Title: Checkmate
Author: Vesper (Regina)
Warnings: Implied torture? It's very slight, though.
Category: Drama
Keywords: Pavel Chekov, OFC, Spock, James Kirk
Summary: "It's regrettable that I'll have to let you go. You make such an excellent pawn." 337 words.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Archival: If you wish to archive, please link to my website or Livejournal post. Please keep all my headers intact.
Notes: Ficlet #1 for Sarajm, who wanted something with Chekov captured and imprisoned underground by Romulans (or Klingons, but I went with Romulans).


"They're negotiating for your release." Her voice is soft, mellifluous, even though her accent catches on the consonants. "I thought you might like to know."

Chekov is silent. Speaking is...undesirable. He's learned that the hard way. He listens, to her footsteps circling, the quick snick, snick, snick of her thumbnail flicking her middle fingernail. She never looks at him.

Water drips. The walls of his prison glisten with dampness. He's seen her face enough times to dream about it, nightmares of slanted eyebrows and dark eyes, and pain.

"You've been such a model prisoner. I've told you this before, I know, that I didn't want to be given charge of you. Thanks for making it easy for me."

She lies. At least, he thinks she does. Politesse like a whitewash.

"It's regrettable that I'll have to let you go. You make such an excellent pawn."

She's said this before. It hasn't happened yet. He closes his eyes. She keeps circling, circling, always circling. She'll pick his bones clean before she'll let him go.

"Major Rasha," says a male voice. Chekov knows it comes from outside of his vision, so he doesn't open his eyes.

"Excuse me, Ensign." Her footsteps fade away. He opens his eyes. He wonders how long he's been held here, with this collar round his neck.

He hears a whine, a familiar shimmering sound, and two figures materialize. Commander Spock and the Captain.

"Captain?" he whispers.

"Shhh, Ensign, we're going to get you out of here. The collar, Spock."

Spock nods. He pulls out his phaser, sets it to narrow beam and fires it at the collar. It emits a slight popping sound, and then it falls loose.

Chekov tries to warn them. "This is a game, Captain, it's all a game she's playing."

Spock says, "You'll give us away, Ensign, please be quiet."

Chekov gulps, hard, and nods.

Kirk flips open his communicator, turns a dial, and speaks into it, "Three to beam up, Scotty."

"Aye, sir."

The world dissolves into golden sparkles.

End.