Turtles: the final frontier

[starcharter]

Characters: Chekov and YOU
Date: Today-ish
Location: Absolutely everywhere
Situation: Chekov has been snatched from the Enterprise and dropped shoeless and confused into a city on the back of a turtle. Clearly the solution is to look around and go shopping.
Warnings/Rating: None


At first, he'd thought it was a very, very strange dream. Of course, that theory was debunked about two minutes in when he pinched himself. Then he was carted from a grand palace to a reasonably large city. He couldn't identify this particular race of aliens, but it's clear that their technology lags far behind the Federation's. So he stays quiet. So do they, actually. The few questions he asked-- generic questions-- he'd gotten little scraps of information and a lot of 'that's the Emperor's business.' A monarchy. That explains the palace, he supposes.

Once they show him his suite (it was pretty nice) and dropped some money into his hands (money? How outdated), Chekov decides to set off. He needs to change out of his uniform, just to be safe. The Prime Directive is that one rule you don't want to break in Starfleet. Even hinting at the fact that he was from a world more advanced than this one is a bad idea. He needs to blend in as much as he can.

A little hard to do when you're standing shoeless in the middle of Metal Sector.

Alright. He focuses: clothes, food, crew, answers. Without any kind of Starfleet communication device, he's going to have to hoof it around the city. Just as well: not having a mental map of this place bothers him; he might as well start making one now.

Comments

[imaginate]

Meet Jim's dark-haired kind of clone, Chekov. Kyle does exactly that. 'Please. First day here? Let it be my treat. C'mon, pick something or I might have to do it for you.'

[starcharter]

Chekov doesn't even try to protest. He knows that expression-- it's the same as Kirk's had been when they'd gone shopping for shoes.

"Aye, sir," he replies jokingly.

Chekov picks through the racks of clothes. His fashion sense is 'if it fits and doesn't look awful, it goes together.' To be fair, he usually wears uniforms; he even wore uniforms before the Academy, courtesy the universities he went to.

Still, he holds up a green shirt (ha) and black trousers similar to the kind he's wearing.

"Will this work?"

[imaginate]

The sir turns Kyle's expression briefly serious. He likes Jim's crew. They're sweet people and there's not a lot he wouldn't do for them, even if he didn't know Jim personally.

But seeing this - he's reminded of what he and Jim have in common, and sometimes that isn't really a good thing.

However, he cheers up when he sees Chekov searching. He knows the look of someone who prefers formal wear (he's friends with Spock) and he immediately picks out something that looks uniformish while having enough colour variety to look pretty stylish.

(Hey, he's an artist.)

'What do you think?'

[starcharter]

Chekov had turned away before he could see the change in Kyle's expression.

The look on Kyle's face answers his question. Chekov nods cheerfully.

"I think it looks pretty good."

[imaginate]

He grins, utterly pleased. 'Pick a few of these, or - whatever else you'd like, and I'll see you at the counter.'

[starcharter]

Chekov nods again before turning to pick through the racks again. After a few minutes, he's picked up another pair of pants, another shirt (this time in blue), and sleep pants. He picks out enough to make Kyle feel as though is generosity isn't being slighted, but not so many that he is taking advantage of him.

He places the clothes on the counter and smiles.

"This is all I need for now. Thank you."

[imaginate]

He pays for them and smiles brightly at the cashier, not hesitating to pay her a few choice compliments. It's clear he frequents the shop, and knows her reasonably well. Then, he hands the bags to Chekov and carries the heavier one.

'So what's next? Food?'

[starcharter]

He's starting to see a pattern. Chekov is used to people doing this to him, though, and knows not to protest too much.

"What food would you suggest? It is all unfamiliar to me."

Some of it looks close but not quite.

[imaginate]

'What do you feel like eating? Or do you want to drop your shopping off at your apartment first?'

After all, that determined where Kyle had to take him next.

[starcharter]

"Perhaps dropping off these bags would make it easier."

Showing a stranger to his house just because he claims to know Kirk is probably reckless, but he just has a good sense about Kyle. Chekov could tell that he's genuine.

"ME-1D. It is about half a kilometer to the northwest."

[imaginate]

'Good idea.' It freed them up to do more wandering.

Kyle stretches. 'So. Walk, drive, or fly?'

[starcharter]

"Fly?"

He looks around. Nothing vaguely like a hover anything in sight.

[imaginate]

Kyle cheekily gestures to Chekov's feet. Sure enough, his shoes have a soft green glow, and he's hovering about five inches off the ground. Flying, or about to.

[starcharter]

He looks down and back up to Kyle, grinning.

"How are you doing that?"

He's completely fascinated. He starts walking as normal, just to see what happens. Controlled anti-gravity field, maybe?

[imaginate]

That smile brings out a real one from Kyle. Pleased, and a little shy. He always did like bringing light (ha) to people. He joins Chekov, walking with him, and nothing's different about it except they're in mid-air.

'A little willpower. Pretty neat, huh?'

[starcharter]

"It's amazing! But willpower? I do not understand."

He examines the green glow curiously as he walks, occasionally trying to bounce to see if the anti-gravity (or whatever) field holds.

[imaginate]

He can bounce fine. Kyle watches, amused.

'My ring converts it into energy. We're flying because I - quite frankly - wanted to, and it didn't break any laws of physics.'

[starcharter]

Chekov's face is lit up like a child's, giddy and grinning.

"Amazing. The conversion of mental energy to physical force!"

He looks over at Kyle's ring. It doesn't seem special.

[imaginate]

It doesn't, and even he understates how much power he wields.

'So. We could fly, just like this, or we could go in style.'

Voila, a construct hovercar takes form in front of Chekov, engine and all purring, ready to go.

[starcharter]

Seriously how.

"How did you do that? Amazing!"

He walks (well, half-bounces) over and investigates it. It's solid. The ability to create something like this-- he's never thought of it, much less seen it.

[imaginate]

Kyle waves his right hand dismissively, and sparks fly from his ring, just for effect. He's always been a bit of a show-off, when he has the right audience. Dick's influence, maybe, bringing out that side of him.

'Nuh-uh. Can't tell you all my secrets.'

[starcharter]

Sly smile.

"I suppose it would ruin the mystery."

And ruin the fun of him theorizing how it's possible. It's a hobby okay.

"Should we go?"

He can't wait to see how it actually works. It has an engine.

[imaginate]

Kyle slides into the passenger's seat and puts on a seatbelt (safety first). He waves to the wheel that slides out when Chekov's safely inside and shut the door.

'Take us up, Ensign.'

[starcharter]

"Aye, sir."

He follows suit, putting on a seatbelt (how retro) and checks over the systems. Ah, it's simple. Flips a few switches like a pro and soon they're flying peacefully through the streets of Keeliai.

[imaginate]

And now, Kyle frowns.

Gently, 'I'm not sir. It's Kyle, or if you insist on being formal, Mr. Cool, all right?'