Transposition
Part Eight
"Pavel… may I… may I come with you?"
The Russian turned to find Zaabon standing behind him, hands clasped, expression a little anxious, obviously hesitant. Chekov straightened up and inclined his head.
"It is just a passenger run, Zaabon. Nothing important."
The alien bit his lip.
"I know, but… but I have never been to Bajor."
The navigator blinked.
"You haven't?"
"No."
"But I thought you crash-landed there…"
Zaabon frowned for a moment, then his brow cleared and he smiled tentatively.
"Ah, no. My pod crashed on Cardassia."
Chekov stared at the alien. He crash-landed on Cardassia and survived? The natives not only didn't kill him but did their best to save his life? How could that be? Unless… well, he was exotic and beautiful, maybe the Cardassians kept him for some sort of amusement… He didn't like where that thought led. He grinned and nodded.
"If Garak does not mind. And if the Commander says yes."
Zaabon let out the breath he'd been holding and relaxed.
"Thank you."
"You are velcome." He tapped his communicator: moments later he had Sisko's somewhat surprised authority to include Zaabon. Lovely golden eyes lowered as Chekov gently suggested the alien might like to wear something perhaps a little more… sedate… than the very tight, very brief, low cut shining black one-piece he currently sported. The weather might be cool, he added at Zaabon's dismayed expression - vhat vas wrong vith him? He seemed so nerwous… - and they would probably be onworld for a day or so while Major Kira concluded her business.
The alien's expression cleared at the comment and he smiled brightly.
"I will be back soon, Pavel."
Chekov chuckled.
"Dhere is no hurry, yagnonochyek. Ve do not depart for another two hours."
Nodding his head, Zaabon disappeared around a turn of the corridor, that long heavy plait stroking his tight… little… yagodeetsyeh… The Russian shook himself, sternly ignoring the hardness at his groin, wondering if it was really worth having such a distraction on board when he was trying to fly a runabout.
And thinking about it, he really ought to check with Garak...
The Cardassian was at his shop, in conversation with a dull grey creature who was, it appeared, trying to decide between two equally ugly shades of yellow and green fabric. Gaarak looked up as Chekov entered and excused himself for a moment.
"Pavel, my dear!"
The Russian inclined his head in greeting - then got straight to the point.
"Sir, Zaabon has asked to come vith me to Bajor."
Garak nodded.
"I know. I suggested it."
"You did?"
"Indeed I did. The poor pet has spent most of his life - well, most of the life he remembers - either in a Cardassian medical facility or in a variety of different space-faring vessels. He has never seen the natural… beauty… that Bajor has to offer."
Chekov blinked, startled. Never seen grass? Or a tree? Or flowers? He frowned.
"Dhat is…"
"Tragic, yes. But the occasion has never arisen before - at least, not with anyone I would trust." Chekov felt a warm rush of pride at the implied compliment. "And I would like him to experience real air, the scents and sights of another world." He hesitated for a moment, than laid a hand on Chekov's wrist. "You will look after him, won't you?"
The Russian nodded, wide-eyed.
"I promise, sir."
"Please, call me Garak."
"I promise, Garak."
The Cardassian patted the human's cheek.
"Thank you, my dear…"
Zaabon had reappeared carrying a small valise on a shoulder strap and dressed in something approximating Bajoran casual wear, in rich shades of gold and green that complemented his colouring. Garak's handiwork, of course. The alien sat quietly as Chekov piloted the small ship to Bajor, answering Kira's occasional question somewhat nervously. Chekov listened with half an ear: he'd re-trained thoroughly in the slightly different protocols required of the equipment he was now required to use, but he still needed to concentrate to ensure a smooth and trouble-free trip. Most of the Major's questions seemed to be about Cardassians, and most of them the apologetic Zaabon either couldn't answer or could only answer in part. The Russian had tensed, aware of the Bajoran's increasing irritation and expecting her to bring that fearsome tongue to bear on his… his vhat? Friend? Lover? But she controlled herself - with some effort - and finally busied herself with a tricorder and whatever it was that required her presence on Bajor. (Chekov hadn't enquired what that was, and had no intention of asking. He was looking forward to a little R&R, a little free time away from the sterile gloom of the space station. And looking forward to Zaabon's company, of course.)
