Time regained its normal rigidity and had maintained it for well over an hour when the door to their tiny cell slid open.

"Hello, boys." Moray Morgain leaned against the frame. There was a long, oily grease mark down her left cheek. Her hair showed signs of being hastily coiled into a rough plait. She was flanked by a similarly weathered-looking Jessie Alleyn. "Miss me?"

Sulu rose, grateful for the opportunity to get out of the claustrophobic little locked closet, but Chekov remained seated.

"No," the ensign replied, crossing his arms and refusing to even look at the women.

"What happened?" Sulu asked.

"Orions, at a guess," Alleyn answered.

"The bastards," Morgain elaborated.

"We could have used another pair of hands wielding a fire extinguisher, but we made it." Alleyn addressed this half of her reply to Chekov, but the ensign seemed more interested in frowning at the deck.

"Made it where?" Sulu asked for his fellow officer.

Morgain shrugged. "Somewhere. Without the rocks. I wonder if anyone's going to realize just how much they could make by trawling that area with a fine net... You didn't think to fill your pockets, did you, angel?" She crossed to Chekov and nudged him with her foot. "Stand up, sweetheart. I think it would be worth my time to search you... one way or another."

The ensign gave her a coldly murderous look. "I think not."

Sulu frowned and wondered what had happened between the two of them. What had happened to Chekov period? The man in front of him seemed like a sullen changeling who just happened to look like the ensign Sulu knew.

"Oh, yes," Morgain replied, not backing away. "I forgot. The new 'no touching' rule is in effect, isn't it? What was it that you said would happen if I did? That you'd kill me?"

Standing over him with a disruptor in her hand, Morgain didn't seem particularly vulnerable. The ensign, on the other hand, didn't look as though he was going to let that stand in his way.

"Leave him alone, Moray," Alleyn ordered impatiently. "Get up, Peterson. You're on duty."

"What do you mean, he's on duty?" Sulu asked as the ensign reluctantly rose. No one bothered to provide him with an answer. Even more troubling, when he tried to follow Chekov out, the manacles on his wrists somehow became stuck to the door frame.

"Maybe we should take this one too," Alleyn said, as she dispassionately watched him struggle. "There are three of us. We can easily watch three of them."

Sulu stopped tugging at his cuffs when he noticed the way Moray Morgain was smiling at him. Perhaps Chekov was right about her. Nice people didn't have those sorts of smiles.

"Leave him alone," Chekov demanded, attempting to step between the two of them.

"Settle down, Peterson," Alleyn said, pulling him back. "She isn't going to do anything. You're needed up on the bridge. Scotty's having difficulty working out where we are..."

Chekov shook his head. "When we are," he corrected.

Alleyn and Morgain exchanged startled looks.

"What do you mean 'when'?" Morgain demanded. "Are you trying to make out like we've travelled in time?"

"Oh great." The madam sighed. "I've liquidated my business, the Orions have nearly wrecked this ship, the treasure is scattered over several cubic miles of empty space and now we don't know when we are. What's for dessert, Peterson, Armageddon?"

"Don't believe him, Jessie," Morgain cautioned. "This is just his latest idea to try and confuse us."

"What's holding you up?" Esme's voice broke in over the intercom. "I need them on the bridge now."

"We'll be there in a minute," Morgain replied, then turned back to Chekov. "I'm right, aren't I? This is just another one of your tricks, isn't it?"

The ensign shrugged as if it didn't bother him to be disbelieved. "You'll see."

* * *

In the end, the pirates decided to take Sulu with them to the bridge. Chekov wasn't sure if he was happy about this or not. It was a comfort to have someone trustworthy next to him as they rode the small lift up to the bridge, but with his lack of knowledge about the pirates and their treachery, Sulu could easily become a liability... a liability that Chekov had promised to take full responsibility for.

"Look," the lieutenant was saying, holding up his manacled wrists. "Are these really necessary?"

"Of course they are." Moray replied. "You're not exactly one of us, are you?"

"Neither is he," Sulu argued, pointing to Chekov.

"Oh, but he is," the pirate lady answer with a smile that made the ensign want to throttle her. "He's one of the crew now, aren't you, sweetheart? The doc trusts him. He's a model officer."

Sulu turned to him, a thousand questions the lieutenant didn't feel comfortable asking evident in his eyes. "Oh."

"He told her about the drive accelerator in your ship and now they're best friends. Right, sweetheart?"

Chekov fixed his gazed on the lift doors in front of him, refusing to confirm or deny anything. A drive accelerator... So that was how Esme had sold the time-travel device to her crew... and to Scott. The engineer probably hadn't bought it, but had been curious enough to want to wire it in and see what it would do.

"The drive accelerator," Sulu repeated, giving no sign he knew anything to the contrary. "And that's how we got away from the Orions?"

"They didn't see us for dust, honey," the pirate lady confirmed.

The bridge was smoke-streaked. Its deck was littered with the debris of hurried repairs. Scott was already in the process of doing a second sweep to tidy up. He was stacking damaged components ready for disposal. "The blast of chronomic particles that thing kicked up is dissipating at a fair lick. You should have warned me it would do that."

'Of course,' the ensign thought resentfully as he stepped out of the lift. 'As usual it's all my fault.'

"I had no idea it would do that," he replied aloud.

"No idea?" The engineer put his hands on his hips. "Don't try to convince me you don't know how the thing works."

"I don't."

