1. 9 5 Wiktor Wiktor 2

**EDIT! 7/2/11: Now a 5 and 1 and Title Changed!**

The Title comes from a video on Youtube called "Motivated by Firefly" by fireflyearthgirl. It's great if you've seen the TV show Firefly. It's a series of motivational posters from screen shots and themes from the episodes. The title comes from one from the episode "Heart of Gold".

Dedicated to: **Annime1231** for her awesome Star Trek Reboot Art Meme over on deviantart ( http:/ / annime1231 .deviantart .com /art/ Reboot-Meme-126436486? fullview=1 ). Without panel #9, this one-shot wouldn't be here!

**la-russophile** without whose AMAZINGLY HILARIOUS! fic "You Eighteen Yet?" I would never have seen meme that inspired this fic in the first place! Now go read russo's fic! It's funny!

(Lastly) Disclaimer: If I were the great Gene Roddenberry, I would sadly not be alive to post this (and don't you think I'd have had Walter Koenig do it?). If I were J. J. Abrams, I wouldn't need to write fic, I'd sneak it in and have Anton Yelchin do it! We good? Now, onto the story!

Instance the First: 9 5 Wiktor Wiktor 2

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><p>It was a serene, peaceful day aboard the Enterprise. One of the many the crew had while the beautiful flagship soared gracefully across the universe, between planets on its five year exploratory and ambassadorial mission.<p>

The day was shaping up to be as blissfully uneventful as the past half-dozen shifts had been, everyone on duty attending to their assigned obligations as devotedly as they did in a crisis but this time with a relaxed and happy air-

Screw it.

The Captain was _bored_.

Bored. Bored. Bored.

So bored, he was considering trying to send whatever was attached to the nearest Klingon transmitter a picture of his bare ass telling them to kiss it in grammatically incorrect Klingon. Just to get a rise out of them.

As Kirk was debating if he should get a tattoo on of either the Starfleet insignia or a to scale model of the Enterprise on one cheek just to make _absolutely_ certain the Klingons knew who was hailing them, Uhura bounced- _bounced!_- up to his chair to show off the progress on her new project.

She, with Spock's input and not a few questions to Scotty, was tinkering with a universal translator. She'd added the handful of new languages they'd encountered out here in the ass end of the known universe to its database and was now trying to improve the device. She was trying to add a bit of the "human" element in translating into its programming. Instead of just translating the words, she was attempting to get the device to pick up and recognize 'how it's being said', 'why it's being said', and 'how it's meant' (instead of "duck" being "a web-footed bird", it would become "stoop" or "evade"). She was starting the long, and quite possibly (not 'probably' because James T. Kirk still had a love-hate relationship with no-win situations) impossible task by teaching the catalog more phrases, so it could learn what the whole sentence _really_ meant.

Since she had about three more minutes until her shift "officially" resumed after her lunch break, Uhura decided to give the Captain a demonstration of the updates she'd made.

Unbeknownst to Ensign Chekov.

Who was not having such a great day. He'd slept in a bit this morning, not a lot, but enough that he had to grab a protein bar instead of getting to sit down and eat a real breakfast. He hadn't looked closely at which bar he was grabbing and promptly coughed, fighting back a gag at the flavor supplement he'd unwittingly snatched. He quickly choked the bar down and got to his place on the bridge, settling into his shift. He'd almost relaxed past the evil bar of vomit when he got to the worst part of his job. It was time to update the entire crew as to where they were in relation to their mission/destination. Captain Kirk had ordered the daily ship-wide update, to be suspended only in case of an emergency, days after they'd shipped out for their ongoing mission and the crew did seem happier knowing when they were kept informed about even trivial matters, not just emergencies.

It wasn't fear of having to give these "public" communications that Pavel detested. That never bothered him. Before he'd gone to the Academy, he'd been in various community theater productions since he was four and had to give numerous speeches and presentations for his abundant academic accomplishments that any discomfort he might have felt talking in front of mass groups had evaporated quicker than Dr. McCoy could whip out a hypo and sedate a certain stubborn and accident prone patient.

