Inheritance

by debbye chambers

Stardate 2267.9. Medical Officer's Log, Leonard McCoy recording.

I've just finished complete physical examinations for the four new crew members assigned to the Enterprise. Complete results have been attached to their respective medical records.

Ensign Marta Kem is recovering very well from back injuries sustained on her last assignment. I see no reason she can't report for duty first thing, although I've asked her to come back for a follow-up exam in four days.

The only other problem I see is the new navigator, Ensign Pavel Chekov. There are no physical problems, but this is his first assignment, so I've downloaded a copy his Starfleet psychological profile. I realize Captain Kirk requested Ensign Chekov be assigned to the Enterprise, and he must have had his reasons, but if I had read the young man's profile first, I would've made an objection to the assignment. I'm not totally convinced Chekov is the best choice for a bridge officer. I intend to discuss this with the Captain today.

Dr. McCoy set his tray on the table and slid into the chair across from Kirk. He was eyeing the large serving of spaghetti the Captain was twirling his fork into.

"I see I'll have to have a talk with Christine," he said.

Kirk looked up as the doctor sat down. "What do you mean?" His fork was halfway to his mouth.

"Well, obviously someone has changed your diet behind my back. I don't remember spaghetti being on the list I gave you." McCoy looked over the rest of Kirk's meal. "Or chocolate pudding, for that matter."

"I wouldn't put it past you to come down here just to check on what I'm eating, Bones, but I thought you said you needed to talk about the new crew members."

McCoy picked up on the quick change of subject; he didn't intend to let the Captain get away with it, but it would wait for another time. "I finished physical exams this morning."

"So," Kirk asked over a mouth of spaghetti, "what's wrong? Someone didn't pass?"

"No, physically they're all fine. Ensign Kem still has that back injury, but it's just about completely healed. I cleared her for duty."

"Good. Scotty is looking forward to getting her started. She has an outstanding record in engineering already. I think she'll be a good addition to the ship."

"Well, she may be. But I'm not sure about your new navigator."

Kirk stopped and looked up at McCoy. "Navigator...oh, Chekov. What's the problem? I know he's young, and this is his first assignment, but I think he'll do okay."

"Are you sure about that? How much do you know about this kid?"

"I can see this is going to be a long conversation." Kirk sighed and rose from the table. "Let me refresh my coffee."

He returned to the table and turned his tray around to the pudding. McCoy rolled his eyes at him and made an exaggerated 'I give up' gesture, which Kirk deliberately ignored.

"So, what's the problem with Chekov? I haven't met him yet, but I've seen his scores from the Academy. He's made as good a grade as any in every class, better than most in some classes. He's a top-notch navigator. Admiral Ygnesto even recommended him. That old crow doesn't make idle recommendations. That's one of the reasons I requested Chekov be assigned to the Enterprise."

"I'm not saying he's not a good navigator," McCoy defended, "there are just some things in his past I'm not sure have been resolved. He's too young to have let go of the past yet."

"He's too young to have had much of a past yet," Kirk countered. "What are you trying to get at, Bones? He had to pass a psychological exam to get into the Academy. Are you saying they missed something?"

"The tests are pretty thorough. Not much slips through." McCoy rubbed a finger across his bottom lip and continued a little softer. "But there are slips; you and I both know that. How else could Gary Mitchell have gotten as far as he did?"

At the mention of Gary, Kirk hesitated, absently rearranging the swirls in his pudding. Those memories were still unhealed, still too painful to talk about. He avoiding looking up at the Doctor, trying not to encourage conversation on that subject. Instead, he firmly said, "So get to the point. What’s the problem with Chekov?"

McCoy pulled a data cassette from his pocket and slid it across the table to Kirk. "This is Chekov's psych exam when he applied to the Academy. I think you should read it. It's not the exam so much as the notational records attached to it."

"I'll read it later this evening. Give me the short version."

"Well, most of it, at least the part I'm most concerned with, deals with his early life. As a child. He didn't have what I would call an ideal, nourishing childhood."

"Family problems?"

