I don't own anything to Star Trek. I don't make money with it. I'm writing fanfictions because I love it. So I ask you not to sue me.
English is not my mother tongue. I don't have a beta reader. Feel free to point out mistakes to me.
This fanfiction is years old and I uploaded it to back then and later deleted all my fanfictions.
This was one that I was really proud of and I thought I'd just upload it again. If you don't like my fanfictions, you don't have to read them. You have the freedom to click and read other works by other writers.
*...*, if the conversations have such a thing, then the respective race speaks in their mother tongue.
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Chapter 1 - Warmth for the Living
Jim didn't want to be here. Of all the things he had to do to survive, this was one of the things he detested. That was not how he imagined his life. He should be out there in space and discover alien planets. And not live on an earth that has conquered the romulan empire.
Where people crawled under the ground to escape the soldiers on the surface.
Where every day was a new challenge.
Their current problem was the upcoming winter. It would be difficult to keep all of the survivors warm, despite Scotty's technical talent that had saved them more than once. They already had a solution for their supplies and therefore no longer had to worry about it. Now it was really just a matter of not freezing to death.
What Jim had brought into this current situation.
Everyone needed enough clothing to give them the warmth they needed. And of course there were no more shops where you just had to go shopping. No. Your only way to get new things was to go to a specific warehouse.
It was nothing special. The building was empty before the takeover, it was simply huge and therefore had a lot of space and storage space. Yes ... space for all the victims who were in the wrong place at the wrong time and crossed the path of a Romulan.
Correct. The whole hall was filled with corpses and Jim was here to rob them.
The dead did no longer need anything that could help the living. He tried to say that to himself over and over again and hoped that it would be easier for him at some point. But he just didn't want to be here. He didn't want to look into this empty eyes, look at the pale skin, or inhale the stench.
... there were so many. Would he end up here at some point? Would someone else then come and take away his last belongings?
Winter was coming, but Jim was trembling as if it were already there.
A warm hand lay on his shoulder and pulled him out of his gloomy thoughts for a moment. He didn't have to turn his head to know who it was.
Their goal was to bring back as much loot as they could, but at the same time they couldn't risk being spotted. So it was left to two people, him and Spock. The Vulcan never showed his thoughts when life forced them to do such things. Jim wanted to ask him every time, but didn't think he could get a satisfactory answer. Instead, he contented himself with the knowledge that he was not alone. They would do their job and return to the others together.
Yes, he only needed to concentrate on that.
He forced himself to a faint smile. "Let's get started. Then we can get out of here faster. "
"It is enough if you keep watch. Two people are not necessarily necessary to fill two backpacks ", offered Spock in his calm tone.
Jim felt the hand on his shoulder put more pressure. Not painful. No. More to convey the feeling that he was supported if he wanted to collapse.
His smile became a little more honest and he gripped the Vulcan's wrist, careful not to touch his bare skin. "I know", he whispered, looking Spock in the eye, "but that wouldn't be right."
It would be wrong if only one person got their hands dirty.
Jim took a deep breath one last time, though the smell of decay wasn't really helpful, and tried to pull himself together.
"Let's go!" He said with as much determination as he could muster. "You look on the left side and I look on the right side."
Spock took his hand back, nodded curtly, and walked in the suggested direction without another word. When he reached the rearmost pile, Jim started moving too.
Standing right in front of the corpses was worse than keeping a certain distance. The Romulans didn't care what happened to them. They just wanted to get them out of the way. Jim recognized this from the fact that the bottom dead were the most rotten and the ones above that had just been killed.
... he wanted to vomit. He had no choice but to climb up if he wanted to take something useful with him. The idea of undressing the bottom corpses and possibly even pulling off suitable parts made him choke. So he looked for a suitable place, put one foot on a chest and pulled himself up on hanging arms. Jim tried to think of all sorts of things, just not what he was holding onto. It worked amazingly well at first and he quickly found himself on top.
Jim even managed to distract his mind so much that he stuffed the first prey into his backpack without any remorse. A jacket, a sweater, 4 pairs of shoes and socks. The backpack had to be filled to the brim so that the whole effort was worth it in some way.
Time went by and Jim was just about to pack one last pair of pants when sounds were heard. A door opened and to his horror two Romulans entered the hall.
The area had been absolutely meaningless, so none of them had really counted on guards. Their enemies apparently thought alike, for the two Romulans were talking carefree. Who would enter a hall with dead bodies?
