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spacedogfromspaceChekov in the Mirror
Fictober22
Chekov is thrilled to be on the first survey team to explore the ruins of a city belonging to an ancient civilization. Trouble comes to him and the rest of the bridge crew when he finds a strange artifact - a mirror that is more than it seems.
Fandom(s): Star Trek TOS
Character(s): Pavel Chekov, Mirror!Pavel Chekov, TOS Ensemble Cast
Genre/Tags: Genfic, Mirrorverse
Rating: Teen+
Content Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 3918
Type: Oneshot, Standalone
Collection: Fictober22, or, Pavel Chekov's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month
Written for Fictober 2022
Day 23: "Not on my watch."
Chekov’s communicator beeped. He checked the display and saw a message from the leader of the landing party, Mr Spock, reminding him to be at the rendezvous point for beam up at 15:30 ship-time. He glanced at the time, noting that he had about half an hour left to explore his designated section of the underground ruins.
Chekov was ecstatic to be selected for this survey mission, even more so to be selected for the first day of the mission. The ruins of the city were hundreds of thousands of years old, built by and lived in by a civilization long lost to time. The structures were preserved only by the lack of volcanic and tectonic activity on the planet. The city was a recent discovery, and it was up to the Enterprise to do the first formal survey of it. There was much interest across the Federation in this ancient civilization, and many questions they wanted answers to. Just how old was it? Was it always underground? Had any records survived, and could anything be gleaned from them? What ancient technology still existed within the city’s vast network?
Entering another room, Chekov hoped to find a few more artifacts to take tricorder readings of before the day’s expedition ended. Taking a look around, it seemed that he was in luck. There wasn’t much in the room, just some chairs, a table, and a large mirror mounted on the wall. All commonplace items, but still worthy of being logged. He started with the chairs and table, eager to review the scans later and find out what they were constructed out of. It could have been anything, but the years had petrified them which made them appear to be made of stone.
He walked over to the mirror, and began a scan. The mirror was taller than he was, and framed in an unknown material with intricate detailing. Despite the age, the silver mirror’s surface was in as good a condition as it had probably been back in its heyday. Chekov’s reflection was sharp, though he didn’t pay much attention to it, instead focusing on the framing, scanning it carefully in case the engravings were some sort of script, which would be very valuable to the mission.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a movement in the mirror. It stopped him, because the movement didn’t match any movements he made. He stared at his reflection for a while. Something was… off about it, Chekov decided. Curious, he reached towards the mirror, his reflection copying his movements. He stopped with his fingers nearly touching the mirror, again feeling like something was strange about it. He was about to dismiss the thought when he saw his reflection blink.
Chekov jerked back in alarm, but his reflection reached through the mirror and grabbed him by the wrist. Before he could react, Chekov was pulled into the mirror. As he passed through the silver surface, his counterpart stepped out of the mirror, dropping Chekov’s wrist as he exited.
Chekov, on the other side of the mirror, tripped and sprawled onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet and tried to run back through the mirror, but he collided with the solidified surface. He bounced off the mirror, stumbling back. He managed to keep his footing, avoiding another collision with the ground. It was then that he noticed that nothing - his footsteps, his collision with the mirror, his fall to the ground - had made any sound. He shouted, feeling his vocal chords at work, but no sound came out. He looked through the mirror at the reflection, the Chekov from the mirror. Mirror Chekov stood back from the mirror, watching him with a wry smile on his face.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Mirror Chekov asked. Chekov shouted, but again, there was no sound. “Heh. Just wait until you’ve been in there for a few months. If the isolation doesn’t get you, the complete lack of sound will. You’ll probably only last a couple days before you’re completely-” he circled a finger around his ear a couple times, “- cuckoo.” He checked his communicator and grinned. “Well, I’m enjoying our chat, but if I stay any longer I’m going to be late for the rendezvous. Da svidania,” he waved, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Chekov, inside the mirror, pounded his fists against the mirror’s surface, his face screwed up in a scream, but nobody would hear him, not even himself.
Kirk looked up at the door when it bleeped, signalling that someone was requesting entry. “Come in,” he said, pushing his PADD to the side.
