Begun by Jane Seaton & T. S. Taylor
Finished by Susan Moore
Recovering from being drugged was not as pleasant an experience as being drugged had been. Not that it was an experience Chekov was anxious to repeat. He was tied to a chair in a room that seemed to retain the atmosphere of the bar he had met Mr. Scott in. His head ached, his mouth tasted like something unpleasant had set up residence on his tongue, and his nose itched. There was also a faint buzzing noise, which eventually registered as people talking.
"I told you he'd had too much alcohol in his system for the drug. What are you going to do if he doesn't come to before 18:00?"
"He can show up late, can't he? The people at the Institute seem to have a healthy respect for him, at least the one we had last week did."
"This had better work...."
"If you've got a better idea, Morgain..."
A sudden groan from someone else broke off the conversation. "Go check on our other guest while I get Scott in a position to listen."
Steps came from behind him and then the pirate lady came around his right side. "Hello, sweet thing, has your vision cleared yet?"
"What are you doing to Mr. Scott?" Chekov decided that from this side of a drugged drink, the pirate lady wasn't as lovely as she had originally appeared.
She laughed and said, "You should probably worry more about yourself, honey." That statement didn't help her appearance at all.
Chekov was diverted from answering that comment by the increase in noises from behind him. From the sounds, someone else had entered and was taking directions from Goudchaux.
"Scott, can you hear me?"
"Oooh, yes."
"Good. I'm sure you won't mind doing an old friend a favor. You're going to go to the Cochran Institute, as you planned, but you'll be going alone. You're going to obtain the information we need on the damping systems so that we can sell the improvements to the highest bidder. Is that clear?"
"I'll not do it."
"I thought you might take that attitude. Does your attitude get adjusted in favor of this plan if I tell you that if you don't, Star Fleet will be out one brown-eyed ensign?" Chekov's chair was spun around so that he could see Mr. Scott. The engineer didn't seem any worse for wear, at least.
Chekov opened his mouth to speak, to tell Mr. Scott not to go along with the plan, when Morgain stuffed a wad of cloth in his mouth. All in all, this was turning out to be a really bad day.
"It's 17:30 now, Scott, so I'll send you out with Khwaja. He'll be outside the Institute to bring you back here. Furutani and I will stay in the front part of the bar. If we see any actions that would cause us to suspect that our location and captive have been given out, the ensign becomes expendable. Have I made myself clear?"
"Aye, that you have." It was hard to read Scott's expression in the dim light, but Chekov was fairly sure the engineer was trying to think of someway to get them out of this.
"Oh, Scott, one more thing. We have a source in the communications center for the planet, who'll let us know if you try to contact your ship. I'd advise you not to try it, for the lad's sake if not your own."
Scott was escorted out the door by the Riordanian. Through the opening, Chekov saw the night sky. The huge Asian and Goudchaux went to his left and the sounds of the bar came in through the door as they left.
"Now, sweet thing, you're not going to give me any trouble, are you? I've got some things I need to do while I'm keeping an eye on you, so don't make me knock you out again."
Chekov did his best to look dejected, which wasn't that hard. Seemingly content with the situation, Morgain went and settled in a chair at a desk to his right. She pulled some papers toward her and started looking them over.
After a bit, Chekov tested the pirate's concentration. He started, very gently, to try to untie some of the knots. Unfortunately, whoever tied him up knew their knots. Fortunately, in his movements, he had found a sharp piece of metal where the chair had been poorly repaired. He checked on Morgain, who was still involved with her paperwork, occasionally muttering about the costs incurred by the group. 'She's the accountant?', Chekov wondered as he worked on the rope. 'Maybe she lost her eye in an abacus accident.'
After an eternity that lasted some 30 minutes, Chekov had gotten his left hand free. Apparently paperwork had a sedative effect on Morgain, because she appeared to be asleep. He worked on freeing himself as quietly as possible but as quickly as possible as well. Who knew when the watchers outside would want to check on the interior situation. Finally free of the bindings, he stood up carefully.
Torn between creeping to the outside door silent as a church mouse or just making a mad dash for it, he moved cautiously past the desk at which Morgain was softly snoring. What he hadn't noticed when Mr. Scott had left by that door was that the door squeaked. Morgain's head jerked up at the sound and Chekov ran like the hounds of hell were after him. The black-haired woman had started to stick her head around the door jam when it opened and almost collided with him on his exit. She did collide with Morgain and Chekov left them entangled with each other.
Running down the street, Chekov tried to develop a plan. He couldn't run to the Institute to let Mr. Scott know he'd escaped the distance was far to great and that's probably where his former captors would expect him to go. They'd relieved him of his communicator, so contacting the ship wasn't in the immediate future either. It was a bit too far to run to the Federation base as well, especially since his former captors seemed to have regrouped and were now running after him.
He needed to get in touch with the local authorities, without a second to spare. So he did the only thing he could think of. Grabbing a rock from the landscaped grounds outside a shop, he threw it at the window and broke it. Given the orderly atmosphere that the main square usually maintained (except for the bar he'd just left), the result was instantaneous and gratifying. He was tackled by a small mob of citizens (who were getting tired of the unsavory characters that the bar seemed to attract). His former captors gave up the chase.
Unfortunately, his new captors had turned him over to the local authorities who had put him in his current quarters. They didn't allow him to contact anyone, they wouldn't listen to his explanation, they just tossed him into this bare cell after having manacled him. With no other recourse, he waited.
This was a really, really bad day.
After the twenty-fifth revision of how he was going to explain this to Captain Kirk without getting either Mr. Scott or him into any more trouble, the door opened and the jailer motioned for him to proceed down the hall. Waiting in what could only be an interrogation room was Captain Kirk and Mr. Scott. Chekov's relief at seeing Mr. Scott was almost enough to balance out the trepidation he felt at seeing the captain.
"Mr. Chekov, Mr. Scott has been explaining to the authorities what's been going on here. They're willing to drop the vandalism charges if you're willing to file a deposition about what happened to you. Do you agree?"
"Yes, sir. I'm more than willing to do that."
"The police will expect you in the morning. Enterprise, three to beam up."
Kirk paused on his way out of the transporter room. "I heard that you almost became a pirate, ensign."
"Sir?"
"Apparently the captain of Morgain's Marauders seemed quite taken with you."
Chekov shot a look at Mr. Scott, who seemed intent on checking the walls for flaws. "I don't think so, sir."
"Good, because I think your actions on Bidoah has closed piracy as a career option for you, at least with that group."
Copyright © 1997 Susan Moore