"Among other things. The kid grew up on what we would call 'the wrong side of the tracks.' His family moved around a lot, mostly just on the edge of poverty."

"Poverty doesn't exist any more, Bones. Everyone is taken care of."

McCoy cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "That's the 'official' proclamation. Political garbage. You do know the kid's Russian, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know." Kirk picked up the data cassette and thoughtfully tapped the edge of it against the table. There were still parts of Russia that were struggling to regain some semblance of civilization since the war, even though that had been almost a hundred years ago. Most of the 'modern' world had recovered quickly, tending to overlook the problems of the old third world countries that had struggled the hardest. It was easier to pretend the problems didn't exist than to confront them. "I guess, like everyone else, I tend to think everyone from Russia grew up in Moscow."

"That's because the only part of Russia we ever hear of is Moscow. But not everyone had it that easy. This kid grew up on the border. On most of it, in fact. I don't think his family stayed in one place more than a year. Hell, there's not even a record of official schooling until Chekov was nine."

This surprised Kirk. "School is required. How could there be no records?"

"You can only require what you can enforce. Much of the northern border is still in turmoil; you know that. And given his heritage, there's no wonder his family kept on the move. They probably weren't welcome anywhere."

"What do you mean by his 'heritage'? Quit beating around the bush, Bones."

Dr. McCoy rose from the table, taking his empty food tray. "Read the cassette, Jim. You should know who you have on your bridge. Everyone else probably will soon enough."

He left the Captain there, flipping the cassette over between two fingers.

Captain Kirk entered the turbolift and turned back to look at the bridge as the door slid shut. The last thing he saw was Ensign Riley at the navigation console, the position Chekov would take tomorrow on his first shift aboard the Enterprise. Kirk's thoughts drifted back to the conversation with McCoy at lunch. He pulled the data cassette from his pocket and looked at it again. It had been a long day and there hadn't been time to look at it yet. But his curiosity had nagged at him all afternoon, wondering why his chief surgeon thought the new kid was a mistake.

Before the doors to his quarters had even closed, he had pulled off his uniform shirt and boots, sliding comfortably into the chair in front of his data terminal. He popped the cassette in and keyed it to the beginning.

It began with a report of the psych exam. Boring enough. Too full of medical jargon to try to decipher in detail this time of the evening. Basically, the report seemed to indicate that Pavel Chekov was considerably well-adjusted, considering his background.

"Considering his background?" Kirk wondered out loud. "What the hell is this background that has everyone so worried?"

Nothing in the psych report seemed to point to anything in particular. He passed this, he passed that, he scored well here, needs some work there.

Hell, he's barely out of his teens, Kirk thought. You can't expect him to be completely normal. He's still got a lot of growing up to do.

Still, there were the notational records to sort through. He pulled up the first one. It was a personal note attached to his early school records.

= = = = = = =
November 3, 2255. Once again, I have been forced to send Pavel Chekov to the administration office. I have tried every disciplinary action available to a classroom teacher. This poor child is just destined for trouble. He seems to attract it. I thought at first that the rumors I heard about him could not possibly be true. Pavel denied it so vehemently when the other children confronted him with it. And even though I try to prevent the children from teasing him, Pavel becomes so defensive, so defiant. The only way he knows to fight back at them is with his fists. I'm sure Mikal's parents will request a conference when he comes home today with a broken nose. I have also requested a conference with Pavel's parents. Although I've requested a conference three times before, I can only hope my request this time relayed the seriousness of the situation. Perhaps there is something we can do to alleviate the problem before it gets out of hand.

M.K. Yavlinsky

November 4, 2255. Pavel Chekov did not report for classes this morning. I received a withdrawal form from the administration office; Pavel was withdrawn from school at his parent's request.