The door whooshed open, and Sulu stepped into the ready room. “Do you have a moment, Captain?”
“Of course, grab a seat,” Kirk said, gesturing. When Sulu sat down, Kirk asked, “What can I do for you, Mr Sulu?” Kirk frowned at the worried look on Sulu’s face. “There isn’t something wrong with the landing party, is there?” He asked, suddenly concerned about Mr Spock and his team of ten down in the ruins for a fifth day of surveying.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Sulu said quickly. “Last I heard they’re doing fine. It’s… It’s about Chekov, sir. He’s been acting strangely ever since he got back from the excursion on the first day of the survey mission.”
“Strangely?” Kirk asked, raising his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you noticed?” Sulu asked, surprised.
Kirk thought for a moment. “Well, I guess he has been a bit cocky lately. I figured it was just a confidence boost from being selected for the first excursion.”
“That’s what I thought at first, too,” Sulu said, lowering his voice. “But it isn’t really like Chekov to act like that. And sometimes when I look at him, there’s something in his eyes, like he’s plotting something malicious.” He paused for a moment, fidgeting his hands. “I guess I’m probably just imagining it, I’m sorry for disturbing you, Captain,” he said, standing up to leave.
“Don’t worry about it, Mr Sulu,” Kirk said, reassuringly. “I’ll keep a closer eye on Chekov, you might be onto something. Maybe I’ll send him down to Bones for a psych eval.”
Sulu paused. When he told Kirk about his suspicions, he realized that he was making a big deal out of nothing. But despite that, Kirk was taking his concerns to heart, which surprised Sulu, since Kirk was someone with bigger fish to fry than a crewman acting a little odd. “Thank you, Captain,” he said, sincerely. “I’ll be getting back to my post now.”
“I’ll come with you,” Kirk said, standing up. “I’m getting tired of this paperwork, and I should really check in with Mr Spock.”
Since the Enterprise was in orbit around the planet for the duration of the survey mission, the bridge was run by a skeleton crew. Scotty was in the Captain’s chair, filling in for Kirk and looking rather bored. Uhura was in coveralls and a face shield, armed with a soldering iron and using the downtime to maintenance the communication consoles. Chekov was also on the bridge, as his team was not scheduled to be down on the planet today. He was on the bridge as a formality, and was using the science station usually occupied by Mr Spock to review his tricorder scans from the previous few days.
“Mr Scott, you’re relieved,” Kirk said, approaching the acting Captain while Sulu crossed the bridge to his place at the helm.
“Thank you, sir,” Scotty replied, getting up and returning the conn to Kirk. “I’ll be down in engineering if you need me, figure I can get a lot of maintenance out of the way while we’re in orbit.”
“Sounds good, Scotty, keep me updated.” Kirk settled into the Captain’s chair and commed Spock as Scotty made his exit. “Kirk to Mr Spock, how’s it going down there?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary to report, Captain,” Spock responded promptly. “However, Lieutenant Lo has reported that she has located another archive. It will take a few days and some extra personnel to upload the contents to the Enterprise.”
“What resources we have are yours, Mr Spock,” Kirk replied.
“Thank you, Captain. I will give a thorough debrief on my return,” Spock said. “Spock out.”
It was very quiet on the bridge. Despite being tired of doing paperwork, Kirk ended up working on his PADD again as there was not much else to do other than keep an eye on the bridge situation and occasionally check in with the landing party. Sulu was sitting at the helm reading something on his own PADD, Chekov was engrossed in data from the planet below, and Uhura was hunched over her partially disassembled station, the low buzz of her soldering iron the only sound on the bridge. They spent the next hour in silence.
Chekov stood up and paced around the bridge. Nobody took any notice, as this was a regular habit of his. It helped him think, he said. However, this time, he walked up to Kirk and stood in front of him, waiting.
Kirk looked up from his PADD. He suddenly understood what Sulu had meant when he said Chekov had the look of someone planning something malicious. “Mr Chekov. Can I help you?” He asked, looking at him expectantly.
