A Question of Protocol
by
Jody
Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy stood in the Transporter Room waiting for the third member of the landing party to arrive. Kirk scratched
his nose irritably. “Where the hell is Chekov,” he wondered. As if on cue, Chekov suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish.
“You’re late, Ensign” Kirk scolded with a wry grin.
Chekov laughed nervously, adjusting the shirt collar of his dress suit. “Sorry, Sir, this costume is pure, antique silk and I couldn’t bring
myself to trust the ship’s laundry with it, so Uhura promised to press it for me herself. Well, er, she forgot, Sir.”
Kirk smiled, accepting his apology with a nod, taking in the striking costume that his Chief Navigator had chosen to wear for this
important occasion. Chekov was dressed in traditional, black Cossack trousers and a pure white satin blouse. A plaited braid of red,
gold and black silk encircled the high neck and ran down against the contrasting white on the front of his tunic. Even McCoy admired it
appreciatively.
Kirk secretly had to admit to himself that he was slightly envious. When he thought of how he looked in his boring, grey one piece that
he’d previously been quite proud of, it now paled into insignificance compared with Chekov’s finery. The young man certainly had taste.
Kirk then glanced across to the transporter console where Scotty was finalizing the co-ordinates for the beam down to Triassanon 4.
Turning back to Chekov he said: “That is a lovely outfit, Mr. Chekov.”
The young Russian smiled broadly. He was visibly pleased that his Captain approved. “Yes, Sir, it was a birthday present from my
Mother: I have had it for some time. I always knew it would come in handy one day,” he said, grinning.
“Perhaps she had your own wedding in mind, Ensign,” McCoy teased him with a wicked glint in his eyes.
Chekov immediately paled and took a sharp intake of breath. “Perish the thought,” he muttered, adding “Sir”: remembering he was
talking to a superior officer.
Kirk suppressed the urge to laugh, but the Doctor sniggered openly. “Sorry, Chekov, I just couldn’t resist it.”
Chekov blushed but elected to say nothing more.
“Tut tut, Bones, have you no shame?” the Captain muttered, still trying hard not to laugh as he signaled to Scotty that they were all
ready.
As they rematerialized, the three men found themselves in an ornate, pink marbled passageway. Kirk wondered if they would get a
reception committee. The Triassanon High Commission had known that their arrival was imminent. Kirk had spoken to the Sarazan
himself not more than a few hours before. The passageway looked as though it might lead to a place of assembly and as noone had
yet come to meet them, Kirk motioned them all to move on.
Triassanon had long awaited entry into the Federation, but had vowed to join only if and when their ninety year long war with
neighboring Caprinii ever came to an end. The Federation had offered their help to end the war as a way of enticing them into the
Federation sooner. With Triassanon’s abundant wealth of minerals and other vital commodities, its subsequent entry would be a real
feather in the Federation’s cap.
At first Triassanon refused all help. They were a proud people. “We fight our own battles in our own way,” a Federation Ambassador
was sternly told. Although, when the question was asked, the Triassonians were hard pressed to come up with a logical answer as to
why the two planets were at war in the first place.
That was ten years previously. Now some major developments had taken place. At last someone, somewhere, had decided enough was
enough and that it was about time this unnecessary and costly war that neither side wanted should be ended once and for all. The only
problem was that throughout the war years a mountain of suspicion and mistrust had built up between the two worlds. Where as they
were both eager for the bloodshed to cease, they couldn’t bring themselves to trust each other yet.
After a great deal of thought, the respective High Commissioners drew up a covenant. It was decreed that the Sarazan’s daughter,
Rhiannee, would be joined in marriage to Khojet, only son and heir to the throne of Caprinii. They hoped that by mixing the blood of
both worlds it would unite the people and eradicate the war between the two planets forever.
The Enterprise was ordered into the quadrant and asked to attend the wedding ceremony and to witness the signing of both peace
treaties, then following that, the official entry of Triassanon and Caprinii into the Federation. Kirk’s orders were to tread lightly as things
were still a little delicate planetside. This was a very important assignment. Any last minute hitches and the Federation may lose this
golden opportunity for good. In fact, Kirk had been told in no uncertain terms that it would be his neck for the block should anything
untoward happen to spoil any plans.
It was by Triassanon tradition that the wedding should take place on the bride’s homeworld. Thus, Kirk and company were finding
themselves in this fascinating, startlingly beautiful building with its mind-bending architecture and huge tropical plant displays. From
what he had been able to find out from browsing through ship’s library tapes, Kirk had discovered that the culture of both planets
seemed to be a mixture of old Earth Russian and Arabic. Chekov will probably feel at home here, he thought as they all entered the
main hall.
Already wedding preparations were in full swing as hot and bothered courtiers milled in and out like an army of ants, carrying what
could have only been wedding gifts. Some wedding gifts too. Boxes of precious stones and at least three solid gold statuettes,
observed Kirk and his men as objects continued to be whisked past them. Still, no sign of a welcoming party.
Bones sighed, looking about him. His eyes widened considerably as he caught sight of the latest scenery. Chekov was staring too. “Do
they all wear so little around here?” McCoy inquired, loosening his collar slightly as a scantily clad maiden smiled at him as she passed
by.