"I won't have you stand there and lie to me, mister," Scott warned.

"Lie?" Chekov could feel his outrage grow to a red-hot blaze. "You are accusing me of lying?"

"Wait," Moray interrupted, jerking a thumb towards Sulu. "I thought the thing came out of his ship. Why don't you ask him about it?"

The lieutenant shrugged. "I'm not an engineer. I wouldn't know a drive accelerator from a pickle fork."

"But why should Chekov...?"

Esme turned from the communications console and faced them all. "It didn't come out of anyone's ship. It was in the pod."

There was a moment of silence as her crew absorbed this information.

"I thought as much," Scott said, nodding. "So where did you get the instructions, Chekov?"

"The instructions were with the device."

"Just with it?" the engineer probed dubiously. "Out in the open?"

"Yes," Chekov replied, wishing the truth was less unbelievable. "There was a message with it... It... it seemed to be addressed specifically to me..."

"Oh, was it, now?" The engineer crossed his arms. "To you? In Russian, I suppose?"

"Yes, it was." Chekov was taken aback by his accuracy. "How did you surmise that, Mr. Scott?"

"Because I've suffered through enough of your reports to recognize your particular brand of twaddle."

The ensign ground his teeth. He knew he was oversensitive to criticism at the best of times, and he couldn't really blame the engineer for doubting his story about the device, but Scott's continual carping about some real or imagined fault of the ensign's was beginning to wear very thin.

"There's something wrong with the way I write reports?" he asked testily.

"Christ," the engineer swore, pushing the ensign past him towards the helm. "I've no time to give you a six-month review now. I don't know where we are... or when. I can't tell if we've travelled backwards or forwards in time...."

Chekov could hear Morgain and Alleyn react to this confirmation, but Scott continued unperturbed, "So far as I know, our receiving equipment is functioning properly, but I'm not picking up any locational beacons. I assume that's because the beacons aren't transmitting. Work out our location the old fashioned way. I'd do it myself, but I don't have the patience and I want an answer quickly."

Chekov sat down and flexed his fingers. A nice, straightforward navigation problem. The time factor didn't make it difficult... once one had accepted that there was a time factor. He was marginally aware that an argument between Esme and her colleagues had started behind him. He let the sound of their voices wash over him without attending to their words. He knew that if there was a change in the balance of power as a product of their wrangling, someone would be sure to put a disruptor to his head and inform him of the results.

Scott left him alone to get on with his calculations. The engineer was raking debris into a single heap at his feet. Some time later, the ensign noticed that Sulu was helping Scott. The lieutenant's manacles had been demagnitized. Chekov wondered if this was a positive sign.

After a few more minutes devoted to double-checking his work, the ensign turned to face the pirate crew. Esme was looking defiant. Moray Morgain was looked annoyed. Jessie Alleyn's mood was hard to read as she sat down at communications.

"We are roughly halfway between Darius and the Medean cluster," he announced. "Still well within Orion territory -- or what will be Orion territory in roughly... I can't be more precise, but I calculate that we have travelled approximately two thousand, eight hundred, and forty-seven years into the past."

"More than five hundred years before Christ." Scott breathed. "Before the Roman Empire... Are you sure, lad?"

"Plus or minus three Terran years," Chekov confirmed, then added coldly, "The calculations are here. I anticipated you might wish to review them since it seems I cannot be trusted to relay information accurately."

"Never mind that." The engineer waved a hand dismissively, refusing to be riled. "It's just difficult to adjust to the idea."

"Wait a minute," Morgain broke in. "Let's just stop this little game of 'let's pretend' right now. Time travel isn't possible. You know that. I know that. It's been proven."

Scott and Sulu glanced at each other and away again. "Well, lass," the engineer replied with a shrug, "it wouldn't be the first time I've done the impossible."

"Well, isn't this cosy?" Morgain surveyed the Enterprise officers with a discontented frown. "It looks like your buddies are going to back you up on this one, sweetheart. Unfortunately, that doesn't make you any more convincing. I say we..."

"Check the beacons," the ensign interrupted, pointing to the communications station. "We're not picking up standard subspace navigational beacons. See for yourself. We're not picking up anything you'll recognize. If you speak Orion..."

"I do."

"Ancient Orion," Chekov specified, "you may be able to..."

"Is he right, Scotty?" Alleyn asked, firing up the communications system to put the ensign's suggestion to the test.

"Aye. It's a straightforward enough problem in navigation. You're all free to check the lad's figuring if you wish."

Chekov sat back and awaited the grand rush for his console. It didn't materialize.

Esme was staring at a viewscreen. "Somehow I expected it to look different," she said, "but some of that light is already billions of years old..."

"So you knew this was possible?" Alleyn asked. "Is this part of some plan of yours then? Because let me tell you right now, if this is part of some personal crusade of yours, I don't want to sign up. I want to go back to Quondar."

The medic turned back towards her crew with a sigh. "We need to talk about what we're going to do now -- and exactly what we all expect to get out of it. You do all understand, I hope, that no one can call for help; no one can get away from the rest..."

"But we can decide to go back where we belong," Alleyn pointed out. "I want to go back now."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Jessie, lass."

The madam swung around to face Scott. "Why?"

"Time travel is a complicated kettle of fish. If we already did come back..."

"Which we did," Esme chipped in. "How else did Chekov know what the medallion meant and how to get into the pod and how the device worked?"

"..then if we don't do whatever we did, we risk changing history."

