Chapter ten

Development

After a blown out argument, Jim and the others had been sent back to the ship with Koloth to make sure they got there. Jim walked moodily behind the young Klingon. He actually looked uneasy. Then he stopped and turned.

"I can't do this!" He cried. "Call your ship. Beam us up and I'll have to explain there." He told Jim who angrily did what he was asked. They reappeared in the transporter chamber and the security guards there quickly took hold of Koloth. "Take him to briefing room 2" Jim ordered. They watched as the Klingon walked out of the room.

"Gentlemen, I need your opinions and I need them now!" Jim told them quietly and instinctively they huddled around him.

"Captain, I think we can trust him. Pav- Chekov's always saying that he had a young Klingon friend called Koloth. The only reason he hates Klingons is because of something that Koloth's father did. But, Chekov's friend would be around his age." Sulu said, gesturing towards where the Klingon had departed from. Jim nodded.

"Captain. I think it would be logical to take whatever he tells us with 'a pinch of salt'?" Spock said, questioning the common phrase he had used.

Scotty stepped forward. "Jim! You can't be serious about listening to him. What if this is a trap to keep us up here while they do something else to the laddie down there?"

"That's a very good point." Bones added. Jim considered this.

"Sir, this is off-topic but where did Alexei go?" Uhura asked. The rest of them suddenly realised something. Alexei's reluctance to take them there hadn't been missed. And then… he had been alone in that small landing space. What if Drogaff had set this up with him? If it was all a trap, what was happening to Chekov now?

The group seemed to arrive at this conclusion together. Sulu flinched at the thoughts entering his head. They were vile. He knew Klingons were fond of old Earth tortures as methods of death. Were they going to kill him slowly and painfully? Or was this effort futile? Was Pavel Chekov already dead?

"Alright. Here's what we do. We listen to him. Decide if he's lying and if he is, we get in touch with his father and give him the death threat." Jim said, confidence leaking out of his tone.

"Are you actually going to kill him though?" Uhura asked. Jim shook his head.

"Of course not. If we murder, we'd be just as bad as them." Jim said to himself more than anybody. Uhura nodded but it was obvious she was still worried.

"Sir, don't you think we should let the authorities know about this?" Scotty asked.

"About what? If we tell them we're taking prisoners I don't think they're gonna be too pleased." Bones answered.

"But we could… tell them that Alexei has betrayed them. Tell them that the Klingon won him over and he's working for them now."

"Set them at each other?" Sulu frowned. Jim nodded. They all headed briskly towards the briefing room.

Pavel had gone quite far by the time he decided to find somewhere to rest. The place he had found now he was lucky to have stumbled upon, quite literally. He had been walking up a steady slope when his foot had got entangled in a tree root and some grass. As he had pulled his foot out, a mound of earth from around the tree had moved and, after a few minutes digging, Pavel had found a hollow underneath the tree's roots.

He climbed in unsteadily and pulled out more warm clothing to put on. He had decided against anything to sleep in or under because he may need to make a quick getaway during the night. This place had obviously once been a fox den. The smell was enough to confirm that. As he curled into the small space, Pavel started to wonder about the situation he was in. If everything had gone to plan, then the others would be safely back on the ship, where they belonged. Koloth would make up an excuse for his father and they would begin tracking him.

As he lay there, Pavel began to feel the fear he used to feel as a child. He knew sleeping wouldn't be easy. He eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.

It was the middle of the night when a low threatening growl woke Pavel. He crawled silently to the edge of the hollow. Nothing. Silence. Every muscle in Pavel's body tensed. A reaction he wasn't aware still happened. He waited for five minutes before crawling back into the small den.

Pitch black surrounding him, he had trusted the Klingon. He was guiding Pavel home. They had reached the road. They stopped. His car had come down the road at a sensible speed. He turned his head to look at the other side of the barrier. "Stop!" he cried out…

There was nothing to see. A bright white ball as the two vehicles crashed into each other. Glass shattered and tyres shrieked as the braked were applied too late. "Dad!" He started to move forward but a heavy hand shoved him roughly backwards and a gruff voice commanded him to stay. He looked, tried to ignore the black spots dancing in front of him. A vague figure pulled his father out of the mass of twisted metal and flames. Laid him down on the side of the road. He wasn't moving. Why wasn't he moving?! "DAD!" he cried out again. The figure glanced at him. It picked up…

Pavel jolted awake. He struggled to grasp his surroundings as the memory haunted him. "Dad?" he whispered. He gained control of his breathing and tried to relax. After about ten minutes, Pavel's muscles were still clenched tight. Knowing he wouldn't sleep again tonight, he set off the way he had been heading without bothering to cover his tracks.

The temperature must've dropped below freezing. Pavel could see the white fog of his breath curl away from him in the pale moonlight. He kept wondering if they would ever find him, find out what happened. In a way, he wished they would. Pavel's fingers were set in place where they were. He couldn't move them and he knew that was bad. He groaned in pain and stood still. Why did everything hurt so much? He started to lean against the nearest tree and closed his eyes. His eyes flashed open at the sound of a laser gun firing. He looked around sharply, but his eyes found nothing. The laser hit his back and a searing pain ran up his body.

