Day 43: Sun Room, Second Shift

[arc_wrench]

When the shift changed, HK stayed put. Even after a long night of zombie killing, he had no interest in meatbag fuel, especially after all the discussion of chocolate with that rather strange meatbag. It was just making him crave the stuff even more than he had previously, if that was possible

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[sewenteen_sir]

He supposed the rations were decent enough to keep him in fit condition (even if they were rather ancient foods, he couldn't deny that the pancakes at least had been tasty), even if the question Arlene had asked him before his nurse had pulled him away was weighing on him.

No, those people probably couldn't redraw the star charts and sector charts from memory. They probably weren't even Starfleet--Chekov could have done a much better job. Really, the crew that had banded together to fight against Nero was being assigned to the Enterprise again (if Commander Spock's recollection was to be believed, and Chekov didn't see why the Vulcan would lie to him), so would it have killed Spock to feel a little... oh, camaraderie?

Worse, Chekov still hadn't heard from Kirk. He began to wonder if he had dreamed it all. But Spock's experiences corroborated his experiences. Had those things gotten Kirk too?

The Ensign flopped down on one of the empty couches and, after being provided with a journal and a pen, began idly drawing the relevant star charts and looking out the windows at the sky.

[Free!]

[coldest_blood]

He'd overslept. That simple fact bothered Bond more than it should have, and he was aware enough of his own mind to know this was because it was far easier to focus on that minor irritation than it was to focus on what he was half-convinced had to have been a hallucination, a bad reaction to some chemical he'd been slipped unawares. The dead couldn't rise. And yet, he had the ebbing ache of muscle fatigue to prove they had.

Though he had no real interest in food, with the scent of rot still lingering psychosomatically despite being gone in truth, but it took several minutes to convince the nurse who'd come to rouse him to let him linger in the Sun Room. His first stop was the bulletin board, but without much to hold his attention, he soon found himself circling the room. The young man with his notebook caught his eye, and he didn't bother to hide the glance angled toward the pages. "Interesting hobby," Bond noted, muting curiosity beneath bland pleasantry.

[:D?]

[sewenteen_sir]

[\o/]

Chekov looked up at the man who had approached him. Apparently he wasn't familiar with the star charts, though Chekov couldn't say he was surprised. The longer he was here, the more willing he was to accept that things were just strange. But, that was his mission, after all.

"Eh, it is not a hobby," he said politely, smiling up at the stranger. "It is my job. Area of study. I am a nawigator," he explained.

[coldest_blood]

"A..." Comprehension lagged a half-second behind, before setting in with a nigh-audible snap. Bond's gaze swept from the journal to the young man, narrowing slightly in speculation. "Navigator? Really? At your age?" He knew he sounded skeptical, but not doing so would possibly have been even more suspicious. The claim was certainly a peculiar one.

And yet, it didn't sound like the sort of delusion, if it was one, that should get someone landed in a mental institution. Not unless the boy thought he was a navigator on a pirate vessel in the late 17th century, and judging by demeanor alone, Bond doubted that was the case.

"Have you managed to piece together where exactly we are, then? Found our latitude?"

[sewenteen_sir]

"Eh... not yet," Chekov said, looking a little uncomfortable. He probably could figure out where they were, latitude and longitude-wise--if the skies weren't as unfamiliar as Commander Spock had claimed they were. Plus, Chekov didn't have any maps to compare his findings to.

"I haven't been outside during ze nighttime, you see," he explained. "And according to a few people who hawe taken a look at ze nighttime skies, ze stars and formations are not ze same as zey would be from Earth--which would suggest zat we are not in fact on Earth, but on an alien planet."

This didn't seem to bother Chekov in the slightest--possibly because that was what Starfleet did: explore other planets. It didn't occur to him that it might bother the perfect stranger commenting on his starcharts without knowing what they were.

"I am Chekov, by ze way. Pavel Andreievich Chekov," he said, smiling happily at the man.

[coldest_blood]

For just an instant, Bond's expression was one of utter and complete bemusement. "What other planet could we possibly be on?" Not only had the possibility not even occurred to him, it seemed utterly ludicrous, like something straight out of science fiction. The events of the night before, at least, had the evidence of his own senses behind them.

Even so, he made a vague mental note to look up the next time he was outside after dark and not beset by zombies.

His own introduction came after a heartbeat's pause to weigh his options. In the end, though, he opted for the name he knew was already known to at least one other person in the hospital, and likely to be known by the staff and their backers as well. No need to play into their game if he'd only be giving them information they already had. "Bond," he replied, offering a hand to the younger man. "James Bond."

[sewenteen_sir]

"It is nice to meet you, Mr. Bond," he said, closing his journal and offering him a handshake and a smile. Now that they'd exchanged names, it was probably only proper that Chekov offer him a seat. The young Russian gestured to a spot on the couch. "Will you have a seat? It is rather awkward to have a conwersation where ze two parties are on different levels, yes?"

Chekov set his journal aside, so as to not appear rude or like a work-a-holic. "As for which planet we could be on now, my Commander did not recognize ze constellations or planet formations of ze sky when he looked at it, so I am uncertain as to our current whereabouts. Howewer," Chekov said, holding up a finger. "If I can map out ze stars and planets, perhaps I can figure out where we are."

He sighed, looking back at his notebook briefly. "But my Commander does not approwe of zis plan."

[coldest_blood]

Bond's smile was very slight, just a faint curve of his mouth, but it conveyed humor readily enough. Not genuine, he saw little enough to laugh at in their current predicament, but it was a near enough facsimile to fool all but the most observant. "Yes, I suppose it is." He took a seat, subconsciously angling himself so he could still see a decent percentage of the room.

It was a pity, he reflected. Except for the apparently genuine belief that they could possibly be on another planet, Chekov seemed remarkably rational. It left him wondering if the younger man had actually been committed for some sort of mental illness, or if the fantasy was a method of coping with the circumstances. Either way, pressing the issue at the current point in time would benefit him nothing.

"I'd imagine he wouldn't," Bond said. "If yesterday's events are any indication, you'd be putting yourself at a great deal of risk, and wouldn't have the opportunity to gain much for it." A passing thought gave him pause, and after a few seconds of reflective silence, he added, "Is your Commander here, then?"

[sewenteen_sir]

Chekov nodded. "Yes, zough I have not met with him in person yet. Apparently, we both arriwed last night and were present for zis... 'zombie' attack. I spent most of my night in retreat, but I had no idea ze halls were not safe," he finished, then laughed a little. "I had no idea where we were, to be honest."

Now he had two conflicting opinions: Arlene who said that the people Spock had recruited to look at the skies weren't as skilled as he was, and Mr. Bond who said the risk wasn't worth it. Both seemed like viable opinions.

"How long hawe you been here, Mr. Bond?"

[coldest_blood]

"No one seems to be entirely certain of that," Bond replied, his tone gone a little dry. "At least not amongst our fellow inmates, and the staff aren't precisely talkative." He fell briefly silent, eyes narrowing just a little as he considered Chekov's words. "Were you taken together, then, you and your Commander? Or did they wait until you were separated?"

It had to be either convenience or significance that two people who had ties to one another would be brought in at the same time. And given the low-level psychological warfare, he wouldn't be averse to putting money on the second option as the more likely one.

"Not very long at all," Bond admitted. Though it might have been useful to feign being a veteran, he didn't yet have the depth of understanding of the place to pull it off if pressed for information. "They seem to be expanding their prisoner population fairly rapidly."