Alleyn thought for a moment. "We're talking about three thousand years ago in another part of the galaxy. How much difference can we have made..?"

"There's one theory that would support the notion that time is, as you're thinking, pretty stable," Scott agreed. " Like a planet. You can't really shift it from its orbit."

"Exactly." Alleyn nodded.

"And there's another theory...." The engineer pursed his lips. "That a tiny change gets exponentially amplified."

"We're talking about the Orion empire," Esme broke in, "light years from home. No one from Earth even knew the Orions existed until about twenty years ago. Maybe we'll change their history. I don't see how we can change ours..."

"So we can go home," Alleyn said triumphantly.

"Sure, girl. We can also stay and get the treasure and not put it in that pod." Esme's crew pricked up their ears at this idea. Scott carefully reiterated, "We can put it somewhere else..."

"Don't you think we have a responsibility to respect Orion history too?" Sulu looked around at the assembled angry, greedy, or resentful faces and decided to shut up.

"We have to consider all of that," the engineer agreed. "But the doctor's right. We should get the treasure first."

"Once a pirate, always a pirate," Chekov muttered -- loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"What was that, Mister?" Scott asked sharply

Content to have made his point, the ensign turned back to his board. "Nothing, sir."

The engineer crossed his arms. "And just what do you imagine I want the bloody Orlan Du's treasure for?"

Chekov turned, a cutting reply on the tip of his tongue. It froze there when he saw the look in the engineer's eyes. He suddenly remembered the missing stones and the obvious reason he'd thought of to account for their absence. "Is there damage to the warp drive?" he asked, a bit meekly.

Moray Morgain snorted. "You'd be better off asking if there's anything left of the warp drive."

"Mister Scott, I'm... That is to say... I.." Chekov stammered, amazed at how difficult it had become to apologize to someone whom he had once held in the very highest regard.

"If you've finished fixing our position, Ensign, then you might make yourself more useful by helping Mister Sulu clear the deck."

Chekov, his cheeks burning with an embarrassment he didn't feel he'd completely earned, slid out of his seat and began to gather an armful of debris. He automatically checked it over as he went for items that were sharp or heavy... or explosive... or capable of generating loud noises or bursts of smoke. He glanced up. Both Esme and Moray Morgain were watching him. Sulu was also back at work.

"All that can be recycled," Scott directed. "That's beyond salvage."

The engineer seemed content to let the two younger men get on with the work. He wiped his hands off on his black pantaloons and leaned up against the main engineering console. "Esme, you'll have to get Brecht up here. We'll need every scrap of information he can give us."

Sulu smiled across at Chekov as his hands folded around a heavy duty power pack. The cutoff device that normally prevented any risk of a rapid discharge -- with accompanying fireworks -- hung loose, the connections broken. Sulu picked up a scrap of twisted, naked wire as long as his finger and an assortment of other bits and pieces and stood up, his hands full.

Chekov glanced around the bridge. Esme had a disruptor on her lap, not in her hands. Morgain's disruptor was tucked in her belt. Alleyn was occupied in the far corner of the bridge, trying to tease some life out of the communications console. Her phaser was inches, therefore maybe seconds, from her fingers. Sulu could be immobilized at a moment's notice, but a moment could be enough, if Chekov was ready to move. He'd have to grab Esme's weapon, stun Morgain and hope Scott would deal with the third woman. If only he could be sure of the engineer...

"Do you want us to jettison these or recycle them?" Sulu asked innocently.

Chekov suddenly noticed that Jessie Alleyn had picked up her phaser. Sulu was facing away from her and couldn't have noticed. It wasn't going to work. If Alleyn used a phaser on Sulu while he was holding the pack, even on stun, the thing wasn't going to discharge, it would explode. The lieutenant would never know what hit him.

Chekov dropped what he was holding and knocked the pack out of Sulu's hands.

The manacles clicked. Esme and the others had their weapons in their hands immediately, one trained on each of the men. It was obvious the ladies had been prepared for trouble all along.

Esme pushed the power pack out of either man's reach with her toe.

"Well, how resourceful." She looked Chekov over narrowly. "Thank you, Mister Chekov. I can't say I like you for it. But... I appreciate it." The medic made an impatient gesture with her disruptor in Sulu's direction. The helmsman was maintaining a careful poker face. "I could be really annoyed about this, but I had an agreement with Chekov, so you're going to get off lightly... this time."

A flicker of worry showed in Sulu's eyes. "Look, I don't know what he thought I was going to do. I was just making sure it wouldn't go off..."

"Pull the other one, honey," Alleyn suggested.

"Don't worry, lieutenant," Esme assured him. "As I said, I have an agreement with Mr. Chekov. There aren't going to be any repercussions... for you."

The ensign got the distinct and familiar feeling that he was in deep trouble.

Sulu looked back and forth between the two of them. "I don't understand. Chekov's made some sort of deal with you to guarantee my safety?"

"Yes, and he has agreed to be responsible for your behavior. I'm going to stick to my side of that bargain." The medic smiled at the ensign coldly. "Now he has to stick to his."

"I have taken responsibility," Chekov protested. "I stopped him. What more do you expect me to do?"

The medic shook her head. "I saw Jessie pick up her phaser. You must have seen her too. You stopped him because he was going to get killed. Am I right?"

"No. I..."