A waft of her exotic perfume had also reached Kirk’s nose. He was just about to reply when he noticed the lascivious smile Chekov had
on his face as he eyed another sweet, young thing wearing next to nothing.
“I’ve died and gone to Heaven,” Chekov muttered quietly to himself in Russian, totally oblivious to the fact that his Captain had been
trying to attract his attention for the past five minutes.
“Mr. Chekov.” ...no answer. “Mr. Chekov!” McCoy giggled as Kirk calmly clapped his hands barely an inch from the Russian’s face in an
attempt to get some sort of intelligent response. This seemed to do the trick.
“...Er, what? Oh, Keptin!” he stuttered with his mouth hanging open and his eyes still in a fixed stare.
“If the wind changes you’ll stay like that,” McCoy laughingly remarked, folding his arms across his stomach. Chekov promptly shut his
mouth, having suddenly come back down to solid ground.
Kirk tried to keep an air of authority about his expression, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as he watched the blood rush
furiously to the Russian’s cheeks. “At ease, Mr. Chekov,” he said smiling, remembering his own youth. They were all men after all and
Kirk knew himself that he wasn’t exactly immune to such a sight.
Chekov seemed to relax slightly, but he still harbored the look of a man with a burning question. Should he ask or just keep quiet, he
wondered, not wishing for an instant to make himself look more foolish than he had done already. He opened his mouth to speak, but
then changed his mind, fidgeting nervously with his collar instead.
Kirk had already noticed that he looked edgy. “Maybe he doesn’t like weddings?” he pondered, but then, on reflection, he thought it
might be something else and he asked the question.
Chekov hesitated slightly before answering. “I was just wondering why I was chosen to accompany you on this assignment above other
crew members. I would have thought...?”
“This is what comes of having friends in high places,” Kirk cut in.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t understand,” he said after a few moments, shaking his head.
Kirk then went on to explain to him that through his own father’s–Ambassador Chekov–involvement in the original peace negotiations
and his strong friendship with the Sarazan, Ensign Chekov had been requested to attend the celebrations as a token of friendship with
Ambassador Chekov who couldn’t attend himself due to a previous assignment elsewhere.
“I am honored, Captain,” Chekov said, but he couldn’t help but feel rather ashamed at the same time. The last time he had spoken to
his father they had rowed and exchanged bitter words. Now, for the first time in his life, he finally realized just how important his father’s
work was. The next time he saw him he would swallow his foolish pride and say “Sorry”.
“We will be guests here for three days, so you observe the usual protocol and stay out of trouble, Ensign. I don’t think I need tell you
just how important this assignment is. We wouldn’t want any unfortunate...er...incidents.” The very second he let those words slip out of
his mouth, Kirk realized that he had probably just offended the young man’s integrity quite unnecessarily. After all, he wasn’t a child.
“Yes, Sir,” Chekov replied stiffly, trying his darndest to keep an impassive expression about him so that his Captain couldn’t see how
put out he was. “As If I would!” the Russian thought to himself indignantly.
“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m certainly going to enjoy myself,” McCoy put in cheerfully.
“You always do, Bones, but remember: I’m not going to be the one who carries you home,” Kirk chided him, giving Chekov a knowing
wink.
McCoy carried on with his reverie, not having caught the Captain’s drift “It’s been years since I went to a good wedding. They always
make me cry,” he said, laughing out loud.
“Well, I hope you will spare us that this time, Bones,” Kirk said turning towards Chekov to hide a smirk. Pavel’s face suddenly broke out
of its stony expression and into a broad grin, whilst McCoy’s giggles trailed off.
He was just about to make a comment when he noticed a rather flustered looking courtier coming toward the three of them. After
apologizing for the delay he led the Enterprise contingent to the palace chambers to meet with the Sarazan and his daughter.
The Sarazan was a plump but kindly looking man. He was dressed in rich robes of blue and gold. Looking at him carefully, Pavel could
see at once why this powerful man and his father had become friends, but then his father got on well with most people: all except with
him, his only son! Pavel shuddered as he could still almost hear their angry shouts competing from their last heated exchange back on
Earth some months before.
Suddenly, he became aware that someone was calling his name. It was the Sarazan himself, beckoning him to go forward. Pavel
groaned inwardly as he almost stumbled out of his momentary paralysis in trying to move forward. He was all too aware that he’d been
in this place less than an hour and already he had made a complete fool of himself in front of his Captain and the ruler of this planet,
his father’s old friend, to boot. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was going to be one of those trips.
“So, you are the only son of my honored friend?” The Sarazan called, offering a trembling Chekov his hand in greeting.
Chekov took it and returned the broadest smile he could manage.
“How is your father? Is he well?” the great man enquired, studying the young Russian’s face with an intensity that made him feel a little
uneasy.
He hoped that the Sarazan couldn’t read his mind at that moment and detect the pain he still felt from his father’s harsh words.
Triassonians were known to be slightly telepathic. After a pause Chekov finally spoke, all too aware of the odd looks he was getting
from his Captain and McCoy. “My father was well the last time I saw him, Sir,” he replied truthfully, dropping into a dignified bow to show
respect.
“Good,” the Sarazan replied. “And now I’d like you to meet my daughter, Rhiannee,” he said introducing his young, dark-haired
daughter.
Chekov heard himself gasp as she breezed in and sat down by her father’s side. She was so beautiful.
