tushanshu_logs | Turtles: the final frontier

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 How outdated), Chekov decides to set off.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.

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It's been a weird month.

Eventful.

But weird.

It's one of those months that has Jim feeling like he's alternately gone on a bender and saved the planet, so... it's pretty much like the afterparty they pitched upon Nero's defeat. He's feeling - and here's a term for the head-shrinkers - emotionally hung over.

And he's sitting in one of the reasons why.

His dad's old car. Perfect, pristine. It's in the same shape it was when he drove it off a cliff once upon a time (but before it hit the bottom, naturally) and he... has no idea how to feel about that.

(The scientific part of his mind is going 'okay, so how did it end up at the bottom of an alien ocean in one piece completely re-conditioned?' but he's ignoring that part. And the one that wants to bring up the fact that Pike's class ring was in the glove box.)

He's gone back and forth on whether or not he should drive the damned thing. On one hand, it's a car. It's meant to be driven, the same way the Enterprise is meant to be flown, and Jim's... old enough now to appreciate what it means. The care and work his old man put into restoring her. The car was - should have - gone to George, but better it get trashed than sold off for whatever the hell his stepfather would have wasted his money on that week.

But it's here, and it's his, and Jim is parked on the side of the street outside metal (looking for parts, as good as the condition of the car is, he remembered something about his mother claiming the ball bearings tended to go on the driver's side) when he sees-- Chekov?

Holy shit. Wait. What?

Rewind.

He stares, leans out of the side of the car.

"Chekov?" And lucky he's loud enough that carries the half-block between them. Jim grabs the keys out of the ignition, vaults out of the convertible (hell yeah he's got the top down) and practically runs to the kid. "Whoa, you-- what--"

He skids to a halt just in front of him. Tries to calm down. There's a time and a place to act like the kid's big brother, and there's one to act like a captain. This is... probably the latter time.

"Took you long enough, Ensign. Got a report for me?"

It's impossible to ignore a shout like that, particularly when it comes from the Captain. Chekov sees Kirk vault out of a vintage car and practically run over. He's a bit startles at first (why does Kirk seem surprised? Didn't they all end up here?).

When Kirk asks for a report, Chekov snaps to attention but seems a touch sheepish.

"I am sorry, Captain. It seems I arrived very unprepared."

Jim's brow furrows, and he. Sighs. Slings an arm around the kid's shoulders. Is it just him or is he actually taller? Ignoring for a moment the fact that he's not wearing any shoes (damnit, Chekov) he definitely seems taller.

Give Jim a moment.

"You're not unpre-- look, it happens to everybody. Transdimensional nexus melting pot that pulls people from infinite points of possibilities across infinite numbers of galaxies. You get used to it. What's the last thing you remember?"

Clara would recognize that uniform anywhere by now, she spends far too much time with Jim and by proxy Spock and Bones, not to instantly connect it with Star Fleet. But she hasn't seen this one around before and judging by his expression (and lack of shoes) he's likely just arrived.

She finishes up her business at the stall, picks up her turtle egg (she's currently on duty), and rushes off after him. Thankfully, the uniform makes him easy to spot and she ducks under a few people's arms that are reaching for merchandise to catch up with him. Finally, she walks next to him, but needs to walk swiftly to match his stride.

"Let me guess, coming here isn't Star Fleet business."

At first, Chekov wonders if he gave the wrong answer (but it was the only answer he could give). Then Kirk starts explaining and things click a little.

"Then they are hiding their advanced technology?"

Because he was brought in on a cart.

The question doesn't seem to bother him-- Kirk did act as if he'd been here longer. Somehow.

"I had just finished my shift on the bridge and was preparing for bed." He looks down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes. "That is why I have no shoes, Captain."

"Wh-- ?"

Then it registers-- she's human. She'd know about the Federation and Starfleet, wouldn't she? Still, he's startled for a moment because that was definitely not something he was expecting.

"No. But, ah, I should be careful. The Prime Directive."

"I'm not sure 'hiding' it is the right--" Jim drags his free hand through his hair. "-- Term. It's complicated. You know that line about sufficiently advanced technology being indistinguishable from magic? Yeah that. Doesn't seem to hold true across other universes."

And then he groans. "Seriously? Okay. Shoes first. Come on." He begins the Arduous Process of dragging Chekov off to some nearby store. "And I meant event-wise. Last major one. Nero, the Gorn? Khan?"

That's maybe cheating a little bit. He knows Chekov's older than the last time Jim saw him. Which may or may not be his grand strategy for implying that he's also from a later point in the timeline.

Chekov frowns in thought.

"You are suggesting that we were brought here by magic, Captain?" Sorry, he can't keep the incredulous tone out of his voice.

His frown deepens. "Khan was returned to cryostasis a year ago. We're on our five-year mission. Are you alright, sir?"

Though... infinite possibilities. Infinite points on a timeline? Infinite universes? As if this weren't complicated enough.

And Jim stares at him.

The five year mission. It's what he'd wanted and hoped for so bad he could damned well taste it. It meant going to completely uncharted space! Literally where no one's ever been before! Holy shit. Holy shit.

The enthusiasm wells up and chokes, dies somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. A year later. The dead buried and gone (they'd never recover the bodies of the crewmembers lost while in hyperspace). Jim lets Chekov go, and holds open the door to a shop to gesture him inside. Shoes first.

"Fine. I'm fine, Chekov. We've just got a lot to talk about."

