Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov (
starcharter) wrote in
tushanshu_logs2013-08-18 06:18 pm
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Entry tags:
Turtles: the final frontier
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 How outdated), Chekov decides to set off.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.
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.
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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.'
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"Stubbornness can be a good quality for some people."
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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.
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"I implied nothing."
But he totally did. Chekov's expression doesn't change: he apparently didn't catch the near-slip.
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He finishes the dessert. 'Wow, that was good, huh? Walk back to your suite?'
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"Perhaps you could point out important buildings on the way back?"
He can tell what some of the businesses are, but not all of them.
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He lights up. A lab means materials and collaboration and maybe, just maybe, finding a way to stop... whatever this is.
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And perhaps because Kyle'd picked up his less charming, paranoid tendencies due to spending several hours of the week with the man. He liked his friends close.
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Straight from the Academy to the 'Fleet.
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'Smart people.' Like you goes unsaid. 'You can talk to them directly, I don't think anyone here really bothers with resumes, but if you need a referral letter or something I'd be happy to vouch for you.'
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He stands after Kyle's done paying, brushing off any crumbs and waiting for Kyle to lead the way out.
"You barely know me. You would vouch for me?"
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'You're one of Kirk's,' he says, evenly. 'He only takes the best.'
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Of course, that means he'll still have to prove himself. Stand on his own two feet.
"I will not let you down."