The Sarazan gestured for everyone else to sit down whilst the drinks were brought around. As Rhiannee looked closely at the
newcomers, her dark, striking eyes fell on the young man dressed in white and black silk. “He is so perfect, so handsome,” she thought
to herself wistfully with a glint in her eyes.
Pavel found himself looking at her, too. He was admiring her silver entwined braided hair and her scanty costume that could have
almost come straight out of the old Ali Baba novels he had once read. It left nothing to the imagination and he found it increasingly
difficult to take his eyes from it. She looked very young to him, no more than 15 or 16 at the most. Time and time again his eyes
wandered back to her as he sipped at his drink. Considering she was getting married and at the same time bringing peace to two
planets, she didn’t look all that happy to him.
He slowly became aware of the hairs standing up on the buck of his neck. Then he noticed that she was staring straight at him, her
eyes wandering appreciatingly over his silken outfit. As he looked up again, Rhiannee’s eyes bore deeply into his in the most
uncomfortable way. Quickly lowering his own eyes again, he took another gulp of his drink but curiosity soon had him stealing another
quick glance. She was still doing it! Being a man, he knew that look all too well.
“No! It couldn’t be!” he told himself. He was imagining it. One more look convinced him he wasn’t. In fact, he could hardly believe what
she did next. This royal young bride-to-be winked at him and gave him a little wave.
“Oh no!” he thought, turning away sharply, not knowing whether to be horrified or amused. He hoped to God that McCoy or Kirk hadn’t
witnessed it too.
Luckily for him, they hadn’t. They had been too busy talking to the Sarazan to notice Rhiannee’s little indiscretion. Pavel finished his
drink and tried to pretend to himself that it had never happened and tried to avoid looking at her for the rest of the afternoon. Although
he could still feel the weight of her stare in his back. How embarrassing! Was this any way for a young girl to behave, especially on the
eve of her wedding? he wondered.
That evening there was a banquet followed by much dancing, wine, food and...exotic dancers. Pavel’s eyes soon lit up when they came
on. He watched with evident pleasure as they gyrated around the ballroom wearing practically nothing but a smile.
“Perhaps this isn’t going to be so bad after all,” he thought as he caught sight of the wicked smirk that his Captain and the Doctor
carried on their faces throughout the display.
“They certainly know how to entertain folk around here,” McCoy drawled, nudging Chekov’s arm, to which the young Russian replied
with a discreet smile.
When the dancing resumed later on, Pavel found no shortage of beautiful partners to dance with.
“Looks like he’s having a ball,” quipped McCoy as he and the Captain watched as Chekov and yet another lovely girl whirled past their
table.
“Yes,” Kirk replied. “I’m glad to see it. He looked somewhat preoccupied this morning.” The music changed and another pretty partner
fell into the Russian’s arms.
“Uuhhmm...wonder what he’s got that I haven’t?” Kirk pondered out loud, realizing that he had not danced yet. Just then, he felt a light
tap on the shoulder, but before he or McCoy could open their mouths, Kirk was practically hauled up unceremoniously onto the dance
floor by a rather obese woman. To make matters worse, as he was dragged away, the last thing he saw was McCoy laughing as he
watched the Captain’s shellshocked expression.
He just had time to shoot him back a “I’ll-get-you-for-this!” look before he turned sharply to face his aggressor. At first he thought she
had quite an attractive face...that was until she smiled. He tried to return it as he took in two rows of hideously decaying teeth. McCoy
rubbed salt into the wound further by giving his friend a joyous little wave as Kirk and his overzealous partner whooshed past his table.
Kirk breathed a sigh of relief when the dance finally ended and, having made his escape, limped painfully back to his seat after having
his feet crushed over a dozen times. He sat down with a thud, rubbing his aching feet through his boots as he watched Chekov return to
his seat.
“Enjoy your dance, Jim?” McCoy scoffed at him, grinning wickedly.
Kirk decided to treat this remark with due contempt and ignored him, giving him a quick scowl. “No need to ask if you are enjoying
yourself, Ensign,” Kirk then remarked to Chekov.
“Oh yes, Sir...well, at least we were doing all right until this clumsy pair of imbeciles cannoned right into us and knocked us flying. I was
just about to turn and say something and all I saw was this woman’s enormous . . . well, she was a very well endowed..........young lady,
Sir. I pity the poor guy she was throwing around the dance floor like a rag doll. That’s not all,” he said, rolling up his trouser leg for
inspection. Just below his right knee was an angry graze. “I got this size l0 boot print as a souvenir!”
“I...a...see, Ensign. It looks nasty, better let the Doctor take a look at it,” Kirk mumbled, glaring at McCoy who just sat, arms folded, and
whistling innocently to himself.
“Oh!” Chekov thought to himself as the penny finally dropped. He sat down, poured himself another drink, and elected to say nothing
more lest he incriminate himself further.
The Captain, too, saw this as a good moment to make a dignified exit and sauntered off in the general direction of the banqueting table.
After having danced half the night away, fatigue finally got the better of the young Russian.
As he sat down again, McCoy eagerly got up. He had at last found himself a partner for the next dance.
Pavel poured himself and the Captain another drink. He was about to take a sip when he sensed someone’s presence behind him.