"You really expect me to believe you'd stick to an agreement we made when I had a gun to your head? When you had the chance to get control at last? Control of not just this ship, not just the treasure, but of history itself?" She let the question hang in the air for a moment. "I don't think so, Mister Chekov. Put him in with Khwaja for tonight, Jessie."

The ensign could feel his insides turn to ice.

"Who's Khwaja?" Sulu was asking. "Look, I'm quite prepared to pay for my own mistakes..."

"Shut up," Scott interrupted harshly. "There's no call for you to mix in this."

Chekov lifted his chin and walked off the bridge before anyone could decide to drag him.

Jessie Alleyn joined him. "You idiot," she hissed after the doors closed. "That was the first opportunity we had to take her."

Chekov blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You saw how alert she is. She hasn't taken her eye off Scotty for a second We were waiting until you and Sulu were brought out. Scotty planted that pack for one of you to find..."

"The two of you had planned..?"

"It was a chance, and you blew it."

Chekov sighed. It made sense. If something suddenly went right, of course he'd be the one to spoil it. "Miss Alleyn, if you could obtain another phaser, you and I could go back to the bridge..."

"Forget it. She's twitchy now." Alleyn replied, then shrugged. "And... Well, if I put you in with Khwaja, she's not going to think I'm on your side, is she? Now I think your friend is along here somewhere...."

***

The pirate looked up from his bunk and smiled. "Well, well, well. What have I done to deserve this?"

They'd locked Khwaja in his own cabin. It was stripped bare of almost everything but the mattress and bedcovers. The door slid closed with a solid-sounding thud, leaving Chekov on the inside.

"No, wait. I'm asking the wrong thing." The pirate rolled over onto his side and propped his head up against one arm. "They've not thrown you to me because of anything I've done, have they? What I should be asking is what have you done to deserve this?"

That question was paramount in the ensign's mind as he stood with his back to the door, waiting for the other man to make a move of some sort. Looking to the side, Chekov could see that the intercom had been confiscated along with everything else. He wondered if Esme had arranged for some other form of monitoring. If she'd really wanted to discourage Sulu from making trouble in the future, she might have contrived a live demonstration of the disadvantages.

"You aren't going anywhere, kitten," Khwaja assured him, then crooked a finger. "Come here."

Chekov was so occupied with weighing the pros and cons of cooperating in what was to come that he neglected to verbally decline the invitation. The fact that Khwaja had never actually carried out his threats in the past was no guide to his current behavior. The least psychological damage seemed to lie in defiance. However there was no ignoring the pirate's six foot six inch height, thirty inch shoulder span and easy seventy-five pound advantage in weight. Defiance might make depressingly little difference.

"That was an order, Ensign," the pirate clarified.

So they were playing that game again... Chekov wasn't sure which was more dangerous; pretending Khwaja wasn't a pirate or pretending he was. As he moved to a position parallel to the other man but well beyond an arm's length away, the ensign remembered listening with half his attention in an Academy class while female cadets were advised to keep talking to an assailant who had the upper hand. Well, it had worked with Khwaja until now. The only problem with this plan was that Chekov could not for the life of him think of light and pleasant small talk appropriate to this situation.

"Did we come under attack or was that just Moray's bad driving?" Khwaja asked helpfully.

"Or.. Or.." Chekov found that his throat had gone very dry and his lips had forgotten how to function properly. He cleared his throat and started over. "The ship was attacked by Orions."

"Hmm." The pirate rolled back onto his back, folding his arms thoughtfully behind his head. "Much damage?"

"I'm not certain." Chekov decided it might be best to keep the information he divulged to the minimum. He certainly didn't want to say anything that might aid in any escape plans the pirate might be hatching. "The cargo bay was breached."

"Oh." It took the pirate a moment to realize the significance of this. "We lose the treasure?"

"Yes."

Chekov remained silent while the other man chewed this information over. It again struck the ensign how concerned with the treasure this supposed Intelligence Agent was. Then, to his surprise, Khwaja smiled.

"Congratulations."

It hardly seemed logical for Khwaja to add sarcasm to his arsenal at this point, so Chekov took the remark at face value. "I beg your pardon?"

"Mmm." Khwaja seemed lost in thought for a moment. "You know the navigation security codes for the Enterprise, don't you?"

"No."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to ask you to tell me them. I just want to establish something. If you needed to prove to me that you're who you claim to be, you could tell me those codes."

"I don't care if you believe..."

"But Mister Scott, for example, wouldn't know them."

Chekov merely narrowed his eyes, waiting to see where this was leading before he got involved in further denials and misdirections.

"And Sulu wouldn't know all of them, or would he?" Khwaja was silent long enough that Chekov eventually answered.

"What is the point..."

"The point is, that if I could have got them from him, there's no point me using them to convince you that I am who I say I am."

"Lieutenant Sulu should not know the codes which were valid the last time I was on duty on the Enterprise. He was not on the bridge that day. But..."

"Theta four three, seven rho. Correct?"

Chekov felt cold, and nauseous. He rested his hands against the bulkhead behind him to keep himself steady. "So you are..."

"Who I say I am."

The ensign shook himself. "No."

"How else would I..."

"You could have told me this earlier. Much earlier. You had to wait until you could force, or trick, someone to give you this information. Brecht might even have discovered it when he drugged me."

