Hey guys! so this is a bit of an AU that I thought would be cool! hope you enjoy! if this turns out good i might make it its own story...
The group sat around the campfire, their sombre faces reflecting firelight in orange and red hues. It had been a long day, and each of them relished the fact they were no longer on their feet. From the end of the path, Spock made his way up with the bundle of firewood he'd been collecting.
"This should be enough to last us until after dinner." He said, dumping the pile next to the dwindling pile of sticks.
"Thanks, Spock," Jim replied, sitting up slightly against the rock he'd been leaning on. His face, once always smiles, was now grim. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he took that responsibility seriously. Much more serious than he did before the attack.
On his left, sat Hikaru Sulu, his helmsman, one of his best friends. Sulu was holding a worn out picture, the edges frayed from constantly being stuffed into his pocket. His eyes were always sad when he looked at the picture. The little girl smiling back up haunted him. He doubted she smiled much now.
To Jim's right, sat Scotty, his cheery face downcast as he grumbled to himself, his hands never resting as he tinkered with what was left of a Starfleet Communicator. Its plastic exterior was burned black, multiple burned out wires sat in his lap, to be used hopefully for a later date.
On the opposite end of the fire, sat Doctor McCoy, his eyes closed. His blue uniform was stained dark with blood, and his head moved slightly as he steadily began to nod off. Laying down, flat on his back, was Pavel Chekov, his face pale. His arm was wrapped tightly in a makeshift bandage of ripped pieces of cloth. Blood was already seeping through.
They had been stranded for close to a week, the broken shell of the Enterprise lay barely a mile away, some fires still burning. The majority of the crew made it out in escape pods, they'd be safe until another ship found them. But the others... Jim and Spock had given them the best funeral they could.
It was an unexpected attack. One second they were flying through space, going Warp 6, and the next, they'd been forced out of the warp tunnel and shot at with weapons that went straight through their shields. They were in uncharted space, and their only damned communicator wasn't working.
At least they knew that Starfleet would be looking for them. They never made it to their rendezvous on New Vulcan. That thought brought a lot of comfort to Jim.
From his spot beside Bones, Chekov coughed awake, his warm brown eyes bloodshot with pain. He'd broken his arm severely in the crash, and gained an awfully nasty gash from his wrist to his elbow. The cut went as deep as the bone in some areas, and Bones was pretty sure he'd broken at least two ribs.
In short, the kid needed a Med Bay, and he'd need it soon if he planned on saving his arm. There was only so much he could do with the basic supplies they were able to find in the unburned parts of the ship. Bones hadn't told him, but he worried he'd see infection every time he changed his bandage.
From his seat, Scotty gave a yelp, and dropped the tangle of wires to the ground. He waved his hand as he cursed. "The bloody thing just won't work! The damn battery is too corroded!"
"It's okay Scotty, just take a break." Jim urged, as Spock began passing out packets of emergency rations. The Vulcan was taking the whole situation very well, considering he wasn't sure if Uhura had survived the accident or not.
The Scotsman's eyes shifted to the barely conscious Russian, before accepting his packet. "You know I can't just stop. Not yet," He replied.
Pavel began to shift as he tried to sit up. McCoy placed a hand to his shoulder to stop him. "Whoa, kid. You need to slow down, that arm of yours can't be jostled too much,"
"Nyet, " Pavel whispered, he gripped his injured arm with his other, and sat up all the way, his pale face taking on an even paler shade. "I'm okay, I'm good."
No one said anything to stop him, the kid had been far too weak, and had just began to regain some of his strength. Spock handed him his own packet of food. Everyone was silent as they ate, until Spock chose to voice his concerns.
"Captain, we must find another source of food soon, the escape pod we salvaged our meals from only had enough to last one or two people for a few weeks, not six."
Jim sat silent, staring into the fire. "Well, what about the Enterprise? We haven't been there yet," Bones asked, his southern drawl deep.
"It should be safe now, the engineering decks are really heavily irradiated, but the shields oughta be holding." Scotty put in, wiping bites of food from the beard that was beginning to grow on his pink face.
Bones, Scotty, and Spock began to make their plans for tomorrow, each offering to take a part of the wreckage. Jim stayed silent, his bright blue eyes closed. He just couldn't bring himself to join the conversation. The thought of seeing the ship -his ship- again like that, destroyed and burned beyond recognition. He'd been on top of the world, if only he knew it would barely take anything to make him come burning back to the ground.
"Captain?" Chekov asked, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "Are you okay sir?"
Everyone's eyes turned to Jim, and he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, Chekov, I'm fine," he replied, "just tired."
"Perhaps we could finish our plans in the morning after we've had a couple hours of sleep," Spock spoke up, the firelight reflecting off his shiny black hair. Everyone nodded their agreement and finished their food in silence