Pavel Chekov stirred, his vision slurred with halfconciousness. Around him, voices chirruped, soft, lilting, luring him back into the deep sleep he'd just managed to untangle himself from. The words were unrecognizable without a universal translator, instead they harmonized together like music, like a sweetly sung Russian lullably, like the quiet sounds the Enterprise made at nighttime.
The crooning couldn't quite overpower the sound of familar words, being spoken at a distance away. English words, Chekov realized duly, and he forced some focus into his eyes.
A Solotan stood over him, smaller than the guards and less burly. The pearl eyes didn't blink, but shone down at him in wonderment. Chekov was almost amused by the display, until his head cleared and quickly reminded him of the death of his guards. He tried to move his fingers on the injured arm. They felt stiff and thick, a clown's fingers, but they certainly could move again. A splash of pure relief brought a smile to his face. He turned his head, breifly aware of the cold metal table beneath him and sought out the English voices. Chekov made the mistake of trying to leap to his feet with surprise. But the jolt of dizziness caught him with the first twitch and he fell back against the table. He was drifting back into unconciousness he knew, but he could not force the smile from his face. Either he was hallucinating, or he had just seen Mister Spock!
***************************************************************
"MISTER SCOTT! MISTER SCOTT! The klingons...they're contacting us..."
Montgomery Scott's skilled hands twisted sweatily around the leather armrests as he swiveled to face the communications officer. A fine film of perspiration was forming a sheen on his forehead.
"Are ye sure of that, lass?"
Swallowing with some difficulty, the girl nodded, then added, "They wish to speak to the captain of this vessel, sir...and they aren't being polite about it..."
Scott sighed. He'd hoped their hiding spot would've given them a little more time, but he supposed they had to work with what was given.
"On Screen, then."
The view of bleak Solo blinked out of sight and replaced itself with the an eerie, smaller version of a starship bridge. A Klingon captain settled back into his command chair with the look of a victorious hunter plastered on his face. Scott's lips turned down in a grimace,
"Captain Scott here, of the Federation Starship Enterprise..."
"I don't care who you are."
The Klingon jeered, his snarl as greasy as his short black beard.
"I am KORTH. AND the KLINGONS have claimed THIS PLANET before Federation scum decided to lay claim to it."
"We havena layed claim tuh it..and according to our most recent logs, neitha have YOU! This planet, under no LEGAL document, is claimed by no one,"
Scott lurched to his feet, no longer able to sit still under this barrage of dishonor. The Klingon, mirroring Scott's defensive pose, jolted to a stand as well and leaned in close to the screen.
"The ore of this planet belongs to the Klingon Empire, WE HAVE FOUND IT! WE WILL KEEP IT!! You shall pay for your puny words, Earther...prepare to be defeated."
With that scathing threat, the viewscreen went black.
The communications officer broke the silence to softly state the obvious.
"They have ended the transmission, sir."
**************************************************************
Sulu was just starting to doze when the Solotans burst into their cell, carting an familar form of cargo with them. With a digusted chirp that sounded strangely like a laugh, they thrust a shirtless Mister Chekov into the cage, where the unconcious form heaped heavily upon the floor. Kirk scrambled to his feet and almost made it before the barred door was ruthlessly slammed.
He cursed and wrapped his hands around the bars,
"What did you do to him??!" He shouted angerily, wishing that his arm could only reach the imposing Solotan who swaggered before him.
A very human scowl passed over the creature's lips and he spoke a few garbled words, which Uhura's translator drank in and fed back in a dead male monotone.
"HE IS HEALED."
Hikaru Sulu graciously ignored his captain's angry argument and focised his attentions on his Russian friend. He drew the security cheif into his arms, alarmed by his pale face and silent breathing.
"Here."
The barely audible voice belonged to Claude Laking, who'd stripped off his field jacket and held it out to the helmsman. The Ensign smiled at Sulu's concerned look.
"Don't worry, I'm not cold."
That was a blatent lie, as so confirmed Claude's thin form shivering violently, but the man was insistent. The helmsman whispered thanks and wrapped the burgundy coat around his unconcious best friend.
"Is he...?" Uhura crawled up to them, her legs suddenly so cold that they wouldn't hold her. She touched his cold cheek and looked at Sulu imploringly.
"He's alive," Sulu replied, "I can't tell much more."
"Mister Chekov."
Kirk knelt beside his crewmen and gently shook the leutenent's small shoulder.
"Mister Chekov...Pavel...Come back to us."
As if in obediance to his captain's orders, the Slavic eyes fluttered twice, then opened completely, showering them all with an ocean-black gaze. He inhaled sharply, startling everyone.
"Keptin...Keptin, I must tell you."
The harshly accented words were hoarse and urgent. Pavel tried to pull his weak body up and in response Kirk lowered himself closer to the struggling boy.
"Keptin...I saw...I saw MISTER SPOCK!! He is here!"
Uhura's eyes shined full of pure relief and happiness...until they reached Captain Kirk's somber face. He looked grave and that frightened the smile off her face.
"Are you sure, Leiutenent?? Where did you see him??"
"In..in the place where they take me, Keptin...I hear his woice there..and I looked and I saw him...I...saw..."
Chekov's head lolled back on Sulu's arm as the Russian dropped back into a nuturing slumber. Kirk breifly watched his youngest senior officer, then nodded, as if confirming the report within his own mind.
