fear. [ Is that moving gelatin? Yup, it's moving gelatin. Chekov doesn't really know what to make of it. This place seemed like an average ruined city (as if there was a typical way for a city to fall into destruction and disrepair), but now, Chekov isn't so sure.
Not only is the gelatin moving -- it's alive, too. Chekov graduated the top of his class at Starfleet Academy. He'd remember learning about a creature like this. But no textbook, no simulation, ever prepared him for sentient goop. Chekov shields himself behind a building, staring at the blob with a mixture of delight, surprise, and a healthy dose of fear. The thing looks hungry.
He's tried to radio back to the Enterprise, but there's been no response. And that, out of anything, has been the most worrying so far.
Maybe the person beside him knows what's up. ]
Excuse me? Are you from here? Do you know what zat is?
hope. [ The flowers are beautiful and everything...but Chekov doesn't really know what to do with them. Right now he's just staring at them, face flushed. A secret admirer? Him? Chekov has always been popular with the ladies -- or at least, he likes to think he is -- but never popular on the secret admirer level. He'd expect that from the captain, but Chekov was always too endearing, too babyfaced, to be someone's secret love. Secret little brother, maybe, but not much more.
But now he's got a whole bunch of them in a wide array of colors. He knows the colors are supposed to mean something, but he can't remember what. Chekov was the sort of person to be fascinated by the symmetry of a flower, not its color.
In the center of the bunch, there's a single flower addressed to a certain Hikaru Sulu. ]
Is this a joke?
[ Chekov exclaims, his accent even thicker when he's distressed. He didn't buy or address this flower. So who did? ]
pavel chekov | star trek
[ Is that moving gelatin? Yup, it's moving gelatin. Chekov doesn't really know what to make of it. This place seemed like an average ruined city (as if there was a typical way for a city to fall into destruction and disrepair), but now, Chekov isn't so sure.
Not only is the gelatin moving -- it's alive, too. Chekov graduated the top of his class at Starfleet Academy. He'd remember learning about a creature like this. But no textbook, no simulation, ever prepared him for sentient goop. Chekov shields himself behind a building, staring at the blob with a mixture of delight, surprise, and a healthy dose of fear. The thing looks hungry.
He's tried to radio back to the Enterprise, but there's been no response. And that, out of anything, has been the most worrying so far.
Maybe the person beside him knows what's up. ]
Excuse me? Are you from here? Do you know what zat is?
hope.
[ The flowers are beautiful and everything...but Chekov doesn't really know what to do with them. Right now he's just staring at them, face flushed. A secret admirer? Him? Chekov has always been popular with the ladies -- or at least, he likes to think he is -- but never popular on the secret admirer level. He'd expect that from the captain, but Chekov was always too endearing, too babyfaced, to be someone's secret love. Secret little brother, maybe, but not much more.
But now he's got a whole bunch of them in a wide array of colors. He knows the colors are supposed to mean something, but he can't remember what. Chekov was the sort of person to be fascinated by the symmetry of a flower, not its color.
In the center of the bunch, there's a single flower addressed to a certain Hikaru Sulu. ]
Is this a joke?
[ Chekov exclaims, his accent even thicker when he's distressed. He didn't buy or address this flower. So who did? ]