"With Tanctin?" Khwaja laughed. "I gave you credit for more discretion than that, kitten." He waited for a moment. "Look, you're right. Anyone around here could have tried out any drug they wanted on you over the last few days. So you set the parameters. I don't claim to know all about you, Chekov, but I know more than you might imagine. School friends. Grades at the Academy. How many demerits, and why you got each one of them. What my good friend Jim Kirk said in your last six monthly appraisal, if you aren't too modest to want to talk about that. He has a soft spot for you, Chekov." Khwaja smiled suggestively. "Like I do."

Chekov ignored the taunting. "At which university did my mother obtain her doctorate?"

"Presumably that's something you don't remember having told any of your shipmates. Ulan Bator, under Professor Semeonova. Late sixteenth century ceramics."

"But that is a matter of public record..."

"Then why the fuck waste my time asking?" Khwaja snapped.

Chekov scowled at him. "Very well. As a first year engineering project at the Academy, Niles Johnson and I built a prototype shuttle. What did we call it?"

"Its registration was FLC 4126. So I imagine you called her Falcon, right? But you didn't work with Niles Johnson. Your partner on that project was Britta Earle."

The shakes were getting worse. Chekov gave up and let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting on the deck. "Okay. Commander, or whatever I should call you. Since you are an Intelligence agent, what now?"

"You're smart. You tell me."

"Obviously, since you are in military intelligence, you are not going to tell me anything unless it is absolutely necessary." To Chekov, this was irritatingly even more convincing than being given the Falcon's registry details.

"Correct."

Chekov let his head slump forward for a moment, then took a breath and became businesslike. "Three thousand years ago, the Orion hegemony was about to become unified. The great houses were beginning to cooperate. The activities of the Orlan Du, the theft of valuable property, and the invasion of the hereditary strongholds which that involved, was enough to destroy the tentative treaties and alliances which had been formed. The Orions effectively took a big backward step, from which they have not yet recovered."

"And..."

"And that means that when we became capable of interstellar flight, instead of confronting a vast, unified Orion empire, something like the Klingon and Romulan civilisations which border the other two sides of UFP space..."

"There is room for expansion in that direction. Instead of being squashed between three evenly matched powers -- squashed out of existence altogether most likely -- we and our various allies had room to grow. As you've realised, kitten, the Orlan Du's little horde of treasure is of no significance at all, compared to that."

Chekov swallowed bile. "And we are the Orlan Du."

"Looks like it. I couldn't be sure until I knew you had the capability to travel in time. That was one reason why I didn't want to blow my cover irretrievably at too early a stage. If you'd turned out to be a wild goose, I needed to stick with Goudchaux and Co until the real bird showed up."

"How long..."

"Starfleet Intelligence came into possession of certain information about three months ago You don't need to know any more than that."

"We need to know exactly what the Orlan Du did. Otherwise..."

"You know as much as I do, kitten. That's the beauty of the situation. No one knows any details..."

"The danger, that we will change history..."

"We have absolutely no way of knowing what we've already done, so there's no point worrying about it. Of course, if you want to worry about it, kitten, I can't stop you, but believe me, it won't help." The pirate's mouth curved into a pearly white smile. "I could always give you something else to worry about..." Chekov frowned and remained silent. Now he knew that Khwaja was truly associated with Starfleet, the ensign was looking forward to turning in a lengthy report on his conduct. For starters, Chekov was sure that there were several quite stringent regulations against referring to subordinates as 'kitten' -- no matter what the circumstances.

"So..." Khwaja made a performance of yawning and stretching. "I'm still waiting for your confession, kitten. Who did you annoy so badly that they had to send you straight to my bed without any supper? Because we need to think about how you're going to get me out of here so I can take control of this ship"

"When you tell Mister Scott..."

"No one is telling Montgomery Scott anything."

"But he's a Starfleet officer," Chekov retorted hotly.

Khwaja snorted. "I guess you haven't heard about his days on the Lydia Lee."

"I know that he was abducted as I was..."

Khwaja laughed, the inside of his mouth very pink and white against his dark skin. "Did he tell you how the story ended?"

"The ship was destroyed and he.."

"Right. When did he go back to being a good boy? When it was his best option. Not a moment sooner. He was three weeks short of his eighteenth birthday and adult penal colonies. He was given a discharge on the condition he took up a place on a Starfleet technician training program. I guess the judge thought that much talent on the loose was a bad thing. And you must know that he had a history of stowing away even before that. So he wasn't exactly a blue-eyed innocent. Did very well for himself, wouldn't you say?"

Chekov remained stonily silent.

"You don't have to believe me, but you're a fool if you don't doubt him," Khwaja warned. "You're a hopeless judge of character, kitten. Like Alleyn... she's wanted in three quadrants for drug running and forced prostitution. Even the Orions want to talk to her. Or Morgain, for Christ's sake. Or me. Listen, if I was what I was pretending to be..." The ex-pirate broke off and grinned. "Then I'd have already had your sweet little... self a hundred times and done things to you ten times worse than what you were imagining."

"I had no reason to trust you," Chekov said stiffly. "And abundant reasons not to."

Khwaja laughed at his discomfort. "I think I ought to have sex with you, kitten. You wouldn't be so afraid of it after that."

"I would prefer that you not speak to me this way, Mister Hanton," Chekov requested between clenched teeth.

"Just look at yourself, junior." The ex-pirate stretched out one long leg in his direction and grinned as the ensign flinched away warily. "You panic. You make mistakes. You trust all the wrong people."

"I suppose you're going to attempt to convince me that Mister Sulu is also untrustworthy," Chekov said, trying to regain his long-lost composure.

