Stargazing

Chapter 2

No infringement intended and the poem is "Where Without Whom” by Octavio Paz.


“There is not
A single soul among the trees
And I
Don't know where I've gone.”

The pounding in his head took on the rhythm of his heartbeat and seemed to reverberate in every atom of his body. A small moan escaped his lips and Pavel vowed not to do that again as the sound caused the tiny person he was sure was in his head pounding on his skull with a sledgehammer to pick up his pace. It must have been one hell of a night if he had a hangover of such colossal proportions.


He tried to remember the good time he must have had but only snatches of memory floated within his reach, he remembered being on shore leave and being in a small bar with Lieutenant Sulu, but any more detail was currently beyond his foggy brain’s ability to recall. As well as the pain in his head his other senses were slowly beginning to return and Pavel realised that instead of being in his bed he seemed to be lying on a hard surface, presumably the floor, and steeling himself he slowly opened his eyes. The light stabbed into his eyeballs making his eyes water and despite his earlier vow of silence another moan of pain escaped him. However, with every passing moment the fog that seemed to be smothering his brain was lifting and Pavel realised he couldn’t stay where he was as he had the alpha shift on the bridge and right now he was in no fit state to carry out his duty. He needed to get up and get down to sickbay and ask for something to cure his hangover. The thought of the disapproving looks and the lecture he would have to endure from Doctor McCoy nearly made him moan again.

Slowly turning over onto his back Pavel carefully opened his eyes relieved to find that the stabbing pain didn’t return and in fact the throbbing in his head also seemed to be subsiding, so maybe a trip to sickbay and being on the receiving end of Doctor McCoy’s disapproval could be avoided. Perhaps a couple of cups of extra strong coffee would suffice in making him feel human again. However, as he stared up at the grey ceiling above him a frown began to crease his brow because something wasn’t right, the proportions of the ceiling were all wrong – this wasn’t his quarters. A fact that was further confirmed when a strange voice said,

“Well, well look who’s finally decided to wake up. I thought you were going to sleep for the whole trip boy.”

Shock, and although he wouldn’t admit it, a little bit of fear galvanised Pavel into action and forgetting his physical discomfort he quickly scrambled to his feet even though he momentarily felt light-headed and had to put out a hand to steady himself against the nearest wall. It immediately became obvious that he definitely wasn’t in his quarters or even on the Enterprise for that matter. He found himself in what could only be described as a cell. About twelve feet by six feet it had three grey walls; a bench that was built into the wall, and at the back of the cell was what he guessed was a rudimentary toilet. The fourth wall, right in front of him, consisted of a shimmering blue force field beyond which was standing the owner of the voice that had spoken to him a few moments before.

The man standing on the other side of the force field was watching him with a wide smile on his face, in fact the smile seemed a little bit too wide and reminded Pavel of a deceitful crocodile from a favourite picture book he had had as a child. It took him a moment but he eventually recognised the man’s species as Denobulan. When he’d realised he was a prisoner he’d expected to see a Klingon or maybe a Romulan but certainly not a Denobulan. Confused Pavel fell back on his Starfleet training and trying to sound as strong and steady as he could he pulled himself to attention and said,

“Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, Ensign, 656-5827B.”

The Denobulan chuckled, his smile widening even further as he replied in a mocking tone,

“What a good little soldier you are. But don’t worry boy we’re not after all the military secrets I’m sure you are privy to, you’re not a prisoner of war, you’re cargo.”

Confused Pavel faltered for a moment before asking,

“What do you mean? Who are you and why am I here?” hearing the uncertainty in his own voice and not wishing to appear weak he tried to inject some self-assurance into his voice, which wasn’t easy because at that moment he wasn’t feeling very sure of himself at all, when he added, “I am a Starfleet officer, do not think that you will get away with this, my ship, the whole of Starfleet will be looking for me.”

“Really,” his captor laughed, “the whole of Starfleet will be looking for one little insignificant ensign. I think you’re over-estimating your own importance in the grand scale of things boy.”

Feeling annoyed that the Denobulan kept referring to him as “boy” Pavel retorted,

“My name is Ensign Pavel Chekov and I am assigned to the USS Enterprise, and that ship and her captain, Captain Kirk, will be looking for me, and they will find me so it would be better for you if you release me now.”

“Ah, I don’t think so, no profit in that now is there boy.” chuckled the man. Then his demeanour changed slightly, becoming more serious as he added, “That was your old life, better you forget all about that now. Like I said you’re cargo, a commodity to be sold and we already have a very rich, very eager buyer all lined up who likes boys like you.”

Slavery, Pavel felt his heart clench in his chest. Of course he knew of such things, the Orion Syndicate were infamous throughout the quadrant, but to find himself in this situation...it was impossible, it must be a mistake, he must have misunderstood the Denobulan,

“What are you talking about,” he spluttered.

“Oh, come on boy, I’m sure you’re smart, it’s quite easy to understand after all. As I said we have a very rich customer who likes clever, feisty boys like you and pays very well for them. But he does have a habit of playing too rough and breaking his...toys. So every so often we get a message that a replacement is needed as soon as possible and we stop off at the nearest planet, pick up what he needs and get paid handsomely for it.” He was told. The man then continued, “Mind you Keisha said she was tracking two of you, but it seems your friend found a little local company and didn’t follow you down dark alleys...lucky for him, unlucky for you.”