“Yes,” Chekov replied evenly, before drawing a phaser and firing it silently into Kirk’s chest with no hesitation. Kirk, not registering what had happened, felt a pain in his chest and raised a hand to the affected area. He felt a surge of alarm when his hand came away red with blood. He tried to call out, but all that came out was a wet gurgle.
Uhura, hearing the distressing sounds Kirk was making, turned and saw Kirk slumped forward in his chair, bleeding profusely from his chest. Chekov stood beside him, but Uhura didn’t notice the phaser in Chekov’s hand.
“Jim! Oh my god!” Her voice came out high in her panic. She leapt up from her chair to rush to his aid, but before she could reach him, Chekov grabbed Kirk by the shoulders and unceremoniously dumped him on the floor before calmly seating himself in the newly vacated chair, swinging one leg up to cross over the other. Uhura stopped short. “Pav, what the hell, call Doctor McCoy…” She trailed off when her eyes locked on to Chekov’s phaser.
Chekov’s face was twisted into a smile so cruel that Uhura barely recognized him. She was acutely aware of the absence of her phaser, which was at the quartermaster’s for routine maintenance. She suddenly wished she had taken a replacement for the time being. Her eyes flickered to Sulu, hoping he was armed.
Sulu, at Uhura’s initial outburst, had grabbed for his phaser where it was stashed under the helm, only to find that it wasn’t there. He turned and met Uhura’s eyes, before shifting his gaze to Chekov, who was watching Sulu with amusement.
“Looking for this?” Chekov asked, holding up a second phaser, presumably belonging to Sulu.
While Chekov's attention was on Sulu, Uhura dove at Kirk where he lay on the floor, hoping to get ahold of his phaser, but she was warded off by Chekov. “Ah ah ah!” He tutted, leaning forward in his seat and aiming his phaser into Uhura’s face. “Back off, this is set to kill,” he sneered.
Uhura scowled at him, but slowly stood back up and backed away, palms raised. “What the fuck is this, Pavel? Put the gun down,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I don’t think I will. Get back to your station, lieutenant,” Chekov said in a cold voice. “Sulu, take us out of orbit, plot a course for Starbase One.”
“What?” Sulu exclaimed. “No! You just shot our captain, what the hell are you doing giving me orders?”
Chekov stood up abruptly, the chilling grin gone from his face and replaced by an expression of such a rage that Sulu and Uhura flinched and dropped their gazes from him. “Look at me!” Chekov demanded, his voice low and harsh. Sulu and Uhura reluctantly looked at him, fear flashing in their eyes. “I am the captain now! You will follow my orders or I will kill you and find someone who will obey me! Now take us out of orbit, Mr Sulu,” Chekov snapped, putting extra emphasis on his order.
Sulu, despite looking terrified, jutted his chin out at Chekov. “No,” he said, resolutely.
Chekov aimed his phaser at Sulu. “Do you want to die?” He snarled. Sulu, trembling slightly, didn’t move nor answer. Uhura, crying silently and holding a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob or maybe a scream, looked at Sulu and shook her head, pleading with him to not get himself killed.
“Suit yourself,” Chekov said after Sulu didn’t give any answer other than a defiant glare. “Say goodnight, helmsman.”
“Not on my watch,” a weak voice rasped from under Chekov’s feet, barely a whisper. Chekov looked down just in time to see Kirk raise his phaser and fire up into Chekov’s face. Stunned, Chekov collapsed like a sack of bricks on top of the Captain.
“Jim!” Uhura shrieked, lunging forward to throw Chekov’s limp form off the dying man’s body. She knelt down and pressed a hand over the wound, and looked desperately at Kirk’s deathly pale face, the light leaking from his eyes.
Sulu landed beside her, placing his hands over Uhura’s on Kirk’s chest, not sure what else to do. “Oh god, the blood,” he gasped. “He’s lost so much.”
“Call Leonard!” Uhura shouted at him. “Hurry!”
Sulu scrambled to his feet and dove for the comm pad on the Captain’s chair. “Bridge to sickbay,” he rattled off quickly, voice shaking. “Jim’s been shot, I…” he looked back and saw Uhura shaking Kirk, trying to keep him awake. “It’s bad, it’s really, really bad.”