"I wouldn't say that... " The ex-pirate didn't sound convinced. "I don't know... I'll be straight with you. We didn't know he was going to be involved, so we didn't check him out. We'll keep this just between the two of us. Need to know. You understand."

It was finally Chekov's turn to sound dubious. "You are proposing to duplicate the activities of the Orlan Du without telling anyone else what is going on?"

"I think I can persuade certain people that a little larceny might be a good idea. Brecht we need on our side. He's very well informed..."

"Because he is also in Starfleet Intelligence?" Chekov suggested hopefully.

Khwaja laughed so hard he had to brush tears out of his eyes. "Always the optimist, aren't you, kitten? Stuart Brecht is in the business of supplying intelligence, certainly, but... not to us, not for free at any rate. Morgain is someone else we can use, if you think you can keep her under control." He cocked an eyebrow and waited for Chekov's reaction.

"At least I know my limitations." Chekov folded his arms and stared straight back at the agent.

Khwaja grinned. "Fascinating as this discussion is, Ensign, we have other concerns at the moment. Mainly, how you're going to get me out of solitary confinement and back into circulation -- within the next twenty-four hours." Khwaja stood up and pulled the cover off his bunk. "It will be easier than you think. I know they're watching you. But they aren't going to be expecting you to do anything to help me out, are they?"

Chekov shifted away from him warily as Khwaja began undressing. "Hardly..."

"I'll leave the details up to you then," Khwaja informed him, tossing the blanket to his fellow prisoner.

Chekov clutched it like a shield. "They... they may be suspicious if..."

"Shhh," Khwaja ordered, lying back down on his bunk. "It's bedtime for good little ensigns."

"Mr. Hanton..."

"I said shut up." The ex-pirate grinned. "Or do you want to keep me up all night?"

The ensign ignored his off-color double entendre. "When Esme ordered that I be put in here..."

"I know, I know," Khwaja reassured him, turning off the light. "And I don't mean to disappoint either of you, but we can deal with that in the morning."

***

Chekov didn't know what it was at first. Something was brushing at his face. He swiped at it.

It didn't go away. When he tried to brush it aside this time, he became dimly aware that the nuisance was a hand.... Someone's hand... stroking his cheek... Someone's hand... A big hand... A man's hand.

Chekov only became aware that he had been asleep when he started violently awake.

"Take it easy, junior." Khwaja's face loomed over him. "Don't have a heart attack. Someone will be here to claim you soon. You want to be awake for that, don't you?"

"Take your hands off me, Commander." The ensign struggled up to sitting.

The agent grinned and sat back on his heels. He shook a finger in Chekov's face. "You're forgetting the need for a little role-play this morning. Now, tell me what happened last night."

Chekov's eyes narrowed. "Nothing."

"Really?" Khwaja feigned surprise. "When I've been breaking my heart for you ever since you came aboard?"

The ensign's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'll simply tell everyone that I eluded you as before."

When Chekov tried to rise to his feet, Khwaja easily pulled him back down. "And just how long are they going to buy that?" he asked, casually pinning the ensign's shoulders against the wall.

"As long as is necessary," Chekov replied between clenched teeth.

"All right, kitten. We'll play it your way." The pirate's left hand ran down the ensign's cheek. When Chekov tried to pull away, Khwaja gripped his throat. "When Esme asks if you slept well last night, you tell that dried up old bitch that when I have you..." Khwaja whispered, his mouth so close that the ensign could feel the heat of the other man's breath. "--And I will have you -- that it's going to be on my terms."

The ensign swallowed hard.

"Can you remember that?"

Chekov nodded.

The pirate's grip tightened. "Do you believe it, ensign?"

Chekov cleared his throat painfully. "No, but..."

A second hand found its way inside his shirt and traced a slow spiral around his navel. "Do you believe it?"

"I'd prefer not to answer that, sir."

The pirate laughed. "Have it your way, kitten. Just remember that your orders are to get me out of here."

The ensign looked him in the eye. "And if I don't?"

"Eventually, someone else will. And then I'll make good on my promise. I always make good on my promises."

As if to punctuate this statement, Khwaja struck Chekov across the face, right and left. He followed the blows up with a solid punch to the ensign's midsection.

"There," he said, dragging the ensign to his feet and shoving him towards the cabin's door. "That should lend an air of authenticity to whatever story you tell them."

Chekov thudded into unkind metal.

The pirate turned back to his bunk, unconcerned. "Just cower there until someone comes for you."

***

'Someone' was Sulu, free of ironware and carrying a weapon. The lieutenant beckoned Chekov out of the cabin, gesturing Khwaja to keep away from the door. "Come on."

The ensign clambered to his feet, thinking that Sulu looked as if liberating him was one item on a lengthy list of non-urgent chores. He brushed impatiently past the lieutenant, anxious to get away from Khwaja and talk all this over with someone he really trusted. If he was court-martialled for disobeying the agent's orders, so be it.

His intentions were thwarted by the presence of Jessie Alleyn. Sulu noticed Chekov's obvious displeasure at seeing her.

"It's okay, Chekov." The lieutenant patted the ensign's shoulder reassuringly. "She's on our side. Miss Alleyn helped us get the drop on the other two. She was going to help us on the bridge last night if..."

"So she said," Chekov interrupted brusquely as they set off for the lift together. "When did you regain control of the ship?"