Pavel was still trying to get his brain to accept his new situation and the quite frankly terrifying insinuations that the Denobulan kept making about what his fate might be if the ship they were on reached its destination before he was rescued. The thought that if it hadn’t been for the local woman Sulu had met at the bar then he would be in the cell with Pavel evoked two warring emotions in the young man. Firstly, he was relieved that his friend had stayed behind at the bar and so was safe aboard the Enterprise and no doubt helping in the search for him, but deep down inside a part of Pavel wished that Sulu was there with him lending him some of his strength, and so that he wouldn’t have to face this all alone. Knowing he was being selfish for wishing his friend was in the cell with him Pavel pushed that thought away, angry with himself.

His captor then sighed and said, “Well enough of this chatter. There’s a tray there by the force field with some food and water on it.”

He nodded towards the right hand corner of the cell and Pavel saw the small tray he was indicating lying on the floor just on his side of the force field and chided himself for not noticing it before, if he was going to escape this situation he would need to be alert and keep his wits about him.

The Denobulan added, “Now you eat it up and drink the water like a good boy...we want you to keep up your strength now don’t we.” The smirk was as obvious in his voice as it was on his face.

Anger flaring in Pavel at the man’s attitude he made sure he kept eye contact with him as he walked the few steps over to the tray and with a smirk of his own kicked it over knocking its contents onto the floor, and saying,

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh, there’s that feisty spirit,” the man said as he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small silver coloured box. “Now you’ve made a mess and you still have to eat and drink so why don’t you get down on your hands and knees boy and eat that up off the floor.”

Pavel snorted at him and crossed his arms across his chest. “I don’t think so mudak.” The defiance buoyed Pavel’s spirits and he lifted his chin and stood his ground.

The Denobulan’s eyes narrowed and his ever present smile faded a little, then shaking his head he told Pavel,

“Time for your first lesson boy, and that’s obedience.”

With that he touched something on the silver box he held and Pavel felt a flare of agonising pain in his head which left him gasping and brought him to his knees. The jolt as he hit the floor travelled up through his body and made his teeth rattle. Then just as suddenly as it had started the pain was gone and Pavel slumped forward, one hand thrown out to the floor stopping him from ending up face down in a heap.

Holding up the box the Denobulan stepped up close to the force field, the proximity of his body making it shimmer and sparkle a little deeper shade of blue. The too wide smile was back on his face as he said,

“This is a little something to help feisty boys like you learn their place. While you were unconscious we placed a little chip at the base of your skull.”

At this Pavel’s eyes widened and the hand he had previously steadied himself with flew to the back of his neck and sure enough at the base of his skull, just under his hair, he felt a small lump which throbbed when he touched it.

Waiting for him to discover the truth of his words for himself the man continued,

“This box sends a signal to that chip in your head which causes you to experience pain. How much pain and for how long is up to whoever has the box...” Pausing he added, the warning clear in his words, “that was the lowest setting for the minimum duration. Now be a good boy and eat your food up off the floor.”

Pavel hesitated, he didn’t want to abase himself in front of this smirking creature but he also remembered the number one rule taught to him during his survival classes at the Academy – keep yourself as healthy and unharmed as you can so that when an opportunity arises to escape you can take it. Or as his instructors had told him, “cadet, you do what you have to do to survive and deal with the fallout once you’re safe.” That was all very well in a classroom, but now, in a real situation, he just couldn’t make himself give in to this man. His mother had always told him he had a stubborn streak a mile wide and that one day it would get him into trouble, Pavel thought that this was probably that day. So getting up off his knees he stood and took a step back away from the over-turned tray and taking a deep breath he shook his head and simply said,

“No.”

His captor stared at him for a moment then chuckled as he replied,

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

A split second later Pavel’s world was transformed into one of pure agony. Not just the pain in his head but in every part of his body, searing fire caught every nerve ending, every muscle, alight. He was vaguely aware of an almost animalistic wail of pain and just had the presence of mind left to realise that the agonised sounds were being ripped from his own throat before pain, white and hot, consumed him and there was nothing in the whole universe but torture.

When he next became aware he was laying on the floor of his cell curled in the foetal position his body feeling raw, flayed open and crushed. He couldn’t move voluntarily but every few seconds some part of him would twitch as the aftershocks of the pure hell he’d just endured reverberated through him. He couldn’t see the man, his eyes didn’t seem to want to focus, but he could hear him laughing as he said,

“I’ll leave you there for a while to think about whether you want to start behaving yourself or not. When you can walk again I’ll come and get you cleaned up. After that we’ll have another talk about you eating your food up off the floor like a good boy.”

Pavel heard him leave and couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down his cheeks at the humiliation he felt when he realised that when he’d lost control of his body due to the overwhelming pain he’d wet himself. He felt so ashamed and fear was growing in his mind, but he held onto one thought, that his ship, his captain and his friends would be looking for him and that they would find him and save him – he had no doubt of that.


A/N – Russian – English translation – Mudak – asshole.