Author's Note: I do not own Star Trek. (Please someone tell me they are understanding the Enterprise references.)
Ch. 4 - Starfleet Identification Number
What currently worried Chekov the most was that he no longer had the - was it strength? Will? Desire? - to plan an escape route out of that room. There had been a brief moment of hope when they moved him from the transport ship to what was undoubtedly a Klingon Bird-of-Prey but that hope had been quickly squashed when he'd found himself restrained by three Klingons that were both much bigger and much stronger than a gangly human teenager.
After the Klingons had tortured him the first time, Chekov had imagined every possible rescue scenario and planned how he could assist the Enterprise's rescue crew. Now...it had been at least two days. He was sure of it. And he had never hurt so much.
They always asked the same question too. When will the humans attack Kronos? How will they attack? Chekov was tired of saying that no attack was coming. He wondered dimly if they believed him and were simply torturing him for the fun of it. They certainly laughed as they did it; laughed as they swung swords with enough force to slice apart his skin but not bleed him to death. Swords that were dipped in some sort of poison that after a few seconds...Chekov almost cried out at the mere memory of the pain.
He heard the hiss of the doors opening and he tried to prepare. Who was he kidding? He just tried not to show how scared he was. His only consolation was what Captain Kirk would do once he got here. Why he'd probably destroy the entire Klingon armada if...
Time froze.
Chekov's brilliant mind suddenly made a connection and he understood everything.
Klingons were about honor not torture. In Klingon society these men were criminals, unworthy of sitting at the same table with Captains and Elders. Which meant that this was not sanctioned by the Klingon Empire. If it was, it was a back alley deal, a crooked deal done in the shadows. This wasn't about when the humans were attacking, it was about giving humans the incentive to attack. And what better incentive than torturing a young Ensign from the Enterprise?
The Klingon leader with his obnoxious silver sash entered the room followed by his cronies.
"New question, human," he growled at Chekov. Chekov gazed at him, blank faced; but inside he was fuming from his newfound revelation. How dare they use him as some sort of bait for his crew?
Silver-Sash leaned in, gently pressing one dirty finger into one of the cuts on Chekov's arm. Chekov bit his lip to keep from crying out.
"What are the shield codes for the Enterprise?" Silver-Sash growled.
That was not the question Chekov was expecting.
"What?" He gasped.
"Shield codes," Silver-Sash growled. "Or more pain."
"No."
"No?" The Klingon actually smiled. "You will give."
Chekov glared at him, and then looked straight up at the ceiling. I'm the bait for the Enterprise. The Enterprise, if destroyed, will start a war that will destroy Earth.
"Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreievich. Starfleet identification number 97-"
Chekov was cut off as they hit him. Again and again and again...
And even though he didn't want his friends to die. Chekov found himself thinking, selfishly, "Captain, where are you?"