It was putting in his authorization code into the computer that Chekov hated the most of all.

The computer console at his station hated him. He just knew it. No matter what First Officer Spock said, his Captain believed him and that was enough for him.

He gave the monitor in front of him a good glare before flipping the switch that would start the cycle of daily, unending hate, unaware that Lieutenant Uhura had turned her own device only moments before.

Taking a deep breath, Chekov began his duty with as much cheer as he could muster, "Ensign authorization code 9-5-Wiktor-Wiktor-2."

"Access denied." The enemy haughtily declared in its cold intonation.

Chekov could stand this abuse no longer! He raised his fist and lightly thumped it down against an empty space on his side of the helm, proclaiming, "О трахните это дерьмо!"

Unfortunately, that's not what everyone else heard.

No, they all heard the standard translation of what he said.

His commanding officer and all his immediate superiors save two (Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scot being in sickbay and engineering respectively) heard, "Oh fuck this shit!"

In his anger it took the navigator a few seconds to grasp that what he said and what he heard were in two very different languages. It was completely silent on the bridge as everyone stared at him with their mouths open (except Commander Spock) in varying degrees of shock. He leapt out of his chair, poised awkwardly half standing when he caught himself from trying to run out of the room from embarrassment.

"Dude," Breathed Lieutenant Sulu, who was quickly becoming one of Pavel's closest friends, holding his arms out in the near-universal sign of "calm down", in the silence of the deck, he was easily heard by everyone.

"Yes," The Captain coughed, his shock quickly becoming amusement, "Right. I'll, uh, relay a message to the nearest Starfleet Outpost to bounce a request back to command to have your authorization code changed before the day is through, Ensign."

…

…

"Access still denied."

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><p>This was very different for me: no couples, no romance. Wery interesting... Also, I don't know Russian! I used freetranslation .com so... PLEASE feel free to correct me if it's wrong! (Just don't be bitchy about it! I'm a college student, not a translator!)<p>

Reviews are dilithium crystals, help keep my ship, _U.S.S. Trekkie_, flying!


	2. Cupcake tries to become The Fonz

**TITLE CHANGE AND EXPANDED!**

I was inspired by the wonderful people who reviewed and especially those who added this former one-shot to their story alert. (I was sad no one caught/mentioned my little nod to the great Anton Chekhov, an incredible Russian playwright, by giving Pavel Chekov acting experience. I figured the character's 2009 actor's first name is "Anton" and the character's last name is "Chekov", BOOM! Drama kid. Am I the only Thespian who's also a Trekkie?) Updates may be slow in coming, but they will come, so just sit back and enjoy them as a little treat whenever they pop up.

On Chekov's accent: I found a page on eHow that outlined the basics on how to speak with a Russian accent. So I wrote out Chekov's dialogue and then went back changing the spelling to simulate how he (might) say it with a Russian accent. Is it too think? Most probably. But at least it's not a complete stab in the dark, right?

On the Russian: There's one sentance in Russian. I don't know Russian so, unfortunately, I have to use freetranslation (dot) com. The site's generator isn't perfect and it's a machine, not a native speaker telling me how a native speaker would say it. But at least the individual words should be accurate, correct? (The sentance means 'Was it because he is Russian?')

This chapter was meant to be about Pavel getting help from Scotty but Cupcake showed up and wouldn't leave!

On Cupcake: I've become enraptured with **bookdragon01**'s saga with _Enterprise_Security Chief Sam Giotto including "Rule Three", "Rule 3b", and "Tales of a Security Chief" volumes I, II, and III. Because of this, I cannot make Cupcake Giotto. Long live bookdragon's Giotto! Plus, the character doesn't have a name listed in the credits. If he was the chief of security, wouldn't he have a name? So, I've given him a name to fit his billing as "Burly Cadet". (BURLY means 'large in bodily size, stout, sturdy', thus: ETHAN meaning 'firm, strong' and BRUTUS meaning 'heavy, muscular'.)