Once again he felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. At first he didn’t dare turn around, intent instead to watch his Captain as
he demolished the last of a plateful of kebabs.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” Kirk cut in, suddenly looking up before Chekov had a chance to say anything.
Then Chekov turned, only to find that it was none other than Rhiannee breathing heavily down his neck. In view of the earlier incident,
he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with her so close to him. At first he had thought that it may have just been pre-wedding nerves...
that was until now. For here she was, wearing the same wanton expression aimed unashamedly and directly at him!
“I’m so glad that you are enjoying the festivities, Captain. I...er...actually came to ask if this man would do me the honor of dancing with
me,” she purred, placing her sylph like fingers evocatively on the Russian’s shoulders.
“Oh, Hell!” Pavel panicked inwardly, his whole body cringed as a wave of dread and foreboding swept over him. Kirk didn’t seem to find
the situation all that unusual. If he did, his expression didn’t show it.
“Uuhhoh!”, Chekov groaned inwardly as the resident band suddenly struck up a slow, hypnotic tune, one that would undoubtedly call
far a lot of close body contact if he got up to dance with her now. What could he do? If he said no he would offend her and if he did
dance with her...surely it would breach protocol, wouldn’t it?
“Captain, with your permission?” she insisted. Pavel wondered what the hell he was going to do. He gave his Captain a desperate look
which Kirk, in turn, mistook for a plea for permission.
“I`ve no objections, go ahead, Ensign,” he replied with a smile after a thoughtful pause.
“Er...thank you, Captain,” Chekov stuttered, feeling all substance vanish from his legs as he attempted to stand. This could be very
embarrassing, he thought as she swept him away from the safety of his table and onto the dance floor. Oh well, one dance with her
couldn’t do any harm, could it? He soon found out that it could! She was a veritable tiger on the dance floor.
As she pulled him close to her, he felt his entire body go rigid and automatically pull back. Slowly he let his dark ,widened eyes come up
to meet her lurid expression. It gave him the distinct impression that she was undressing him with her eyes. Pavel`s soul lurched and his
mouth went as they whizzed past Kirk`s table whilst she held him in a tight, passionate clinch. He hoped to God that Kirk wasn’t looking.
Never before had he felt so uncomfortable in a woman’s presence, but this one was definitely jailbait!
Then the music became wilder, almost tribal and to Chekov`s dismay so did Rhianee! With an effort be he managed to pull back again
as Rhianee`s hands wandered a little too close for his personal comfort.
“What is wrong with you? You are as stiff as a statue. Are you not honored to be dancing with a Princess of the realm? I could have
chosen any man in this room to dance with, but I chose you!” she whispered huskily in his ear, sending little alarm bells off in his brain.
“I...er...am sorry, Your Highness. I hurt my leg earlier and its throbbing a bit,” he replied, hastily finding a plausible excuse, then he
groaned, knowing instantly that he had definitely said wrong thing as her dainty little hand traveled delicately up his leg.
“That is a shame. You must let me look at it for you. Come up to my chambers, I have some rare healing oils,” she purred rather
excitedly as she attempted to drag him off` to his certain undoing.
“Aaasagghh! No!”, he protested hotly. “The doctor has already tended to it, but thank you for your kind concern,” he said truthfully.
“Oh, what a shame,” she replied in a very disappointed tone.
“I think I need to sit down,” he ventured breathlessly, extricating himself from her vice like grip. Then, not before planting a brief but
gallant kiss on her hand, he made a hasty exit back to his table, before she even had a chance to open her mouth. The pain in his leg
momentarily forgotten in his haste to get away.
Kirk had just finished checking in with Spock on the Enterprise. He clicked his communicator shut and had replaced it on his belt by the
time Pavel sat down again.
The young, exhausted Russian didn’t dare look him in the eye though. Instead, he yanked undone his shirt collar and exhaled sharply.
When he did finally manage a glance in his Captain’s direction, Kirk made no comment. He didn’t have to,..... because the looks he was
giving the Ensign hardly required words. Chekov paled immediately, rubbing his face with a sweaty palm, half expecting Rhianee`s to
nab him again at any second.
“If I didn’t know better I’d say she’s got the hots for you, Chekov,” McCoy teased, echoing what the Captain must surely have been
thinking.
All at once Chekov’s brain went numb and his heart seemed to stop. He was totally mortified by the Doctor’s remark. They had noticed!
Struggling for some reply he gave a little; laugh. “Can I help it if she finds me irresistible?” he shrugged, dearly wishing that the ground
would open up and swallow him and that his heart would once more beat in a steady rhythm.
The awkward silence and strange looks that followed only served to convince him that this would be an excellent moment in time to
retire for the evening. So after being excused he bid his superiors a good night and trudged off to his room, knowing full well that his
conspicuous little dance with princess Rhianee was bound to be the burning topic of conversation in his absence. In fact, he could
almost feel his ears burning already.
Gratefully back inside the sanctuary of his room, Pavel stood, his back to the door, sighing heavily. “What a day!” he thought,
remembering how, only the night before, he had boasted to Sulu that while he was down on Triassanon, whooping it up, his poor old
friend and shipmate would be embarking on a relatively boring game of chess and if he was lucky, the odd hand of poker.