"Good work, Mister Chekov," he muttered distractedly. "You take care of him, Sulu...Uhura, Ensign...we are goning to make some noise..."
With that Kirk rose, and marched determindedly back to the bars.
The crooning couldn't quite overpower the sound of familar words, being spoken at a distance away. English words, Chekov realized duly, and he forced some focus into his eyes.
A Solotan stood over him, smaller than the guards and less burly. The pearl eyes didn't blink, but shone down at him in wonderment. Chekov was almost amused by the display, until his head cleared and quickly reminded him of the death of his guards. He tried to move his fingers on the injured arm. They felt stiff and thick, a clown's fingers, but they certainly could move again. A splash of pure relief brought a smile to his face. He turned his head, breifly aware of the cold metal table beneath him and sought out the English voices. Chekov made the mistake of trying to leap to his feet with surprise. But the jolt of dizziness caught him with the first twitch and he fell back against the table. He was drifting back into unconciousness he knew, but he could not force the smile from his face. Either he was hallucinating, or he had just seen Mister Spock!
***************************************************************
"MISTER SCOTT! MISTER SCOTT! The klingons...they're contacting us..."
Montgomery Scott's skilled hands twisted sweatily around the leather armrests as he swiveled to face the communications officer. A fine film of perspiration was forming a sheen on his forehead.
"Are ye sure of that, lass?"
Swallowing with some difficulty, the girl nodded, then added, "They wish to speak to the captain of this vessel, sir...and they aren't being polite about it..."
Scott sighed. He'd hoped their hiding spot would've given them a little more time, but he supposed they had to work with what was given.
"On Screen, then."
The view of bleak Solo blinked out of sight and replaced itself with the an eerie, smaller version of a starship bridge. A Klingon captain settled back into his command chair with the look of a victorious hunter plastered on his face. Scott's lips turned down in a grimace,
"Captain Scott here, of the Federation Starship Enterprise..."
"I don't care who you are."
The Klingon jeered, his snarl as greasy as his short black beard.
"I am KORTH. AND the KLINGONS have claimed THIS PLANET before Federation scum decided to lay claim to it."
"We havena layed claim tuh it..and according to our most recent logs, neitha have YOU! This planet, under no LEGAL document, is claimed by no one,"
Scott lurched to his feet, no longer able to sit still under this barrage of dishonor. The Klingon, mirroring Scott's defensive pose, jolted to a stand as well and leaned in close to the screen.
"The ore of this planet belongs to the Klingon Empire, WE HAVE FOUND IT! WE WILL KEEP IT!! You shall pay for your puny words, Earther...prepare to be defeated."
With that scathing threat, the viewscreen went black.
The communications officer broke the silence to softly state the obvious.
"They have ended the transmission, sir."
**************************************************************
Sulu was just starting to doze when the Solotans burst into their cell, carting an familar form of cargo with them. With a digusted chirp that sounded strangely like a laugh, they thrust a shirtless Mister Chekov into the cage, where the unconcious form heaped heavily upon the floor. Kirk scrambled to his feet and almost made it before the barred door was ruthlessly slammed.
He cursed and wrapped his hands around the bars,
"What did you do to him??!" He shouted angerily, wishing that his arm could only reach the imposing Solotan who swaggered before him.
A very human scowl passed over the creature's lips and he spoke a few garbled words, which Uhura's translator drank in and fed back in a dead male monotone.
"HE IS HEALED."
Hikaru Sulu graciously ignored his captain's angry argument and focised his attentions on his Russian friend. He drew the security cheif into his arms, alarmed by his pale face and silent breathing.
"Here."
The barely audible voice belonged to Claude Laking, who'd stripped off his field jacket and held it out to the helmsman. The Ensign smiled at Sulu's concerned look.
"Don't worry, I'm not cold."
That was a blatent lie, as so confirmed Claude's thin form shivering violently, but the man was insistent. The helmsman whispered thanks and wrapped the burgundy coat around his unconcious best friend.
"Is he...?" Uhura crawled up to them, her legs suddenly so cold that they wouldn't hold her. She touched his cold cheek and looked at Sulu imploringly.
"He's alive," Sulu replied, "I can't tell much more."
"Mister Chekov."
Kirk knelt beside his crewmen and gently shook the leutenent's small shoulder.
"Mister Chekov...Pavel...Come back to us."
As if in obediance to his captain's orders, the Slavic eyes fluttered twice, then opened completely, showering them all with an ocean-black gaze. He inhaled sharply, startling everyone.
"Keptin...Keptin, I must tell you."
The harshly accented words were hoarse and urgent. Pavel tried to pull his weak body up and in response Kirk lowered himself closer to the struggling boy.
"Keptin...I saw...I saw MISTER SPOCK!! He is here!"
Uhura's eyes shined full of pure relief and happiness...until they reached Captain Kirk's somber face. He looked grave and that frightened the smile off her face.
"Are you sure, Leiutenent?? Where did you see him??"
"In..in the place where they take me, Keptin...I hear his woice there..and I looked and I saw him...I...saw..."
Chekov's head lolled back on Sulu's arm as the Russian dropped back into a nuturing slumber. Kirk breifly watched his youngest senior officer, then nodded, as if confirming the report within his own mind.
"Good work, Mister Chekov," he muttered distractedly. "You take care of him, Sulu...Uhura, Ensign...we are goning to make some noise..."
With that Kirk rose, and marched determindedly back to the bars.