Authors' Note: Hey guys, long time no see, right? Please don't hate us, we love you faithful readers to bits. Thank you for sticking with us through our very lengthy break. It was hard to get on a write, what with responsibilities that both Marcelle and I have. Here's a medium sized chapter for you hungry readers! Expect quite a few more chapters in the next two weeks - we're actually planning on getting a good bit done before break is over. I hope you enjoy this next installment in Pavel's journey. Please keep writing reviews and telling us what you think. Have a happy holiday for those of you who are celebrating this time of the year!
"Stand up." Harewood ordered, glaring down at the smaller man below him. Chekov had been forced to his knees, head bowed and teeth gritted. The taste of blood soaked in the holes between his teeth, his lips bruised and swollen, and jaw turning purple from a particularly hard hit. He did not move, merely continued to glare down at the ground. He would not obey any more orders, this was it. "I know you are not deaf, Mr. Chekov. Stand. Up."
"No." It was a simple word, heavily laden with a thick Russian accent. It could barely be heard as it escaped the boy's mouth, but it spoke volumes to the both of them. Harewood stood, unmoving for a moment, taking in Pavel's appearance-it was anything but defiant. His slouched position and the way his head hung suggested the exact opposite, that he was in fact defeated. But there was a certain tremble to him, the kind of shaking that stemmed from hatred rather than fear. The kind of shaking that led to rebellion.
"Surely I must have misunderstood you, Mr. Chekov. I was under the impression that you just refused me," Thomas chuckled, the sound ominous and without humor. The flicker of worry that had been present just a moment ago extinguished itself, for there was no need for it in the half-Vulcan's logic driven mind. Surely the child would come to his senses. He had been so obedient up until the incident with the missiles, his actions now could only be a backlash from that. His mind must have been under the illusion that it was possible to stand up to him, to defy him a second time. After all, Pavel's priorities had been all aimed towards protecting his friends and remaining loyal to them. He was clearly in denial. His friends-his crew, his family, or whatever Chekov had once believed they were-had abandoned him. They had given Harewood the very information he needed and left their precious little prodigy to die. The loyalty Pavel had displayed before must have been expelled by now. Or if not, it soon would be. "I told you to get on your feet! Refusal to rise again when knocked down is weakness, Pavel. Weakness is a luxury you are in no position to afford. Stand."
"No," This time, the word was forced out with more conviction, and Harewood instinctively raised a sharp eyebrow. Pavel's entire frame was visibly shuddering now, his breathing more labored. Fascinating.
"And why not?" His sentence was clipped at the edges, and Harewood wondering which direction this new scenario would take. Just how far could young Pavel Chekov, Chief Navigator of the starship Enterprise, be pushed before he was broken?
"I will not allow myself to be controlled by you any longer!" the boy snapped, still refusing to lift his head but seeming about to burst with rage. He was displaying a sense of courage that Harewood had not seen in any of the times he was beaten before. Where there was once a simply resigned boy had sprouted a somewhat strong, almost new person. There were changes occuring, ones that Harewood did not like at all. If he was going to continue winning in this situation, he was going to have to remain in control. Having Pavel become more rebellious would create problems he hadn't the time to concern himself with.
Glaring down at the pitiful mass of human life quivering at his feet, Harewood felt himself coming to a point of climax. This was a pivotal moment in their relationship as captor and captive. If he resigned himself to letting Pavel stay where he was, slumped by the command center of his base, he would have to be dragged to the ship before they could vacate the planet. Then again, if he was to use brutal force against the navigator to motivate him, he might end up injuring the man beyond repair. What medical knowledge Harewood was equipped with told him that a few more fatal blows could kill him. As ready as he was to dispose of the pathetic wisp of life, he was determined to keep him around. How much sweeter his victory would taste if he was privileged to the sight of a newly awakened Khan mercilessly killing Pavel Chekov while his oh-so-faithful Captain watched with no way of saving him. Yes, the boy had to live now, if only to later die.