Kira nodded to him as she hastily left the vehicle, and by the time Chekov had stepped onto Bajoran soil - figuratively speaking - she was gone, whisked away to whatever it was she had come here for. The Russian took a slow breath, relishing the warmth of the sun, the slightly damp smell left by a recent shower... A real world. An earth-type world. He suddenly felt home-sick.
A gasp from behind him recalled him to himself, and he glanced over his shoulder. Zaabon hovered just inside the entrance, golden eyes huge, arms wrapped around himself.
"Zaabon? It is alright, lyebimeye. Come."
The alien shook his head slightly. Chekov sighed and held out his hand.
"Come. Dhere is nothing to be afraid of."
Hesitantly, biting his lip, Zaabon took the extended hand and allowed the human to draw him into the sunlight.
They stood together, Zaabon behind and close to Chekov, close enough that the Russian was aware of him trembling, for a few minutes - then the human glanced over his shoulder, smiling.
"Let us find somevhere to stay, shall ve?"
Swallowing hard and squinting - Chekov cursed himself for not thinking of it, but of course Zaabon's eyes weren't accustomed to sunlight… dyehmo, he wasn't even used to bright artificial light - Zaabon, still clutching Chekov's hand, let himself be led from the spaceport and into the city.
Their room was simple, basic, decorated in the warm earthy colours the Bajorans favoured. It had a single, large bed, cleansing facilities, and not much else, which suited Chekov fine. But Zaabon was obviously distressed: he'd made his way to the darkest corner and crouched down, hands kneading hard at his temples. Chekov knelt before him, hands on his shoulders.
"Vhat is it, lyebimeye?"
Zaabon gazed at him, trying to speak but unable to articulate what was wrong. He lowered his head into his hands with a sob.
"I… I don't b…belong here, Pavel… It's too bright…"
For a moment Chekov was tempted to request permission to return the alien to Deep Space 9 - but stubbornness suddenly set in. Nyet, Zaabon should be surrounded by beautiful things, should see and smell and feel the simple wonders of a rich and fertile world. He stroked the silky emerald hair gently.
"Rest, Zaabon. Later, this evening vhen it is not so bright, ve vill take a valk."
Standing and pulling the trembling alien upright, Chekov hugged him tightly, leading him over to the bed and pushing him down to sit on the edge, then moving to pull the filmy windowblinds closed, muting the bright light from outside. He glanced back to the bed: Zaabon was still hunched on the edge, arms tightly around himself, eyes wide and frightened.
The human sighed and joined him, sitting at his side and resting a hand on one shoulder. Zaabon leaned his head to nuzzle tentatively at the hand, and Chekov pulled him into a hug.
"Ve vill rest now."
Standing, he eased Zaabon's arms open and carefully pulled the clothing from the unresisting body, then twitched back the coverings and pushed the alien onto the bed. Stripping quickly and efficiently, Chekov joined him, cradling the trembling body close, kissing his neck. Sex, of course, would take his mind off his anxiety and unease… and here and now, on a strange new planet and with nothing to do for at least a couple of days, Chekov wanted nothing more than to sink into that strong, compliant blue body.
"Lie still, poklonik…"
At first Zaabon had responded with muted enthusiasm, but Chekov's agile tongue had soon changed that… As the alien had come for the third time, crying out and dragging the human with him into a shattering climax, Chekov clutched Zaabon to him, raining kisses over his face and throat, finally relaxing into a trembling heap and weakly cuddling into the sated, exhausted body below him.
"Zaabon…"
The alien sighed contentedly and licked along the Russian's jaw, nestling close.
"Thank you, Pavel…"
They slept.
Chekov sighed and shifted slightly, kissing the shoulder on which his head was resting. Zaabon murmured quietly and stroked the human's face, nuzzling at his hair. He was aroused again.
The Russian grinned. The sun was setting, the light from outside a muted gold through the fabric of the window coverings. That would be much more comfortable for Zaabon…
His stomach growled, and the alien chuckled quietly.
"I too am hungry, Pavel."