Reflecting on the days odd events, Chekov found himself wishing to be back safety on the Enterprise, doing just that. But then an evil
smirk crept across his face as he pictured Rhianee`s unsuspecting husband-to-be and what lay in store for him on his wedding night.
Yawning, Pave1 unfastened his shirt front and flopped down on his bed, closing his weary eyes.
Something was very wrong! His eyes snapped open again in a flash and stared psychopathically through the dark as his hand made
contact with warm flesh! He sprang from the bed as if hit by lightening, falling headlong into a wall in his panic. He was still dazed and
gasping for breath as he heard something .....or someone come hurriedly after him!
“Surprise, surprise!” an all too familiar female voice cut through the dark and made his heart beat faster as two hot little hands were
clamped over his eyes.
“What the...!?” he squeaked, resisting the rising urge to yell as he scrambled back up off the floor. He slapped his shaking hand
against the wall, desperately trying to find the light sensor switch. As they mercifully came on again, he stumbled backwards against the
bed as the slim figure of Rhianee stood menacingly over him.
In that very instant, Pavel couldn’t help but wonder just what form of public executions they indulged in on Triassanon. In the disastrous
event of them being found together in his room in this highly....compromising situation, he would surely find out soon enough. “...Wha....
What are you doing here...err....Your Highness? Do you have any idea what they will do to me if you are found here?” he stammered,
becoming even more horrified as she smiled at him lasciviously.
“Who`s going to know?” she replied kinkily, wrapping her arms boa fashion around his neck.
“...P...Please, you must leave...I am very tired and your wedding is tomorrow: a wedding that will bring peace to your planet and your
future husband`s. Nothing must interfere with that,” he pleaded, realizing that she had him totally cornered.
He tried to prize her fingers from around his neck, but that only made them cling on tighter. Then she began kissing him with a
vengeance. “I wanted you from the first time I laid eyes on you and I know that you felt it inside of you, too,” she whispered evocatively
in his ear.
All Pavel could feel right then was the noose tightening around his neck and the sickening crack when the end came. Opening his
mouth to protest, he was immediately silenced with another passionate kiss. Her tongue seemed to have a life of its own. His brain
screamed out to him inside his aching skull and he almost thought he could see his life flash before his eyes as he tried to fight her off.
He had no wish to manhandle her but this had gone beyond a joke.
He had to do something! With a great deal of effort, he flipped her over gently and scrambled to his feet in one, carefully calculated
move, leaving her sprawled somewhat surprised on the floor! “Free at last!” he thought, hastily refastening his shirt.
“What is it? Don’t you find me attractive?”she wailed behind him. “Perhaps you’re not the MAN I took you for,” she added in a definite,
more insulting tone.
“I most certainly am!” Chekov retorted angrily, momentarily forgetting that he was in the presence of royalty.
“How dare you speak to me in this way! I could say you forced me in here. I only have to whistle and a thousand palace guards would
come flying through that door...and...and..” She suddenly bit off in mid screech.
“Okay, okay, I get the picture. I am sorry, but apart from everything else, this is not right and besides ......Where I come from...we are,
how shall I say?...used to a more subtle approach.
“You must leave now, there is too much at stake,” he implored her, hoping he was getting the message across.
“I will not, what’s more, I don’t intend to become the plaything of a fat, old man,” she screamed defiantly, advancing on him again.
“Let go, please,” he sighed, exhausted, wondering seriously if he would ever again see the light of day. He had to admit to himself that
he was finding it increasingly hard to control his rising temper as she pinned him roughly up against the door. He tried to tell himself that
this wasn’t really happening and that he was in the middle of some horrible dream, but what she did next convinced him he wasn’t.
She fumbled with the fastenings of his shirt, trying to rid him off it. Only quick thinking and good timing enabled him to wriggle out of the
way. “It is not right. You are a Princess and I am only a Federation Officer!” he yelled in utter frustration. “Besides, I’m too old for you!”
he added factually.
“I am a woman and you are a man...kiss me!” she said, throwing herself at him, but Chekov had already seen it coming and dodged
swiftly to one side, then found himself fighting the urge to laugh as he turned around only to see her land with a thud and disappear
beneath an enormous pile of satin cushions: her slim, little legs dangling in mid air. The situation was so ridiculous, it was funny. But not
for long.
She then let out a cry sounding somewhat akin to a freshly peeled cat being plunged into a bag of finely milled salt. She emerged from
her satin hidey hole and launched herself at Chekov with all the vigor of a thing possessed, which effectively wiped the smile from his
face. She landed full force on top of him as his boot heel caught the underside of the bed in his escape attempt. The result was that he
landed heavily on the floor, all the wind knocked out of his body.
“What did you do? Did you wake up this morning and say to yourself `Today I’m going to ruin a man’s life’, huh?” he exploded, finding
his breath again.
He had had enough of this. In an instant he rolled her off of him and scrambled up for the door, amidst a tirade of hysterical verbal
abuse and his intermittent ducking of low flying vases, or any other heavy object she could lay her hands on. Crash!!!!! Pavel`s escape
route went suddenly foggy as he was hit on the back of the head with one of the smaller objects. It didn’t quite knock him out.
“Right! That does it!” he yelled through clenched teeth and a throbbing skull, whirling on her, his temper reaching fever pitch. “Miss! I
have never before in my entire life ever hit a woman, but...but now you are coming perilously close to making me break the habit of a
lifetime. I don’t know why you picked me, but you must cease all this bizarre hen night ritual–or whatever–and leave.