Just so we're clear, **bookdragon01**, like **la-russophile**, is a much MUCH better writer than I. Go pay homage to their stories!

Instance the Second: Cupcake is not The Fonz.

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><p>Pavel <em>knew<em> he wasn't imagining things. He _knew_ it. The technology on the _Enterprise_ hated him. Whenever there was an attack, the ensign had no trouble performing his duties including things like accessing his console, broadcasting announcements to specific departments, manipulating hitherto unknown equations to enable the ship to do also previously unknown maneuvers, and lots of other computer-aided functions. But the moment, the _moment!_, the red alert alarm turned off and they escaped danger, _bam!_, curse of the evil technology.

Still, Pavel was usually an optimistic young man. And when he was in a good mood, which was most days, he wanted to believe that it was at best all in his head and at worst a malfunction in the computer programming. Or maybe, at best it was it was the coding and at worst he was delusional? Regardless, if it was the computer, then who better to go to for help than the Chief Engineer?

Nyet. Pavel shook his head and started walking toward the Officer's Mess to enjoy a quiet dinner. Usually he wouldn't bother, but with all of his friends either working or sleeping… Well, he'd feel less lonely in the smaller room. He walked down the deck with a bounce in his step and his personal PADD with the newest book from one of his favorite authors already downloaded and just waiting for him tucked under his arm.

Going to the Chief Engineer for something that could be all in his imagination smacked of desperation and paranoia. So what if it took a few tries before he could access the ship's interface? The important thing was that during an emergency everything worked smoothly (well, the computer accepted his authorization code on the first try, there were a million over things that could and did go wrong during the hectic, near-death crisis's they found themselves in). Just because it took him a few tries during non-emergency time didn't mean anything. Maybe his accent just got clearer when the alarms were blaring, lights were flashing, the ship was shaking, crew members were yelling and screaming- er, when chaos reigned… more chaotically than usual.

Enough. Pavel was going to get some (replicated) food, start reading his new book, and get a good night sleep for Alpha shift tomorrow. The Russian nodded his head decisively and stopped in front of the door to his destination. Unlike the regular mess, the door to the Officer's Mess required an officer's authorization code before it would slide open. Captain Kirk had declared this to be an unnecessary provision reminiscent of bygone, untrusting days enforced by arrogant Admirals and had tried to disable it. Unfortunately, since it was part of a regulation Starfleet vessel, well, needless to say Commander Spock had fixed it soon after. They must have had… words because the Captain hadn't tried to disable the voice-activation again. He did grumble a bit about it though.

Smiling at the Captain's antics, Pavel walked over and pressed the button to put in his (brand new) activation code. "Ensign Authorization code: 8-1-Chotel-Zie_rr_a-8."

"Authorization not recognized," the terminal said as it gave off a warning siren, "Access denied."

Pavel's jaw dropped as he stared at the panel in front of him in shock. That was his _new_ code. What did the ship's computer have against his accent? It let Lieutenant Commander Scott do whatever he pleased, so was it Pavel's accent or Pavel himself that the ship's computer took exception to? Pavel gasped his muscles tensing up as he froze. What if it was **him** the computer didn't like? But why? What had Pavel ever done to earn such loathing? He was a good navigator, the best in all of Rus-oh! No, it couldn't be.

Could it?

No. There must be some other explanation surely.

Right?

But, it was only him. Only Pavel and his accent that the computer failed to recognize. _Это было, потому что он – русский?_

Pavel reeled back from the shock of his thought. Was the processor constructed using materials from the United States during the Cold War? He glanced quickly to his left and right, his increasing paranoia expecting to see an old spy from a bygone era pointing a weapon at him. His pulse raced as his breathing rapidly increased, almost hyperventilating now, as he kept looking for signs the computer would come to life, detach from the deck wall and take him-

"Are you ok-"

Pavel choked on a shriek as he spun around to see the source of the question. It was a security officer. An American, but not a Cold War spy. (Right?)