"The prime directive." Clara agrees in a slightly conspiratorial voice that doesn't betray that she has no idea what it is. "Right. Suppose you're looking for Jim then?" A glance down. "Jim and some trainers?"

Yes, something's definitely off. Kirk doesn't seen quite as exuberant as he's been lately (memorial service notwithstanding). Just mentioning the five-year mission still makes most of the crew smile. It was new and exciting.

Chekov is trying to put the pieces together, but it's like he only has half of them and he doesn't even know what the final product is supposed to look like anyway.

The store is a bit quaint compared to what he's used to on Earth. Then again, everything here is. He remembers the juulan in his pocket. Hopefully they don't have a needlessly complicated monetary system.

Kirk has seemed to dismissed their current line of conversation. Well, more accurately, put it on hold until later. So he changes the subject.

"Is the monetary system simple? They only gave me one type of coin."

"Do you know where I can find him?"

Shoes <<<< finding the captain.

"Yep. That'll be your juulan, it's pretty easy. Translates to about... I guess about five credits back home? And what are you doing, I'm obviously buying. Pick something out."

Jim folds his arms (he's wearing his black jacket over his standard issue undershirt, no captain's golds in sight) and raises both eyebrows in a 'well, go on' gesture. The best navigator in the entire fleet didn't come all this way to pay for his own shoes when his captain's standing right there! Excuse you.

"I know where his flat is. We can start there."

She makes a sharp left.

The 'there's no need to do that, Captain' dies on his tongue when he sees Kirk's expression. That wouldn't be an argument he could win. And, given how easily Kirk found the shoe store, he's been here at least a little while and probably has more juulan than Chekov does. Time displacement is likely.

It takes a few minutes to figure out the sizing system, but he finds a pair of well-fitting, comfortable black shoes. Maybe now at least people will stop staring.

"Thank you, I was getting a lot of funny looks."

And his feet were getting sore, though he wouldn't complain about it.

He follows her easily, mentally mapping the streets.

"How do you know where he lives already?"

"Just point 'em out, and I'll take care of them for you." Jim gives the kid a bit of a smile, and then heads over to pay (pay!!) for the shoes. Still weird. The rest of the conversation could wait until they were... somewhere else. If they'd dumped Chekov in the Metal sector, that meant his quarters were probably assigned here. They could talk privately there - or as privately as anyone ever could.

He forked over the money to the kedan salesperson and gave them a lazy smile as he turned to steer Chekov out of the store. "All good?"

"Yes, thank you, Captain."

He lets Kirk steer him, though it's really weird not to know his way around.

"You have been here for some time." Not exactly a question, just asking for confirmation.

"Four months." Jim glances up and down the street before he wheels Chekov around to the passenger's side of his dad's car and pulls the door open so he can shove him down into the seat. Then he crosses back to the driver's side and vaults in.

"It's been kind of-- you know. Nice. Like a vacation."

It's not the biggest lie he's ever told, but it's definitely up there. Jim hates being away from his ship, and his pocket navigator can probably tell.

Color him surprised. "Four months?"

And then he's shoved into the seat, kind of half-dazed. He didn't realize the distortion would be this bad. What a tangled mess. (He tries not to think about it all too much. He needs much more information before he could even hope to start theorizing.)

The Captain might be able to bluff, but he's an awful liar when it comes to the Enterprise.

"I would be homesick for the Enterprise after four months."

A sideways way of saying that he caught the lie without accusing him of lying.

"I spend way too much time there. Plus he's been there awhile. Even longer than me. But he has the most brilliant flat. Three floors."

She looks back at him with a grin.

Yeah, he knows what that means.

"His suite is much bigger than mine, then."

A pause. "My name is Pavel Chekov. Sorry for not introducing myself."

He assumes that she doesn't know it's him, if she even knows of a Pavel Chekov. Doesn't sound like something Kirk would mention to a ladyfriend.

"It's bigger than most everyone's. Fit for a captain I suppose."

She grins. "No worries. Clara Oswald." She pauses as her mind flicks back to a conversation she'd had with Jim. "Admiral Clara Oswald of the TARDIS."

Oh hello, shoeless wonder. That was new.

Well, okay, people dropping in unexpectedly and looking hopelessly lost wasn't, but they usually had footwear. That kind of came with the package, didn't it? Or maybe they didn't, and they thought it'd be funny if he had no shoes. Traci certainly found it-- well, not so odd, she had that happen to her to before, but to be fair she was the one dragging herself to new places.

Right. Derailed. Shoeless, confused-looking little man in the middle of the street where kedan were bustling around. She discreetly waves her hand to make the paint bucket and brush disappear, and while her clothes were still a mess due to spilled paint and smelling of it, it was better than accidentally tipping it on him while trying to help.

"You might want to step aside before someone steps on your toes, mister!"

Half the city seems to be hitting up the ruins and the other half holding sales on their stock in an attempt to lure customers back from the Dark Side. Ororo did her tour of Sinbrilee in the first couple days and frankly, it's a bunch of ruins and ghosts. That's not her idea of a good time -- sure, it had a couple good points, like meeting Korra and helping reunite Jack with an old friend, but on the whole? Haunted cities aren't her thing.

Which is why she's at the marketplace and looking over a spread of strange fruit-and-vegetable salads that are ready to go. They're weird, but she's developed a taste for them.

There is, however, only one container of the particular variety she likes and she spies another Foreigner looking at it -- even in vague curiosity. "Hey," she calls over to him. "I call dips on the purple-and-red one."

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Turtles: the final frontier

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