[Tromping is just the word to use. It's the inevitable result of walking about on legs that have frozen. Unfortunately, the only alternative to tromping is stopping, and stopping means dying, which Chekov is not keen on.
All thoughts of freezing to death on what should be a tropical planet disappear the moment a giant white creature appears in front of him. Startled, the ensign fumbles for his phaser and, naturally, succeeds only in dropping it. His attempt to pick the weapon up results in falling over with a dismayed squeak, icy limbs failing to cooperate even in the face of almost certain death. Chekov looks up--way up--at the doglike creature and tries addressing it in Russian.]
Good dog...?
[Okay, not what he thought his last words would be, but.]
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All thoughts of freezing to death on what should be a tropical planet disappear the moment a giant white creature appears in front of him. Startled, the ensign fumbles for his phaser and, naturally, succeeds only in dropping it. His attempt to pick the weapon up results in falling over with a dismayed squeak, icy limbs failing to cooperate even in the face of almost certain death. Chekov looks up--way up--at the doglike creature and tries addressing it in Russian.]
Good dog...?
[Okay, not what he thought his last words would be, but.]