Chekov slid a hand down to cup and knead his companion's groin, then stretched up to kiss him, tongue easing into the cool sweet mouth. Zaabon cupped warm buttocks and shifted his hips, rubbing his erection against the human's hand. The Russian pulled back a little and grinned.
"I tink ve should maybe go find a place to eat."
Zaabon's expression was wistful.
"… must we…?"
For a moment Chekov was tempted just to stay where they were - but the point of being here was for Zaabon to see what a world was like… He nodded.
"Ve must. Come, dress…"
Half an hour later found them seated in some sort of a park, a basket of simple but plentiful provisions between them. Zaabon was gazing around, wide eyed and wondering, eyes flicking from the hazily starry sky above to the sweet smelling grass below, forgetting to eat in the flood of entirely new sensations flowing through him.
He looked, thought Chekov, simply adorable.
"It is wery beautiful, da?"
For a moment Chekov thought perhaps the alien hadn't heard him - then Zaabon's gaze swung to his companion, and Chekov's breath caught at the sheer awe and delight in his face.
"I have never imagined anything like this. Pavel, it is… is…"
It was some moments before the human realised that the glitter in his eyes was tears. Chekov moved closer, arm wrapping around Zaabon's lean waist.
"You are OK?"
The alien nodded absently, his attention caught by a couple of dusky-coloured insects, their wings gleaming as they danced around each other. He leaned against his companion, eyes closing as he breathed deeply of the fragrant air, then turned to the Russian.
"Make love to me...?"
Chekov blinked.
"Vhat, here?"
Zaabon sighed and wriggled slightly to lie back on the grass.
"… please…"
Chekov wanted nothing else - but he did not know how Bajorans viewed such activities… would they be acting illegally? Would they offend?
He glanced down at Zaabon, lying submissively before him, gleaming eyes watching him - and threw caution to the winds. Again. The area was secluded, it was late, they'd seen no-one for at least an hour…
He eased Zaabon's trousers from the lean hips, down long legs, baring the front of his own body and - the sheer illicit thrill of it an aphrodisiac - thrust hard into the alien's willing body.
Zaabon bit back a gasp, then wrapped long legs around the human's hips, groaning as Chekov shoved his tunic up and scratched and nipped at his chest and throat, sighing deep in his throat as he pounded hard…
Zaabon's back arched as he came, semen flooding between their bodies, biting his hand to stop himself from screaming. Startled by the force of the alien's climax, Chekov rammed very hard and very fast a last few times then came, grabbing Zaabon tightly to himself, kissing him almost brutally - then collapsing wearily as the alien's legs slowly, jerkily, slid from around his hips to rest on the ground. Zaabon caught the human's face in his hand, gazing up wonderingly.
"Pavel…? That was… unprecedented."
The Russian nodded solemnly. In technical terms it had been nothing special - but in every other way… It had felt like his soul had grown wings. He brushed a hand over Zaabon's face.
"So are you, lyebimeye. So are you."
Chekov smiled down at his sleeping companion tenderly. They'd made love again in the park, Zaabon on his hands and knees while Chekov thrust into him from behind, warm hands stroking and kneading at his groin, then lain back and watched the stars for a while, Zaabon's head on the human's shoulder. Chekov had only thought to move back to their room when Zaabon shivered: the night was far advanced and growing cold.
Now it was morning, another beautiful, fine sunny morning, and Chekov was wondering what to do. He knew practically nothing about Bajor, but there must be plenty to see…
Zaabon stirred, reaching for his bedmate, golden eyes opening as he smiled sleepily at the Russian.
"Good morning, Pavel."
Chekov kissed him lingeringly.
"Da, yagnonochyek. A wery good morning. Vhat vould you like to do today?"
The alien blinked, then frowned worriedly.
"I… I don't know, Pavel…"
The Russian chuckled and kissed him again.
"I vas joking. I tink perhaps ve vill ask if there is somevhere special to see. Vould you like that?"
Zaabon bit his lip.
"I don't know… If you think so…"
It was another hour before they left the room, however. Zaabon had pulled the Russian down into his arms, stroking and kissing and finally easing into the warm body, bringing them both to a slow, simmering climax that filled Chekov with energy. Kissing yielding lips, he held Zaabon close - then pulled himself upright, dragging the alien with him and grinning widely.
