For some reason seventeen-year-old Pavel Andreievich Chekov had been awoken from a deep sleep in the middle of the night. His eyes opened and he glanced around the darkened room covered with maps, charts, and various posters. His soft blue eyes eventually landed on the window that was coated with a light layer of frost. Pavel's feet hit the floor as he rolled over and sat up in his bed. His bare feet touched the frigid wooden floor and Pavel shivered with the cold as his blanket fell away and his bare torso was exposed to the near-freezing air in his bedroom. Standing and stepping quietly to his window, he peered out of the obscured window and stared out at a black shadow that had fallen onto the snow in front of his window. The top of the snow was level with the window, meaning that the shadow had fallen from either the roof or to the side. From it's angle, Pavel assumed that it was from the side of the house. Leaning up close to the window, Pavel scanned the area of snow that he could see, but saw nobody. Then he saw the feet and legs up to the knee of a person right at his window. Pavel gasped and threw himself against the wall quickly and silently to avoid being spotted by the unidentified person. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the figure leaning down to look into his bedroom. He couldn't see his or her face, but he could see the shadow move out of the window view.
With quick movements, Pavel was from the wall of his bedroom and out the door running to the back door of the cottage. He pulled on the parka on the hook beside the door and stepped into the boots resting on the doormat. He then grabbed the plasma rifle resting against the wall and flicked off the safety setting before easing open the back door into the cold Russian winter blizzard currently underway. Pavel shivered, but held the weapon steady as he walked along in the snow. He went around to the back of the house and saw a silhouette of a man standing in the gazebo near the frozen pond. Pavel crept forward and then stepped onto the first step of the gazebo, aiming the gun at the man's back.
"Who are you?" Pavel demanded.
The man turned, but Pavel still couldn't see his face because the shadow of the gazebo in the moonlight cast a darkness over him.
"A friend," replied the man with a casual voice.
"Show yourself then."
The man hesitated and then stepped into the light. He was an average built man with striking facial features and cool blue eyes that reflected the moonlight.
"Who are you?" repeated Pavel curiously, rifle still aimed at the stranger's chest.
"The name's James Tiberius Kirk and I need your help."
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