His mind whirled as he tried to think who his attacker could possibly be. It wouldn't be Rakaia, even if he knew he couldn't have got here already!

"Ali! Why did you shoot? He's not the one you're looking for!" a voice screamed. Pavel watched silently as two figures came from the shadows. Girls merged slowly from the shadows and into his view. One looked middle-aged and the other a mere child. "I am so sorry sir!" the older one said as she came towards him. "We never meant to harm you. We thought you were someone else. Is there any way we can make it up to you?" She asked. Pavel nodded weakly and glanced down his body. The older woman followed his eyes and took in a sharp breath. "We'll get you cleaned up sir, follow us."

The older woman helped Pavel to his feet and supported him as she led the way back to wherever these two lived. After about five minutes they came to the door of a small wooden house. A small veranda wrapped its way around the front of the house and the older woman helped him up onto it. The door was opened by a middle-aged man who took in the scene with a look of surprise before ushering them all quickly inside.

Pavel was led to a chair by a bright-burning fire. Both the man and the woman gathered round and the young girl brought a huge brown box and then ran a bowl of warm water. "You must be exhausted. How long were you out there for?" The man asked. Pavel instantly recognised the attempt to get all useful information.

"Walking all day." He replied. The man nodded. Before he could ask another question though, Chekov asked one of his own. "Do you have a communicator?" the man nodded and brought it over.

"Not much use though," he said as he handed it to Pavel. "All the channels we know of are met by static. Except Starfleet emergency, but they usually just cut you off." Pavel nodded and fiddled with the dial until it was on the Enterprise's frequency.

He handed it back to the man. "Do you have something I can write on?" again, the man nodded and fetched some paper and a pen. Pavel scribbled away quickly while the woman continued attending to his wounds. "Please, if you get an answer on this frequency, tell them this." He said as he handed the man the paper.

It simply read: beam up anyone who's down here at the moment. You have to. They're in immediate danger. 1583,6742 those are the co-ordinates for where I am now. I won't be here when you get this. Talk to the people here but don't look for me. Leave. For your own safety. Chekov.

The man glanced up at Chekov. "How do you intend not to be here?" he asked.

"Because, I intend to ask you to contact them after I have left." The woman glanced up at him. "I can't stay for long. I'm on the run from a Klingon. If he finds me here, or finds out I've been here, he will torture you for information before killing you all. He is merciless and I can't take any chances."

The man nodded. The young girl came over with a cup of tea and held it out to Pavel. He took it, thanked her and drank it in one. Then the woman stood up. She had done a lot. All Pavel's old bandages and attempts at first aid were untraceable and the wounds were bandaged up properly and firmly. By now, Pavel suspected that some form of pain killer had been administered through the tea because he was hardly aware of any pain. Either that or there was too much going on in his mind for the pain to register. He thanked the family again briskly and started to make his way through the forest once more.

With the pain gone, Chekov started to make better time. By the time the morning came, he had nearly reached the outskirts of the bordering village. Pavel stood for a moment, trying to consider what to do. He could find somewhere still in the forest and camp out there, but it would give Koloth and Rakaia time to find him. Or, he could go into the village and try to find a hotel of some sort. That would mean risking detection by other Klingons. And he knew anyone with half a brain would take one look at him and then rush him to hospital, where he certainly would be found out. He heard the sound of the transporter before he saw the golden beams of light fluttering in front of him. He scrambled for cover and hoped he had been quick enough. "Halt." A stern Russian voice cried out. Pavel stayed exactly still. Maybe they weren't after him. "Pavel Andreivich Chekov, show yourself!" The voice commanded. Pavel's eyes closed. All hope was lost. He stumbled slowly out from behind the bushes with his arms held above his head. Four men in military clothing faced him. They each had a phaser slung over their necks. Each one was pointed at him. "We are placing you under arrest on behalf of the Russian government."

"I thought the government hated my step-father." Pavel wondered out loud. The man that had been talking smiled maliciously.

"They do. But they also hate being undermined by Starfleet officers." The man's dark eyes watched Chekov's face closely. Pavel absently wondered how he had managed to undermine them. "Come with us the the capitol." His tone was softer now. He held out a hand and Pavel took it tentatively. The other three men instinctively surrounded Chekov so that he had no escape. Rather than feeling phasers poked into his back - which, at this point, is what Chekov had expected – he felt arms supporting him gently. They walked silently to the edge of the village. Pavel knew that they didn't beam prisoners, not since one of them had moved as they beamed to kill himself. Sure enough, as they neared the main road, a shuttle was waiting for them. Pavel clambered into the warmth gratefully. No matter what was waiting for him in the capitol, he knew the Klingon couldn't get him. That, for now, was reassuring.