“Think of your father, your husband-to-be: what would they think? Apart from the fact that this system will be plunged headlong into war
if you don’t marry Khojet,” he raged on, all too aware that if her father didn’t skin him alive, his Captain and the Federation would, not to
mention his own father.
His horror mounted at the growing images in his mind’s eye. It was so vivid he could almost see the media headlines now. DISGRACED
AMBASSADOR’S SON EXECUTED ON WARRING PLANET BY SLOW TORTURE! AMBASSADOR’S FAMILY DRIVEN FROM HOME IN
DISGRACE AND DISHONOR CAUSED BY STARFLEET`S SON’S INDISCRETION! CAPTAIN KIRK DEMOTED TO CADET.......were just
some of the milder horrors that crept into his troubled mind.
Meanwhile, Rhiannee stared at him in silent contempt. Her dainty ring adorned fingers clenched into tight little fists that all of a sudden
rained down on him.
“Ouch! My father should have warned me about you!” he gasped, trying to dodge her blows. It was a few seconds before he realized
the blows had stopped.
“I remember your father now. He used to say I was pretty and bounce me up and down on his knee.”
“What he should have done is put you over his knee and spanked your backside, which is exactly what I’m going to do if you do not
leave me alone...you...you teenage nymphomaniac!” he threw back, at the same time checking the back of his head to see if it was still
in one piece.
Suddenly his eyes bulged in disbelief as a glinting, silvery object whistled past alarmingly close to his left ear. He whirled around just in
time to see it slice into the heavy wooden door behind him. “Bozhe moi! She means business, I am going to be killed!” he gulped.
At that precise second, he sensed a familiar little tune floating around in his dazed subconscious. He recognized it as being the one that
McCoy always sang to himself whilst administering the more basic of medical procedures...“I Wonder Why Ever Went To Space!”
In that very instant Pavel felt a complete empathy with the lyrics, sorely wishing that he had listened to ‘Mama’ and had become a pro-
chess champion instead, as he stood riveted to the spot waiting for her to move in for the kill. Suddenly, he really did lose his temper!
“OKAY, pull a knife on me, would you? Well, come on then, why don’t you get in a little flesh wound...right here!” he shouted, yanking
open his tunic, revealing an inviting, fleshy target. “...only don’t get blood on the shirt huh, it’s antique silk and kind of hard to repair,”
he goaded in his palpable fear.
As he felt almost certainly doomed anyway he thought he might as well get in his two pennies worth first and tell her a few long overdue
home truths and also the fact that he had sensed the time for politeness had long since past. Her child like eyes flashed furious fire!
Right then he knew that his little opus had had the opposite effect and that it had been like waving a red rag in front of a bull.
“Little girls shouldn’t play with knives!” he yelled furiously, but to his ultimate horror she produced yet another razor sharp implement
from a leg shackle and lunged forward with determined intent to drive it into the mortified Russian’s heart. He shut his eyes.
“Is this it, Pavel? Are you going to have your days ended by a love sick teenager?” In his mind’s eye he could almost feel the knife
blade piecing his body, bringing his life to an abrupt end. He held his breath, praying for the end to be swift at least.
A split second later, although it seemed considerably longer, he opened them again, forcing them downwards only to find the knife had
stopped barely a hair’s breadth away from his body. Without drawing breath, he carefully, slowly, removed the deadly object from her
trembling hand and threw it out of harms way.
“Y...you...you missed!” he giggled feebly, trying to regain his breath. “Do everyone a favor, marry Khojet tomorrow and be happy.
“Excuse me,” he said, staggering out of the room into the corridor, still in a state of shock and a cold sweat. He half-expected her to
follow him, but then concluded that as she had given herself a bad shock tonight and she would most probably skulk off to bed...well, he
could hope!
He made himself look presentable as he meandered back toward the banquet. She had had a shock?! What about him? He did think
about asking to return to the Enterprise using his sore leg as an excuse. “No, they would never buy it,” he told himself dismally.
He was so busy in his thoughts that he didn’t notice an inebriated McCoy staggering back toward his room. As both men turned the
corner, they collided.
“Hey, hey Chekov, what’s wrong? Had a bad dream?” he asked, trying to focus on the young man’s face.
“A nightmare, Sir,” he replied shakily. After all, he could hardly tell him or the Captain what had just transpired. They would either laugh
in disbelief or have him put straight in the brig. He had to keep quiet about the incident for his, and although she didn’t deserve it, for
Rhiannee’s sake too.
A while later, after making an excuse to Captain Kirk that he had locked himself out, he found himself a corner in McCoy’s room.
Although he didn’t say anything, Kirk looked at the Ensign in a puzzled fashion somewhat bemused by Chekov’s change in bedding
down arrangements. Chekov did not wish to take the risk that Rhiannee may still be lurking in the room he had just hastily vacated.
The great day arrived. Pavel took his place in the VIP box alongside his Captain and a rather delicate looking doctor McCoy. Pavel, not
having had an ounce of sleep due to the uncomfortable conditions he had slept in all night, momentarily dozed off, only to be rudely
disturbed and jolted from his slumber in time to hear Rhiannee’s defiant little voice calmly say: “I do not!”
