A Matter of Honour

Chapter 2

Personal Log, Lieutenant Junior Grade Pavel Chekov, Stardate 6234.6. The Enterprise remains at Starbase 67 for extended maintenance and system upgrades that have been scheduled to take approximately six weeks in total. Many of the crew are taking the opportunity to spend some accumulated leave time. As a trip home to Earth is not convenient from this location, I have decided to avail myself of one of the training opportunities available at Starbase 67, an advanced small unit tactics course. Colonel Miller, the CO of Marine Training Command here, thought it an odd interest for a starship navigator but saw no reason to deny my request to join the course even before he saw Captain Kirk's approval on the application. I will admit that the course has been challenging, but, aside from the new skills I am gaining, I have developed a new appreciation for the life of a combat soldier in the Starfleet Marine Corps, of which most of my course mates are members. Of the four of us who are not marines, I am the only non-Security officer. It has been an... interesting experience.

The inner door opened onto Colonel Miller's office and the shaven-headed marine commander looked up from his desk with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided smile. "Lieutenant Chekov, come in please. Have a seat."

Chekov stepped forward far enough for the door to close behind him, eying the single, too-comfortable looking chair before moving towards it. "I had not expected to be called so soon, sir."

With a grin, Miller leaned back in his chair a bit. "Just making use of the alphabet, Lieutenant. Comes in handy sometimes."

"Aye, sir." It hadn't occurred to him that Miller would be looking at his students results alphabetically. Chekov had somehow always thought that things were done by service number order, but he'd never been one to organize a training course of any kind. He wondered how the alphabet worked when dealing with members of truly different species but supposed phonetics would come into play.

"Have a seat, son." He pointed at the chair again.

Chekov slid into it and found the chair was as comfortable as it looked, which he thought was odd, considering where he was and whose office he sat in. "Thank you, sir."

"I recall expressing some surprise when you requested to enrol in the course, Lieutenant." Miller leaned forward again, just a bit. "It's very rare to get a bridge officer interested in small unit tactics. I believe your words were something to the effect of 'a good officer should be well rounded.'"

Which rang a bell, and he still agreed. "It was a valuable experience, sir. Thank you for allowing me to participate."

Miller shook his head. "You did more than just participate, Mister Chekov." He glanced at the pad on his desk. "Actively soliciting advice and assistance from your classmates. Studying classical and modern texts in your off hours. Offering assistance to others at the potential expense of your own scores." He looked back up. "These are all comments in the file from your instructors during the past several weeks."

"I- thank you, sir." Embarrassing praise, but he thought he managed to keep the colour from his cheeks, at least.

But Miller shook his head again. "I'm not finished, Lieutenant. In the final practical, you were one of only five team leaders to think of hacking into the base computer system in advance to find out exactly where the Ambassador was held, and the only one to put a phaser in the Ambassador's hand to have extra firepower to facilitate reaching the extraction point."

"Knowing Mister Spock's capabilities, I may have had an unfair advantage in that regard, sir." He'd actually been shocked to find out the Vulcan Ambassador had been the first officer of the Enterprise, but it was a good surprise as far as he'd been concerned.