"-Ensign?"

"Da, ah-" Pavel cleared his throat, "I meen, 'yes', I am fine." Pavel caught sight of the officers sleeves and added a quick "zir."

"Are you sure there's no one I can get for you, Ensign…?"

"Chekov, zir. Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreivitch." Unbeknownst to him, Pavel puffed out his chest a little as he proudly stated his full name, producing a small smile from the burly officer.

"Nice to formally meet you Ensign Chekov, I'm Lieutenant Junior Grade Ethan Brutus. Are you sure you don't want me to escort you to Dr. McCoy? Or maybe the… Captain?"

The second pause and minor twitch in the lieutenant's left eye were the only lingering remnants of his past grievances with Captain James T. (for 'Trouble') Kirk. But then, what man who was balding in his twenties would want to be called "Cupcake" by a drunk, arrogant, model-pretty man?

Exactly.

Shaking his head served to both clear his thoughts and respond to the lieutenant's question. "No, I am fine, Lieutenant. Ees just… the computer. It vill not let me into ze mess."

"Damn." The lieutenant looked sympathetic to his plight and glanced over at the computer panel. "You can call me 'Ethan', I'm off duty."

"Zank you. As I'm also off duty, you can call me 'Pavel', eef you like."

"'Pavel' it is. Now is the door just not opening, or…?"

"No. Ze computer…" The Russian wiz-kid paused, unsure if he wanted to admit the rest. Mentally bracing himself, Pavel continued, "eet does not accept my auzorization code." Pavel forced himself not to mutter his confession, lest he be forced to say it again. He braced himself for the laughter that might follow such an admission. Most of the crewmen found his accent amusing and he'd heard stories about this specific crewmember from the Captain…

"Damn. That… sucks."

Pavel blinked at the lieu-Ethan's unexpected response. "Da, eet… sucks. Wery much."

"It's pretty incredible, too. I mean, here we are in the 23rd century with all this technology, trekking across the universe, in a ship that can go faster than the speed of light, and the universal translator that has, I don't know, _hundreds_ of languages, both from Earth and other civilizations and the computer can't understand your _accent_? It's just so-"

"Reedeeculous? I agree." Pavel watched as Ethan carefully opened the computer panel's covering and scrutinized all the parts inside. "And ze uniwersal translator currently has fifteen zousand eight chundred tventy-seex different languages een eet's database. Lieutenant U-hu-ra-" Pavel spoke very slowly and clearly, working all the parts of his mouth (lips, tongue, soft palate, etc) in order to correctly pronounce each syllable of the talented communications officer's name. "-ees choping to add more as ve eencounter new ciwilizations. Een fact, she's already started vorking vith Commander Spock and Lieutenant Commander Scott on learning ze programming codes necessary to add ze different dialects of ze exeesting languages in ze database. Zat vill add anozer sewen zousand zree chundred zirty-eight tongues in ze banks."

Ethan had stopped his careful examination to listen to him talk about the universal translator (another agent of the enemy, Pavel determined after his last encounter with it where it revealed his… colorful language in front of his superior officer!). His facial features appeared to the Russian genius to be showing the older man's… admiration?

"Damn. How did you remember all of that so quickly and so accurately?"

Pavel could feel his cheeks heating up a little bit and prayed it wasn't too noticeable. He cleared his throat self-consciously, "Ze lieutenant ees wery passionate about cher trade. She's quite chappy to discuss ze details vith any zat show an intrest."

Ethan flashed him a slow smile, "And I'm sure the lieutenant's stunning looks enhanced with her zeal for her profession have nothing to do with your interest in the translator or your memory of her explanations?"

