Down a Hole

Fictober22

While on shoreleave, Chekov agrees to do a favour for Kirk, and instantly regrets it.

Fandom(s): Star Trek TOS
Character(s): Pavel Chekov, Jim Kirk
Tags: Genfic, Ficlet, Shore Leave

Rating: Teen+
Content Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 735
Type: Oneshot, Standalone

Collection: Fictober22, or, Pavel Chekov's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month

Written for Fictober22
Day 25: "You know I'd do anything."

Chekov walked down the streets of a historical reconstruction of a twentieth century San Francisco neighbourhood. The attraction had been popular since it had opened, and the crew was happy for the opportunity to visit it on their shore leave. He took in a deep breath and tried not to fall into a coughing fit. He marvelled at how even the industrial air quality was replicated. How novel!

“Chekov!” Chekov turned to see Kirk jogging to catch up to him.

“Captain,” Chekov nodded.

Kirk paused to catch his breath. “Hey, so, I know you’re on shore leave, but I was wondering if you’d maybe be able to do me a tiiiiny favour?” He asked, seemed a bit embarrassed about his plea.

Chekov felt honoured that the Captain had come to him, a lowly ensign, for assistance. “Captain,” he said, putting a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “You know I’d do anything. What is the mission?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a mission, but…” Kirk waved a hand. “Just follow me, I’ll explain when we get there.”

Chekov and Kirk were standing over an uncovered manhole in an alley. “So you’re telling me,” Chekov said slowly, “that you dropped your communicator in the sewer, and you need me to get it out.”

Kirk shrugged apologetically. “I can’t fit down there, but you’re a skinny dude, so…”

Chekov, regretting that he pledged to do anything for his Captain, sighed. “Alright. But hold onto my jacket, I don’t want it getting all nasty,” he said, wriggling out of his favourite space-leather jacket and handing it to Kirk before awkwardly sticking a leg into the hole, finding purchase on the rusted ladder before beginning his descent. His boots splashed into an inch of still water in the bottom of the sewer. Luckily, it seemed that there was nothing more than water. Chekov was glad that the builders of the historical neighbourhood hadn’t made the decision to make the sewer overly realistic.

It was dark and damp down in the tunnel, and the light from the open manhole above didn’t provide much of a search light. Chekov looked up and called to Kirk. “Captain, it’s too dark down here, can you toss down my communicator so I can have a light? It’s in my jacket pocket.”

“Yeah, hang on,” Kirk answered. There was a pause, which Chekov assumed was Kirk digging through his jacket pockets. Then, Kirk’s face reappeared over the manhole. “Got it,” he announced, holding up Chekov’s communicator. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Chekov answered. For the second time today, Kirk dropped a communicator into the hole, though this time of purpose. Chekov caught it easily. “Thanks,” he called up to Kirk, then turned on the flashlight built into the device.

He scanned the light over the water-covered floor in the area around the ladder. It wasn’t long before he spotted a faint flash as his light reflected off of something shiny. Upon investigation, it was indeed Kirk’s fallen communicator. He picked it up, and as he straightened back up, shaking the water from the device, his flashlight shone down the tunnel, illuminating a dozen pairs of red eyes in the darkness. A loud chorus of hissing began.

“Uh…” Chekov said, stepping backward towards the ladder. “We have a problem.”

“What’s that?” Kirk asked, looking down the hole. Suddenly, there was a sound of rapid splashing, as if a whole herd of something was running down the sewer corridor towards Chekov. Chekov turned and ran past the ladder, knowing he wouldn’t have time to get up the ladder before his pursuers caught up to him. Through the manhole, Kirk watched Chekov bolt out of sight, and then watched as at least fifteen enormous alligators passed under the manhole, chasing after Chekov.

“Captain! Help!” Chekov’s cry echoed back to him.

“Chekov! Remember your training! Use your phaser!” Kirk shouted back.

“It’s in my jacket!” Chekov screamed back, his voice fading as he got further and further away.

“Fuck,” Kirk said under his breath. Now he’d have to find someone to retrieve his communicator and Chekov. He looked up and spotted Spock walking down the street past the alleyway.

“Spock!” He called, running after him. Spock stopped and waited for him, an eyebrow raised. “Hey, so, I know you’re on shore leave, but I was wondering if you’d maybe be able to do me a tiiiiny favour?”

“Captain,” Spock said. “You know I’d do anything.”

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