Continued...
Chekov awoke with a start when a booted foot prodded his ribs. He slowly opened one eye and peered up at the face of his antagonizer. Everything was blurry and he could not see.
Chekov rolled onto his side and cautiously sat up but he promptly lowered his head into his hands when the room began to spin. He slowly counted to ten and opened his eyes again. Chekov immediately wished he had stayed unconscious.
The room had the compact look of a space ship although it was quite large. There were three doors, two of which he could see led to sleeping quarters, but unfortunately it held a few rather unsavory occupants.
An Andorian sat at a small table, his cerulean skin highlighting the tint of the illegal Romulan ale that gleamed from a glass in his hand. Khwaja, the stylized prince, sat opposite the Andorian. Both creatures were armed with phasers and several other weapons.
Chekov took all this in with barely a glance as his attention was swiftly diverted by the man whose boot prints were imbedded on his chest.
It was Chen, the Asian Goliath. He seized Chekov's arm with an iron grip and pulled him to his feet. He then laughed gruffly as Chekov struggled to maintain his balance, and shoved a glass into his hand. Chekov stared suspiciously at the transparent fluid; memories of the sleep-inducing Black Forest surfaced in his mind. It would probably be safer to go without.
Chen laughed again. "Drink it," he ordered. His grip tightened above Chekov's elbow.
Chekov looked at the liquid again, then back at the Asian. He lifted the glass before Chen's face and deliberately tipped it over. The wet substance splattered onto the floor.
Chen's nostrils flared. His hand immediately transferring to Chekov's throat, he lifted the ensign and tossed him across the room. Chekov struggled to catch his breath, and scrambling to his feet; backed away from the advancing giant. He quickly circled the table and faced Chen from across the flat surface.
Chen moved to go around but Khwaja's hand flashed out and stopped him. "The boss wants him alive, Meathead."
Chen brushed past the outstretched arm. The Andorian spun around in his seat and grabbed Chen's belt. "You deaf?" Khwaja stepped in the man's path. "Touch the Russian and Goudchaux will kill us!"
Chen glanced at the African and slowly nodded. He pulled out a chair, glaring across the room at the young ensign.
Chekov seated himself against the wall -- as far from his guards as possible. He searched his pockets for his communicator, but it was gone. He inspected the room again, paying close attention to the door; he had to figure out what was going on and escape. But first he needed some answers.
Chekov glared up at Chen. "Vhat am I doing here?" he demanded.
The heavy-weight ignored Chekov and turned to Khwaja. "Go tell Goudchaux the little guy's up."
After the man had left the room Chen turned his gaze back to the captive. "Vhat am I doing here?"
The outer door wooshed open before Chen could answer. Goudchaux and Morgain entered the room. "Hey, Sweetie," Morgain drawled, winking her sapphire eye at Chekov. He quickly focused his attention on the figure entering the room behind her.
"Meester Scott!"
Scotty looked Chekov in the eyes before he spoke. "I'm sorry, lad. I'd get ye out o' this if I could."
Goudchaux ignored the exchange and stared pointedly at Chekov before looking at the engineer. "Well, Scott," said Goudchaux, "Are you going to help us or not?"
Scotty sighed dejectedly. "I have no choice. Aye, I'll do it."
Goudchaux clapped his hands together. "Well then, make yourselves comfortable gentlemen. Morning comes early on this ship." His voice took on a dark tone as he continued. "Behave... or you'll live to regret it."
Chekov waited for the room to empty before he spoke. "Vhat is going on?"
Scotty walked over to the table and dropped into a chair. He waited for Chekov to take a seat before he answered. "Goudchaux needs some work done and he wants me to do it."
"But, why does he want you?"
Scotty shook his head. "How many people can install a cloaking device?"
Chekov started. "A cloaking dewice?" Scotty nodded, his chin in his hands. Chekov leaned back in his seat and slipped into deep thought. What could they be doing with a cloaking device? Smuggling?
Chekov looked up at Scotty. "Meester Scott," he said, his voice low. "We've got to find out why they have a cloaking dewice."
"Aye, lad. Tomorrow I'll snoop about in engineering while you get out o' this room. See what you can find out sneakin' around."
"Yes, sir." Chekov nodded at the engineer. His spirits were beginning to rise now that he had a course of action.
"For now," Scotty continued, "we'd better get some rest. I've still got a headache from whatever they slipped in my Black Forest."