Pavel put on his most innocent expression, undermined of course by the darkening blush staining his cheeks. "I don't know vhat you are talking about, zir. After all," Pavel fought down the grin wanting to burst forward with all his might, "I'm only sewenteen."

At that, the navigator watched as the security officer threw his head back and laughed loudly and deeply. After a moment of trying to swallow his own laughter, Pavel gave in and laughed with him.

Ethan soon calmed down, but he was still grinning in the teen's direction, "Yeah, and I remember what being a seventeen year old… man was like." Ethan snickered and his eyes twinkled at Pavel as he added, "I'm sure the Captain remembers too."

"Perchaps," Pavel could never bring himself to say anything derogatory about Captain Kirk. After all, when he took official command of the _Enterprise_ he could have replaced Chekov with another older, more experienced navigator or moved him to a more junior position but he hadn't. Adamantly refused to in fact, if there's even the smallest grain of truth to scuttlebutt. "Sadly, eet seems zat Dr. McCoy chas forgotten. Maybe ze Keptin acts ze vay che does to remind ze doktor?"

"If he is, I think it's backfiring."

Pavel nodded his head absently, agreeing with Ethan's assessment, watching absently as the lieutenant went back to his perusal of the computer circuits, adjusting a few dials and pressing some buttons. The CMO made him nervous. And not because of his gruff attitude, which was reminiscent of how Pavel's pediatrician back home spoke and acted. No, it was his apparent dismissal of Pavel himself and his distrust of the navigator's ideas based solely on his age. It dismayed him that such a respected genius, if in a different field than Pavel, found fault with his genius based on this one facet alone. At least the other members of the command team all seemed to respect him and his opinions.

"You sure you don't want to ask the Chief Engineer or someone if they can fix the problem?"

"I vould prefer not to burden zem vith zis, eef eet can be chelped."

Ethan nodded, "Ok."

_WHACK!_

Pavel jumped as all of the sudden, the burly officer's hand came up and smacked the side of the wall to the right of the open computer panel. The Russian's jaw dropped as Ethan nodded once, _pleased!_, and returned the cover to the wall panel. Pavel remained frozen, still trying to understand why the older man had just done what he'd done, while Ethan threw a smirk at him.

The redshirt stepped back and gestured to the computer terminal. "Try it now."

Dazed, Pavel took the same place the other man had stood moments before without question, comment, or argument. "Ensign Authorization code: 8-1-Chotel-Zie_rr_a-8."

The computer took longer this time to process, its beeping sounding lower and slower than usual. Pavel was beginning to think it had worked, hope blooming in his chest when-

"Aaauthooorization not recognized. Access denied."

The cold, desolate winter of despair overpowered the hope in Pavel's soul as his companion murmured a soft "Damn."

"Sorry, Pavel. Guess you'll have to ask Lieutenant Commander Scott or Commander Spock; I don't know what else to do. Since my idea didn't work, why don't I get us into the mess for now? That way you can ask one or both of them on a full stomach."

Pavel just nodded, he was a little sick of speaking at the moment. He felt a flash of irrational irritation when Ethan's code was recognized instantly and the door to the mess slid open, smooth as water.

As they walked toward the replicators together, his dinner companion turned to him and asked, "Why don't you ask the Captain for a new authorization code?"

Pavel's shoulders sagged, "Zat vas my new code."

"Damn."

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><p><em>Everyday innocent redshirts are abused, beaten, and stunned. And they're crying out for help. Please, click the button on your screen and join the STRC (Save The Redshirts Campaign) with a review right now. For just one review, only a few moments of typing, you'll help rescue redshirts from their killers and provide medical care, food, therapy, and shore leave. Review in the next thirty minutes and you'll receive this welcome kit with the photo of a redshirt in a star base right now. One whose been given a second chance, thanks to you. Right now, there's a redshirt who needs you. Your review says, "I'm here to help."<em>

_Please review, right now._


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