“Fuck,” Doctor McCoy replied, urgency leaking into his voice. “Acknowledged. Keep pressure on the wound,” he snapped, then cut communication.
Uhura and Sulu sat on the floor, leaning against the wall in the transporter room, waiting for Spock and his landing party to beam back onto the ship. They hadn’t told him what had transpired on the bridge, nor had they called him return to the ship earlier than scheduled. The Captain was in surgery with no prognosis, and Chekov was under guard in the brig. There was nothing that Spock could do, the two reasoned, so why bring him back early? But they both knew the real reason they delayed informing Spock was that they were afraid to tell him that Jim Kirk would likely die.
When Spock beamed on board the Enterprise, his eyes darkened at the sight of Uhura and Sulu sitting on the floor waiting for him, covered in blood with tears staining their faces. He approached them with urgency and crouched down in front of them while the survey team left the transporter room. “What happened?” He asked quietly, trying to disguise the alarm in his voice, but failing. Uhura just sobbed, and Sulu hid his face in his hands. Spock grabbed a shoulder of each of them and shook them, panic mounting. He asked again. “What happened? Tell me.”
Uhura tried to speak, but all she could manage was a strained, “I’m sorry.”
“It was Chekov, sir,” Sulu finally said, regaining enough of his composure to speak. “He… something’s been wrong with him, and he tried to take over the ship.” He bit his lip. “He…”
“He shot Jim,” Uhura finished for him. Spock tried to bolt to his feet but Uhura caught him by the forearm and stopped him. “Spock, no, he’s still in surgery.”
Spock paused briefly, then gently pried Uhura’s hand from his arm and got up to rush to sickbay. It was then that the door to the transporter room opened, revealing Doctor McCoy, who took one look at Spock before shooting out a hand, planting it into Spock’s chest to stop him from bolting out the door. “Easy, Spock,” he said.
Uhura and Sulu rushed over to Doctor McCoy, ignoring the uncomfortable cramping in their legs from sitting on the hard floor for so long. “Is he…” Sulu started, but trailed off.
Doctor McCoy’s face was ashen and he appeared to have more grey hairs than usual. He sighed. “Well, it was close," he told them. “He’d be dead if I wasn’t such a damn good doctor.”
“Oh, thank god,” Sulu breathed, his knees suddenly weak with relief. Uhura lunged at McCoy and hugged him tightly.
“Hey now, I just put on a clean uniform,” McCoy grumbled at the blood-covered Uhura, but he returned her embrace and patted her head regardless. “Alright, alright, you can get off me, let me talk to Spock.” Uhura let him go, and McCoy turned to Spock only to find that he wasn’t there. “Ah, shit,” McCoy groaned, and started the march back to sickbay. Uhura and Sulu followed behind.
In sickbay, McCoy whipped back a curtain to reveal Kirk, unconscious on a bio-bed and looking worse for wear, and Spock, standing over him. “Spock, get out, he won’t be conscious for a few days,” McCoy snapped, though much gentler than usual.
Spock ignored him, his eyes locking onto Sulu. “Tell me everything.”
The four sat in McCoy’s office after a significant effort by the Doctor to get Spock away from the Captain’s bedside. It was there that Sulu recounted his concerns about Chekov’s behaviour to Spock, and what had transpired on the bridge.
“Do you think something happened to Chekov in the ruins that first day?” Uhura asked.
“It sounds crazy,” Sulu admitted. “But there’s been something off about him ever since he came back.”
Spock nodded to Sulu and Uhura before rising. “Thank you Mr Sulu, Nyota. You two are dismissed for the time being. I’m going to go through the readings Chekov took on the first day of the survey and try to find anything unusual that would give some insight on what happened to him. I will summon you if I find anything.” He opened the door to the office, and paused before exiting, looking back at Doctor McCoy. “And thank you, Doctor, as well. I am grateful that you are stationed on this ship.” He turned on his heel and left.
Uhura and Sulu appeared in Spock’s office at his request. They were now showered and in clean uniforms but still looked deathly tired. Spock wasted no time as they entered, gesturing to a projection on the wall behind him. “I found this recorded in Chekov’s findings from the first day of the survey mission,” he said. “Watch,” he instructed, and prompted the projection to play the recording.
