "I'm sure this was all a misunderstanding. Spock clearly didn't mean--"

"Yes, he did," interrupted Chekov. "Believe me, I vas there. And who is this Davy? My name is Pavel. Pavel Andreievich Chekov, the only son of Irina Greystrokovsky and Andrei Chekov. "

"Yes, of course," McCoy said hastily. "Sorry, but you just look like a Davy."

"I meant no harm. I vas just so lonely," Chekov said sadly. "Back home, I vas never alone, always surrounded by friends. Here, I have no one--"

"What about the Captain?" McCoy asked.  "He's, uh, been showing an interest in you."

"Tonight he is giving 'command tips' to Yeoman Buxom."

McCoy thought quickly, trying to put a face to the name. "Yeah, well, I can see that," he muttered.

"You still have not explained why you invaded Nurse Chapel's quarters," Spock said.

"When I saw her face, I believed—that is, Jane looked so pretty and nice--"

"Jane?" McCoy asked.

"The nurse."

"Her name is Christine."

"Really?" Chekov said in astonishment. "I could have sworn her name vas Jane. She looks just like a young voman I once met, who had gotten lost in my mugato troop's part of the jungle--"

McCoy interrupted. "That's very interesting, I'm sure."

"And ve vere having so much fun together! She screamed, I screamed, we all screamed for--"

"Nurse Chapel," Spock said, acknowledging her entrance. A look of relief appeared on his face when he saw she'd put on a terrycloth robe. "You seem re-clothed, that is, recovered from your ordeal."

"I'm all right, thank you," Chapel said. She laid her head on his shoulder. "But it's sweet of you to ask. Almost as sweet as it was of you to rush so gallantly to my rescue."

Spock cleared his throat. "Uh, yes. Do you wish to call Security?"

"No, that won't be necessary." Chapel snuggled deeper against Spock's chest. The momentum of her thrust forced them both to fall back on to the couch.

"Well, if you won't be pressing formal charges, I think I'll just escort Ensign Chekov back to his own quarters," McCoy said, hastily averting his eyes from the couple sprawled in each other's arms.

"I will assist you," Spock said with alacrity. He attempted to get up.

"No, don't go!" Chapel said, holding his arm tightly. "I think feel a bit faint after all. I'd really appreciate it if you could keep me company a while longer." She smiled and batted her lashes.

"But Doctor McCoy clearly requires--"

"I can manage just fine without you," McCoy said with a grin.

"Are you quite certain?" The look on Spock's face was priceless.

"Very sure." McCoy steered Chekov toward the door. "Have a good evening, you two. And remember, no monkey business!"

As the door closed, Chekov said, "Vat is this monkey business? It sounds like fun!"

"I think you've had enough fun for one night," McCoy said firmly.  

"Then vat should I do?" Chekov looked distraught again.

McCoy thought fast. "Why don't you head back to your cabin, take a nice calming bath--no, I mean, listen to some nice music and relax?"

"That sounds like a vonderful idea," Chekov said, perking up once more. "The greatest composers were all Russian, you know."

"I'm sure they were," McCoy said soothingly as they headed toward the 'lift. "I'm sure they were."

The red alert klaxons sounded.

"I must get to the bridge!" Chekov shouted and tore down the hall, scattering a few stray bubbles as he went.

"Just what I needed," McCoy groaned, but then resignedly headed for the turbolift. "The perfect end to a perfect evening."

As he passed by Spock's quarters, the door opened.

"Dr. McCoy," the Vulcan hissed.

"Spock? I thought you were with Christine!"

"I took advantage of the red alert to make my escape. Nurse Chapel is on her way to Sickbay."

"Which is where I should be heading myself," McCoy said. He stopped. "What are you doing in your cabin? Don't you need to get to the bridge?"

"It was not an authentic red alert," Spock said meaningfully.

McCoy's appreciation for Spock's cleverness went up a few notches. "Why, you pointy-eared devil, you!"

"I fail to see what my ears or some ancient Terran symbol of evil have to do with the matter at hand, Doctor."

"Never mind." McCoy turned to go when another thought struck him. "But what will you do when Chapel realizes there was no alert?"

Spock gave him a superior look. "By then I shall be securely locked in my quarters."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," McCoy said, and headed off to do the same before anything else happened.
FINIS

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