Pavel suddenly broke out into a cold sweat as those three little words and their possible implications registered in his still foggy brain. A
moment of painful silence and mild panic ensued which very quickly manifested itself into bringing the whole place into a total uproar.
Rhiannee looked unearthly calm and seemingly undisturbed by the pandemonium she had just caused. She displayed the same calm
when she quietly turned toward Pavel’s paralyzed, trembling form and announced that she had chosen another. “Him!”
All eyes followed the length of her dainty pointing finger and bore down on the Russian like a ton of hot coals, Chekov closed his eyes
and made a silent wish to self-destruct, spontaneously combust.......anything that might spirit him out of this major catastrophe zone.
That was the last thing he remembered before his temporary indifference to his surroundings. He wasn’t sure of how, why or what had
happened next. All he did know was that for the past two days he had been enjoying enforced board and lodging in a damp, dark and
extremely smelly cell. To make matters worse he had a splitting headache, a headache so bad that his present predicament took a
back seat in comparison to the pounding in his head and the nausea that went with it.
He hadn’t even remembered how he had come to be there, coming to the conclusion that he must have fainted. This wasn’t in itself a
comforting thought and he was dearly beginning to wish that he had died! What was more, his beautiful silk shirt was ruined. He just
about heard the heavy cell door creak open, admitting a furious looking Kirk and a bewildered Doctor McCoy.
Kirk’s furious tirade only seemed to bounce off of his sore head without making impact. Pavel spied him dismally through ever
increasing dizziness and sunken eyes. He made no coherent comment apart from an involuntary groan as another sharp pain
ricocheted off the inside of his skull.
McCoy peered into his eyes. " Jim, this boy has concussion,” the Doctor stated in a concerned tone.
“Well, unless he starts speaking up for himself and tells us what really happened, he will find a cure for it, permanently! Pavel, listen to
me,” Kirk pleaded, gripping the sagging Ensign by the shoulders. “Khojet wants to kill you in a way I won’t even begin to describe, the
Sarazan wants to use your vital organs in next weeks speciality dish....and I...I want to wring your neck, which is more or less what
StarFleet will do to me if you don’t speak up and clear up this mess.
“Want to hear the best of it?” he roared on. “Your father has decided to come after all, but we could hardly tell him about this, could
we? So come on, Pavel, I know you did nothing to Rhianee. I know she is lying. Tell them, Chekov! For God’s sake, for all our sakes,
tell them!!!!”
Kirk raged on and on until finally, through a wave of nausea, Pavel literally had to force the words out of his mouth. “Sir, I cannot. If
Khojet knows the truth about Rhiannee’s behavior, he will never marry her: she will be dishonored. But if he believes that I forced myself
upon her, her honor will be safe and the marriage will go ahead.”
“Pavel, don’t you realize what you’re sacrificing for the sake of a nasty, reprehensible brat? She’s used you, humiliated you, and now
you are prepared to die for her misplaced dignity. That’s admirable, Pavel, but cut the philosophy, you have to tell her father the truth.
Defend yourself!” Kirk pleaded.
Pavel felt so ill that he wanted to just curl up, fall asleep and never wake up again. “No Captain, too much is at stake. It’s my word
against hers, anyway. Mr. Spock taught me that the needs of the many do outweigh the needs of the few. In this case it has to apply: I
have...no choice, Captain,” Chekov said stonily, having to force his eyes to stay open.
“Pavel, it’s not just you. Think about your father, his position..my position. Princess or no Princess, she’s not worth your life or the good
reputation of your family. Think of what’s at stake!”
Chekov peered at him vacantly, he was almost totally indifferent to his impending demise, his head felt like hell and to began to sway.
“The marriage must go ahead, Captain.” Chekov implored him as McCoy leaned over and held onto the Russian. “If it does not, the war
will escalate. What she did was very foolish and wrong, but once she has had time to cool off, she will soon forget me and see sense.
Then the wedding can take place. If I must die to realize that conclusion...then so be it. The peace of this system of planets is surely
more important than my life!”
Kirk stared at his young officer in total frustration. He felt like shaking him, but all the time he knew that what Chekov had said was
irrevocably true. He had tried to tell the Sarazan what had happened and stuck up for Chekov’s integrity himself, but that had only been
met with utter contempt. Chekov was right. They would hardly believe his story against the word of a Princess. Chekov would be put to
death and he was powerless to stop it.
“Chekov! Oh, forget it!” he yelled in frustration, rubbing his temples. Chekov wasn’t the only one with a headache.
McCoy was becoming concerned for the young Russian’s health, but he too was helpless as the Triassonans had cruelly confiscated
his medi-bag and he had nothing to treat Chekov with. Instead, he laid the ailing young man down in a cleanish part of what was
otherwise a filthy hovel. “Pavel, don`t do this,” he implored Chekov. “ You can’t let her get away with this.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Doctor. With all due respect, I will not ruin any chance of peace that these two planets may have. I am only
sorry that the Captain and my father will suffer as a result of this...er...unfortunate incident.”
Secretly what scared Pavel the most right now was the daunting prospect of seeing his father one more time. In the light of their recent
arguments this would surely justify any disapproval his father had ever had for him. Pavel felt as if he had let his father and the whole
universe down. What was worse, it was all a terrible, unjust mistake, but he had to accept total blame. The importance of the Prime
Directive had been driven home to him very early on in his Academy training!