They watched the tricorder scan over Chekov, who was holding a tricorder pointed back at- no, this was a mirror. Chekov’s reflection was being recorded in his scan of the mirror. They watched as the scan progressed, and saw Chekov suddenly became transfixed by his reflection. They stared, uncomprehendingly, as they saw Chekov’s reflection grab his arm, and pull him into the mirror. Their view from the tricorder was still on the outside of the mirror, but now it seemed like the tricorder had changed hands to the other Chekov. They watched the Chekov in the mirror - their Chekov - stumble to the ground before getting up and running at the mirror, slamming into it. They watched him yelling and pounding on the mirror, fear in his eyes, before the Chekov with the tricorder turned and walked away, taking the tricorder - and their view of their Chekov - away with him.
The three were silent for a long time after the recording ended. It was Sulu who broke the silence. “So… the Chekov we have in the brig isn’t our Chekov, and our Chekov is trapped inside a mirror down in the ruins?” He asked, uncertainly. It sounded so unbelievable, and he expected Spock to look down at him and tell him he had interpreted the recording entirely wrong.
Spock, however, nodded. “That seems to be the case.”
“Do you think we could switch them back?” Uhura asked. “If we take the mirror Chekov back down to the mirror?”
“That is my theory,” Spock replied. “I hope it’s correct.”
Spock, Uhura, Sulu, and Mirror Chekov were standing before the mirror in the ruins of the ancient city. Mirror Chekov was bound at the wrists and held by the arms by Uhura and Sulu, and across his mouth was a strip of silver duct tape, which Scotty had supplied in the transporter room after their prisoner refused to shut up. Spock walked forward and examined the mirror, keeping a careful distance from it.
“Bring him here,” Spock instructed, and Sulu and Uhura dragged Mirror Chekov closer to the mirror. Mirror Chekov was doing all he could do to keep them from advancing, but it was a losing battle, and he was soon standing before the mirror, with his escorts standing slightly behind him.
“Look,” Uhura said suddenly, seeing something change in the mirror. It was Chekov, but it wasn't this Chekov’s reflection. The Chekov in the Mirror was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees, rocking slightly. He looked up wearily, then froze in shock at seeing people on the other side of the mirror. He slowly got up and walked up to the mirror, and put his hand to it, looking between his friends, and avoiding the face of his imposter.
“Push him up to the mirror,” Spock instructed, and Sulu and Uhura complied. Mirror Chekov dug his feet into the floor, desperately trying to keep his distance from the mirror, but Spock joined in to help and the three managed to push him right up into the mirror. The Chekov in the mirror - their Chekov - fiercely grabbed the imposter Chekov by the shoulders and spun in a semi-circle, pulling the imposter into the mirror while he stepped out of it.
“Pavel! Are you okay?” Sulu asked, grabbing Chekov by the shoulders. Chekov put his hands over his ears, shocked by the volume of the noise. He slowly sunk down into a crouch, holding his ears, rocking. He was trembling so hard that his teeth were chattering.
Spock opened the emergency med kit that they brought along and removed a compact blanket that he wrapped around Chekov's shoulders. “Let’s get him back to the ship, he’s in shock,” Spock said quietly.
A few days passed. Kirk had woken up, and Chekov had recovered from his shock and was on the road to recovery. Spock explained to Kirk what had happened to Chekov over the past few days before Kirk found out that Chekov was in the bio-bed next to him, saving him a jolt. Knowing what happened, Kirk harboured no ill feelings toward Chekov, and the two kept each other company in sickbay.
“Can I go back on duty today, Bones?” Kirk asked. This had become a routine, he had asked this every morning since he woke up, despite still feeling like shit.
McCoy scowled at him. “I told you, not for at least another week. Now stop asking or I’ll make you stay longer.”
Kirk grinned and looked over at Chekov. “Oh no,” he said sarcastically. “Well, Pav, guess it looks like we’ll have to spend another entire day watching movies instead of doing work. What should we watch today? Star Wars?”
“Star Wars,” Chekov agreed.