Sulu hit the button to summon the lift. "It's not been long. A few hours at most."

"Hours?" Chekov repeated as the lift doors opened.

"Not that long, Peterson." Alleyn impatiently pushed him into the car.

"You waited hours before..." Chekov began disbelievingly.

"Things have been pretty busy," Sulu replied -- not very apologetically. "We can't generate enough power to get back. The drive's been damaged too badly. It was a three-handed job to get it..."

"You left me locked in there," Chekov said slowly, "while you while you worked on the drive..."

"Sorry," Sulu apologized as the 'lift rose a little jerkily to the bridge. "I know you would have liked to been there, but I guess we thought you could use the sleep."

"Sleep?" Chekov turned accusingly to Alleyn.

She shrugged. "Don't blame me, Peterson. If you'd trusted me, you could have saved yourself whatever happened between you and your friend Khwaja."

Sulu laughed. "Don't pay any attention to him, Jessie. Chekov always thinks everyone's trying to jump him. It's totally unjustified sexual paranoia."

Alleyn looked dubious. "I wouldn't say it was totally unjustified."

Chekov was too infuriated to respond at all. He elbowed Sulu aside as the lift doors opened. "Mister Scott..."

The engineer didn't look up. "Don't bother me. I'm just getting this fixed."

"Come on, Chekov." Sulu beckoned to him. "You're here now. Let's go to work."

Alleyn pushed him forward with the hand that was holding her phaser. "Go on, Peterson."

The ensign whirled on her angrily. "Don't touch me, you..."

Sulu quickly stepped between the two before the situation could escalate. "Calm down, Chekov. She's on our side."

Chekov pulled himself free. "Is that your side 'our side', or my side 'our side'?"

"Shut your mouth, Chekov," Scott snapped. "We've no time for your blasted Russian paranoia."

"Don't yell at him, Scotty," Alleyn said, tucking her phaser into her waistband. "He's still a little upset."

"Upset?" Scott repeated. "I'm a bit upset myself. I set up a way out for..."

"You told me to cooperate with Esme and Morgain," Chekov retorted angrily.

"When I thought that was your only way out of here alive. Things have changed a little..."

"I don't give my word and then break it just as it suits me."

"Is that it?" The engineer appeared as exasperated as he was furious. "You mean to tell me, you were willing to sacrifice all of our lives and futures just so you could keep your precious word?"

"No," Chekov admitted, not pleased at having to concede he'd been acting as expediently as the rest of them. He pointed at Alleyn. "I saw her reach for her weapon. How was I supposed to know what agreement existed between the two of you? I have no way of knowing who I can trust... if I can trust anyone."

This didn't seem to sit well with the engineer. He rose from his seat and stepped towards the ensign. "Now you listen to me, Ensign. I'm sick and tired of your insinuations about me..." He gestured towards Alleyn. "And my friends."

"That's fair," Chekov replied, not backing down. "Because I'm certainly sick of the treatment I have received from your friends... and you."

"Chekov," Sulu warned.

"It sounds as though you're on the edge of insubordination, Mister," Scott said, his eyes narrowing.

"Wait, Chekov, Mr. Scott, wait," Sulu said before what might have been a very unwise reply left the ensign's lips. "This isn't getting us anywhere." He swallowed as both of the combatants turned to him with less than kindly looks. "We're all tired and on edge. Let's take a break. Get some breakfast."

Scott didn't look as though he was any more willing than the ensign to let the argument drop. However after a moment he nodded. "Perhaps you're right. Get down to the galley, Chekov," he said, turning his back on the ensign. "See if you can't make yourself useful there."

"I'll go with him," Sulu said, quickly manoeuvring the unrepentant ensign towards the lift.

***

"Would you mind telling me what all that was about?"

Chekov had shoved one of the messroom chairs against a bulkhead. He sat making no move to help as Sulu turned out danish pastries with creative efficiency. He was churning over Khwaja's orders, and Sulu's seeming indifference. If he was going to disobey a direct order, he wanted to be sure it was worth it.

"Are you going to sit there and sulk?" Sulu said, tossing him a danish. "Or are you going to help me?"

"What is the extent of the damage to this ship?" Chekov asked, quite content to sulk for a good while longer.

"For starters, the drive's still in bad shape."

"What will Mister Scott need to fix it?"

"Dilithium, primarily. He can get secondary warp capability with what we've got, but that won't give us enough power to use the device."

"Can't your ship's drive be cannibalized?"

"We're going to try," Sulu said as he hunted for eating utensils. "Given the.. uh, internal instability of the situation with this crew, Mr. Scott wanted all the preliminary work done first. He wanted to keep the amount of time where both ships would be disabled to a minimum."

"Saving your ship as a potential escape vessel?" Chekov absently pulled the danish in two. "Third drawer to the left."

"Thanks." Sulu looked back over his shoulder as he picked out a couple forks. "You don't act like you think that's a good idea."

"Useless," the ensign pronounced with a shrug. "In this time period, there's nowhere to escape to. Besides, changes of power here usually happen too quickly to allow for escape plans."

"So I've noticed." Sulu placed a trio of cups on the tray. "But if we do have time to make a run for it, I think I'd rather be alive in Ancient Orion space than dead in..."

"Perhaps he means for someone else to use that ship," Chekov speculated.

"Like who?"

"One of his 'friends' perhaps. Perhaps he'd prefer that someone like his old friend Goudchaux not return to our time period to testify against him."

