He returns the smile. Chekov might not trust that the odds of winning Meyer's games are fair, but he does like him and admire his entrepreneurial spirit.

"I had no reason not to come. It was this or spending the evening trying to make up for two centuries of lost science." His tone is joking, but Chekov really does spend a fair amount of his spare time attempting to recreate twenty-third century technology with twenty-first century equipment and materials. It's a losing battle; the City has, thus far, not proved to be a great source of dilithium.

The young man raises his untouched drink to Meyer. "Nazdarovye."