Two hours passed. Kirk was just about to break the uneasy silence, when they all heard a commotion in the hall outside. Moments later,
the Sarazan himself entered. Pavel forced himself to look up as if subconsciously subjecting himself to some form of self punishment,
even though he knew he was innocent of any crime. The Sarazan glared at Pavel with murderous fury. His eyes alone held a look that
could have killed him stone dead. Pavel stared back, hopelessly accepting providence.
Kirk started on at him to say something again, desperately trying to get the young Russian to save himself. “Pavel,” he hissed. “You
have a chance.”
But before he could attempt a reply, McCoy cut in with: “Sarazan, your Highness, let him go please. He is in need of urgent medical
attention. I...”
“How dare you! He will rot here. He will pay dearly for what he did! It is high treason which we punish by very slow torture and lingering
death!” the Sarazan thundered. “ He maltreated my daughter!” he raged on.
“Maltreated your daughter?! She went to his room of her own accord and practically threw herself at him despite his attempts to
dissuade her! He needs urgent medical attention due to her damaging him and, if anything happens to him, I’ll hold you responsible.
For God’s sake man, if you are going to do away with him, at least let me treat him first....you ....you barbarians!”
“Silence, you...infidel!”
“Bones, you’re not exactly helping matters any,” Kirk cut in, seeing the situation was getting way out of hand.
But McCoy was far from finished. “At least let me call the ship, you cold, barbaric bastard!” Then he bent over and whispered discreetly
to Kirk: “I don’t suppose we could just beam right out of here, could we, Jim? Pavel is deteriorating fast.”
“Not a likely contingency seeing as they confiscated our communicators, Bones. Now hush up and let me handle this,” Kirk muttered
between clenched teeth, his temper rising.
“Silence you dogs! To think that he could possibly betray the friendship I had with his own father!” the Sarazan roared on and on until
he was quite red in the face. He looked as though he was going to explode!
The heated argument went on for ages despite Chekov`s frantic rejection of Kirk’s attempts to clear his name. “Chekov, tell him what
happened and that’s an order!” Kirk yelled at him, his anger reaching fever pitch. He was caught between loyalty to the Federation and
also to his promising young crew member who stood to lose everything, including his life, through no fault of his own!
“I won’t change my mind, Captain,” Chekov replied drowsily, wishing for them to get on with whatever unspeakable thing they had in
store for him and make it damn quick. He wanted an end to this nightmare.
Kirk’s furious reply was suddenly halted by the sound of a familiar female voice over by the door.
“He won’t have to, Captain. I will tell my father the truth...everything.”
It was Rhiannee! She went on to tell her father of how she objected to having her husband picked for her. She hadn’t ever seen Khojet
and had imagined someone quite different from the handsome blond man she now knew. When she had finally saw him, she had to
admit she quite liked him and wanted to marry him.
There was, though, the question of her disgraceful behavior: which was a way of getting back at her father. Her infatuation with Ensign
Chekov had been a good way to achieve that. Unfortunately for Pavel, he hadn’t had the benefit of her announcement. He had finally
passed out. Rhianee concluded her tale of woe by admitting guilt for everything.
Since the wedding, she had been confined to her room where she had had time to think about the possible implications of her actions.
When she heard about the fate of her unfortunate victim she agonized about the fact that a man was about to die unless she came
clean. She decided that she could not let this happen. Whatever Khojet might think of her, she had to clear up this mess and try to
arrange for the wedding to go ahead after all. She had done much growing up in those two days.
Fortunately for her, Khojet not only understood the way she had felt, but confided that he too, had also reacted unfavorably to the
marriage betrothal, but since they now had talked and had come to care for each other, they decided that the marriage should go
ahead.
As a result, Pavel was immediately released and a full exoneration and apology was made to his Captain. Poor Pavel though spent the
next two days in Sickbay with a hairline fracture and concussion. He missed the wedding celebrations and the treaty signing, but he
had to admit that he wasn’t too upset about it.
That evening he had two visitors. One was Sulu, whose parting shot on the way out was to politely enquire whether “he had been to any
good weddings lately.” If Pavel hadn’t felt so ill, he would have thrown the first object he came across. Instead, he had to make do with a
few strongly worded insinuations that Sulu was born out of wedlock!
The other visitor was Pavel` s own father. Andrie Chekov stood at the foot of his son’s bed, reading the doctors notes on a pad, and
watching him drift back to consciousness. “Congratulations,” he said with a warm smile.
It was a few moments before Pavel could take in just what his father had meant. His father laughed and explained that he was to be
decorated for his steadfast decision to uphold the Prime Directive in the face of formidable personal circumstance. “I’m so proud of you,
you can’t imagine,” beamed Andrie. He was clearly delighted.
Pavel smiled back weakly, all tension between them now vanished. “I er...also wish to apologize for our...er...difference of opinion.”
His father said sheepishly: “Already forgotten.”
Pavel grinned despite his headache. “There is just one thing.....don`t get me invited to any more weddings for a while, huh?”
The elder Russian laughed loudly. “Not even your own?” he teased, eyes twinkling wickedly.
“Well, maybe one day...who knows?” he replied groggily. “Who knows?????”