"You *are* paranoid," Sulu concluded.

"Sulu, throughout all this, Mr. Scott has given me only enough assistance to ensure I would be obligated to follow him in a crisis. It has been an asset to him to know that there was at least one person he could count on to obey him. He has been the only person on board to have that advantage."

"Chekov, you're talking like he's one of them."

"He is one of them," the ensign assured him. "I can't trust him any longer. He certainly doesn't trust me."

"Would you be willing to at least listen to an alternate explanation?" Sulu asked, patiently putting down a stack of plates.

Chekov nodded vehemently. What he really, really wanted was to be convinced that Montgomery Scott was the solidly reliable Starfleet officer he'd always appeared to be, so that Chekov could hand over responsibility for this whole mess to him.

"Leaving aside the fact that he might have gotten into some trouble as a teenager -- and who didn't borrow their parents' flitter before they were sixteen, or bunk off school a few times? -- isn't it just possible that Mr. Scott is completely out of his depth here? He's gotten himself into a lot more than the drunken evening in a bar with some old friends that he thought he was getting into. Worse than that, he accidentally got you -- and me -- involved. Now we're all tangled up in the kind of problem that would have Starfleet Command in a cold sweat if they knew about it. He's a great engineer. He's a good commander -- when he has a clearly defined objective. Right now, I don't think he has one -- other than getting this ship back in peak operating condition and getting us back to our own time. I don't think he has anymore of an idea of what's going on than we do. And if what you've told me is true..."

Chekov hastily took a large bite of the danish. "Why would I lie to you?" he demanded awkwardly round a mouthful of pastry and cherry preserve.

"I mean, if things are as you've been told they are, then there's a personal element to this too. He and Jessie Alleyn seem to really..."

The intercom chimed and both men glanced up.

"I need you back up here, Sulu," Scott said. "We're about to test the drive. Now."

"What about Chekov?" Sulu asked. "Shall I..."

"He can bring breakfast up when it's ready. Get up here."

"Yes, sir." Sulu smiled at Chekov. "See, he does trust you. Just follow orders and stop trying to second guess everyone. The coffee will be two minutes. I'll see you back on the bridge." He hesitated, then slid a phaser onto the table in the middle of the room. "You better feed the prisoners too. Take this in case there's any trouble, and be careful..."

"It would be safer to let them starve." Then Chekov thought better of it. Sooner or later Khwaja was going to need to know where everyone was. "Okay. Tell me where they all are..."

***

Chekov didn't immediately stir from his seat once Sulu was gone. He sighed heavily. Under any other circumstances, the lieutenant would have been perfectly correct. And it was undeniably pleasant to be spoken to considerately and reasonably. However, the orders Chekov was about to obey weren't the ones Sulu had in mind.

If Scott had finished whatever temporary repairs were possible on the Nell, but not commenced taking Sulu's yacht apart, then now was the time to risk losing his willing cooperation. He stood up and took possession of the phaser.

As he walked along the corridor to Khwaja's cabin, he felt the shimmer of vibration from the impulse engines in the deckplates under his feet. He stopped for a moment to concentrate. It was steady and sweet, a low, purring hum. The engines might need extra dilithium to bring them up to full power, but they seemed to be running happily enough for now.

His hand brushed the control to Khwaja's door. As it opened, the agent darted past him. "Good. You even had the sense to wait until the engines were fixed. And you've got your hands on a phaser. You know, I told Goudchaux he was underestimating you."

Chekov found himself being led to a cabin he hadn't yet had reason to enter. Khwaja waved him to one side as the door opened automatically.

"Chen's quarters. I think we'll find..." A panel in the floor hinged up and Chekov found himself staring down at a small arsenal of phasers, disruptors and sonic grenades. Khwaja pulled out a couple of each, and some of the manacles that Chekov had grown so familiar with over the last few days. "Help yourself, kitten. I've taken enough for Stu."

"You're going to release Brecht?"

"We can't run this ship with just the two of us."

"Lieutenant Sulu..."

"You can convince him to obey me rather than Scott?"

Chekov sighed and accepted the disruptor and two sets of cuffs Khwaja was holding out to him. "Probably not."

"Okay. Now, where is our good friend Brecht?"

"I believe he is in Miss Morgain's cabin. She and Esme are in Goudchaux's cabin, and Mister Chen is with Goudchaux in the cell where I was originally confined."

"Excellent. We'll liberate Brecht and even up the odds before we go tackle your erstwhile friends on the bridge... oh, and remember, kitten, no explanations, no excuses. If anything goes wrong, I may need to go back undercover. You're just helping me out of... I don't know. Think of a motivation for yourself. Greed, lust, or because I've promised to waste Moray Morgain if she so much as looks at you. Your call."

When they got there, the door to Morgain's cabin was open, and there was no sign of Brecht, beyond an unmade bed.

Khwaja scowled at Chekov. "So, if he's not here..."

"He'll be on the bridge. Mister Scott said he wanted to talk to him about... well, about Orion history, I suppose."

"Damn. I hope he's going to jump our way. Look, I'm going to have to trust you here. Take yourself back up to the bridge. I'll start a small diversion somewhere, a coolant leak or something. When you all come rushing to fix it, I'll be waiting. Don't let anyone leave the bridge before then."

"And how exactly should I stop them?" Chekov demanded irritably. "I don't exactly outrank anyone."

"Use your imagination."