M.K. Yavlinsky

= = = = = =
April 17, 2256. I have officially requested that Pavel A. Chekov be removed from my classroom. I have made every effort to overlook the fact of who he is. As a professional, I am very aware that prejudice has no place in the classroom. However, this child tries my very last thread of patience. My attempts to keep him out of trouble have failed at every turn. Pavel disregards my advice to ignore the taunting of the other children. Requests to his parents for assistance have met with silence. I can not allow one child to disrupt the education of all the other children. It is my sincere hope that Pavel's next instructor will be better able to deal with this situation than myself.

Y.L. Javadov

= = = = = =
January 4, 2257. It is beyond my understanding how Pavel Chekov can consistently achieve such high scores on his class work. When I requested copies of his past school records, I was astonished that any child could have been through seven schools in two years. Previous record entries from earlier teachers seem to indicate that Pavel gives no indication of any ability to amount to a contributing member of society. I have not overlooked the disciplinary problems that appear to transfer from school to school with the child. But I have yet to see any record of his previous teachers attempting to get past the fist fights, belligerence, and defiance to the extraordinary ability Pavel possesses. Every previous record regarding Pavel centers on his unfortunate line of ancestry. The war is over. It is past time for people to let go of it and the prejudice and fear it left behind. Perhaps someday Pavel will realize that he cannot fight his way away from who he is. This child possesses remarkable ability. It would be a shame if no one ever saw this and gave him the chance he needs to prove himself. I have requested that Pavel be placed in one of my advanced classes. The extra work will be hard for him, but I believe it will give him a purpose. And perhaps it will leave him less time for fighting.

S.D. Innes

"Computer, pause." The scrolling record paused in mid-sentence and Kirk stood up to stretch his legs. He was beginning to rethink his decision to post Chekov on the bridge. In fact, he was beginning to question even having Chekov on the Enterprise. The information he had seen so far did nothing to offer a reasonable defense for his decision. Or for Admiral Ygnesto's recommendation. And his curiosity was still not satisfied.

After a quick shower, Kirk sat back down in front of the terminal, still tousling his damp hair with a towel. He ordered the computer to continue, and he read the next notational record -- a report from a child psychologist.

= = = = =
July 23, 2257. The following account is a summary record for the minor child, Pavel Andrevich Chekov. Details can be found attached to the medical records and are privileged information for any future physician or therapist.

I began seeing Pavel Chekov in April of this year, at the request of his present instructor, Professor Innes. It was quite apparent in the beginning that Pavel was reluctant to participate in my program. I have never met the child's parents, but from what Pavel has told me, his parents were also less than enthusiastic about this. It is my understanding from Professor Innes that his parents allowed him to meet with me only after they were assured there would be no cost involved and that all details of our meetings would be kept strictly confidential.

Pavel's scholastic background is a matter of record. At the age of twelve, he has been enrolled in nine separate schools, over a period of only three years. There is no record of formal schooling before the age of nine. Pavel has told me his mother taught him at home because they moved a lot. It's obvious the child has a good education, in spite of the circumstances. His test scores are well above average.

His inability to adapt to his surroundings has caused much concern, however. Pavel is hesitant to talk about a great many things, and specifically his home life. I know he still feels I will betray his trust, even though I have assured him that our meetings are private. We've talked mainly about his disciplinary problems in school, a subject he is very defensive about. Pavel feels an intense need to prove himself, even here in our sessions.

There is no doubt that the role one of his ancestors played in the last Earth war has had a profound effect on his childhood, and probably will most of his adult life. It is an issue Pavel will have to learn to deal with. And he will have to learn to deal with it in ways that do not involve his fists.

At our last session, Pavel told me he had decided to apply to Starfleet as soon as he was old enough. I fear, however, that he sees Starfleet as an escape from his life here. He is only twelve. He hasn't yet learned that problems cannot be left behind. This is what he has seen happen all too often. At every wrong turn, his parents have moved on, hoping to find a place to start over. My questions of how his parents feel about his decision to join Starfleet have gone unanswered. I doubt that he has told them yet.

Pavel has avoided talking about his parents when not absolutely necessary. The only person in his life that feels comfortable talking about is Professor Innes. She is perhaps the only person in his life the child trusts at this moment. I have asked Professor Innes to see me next week. I feel that Pavel is developing a detrimental attachment to her. It's normal, of course, for twelve-year-old boys to develop a crush on a special teacher, but this is not a situation I feel Pavel can rationally cope with at this time.

