[ Chekov turns towards the voice, meeting the gaze of a woman who seems more calm and collected than he is. She's got a flower too, and Chekov figures there's a good chance she got it when waking up in this place, too. Judging by her eyes and the frankly creepy way she watches him, she's probably not the affectionate flower type.

She also doesn't look especially human. His first thought is Klingon, but when he looks closer, he realizes that's wrong too. She must be of some other warlike people, and Chekov just hopes that she's at least a little friendlier than the Klingons. ]

Perhaps it's a strange...custom of this planet. [ Because this must be another planet. Where else could they be? ] And therefore, flowers mean something different here. You do not, ah, happen to know where we are?

[ Chekov really, really hopes she doesn't use those knives on him. He's a navigator, a prodigy, not a fighter. ]