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 How outdated), Chekov decides to set off.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

[starcharter]

He nods, a little sombre.

"It would not feel right to me to leave people in such a dire position."

He might've been dragged into this unwillingly, but he's going to make the best of it.

[imaginate]

It really wouldn't, and Kyle reflects the drop in mood, chewing his food slowly.

'I've been here almost eight months,' he offers, as a tangent.

[starcharter]

"The Captain said he has been here for three." Now Chekov's picking at his food.

"I wonder at her choices. I don't think a navigator will do her much good without something to navigate."

[imaginate]

Kyle rings up a construct of a small fist, which punches Chekov, friendly, on the shoulder.

'Hey, chin up. You're smart, you'll find somewhere to put that brilliant mind. There's a lot more than just navigation to be done.' A beat. 'Maybe you could talk to the turtle about the stars here.'

[starcharter]

Chekov jumps at the construct, mostly out of surprise than actual concern.

"Talk to the turtle? Does it talk back?"

[imaginate]

'... Sometimes? It's talked to me once, but that was a dream. Telepaths can communicate with it but they get overwhelmed after a few seconds. I warned Spock not to.'

[starcharter]

"I am not telepathic; I don't know how I would communicate with it even if it did not overwhelm me."

100% human, bro.

[imaginate]

He laughs. 'You're a little too serious sometimes, friend.'

[starcharter]

He laughs too. "I have been told that before. I accidentally slipped into 'work mode.'"

[imaginate]

'Don't worry about it.' Kyle finishes his meal, and gestures to the server for some dessert. 'There's an old joke that Green Lanterns don't really do off-duty. You're good.'

[starcharter]

"I am trying to be a little less formal. Most of the people I spoke to found it very odd. And I am usually not so serious."

He's falling back on formality and duty as a way to cope with his current predicament. It's familiar and safe.

[imaginate]

'As long as you don't start protesting when we drag you out to have fun.'

A pause, as he drums his fingers on the table, now restless, and energetic. He feels like flying, but there's no way to, inside.

'Are Vulcans allergic to the word or something?'

[starcharter]

"Oh no. Russians invented fun."

Upon mentioning Spock (in a roundabout way), he smiles like they're sharing a joke.

"I might have seen him break out in hives once."

This is, of course, a lie.

[imaginate]

That's hilarious. Both of them are, and Kyle laughs, ignoring that this feels too much like home. 'Was it paintball?'

[starcharter]

Chekov laughs too.

"No: I think his reaction would be too severe if anyone suggested something that fun."

[imaginate]

Kyle leans forward conspiratorially. 'Here's a secret: he can hang out, but you can't use the word. You have to spring it on him when he's not looking.'

[starcharter]

"Which words should I use?"

Then again, considering his and Spock's mutual areas of interest, Chekov wouldn't exactly have to twist his arm.

[imaginate]

Kyle frowns. 'I used knowledge exchange, that one works so far.'

[starcharter]

"I don't think he will fall for that twice, Kyle."

He's far too smart not to realize when someone's being dishonest. Or, rather, not-quite-honest.

[imaginate]

'Depends on how you use the same trick, Pavel.' He grins. 'Tactics.'

[starcharter]

"Do you have much experience with very serious people?"

[imaginate]

He ducks his head, grinning, and passes over some dessert once it arrives. Damian can be described as extremely serious, really, but Kyle's always found him and Spock easy to talk to.

Uncomplicated. Not like Jim or Clara, even though he cared for them deeply as well, it was difficult to voice his emotions.

'I have a lot of experience with stubborn people.'

[starcharter]

Chekov examines his dessert, trying to find something recognizable in it. He grins.

"Stubbornness can be a good quality for some people."

[imaginate]

'Some people he says,' Kyle jokes. 'Like our - mutual friend, the captain?'

The slip was close, but he catches it, quickly. He'd already made it in front of Shayera, and he'd rather anyone else not know how close he is to Jim.

[starcharter]

He holds up his hands, still smiling.

"I implied nothing."

But he totally did. Chekov's expression doesn't change: he apparently didn't catch the near-slip.