"If you will not stand, Mr. Chekov, I will have to resort to much more.. creative ways to make you move." Harewood snarled, his mind having searched for alternate solutions to his problems. He moved to crouch in front of his victim, hand slowly reaching into his belt for his phaser. Fingers moving easily on the controls he knew so well, he set his device to the lowest setting of stun. He knew the frequency at which electricity would flow through Pavel's body with one shot of this would be equivalent to that of a tazer back on Pavel's home planet. Of course, phasers don't work the same way; instead of a line of electricity hitting the target, it would be more like a bullet. In theory, it would probably hurt less to be hit by a phaser, but Harewood found it sufficient. Besides, how else would he motivate Pavel? He was being resourceful.
Making sure that Pvel was seeing the phaser, he held it about a foot away from his side, below his rib cage. "I'll ask you once more, Mr. Chekov. Stand up."
Pavel was obviously trying to control the tremmoring he was doing. He was worse than an earth quake at this time, the impending pain causing his rebellion to slowly drain. His mind was at war with itself, as half of him was dedicated to resisting Harewood while the other half was fearful of pain. He couldn't even form the simplest of words to refuse him. He could only stare in terror at the phaser, his green eyes glistening and wide as saucers. He was imagining what would happen, knowing that the sensation would be unpleasant, to say the least.
Harewood was too impatient a man to let Pavel regain motor function. After less than a minute had passed, he charged the phaser, the sound jolting Pavel forward. As his weakened mind attempted to control an even more useless body, he managed to only stagger to his knees before Harewood took a shot. Electiricty crackled in the air, the scent of burnt flesh and clothing permeating the space between them. He hadn't the strength to even cry out, merely continued to grimace as he worked towards getting to his feet. Harewood looked through the torn hole of Pavel's shirt, seeing no blood from the wound. It was actually a smart way to injure someone; all the pain of a bullet, plus the cauterization factor of a phaser set to stun. It had every effect and no mess - just how Harewood liked it.
"Move." He growled, watching Pavel stagger and stumble on unsteady feet. Pressing the nozzle of his gun into the back of Pavel's spine, he nudged him along towards the other side of the room. Along the south wall there was a loading dock with an open grill, similar to that of a garage door. A small aircraft lay waiting on a slanted runway, the open sky peeking out from behind the wings of the spaceship. As Pavel trudged forward, occasionally receiving the a push or shock for moving too slowly. Already his body was shutting down from the abuse, tired of the laden task of keeping him alive. He could tell that his time was running out, that the next few hours may be his last. But the shame of having failed in his attempt to stand up to the resident madman coursed through his body, managing to somehow give him an ounce of strength back. It was all he could do to make it to the aircraft, a small smile appearing on his bruised lips as a thought crossed his mind: the Enterprise could eat this ship easily. It was a fleeting thought that made him happy for the time being, his mind filled with thoughts of the Enterprise gunning down Harewood and his dinky spaceship. He didn't even think of death for a minute as Harewood started up the ship and took off from the planet, jetting straight into warp speed.
Perhaps it was a quick flight, or perhaps he fell asleep on the way there. Whatever the case, the next thing he knew, they were landing on the top of some sort of warehouse with a landing pad crudely built on the roof. In however short of a time it took to make their travels, Pavel had become tired of the inside of Harewood's ship. It was smaller than the laboratory he had been kept in back on the planet, and he was much too aware of the keen scent of singed flesh and infection. His brain was a haze, his only thoughts about escape. It wasn't necessarily freedom he dreamed of, but a noble death at the least. He hadn't quite given up on the thought of Kirk coming to his rescue, though he knew it would be impossible. The Enterprise was large, which meant warp to this destination would take longer than it had taken Harewood. There was the possibility that Harewood would be done and ready to leave before the Enterprise even landed. He could have done the calculations, had his feeble mind been up to it. Instead he lay slumped against the wall of the ship, trying to keep his head up and his senses sharp, though he was struggling. He could do nothing as Harewood removed himself from the captain's chair, gave Pavel a degrading pat on the head, and continued to walk out of the ship, leaving his captive where he was. His large eyes observed the door to the ship closing as Harewood trapped him once more, presumably leaving him to die, the poor navigator supposed. What his next step would be, no one knew. Pavel could only hope that his death would be quick and painless, and prayed that he would be gone before Harewood came back for him.