He'd had an idea…
Zaabon gazed up, and up, then glanced sideways at Chekov.
"It is very big…"
"Ve don't haf to climb all the way. Dhere is an elewator device…"
It resembled an ancient Terran cable-car, and served the same purpose, carrying passengers most of the way up the ridge and depositing them on a plateau from which they could look out over the surrounding countryside. The view was wonderful, the breeze light and cool, and the few people who had travelled with them had spared Zaabon no more than a curious passing glance. The alien shivered slightly and pulled his jacket more tightly to him. Chekov frowned.
"Cold?"
He shook his head.
"I am fine. It is very beautiful."
And indeed the view was spectacular, steep wooded hills stretching to the distance, the sparkling of falling water glimpsed between the trees, faint birdsong… This part of the planet had escaped the worst of the Cardassian depredations and was recovering quickly. Bajorans came here to remind themselves of what once was and would one day be again.
There was a higher peak, one that required effort to reach, and Chekov suggested they try a little rock-climbing…
Somewhat to his surprise Zaabon had been enthusiastic about the idea. He smiled at the human's startled reaction.
"But exercise is good, Pavel."
"Da, but…"
The alien leaned down and kissed him gently, silencing his objections, then gestured to the peak.
"Shall we?"
Zaabon led the way, leaving Chekov pondering his sudden self-assurance. The alien moved with such confidence, finding hand and footholds with ease, climbing with steady gracefulness… Where had this come from? Gone was the diffidence, the submissiveness, that was his usual disposition.
Not that it was particularly easy to focus on such things with that tight, shapely little zad just a short distance above him…
His libido was his undoing. They were within a few feet of the top of the peak, making their way across a short stretch of rock with a sheer drop below them, when Chekov, his thoughts on the possibility of making love once they arrived, lost his grip and his balance and found himself falling…
Curiously, it wasn't panic that filled his mind, but regret. Regret that he would die so far from home in time and space, that his friends and family in his own time would never know his fate - regret that he was leaving Zaabon…
He closed his eyes and waited for the end.
Only to find himself brought to an abrupt halt as someone caught him. Warily, he opened his eyes a crack - to find himself in Zaabon's arms. In mid air. Halfway down the mountain.
Too alarmed to dare to risk anything that might distract the alien's obviously tight concentration, Chekov held his breath and tried not to move as Zaabon began to rise, heading back up to the peak that had been their original objective.
The human gulped silently. There was no getting away from the facts.
Zaabon was flying.
He landed effortlessly, gracefully on the flat surface at the very top and swung Chekov to his feet, his face relaxing as he smiled.
"Are you alright?"
The Russian nodded speechlessly, then frowned.
"Zaabon… You vere flying. How did you do dat?"
The alien blinked, golden eyes half-closing.
"I… I don't know… It seemed the right thing to do…"
"Da, it vas! You saved my life."
Zaabon nodded, but absently, his brow furrowed in thought. He stared at the palm of his right hand for a moment, then straightened his arm, palm outwards, left hand resting on the inside of his right elbow. He held the odd pose for a moment, then frowned at Chekov.
"I know this… Why do I know this…?"
The Russian shook his head.
"I do not know. Do you tink it might be from before the crash?"
Zaabon nodded slowly - then winced and brought his hand up to his head, kneading at the scars hidden under his hair. He glanced at Chekov, pain in his eyes.
"I am sorry, Pavel…"
The human wrapped an arm around his waist.
"Do you vant to go back?"
He shook his head carefully.
"Not yet." He pulled himself a little more upright and looked around him. On closer inspection the top had been artificially flattened and the edges railed, and there were rough hewn seats facing outwards, obviously provided for intrepid climbers to sit and admire the views. He smiled a little wanly at his companion. "Let us sit for a little while. It is what we came for, isn't it?"
Chekov nodded, leading Zaabon over to the seat with the most stunning view - which was also the one facing away from the path up to the viewing platform - and snuggling closely to him: with obvious relief Zaabon cuddled into his warmth and didn't object when the Russian slid a hand under the material at his groin and began to fondle him…
Moments later Zaabon returned the favour, cool smooth fingers teasing the human's shaft and balls, tickling and scratching gently before pulling the fabric down and lowering his head to Chekov's groin, long tongue licking the Russian to an aching hardness then sucking the straining flesh deeply into his throat as Chekov came, hands gripping bright green hair.
