Chapter Text
Chekov's the one to contact them, speaking so quickly that even Uhura has trouble following him at first thanks to his heavy accent. She can see Sulu struggling, frowning at video screen. " - and they are all over the ship, the tubes, the wires, Mister Scott is saying he is going to 'toss the wee buggers out of an airlock' - "
"Okay, wait," Sulu says, raising a hand and Chekov pauses again, finally taking a breath. "What, uh, wee buggers?"
"The tribbles!"
"Tribbles?" Sulu repeats, exchanging a glance with Uhura as Chekov frowns at them from the screen.
"Tribbles.... Wait, those balls of fur we got from Mudd's ship?" Uhura asks. She had never seen one before and had barely seen them even then before science officers whisked them away for further study. It had been Gaila, later in the mess hall, who had given her the name and explained that they weren't often seen in this part of the galaxy. Mudd had likely bought or smuggled them in from somewhere, planning to sell them she assumed. At Chekov's nod, she frowns faintly. "I thought those died."
"Oh no," Chekov sighs. Looking over his shoulder for the first time, Uhura notices a few tribbles clinging to the wall. "They are very much alive."
"Great," Sulu says in a tone that implies anything but. "How many are there?"
"I don't know," the ensign says, turning his worried face back towards them. "Please, tell Commander Spock - "
"No," Uhura says firmly. She still doesn't know what's going on in their relationship, but she does know he doesn't need any more shit to deal with. "We can handle it," she says, glancing to Sulu who gives a firm nod. "Uhura out."
Once the screen goes dark, she sighs. "Tribbles?"
"Tribbles," he echoes, laughing. "Let's finish these forms up and then see what's going on up there. Though," he says, gaze dropping to his PADD, "I don't see how something like that would be enough of an emergency to bother us or the Commander with. They're fur balls. How bad can it be?"
"Maybe he just misses your handsome face," Uhura teases, head tilting towards the black screen. Sulu doesn't look up at her but his smile widens.
"Maybe."
---
When they materalize in the transporter room, the first thing Uhura notices is Chekov manning the station. The second thing she notices is that she's already nearly knee-high in tribbles. "Uh," is all she manages to say, hoping she's somehow managed to convey her gratitude that she wasn't beamed directly inside of any of them. She wiggles her toes in her boots to make sure. No squishy tribble guts. So far, so good.
"Lieutenants," Chekov greets, relief thick in his voice. Uhura knows that tone, knows that expression. She recognizes it from years of being a sibling and then a cadet, the unspoken 'I'm so, so glad you're here because now you're going to fix the problem'. She isn't sure yet though, how the hell she's going to fix this. A glance to Sulu tells her he probably isn't sure either.
"Chekov - what?" Sulu gestures around them before starting to slowly shuffle forward, down off the transporter pad.
Uhura follows suit, wincing in sympathy and apology whenever a tribble gives an unhappy squeak at being stepped on.
"I don't know!" It's almost a whine and Uhura wonders how many other people have asked him for answers. "I don't know! First," Chekov continues, leading them out of the transporter room through the tribbles, "There were only a few. Maybe ten, twenty? Then suddenly...." His fingers spread out, expression looking a little lost. "Everywhere."
"There aren't that many in the corridors," Sulu observes as they finally stumble free of the room and Chekov nods, looking proud.
"We push them into the rooms. Mister Scott said it was better, for safety. But some still escape."
Uhura nods, stepping over the smaller piles. At least there were still visible patches of floor. "Where did they come from?"
"I don't know," Chekov sighs, sounding tired this time. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Sulu says, reaching out to give the other man's shoulder a squeeze. "Let's check in with Commander Scott and figure this out."
Engineering, they discover, is largely tribble-free although both Scotty and Chekov swear it hasn't been easy. Scotty's got ensigns assigned specifically to 'tribble duty', also known as finding the little creatures and getting them away from the heart of the ship. "Not that there are many places left to put them, mind," Scotty says, swearing as he spots another hanging off of a wall, "This an' sickbay are the only spots we've managed to keep mostly clean. I've even found the bastards in my quarters. I cannae figure out how they're getting around when all I ever see them do is sit there an' purr!"
"Wait, wait. They're in our quarters too?" Sulu asks, brow furrowing.
"Aye," Scotty sighs, hands on his hips. "Ate the lunch I had brought up from planet-side. An' my snacks. One was trying to figure out how to get into the scotch."
"Your scotch?" Uhura laughs, unable to help herself. "That's - wait, what exactly are they all eating?"
"Far as I can tell?" Scotty and Chekov exchange a glance. "Everything. The science folks had a fit when they discovered the bastards in the botany lab."
"They - wait," Sulu frowns, holding up his hands. For a moment, Uhura expects him to say something more, but he simply looks between the three of them before he turns and sprints from engineering. She's about to call after him when Chekov groans suddenly from beside her.
"Oh, no...."
Uhura's about to ask when a harried looking ensign calls to Scotty. "Sir! They're in the wires again!"
Sulu's strange behavior is temporarily forgotten in lieu of armfuls of tribbles. It's not carrying them out that's the hard part, she thinks. They're light, soft, and fluffy. It's putting them anywhere else. Every time a door hisses open, more tumble out and it's a race to pack them all in and then get back quickly enough that they don't cascade out into the corridors once more. When they finish, Uhura's dismayed to find a tribble stuck to the front of her uniform. Chekov's got one in his hair. She doesn't think he knows.
"What are we going to do with all of them?" she sighs, more to herself than anything as she pulls the tribble loose from her uniform. In her hands, it starts to purr.
"We could use the torpedo launcher," Scotty grumbles.
"Scotty!" She laughs despite herself, holding the tribble up to her ear to hear its happy little cooing better. "We can't do that. They're alive." They were pains in the ass, but they were still awfully cute.
"Aye, I know, I know," the engineer says with a sigh. "Tempting though."
"They haven't been chewing on any of the wiring, have they?"
"Some. Not many seem to try it an' the ones that do get fried. It hasn't been anything we cannae handle but...." He sighs again, heavier this time. "May not be much longer that's gonnae hold true. What did the Commander say, when you told him? Have we got any orders?"
"Spock doesn't know," she says after a moment of hesitation, lowering the tribble away from her ear. Scotty looks at her for a long moment and she tries to guess what he's thinking, the unspoken language of the set of his shoulders and the width of his eyes.
"Probably for the best," he says and she relaxes a bit; after all, Scotty technically outranks her, even if they both seem to forget it most of the time. "Man's got enough on his plate."
"Yeah," she agrees, grateful.
"You're back! Is - is everything okay?" Chekov asks over Uhura's shoulder and she turns in time to see Sulu walking over, his expression dark.
"They ate my plants."
Uhura knows she's staring. "What? Even the cactus?"
"Yes."
She tries to remember if she's ever seen Sulu cry before. She thinks she's about to now.
"We will get rid of them," Chekov says solemnly, wrapping an arm around Sulu's shoulders.
On top of his head, the tribble chirps.