Kirk thumbed off the data terminal. There was more to the psychiatric report, but nothing he had not already drawn conclusions about.

Who the hell was this new ensign on his ship? And if the young man had a background like that, how had he made it through the Academy? Better yet, Kirk thought, how did he make it aboard my ship?

He made a mental note to schedule a conference with Chekov at the end of the first shift tomorrow. And with Dr. McCoy right now.

McCoy answered the intercom from his office. "I thought you were off duty two hours ago," Kirk said.

"I was. Just catching up on some reports before we pull out tomorrow. You need something?"

"Yeah. You. In my cabin now."

"You must have read the data cassette," the doctor surmised.

"Most of it. Can you be here in ten minutes?"

"Sure. The reports can wait."

Fifteen minutes later McCoy leaned back on the small couch in Kirk's cabin, emptying one of the two glasses he had filled from the bottle he brought with him.

"So," he started, "where do you want to start?"

"At the beginning, whatever that is." Kirk took a slow sip of his drink. He wasn't really in the mood to drink. "How much of the report did I not get?"

"Only the doctor-patient confidentiality stuff. What you got is in his personnel record. Well, most of it anyway. There were a couple of things I thought you needed to know that weren't part of his file."

"The psych report, when he was twelve...there was more to that?"

"A good deal more," McCoy answered. "But as I said, doctor-patient confidentiality. Nothing, however, that could have painted a different picture from what you saw." He leaned forward to refill his glass.

Kirk waved his free hand toward the data terminal, now dark and quiet. "There was nothing about any of this in his Academy records. A couple of skirmishes, he was put on report a few times. But that happens to a lot of cadets. There is nothing to indicate that the Ensign Chekov aboard my ship is the kid described on that cassette."

"Are you sure about that, Jim? How much do you really know about him? You didn't know anything about his past before you read that." McCoy pointed to the cassette still inserted in the terminal. "He's tried to hide his past - unsuccessfully, I might add. It's always come out before. What do you think'll happen when it comes out here? How do you think your other officers will react to it? And to him?"

"When what comes out, Bones? That Chekov had a rough childhood? That he likes to pick fights? That he's a magnet for trouble?" Kirk rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, then a thought slowly emerged from the back of his mind. "This...ancestor...of his. Someone involved in the war. That's what this is all about. Who was it?"

"Not exactly 'involved' in the war, Jim. You didn't finish the notational records, did you?"

"All but the last two. Fill me in."

McCoy got up and started pacing, one hand in a pocket and the other wrapped around a third full glass.

"I won't bore you with the details of the war. We all studied it in history. You know what it was about."

"Yeah." Kirk was very familiar with the war. It was hard to image that with all the known races in the universe at that time, the last great war their people knew would pit humans against humans, at the most basic and appalling level. Even now, after all these years, the last vestiges of mistrust and betrayal still hung on. If Chekov had an ancestor directly involved in the war, it would be easy enough to understand the anger directed toward him. And the fear.

"That's the way it happens every time," McCoy continued. "You give one group of people too much control and pretty soon they think they can run the whole damn show. And how can you fight back against something like that? There were no defenses, no weapons...." He shook his head and suppressed a shiver. "The thought of what those 'people' did still makes my blood run cold."

"Damn it, Bones! Stand still for a minute and get to the bottom of this." He had asked McCoy to fill him in to save time in reading the whole report - a decision he was beginning to rethink.

"Chekov's ancestor, Jim. The person he's tried so hard to prove he's different from. The past he's fighting his way away from.... Well, look for yourself." McCoy flipped the terminal on and keyed up the last record on the cassette.

A picture came up on the screen. It was faded, copied from an old news vid. The caption under the picture read:

Alfred Bester, commander of the now defunct Psi Corps, still sought for trial for his involvement in the failed telepath overthrow of Earth.

-~~ End ~~-

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