Panting, the human stroked Zaabon's hair with shaking hands, then gently pulled away, covering himself and grinning at the alien.
"Your turn, lyebimeye …"
They'd returned in the early part of the afternoon: Zaabon's eyes had not yet accustomed to the light and his head was aching. Getting back down the mountain was easier than Chekov had at first thought; a second 'cable car' had been built at the northward side of the peak, out of view of the ascent to the south, and it took them smoothly down to the main plateau, from where they descended to the ground the same way they had ascended. Zaabon had been more than usually quiet on the way back to the city, his eyes fixed on his right palm, a faint frown on his face, as though trying to remember something…
They'd found a small eatery and dined there before walking back to their rooms. Zaabon was still distracted; Chekov took his hand.
"Vhat is wrong, lyebimeye?"
Zaabon bit his lip.
"I don't know, Pavel. I feel… as if I should know something, should be able to remember something. Something important. It's…" He kneaded his forehead. "… almost… there, within my reach… but not quite…"
He sighed, closing his eyes and gently rubbing at his face, then regarded the human, pleading silently for an explanation, a way to understand the incomprehensible.
"I did not know I could fly - and yet I am not surprised that I can do so. And how can I do so? Surely such a thing isn't possible!"
Chekov squeezed the hand he held.
"I would hef said not - and yet, I am here."
The alien nodded absently, then his eyes brightened, and he murmured, as though the idea were an outrageous one,
"I wonder… do you think I could control it?"
"Perhaps ve should experiment? Tomorrow? Ve should go back to the park, it vas qviet dhere."
Zaabon nodded quickly, expression both excited and frightened - which didn't surprise the Russian. After all, Zaabon had very little control over anything in his life: the notion of something that was uniquely his would be slightly alarming…
They'd made love on their return to their rooms, gently, sensuously, Zaabon using his considerable skills to keep Chekov aroused for hours, until he was desperate to plunge into the cool blue body… The alien lay back, thighs spread wide, moaning and closing his eyes as Chekov slid easily into him then pulled Zaabon's lower body to him, tucking his knees under firm buttocks and wrapping both hands around the cool blue shaft. They came together, gasping, sated and weary after the excitements of the day, and were soon settled for sleep.
Chekov suckled on Zaabon's neck.
"Are you happy?"
Zaabon sighed and ran a hand down the Russian's back, making him shiver.
"Yes, I…" He paused, then swivelled to gaze earnestly into the human's face.
"Pavel, do you like me?"
Chekov blinked.
"Of course I like you!"
"And do you like Garak?"
Chekov hesitated for a moment, then kissed a smooth blue cheek.
"Yes, I like Garak, also. Maybe not qvite as much as you, but I do like him."
"Oh, good."
"Vhy do you ask?"
Zaabon hesitated.
"We were… we were wondering if you would like… to join us."
"Join you?"
"Come and live with us. Share our bed, all the time."
It was so tempting to say yes. Chekov sighed.
"Lyebimeye, I am honoured dat you would ask. But I cannot say yes, right away. I vill need to tink."
Zaabon nodded sombrely.
"I understand, Pavel. And I should really let Garak ask you, it's his home too…"
Chekov kissed him gently.
"It can vait until ve return to Deep Space 9. But now, ve should sleep."
Zaabon snuggled into him obediently, and Chekov had soon dropped into a refreshing slumber. The alien was awake a little longer, frowning at the palm of his right hand, sure there was something missing… something… like light…
He bit back a wince at the sharp stab of pain from the scarred tissue beneath his skull injury. Better think about it later.
Within minutes he too was asleep. But something was stirring in the depths of his mind…
© 2003 March 22nd Joules Taylor Part Nine
Lambkin. No, don't laugh - Chekov thinks it's a perfect name for this version of Zaabon!
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Lover, sweetheart, darling, beloved.
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Lover, but more in the sense of suitor, wooer. I think. If anyone reading this knows Russian, please tell me if I'm getting this wrong!
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