That was Jim's luck and the reason they hadn't noticed him yet. They were too deep in their conversation. This gave him the opportunity to climb down again. But his luck should stop there.
A mountain of corpses was not a solid ground or the dead already wanted to take revenge on him. Anyway. Jim's foot caught on an elbow, causing him to lose his balance and fall.
This did not go unnoticed this time.
*What was that?*, asked one of them alarmed.
There was no more time to think. The guards would now search the area and Jim would never get to the window undetected. Instead, he grabbed an arm from the pile and pulled it so hard that 2 to 3 bodies came loose and he could bury himself under them. He didn't care where his backpack was. He only hoped that the Romulans would not notice a living being among the dead.
Hopefully they wouldn't find Spock.
Jim held his breath as the footsteps came closer. He buried his face in the darkness. The noises stopped near him.
*Maybe there are rats.*
There was a laugh. *It's a feast for them.*
*It's a shame for them that we have to take their food away.*
*The space here is getting too small. Let's finally open the gate and get rid of all the trash.*
Jim heard the two start moving again, but didn't dare to get out of his hiding place. The sound of the roller shutter echoed in the warehouse, closely followed by a loud motor.
Before Jim could wonder what was happening, a jolt went through the mountain of corpses and he felt the balance change. The dead literally began to suck him in the middle, squeezing the air out of Jim's lungs with their weight and holding him so that he could not move any of his limbs.
What was going on here?!
He felt that they were moving, but he couldn't think clear. Jim saw nothing. The air refused to fill his lungs, hair from someone else lay on his mouth and fingers on his neck. On the inside he cried out for help. Panic began to spread through him.
Another jerk followed. Jim noticed again how everything turned and he was pulled in a certain direction by gravity. The fall was not short and only thanks to the corpses did he land softly. He even fell so that his head and left arm were free. Nevertheless, the rest of him was buried again.
Jim tried to control his panic. The air was cool and light illuminated the area. He was outside!
Why?
A new smell spread and at first Jim's brain found it difficult to recognize it, but when something wet touched his cheek, he knew what it was. Petrol! The guys wanted to burn the bodies!
In horror and panic, Jim tried to fight his way out of the pile. Vain! He was too deep in it. The dead didn't let him go.
Heat spread and increased to a quick inferno of heat.
Volcan was destroyed. The earth enslaved. He had always wondered which fate was better?
No, Jim thought. I do not wanna die! Not like this!
The dead did not loosen their grip and the heat gradually scorched his skin.
That was it. James T. Kirk died buried and burned under corpses.
Jim wanted to scream when a strong hand gripped his free one. He looked up.
„Spock..."
The Vulcan held his hand and upper arm with an iron grip and pulled with a force that almost pulled out his shoulder. But he wouldn't complain. He would take any pain, as long as he got out of here.
When cold air filled his lungs and the heat left him, he knew he was free. The Vulcan even dragged him as far away as possible like a sack. Jim had no problem with that. Only away, he wanted to scream, but the voice failed and he felt how his senses let him down.
Spock had saved him ... he wasn't burning with the others ...
X
The Vulcan had carried Jim to a nearby building and placed him on a couch on the fourth floor. He could rest there and Spock had a good view of the street in case the guards had noticed them. But Jim had to admit that he wasn't really interested in that right now. He only knew one thing.
He stank. He stank of death and fire. His skin was scorched in places or soot smeared. And for what? For a single sock that Jim clutched in his cold panic. His backpack was gone and their only prey was Spock's.
Jim wanted to laugh loudly and hysterically. It was a bad joke. Maybe even a joke of the dead for the living.
"A sock ..." Jim waved the piece back and forth in his hand slightly. It was simple, didn't even have a pattern. For the other sock, his other hand should still have been in the burning pile. Then Spock could have pulled him out by the head. The saying, "I'll tear your head off" took on a whole new meaning. Jim started laughing.
It wasn't actually funny, but he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to think about the last few minutes. He didn't want to remember the feeling of the cold corpses that wanted to keep him. The fear. The panic.
They needed warmth for the living to survive the next few months, but it wasn't winter yet. Still, Jim was cold, so terribly cold.
But he kept laughing because he didn't know what else to do. Even when warm hands took him up and he found himself in an embrace, he didn't stop.
„Jim."
His name made him gasp and the laughter subsided. Only then did he notice how wet his eyes and cheeks were. He buried his face in Spock's shoulder and started crying.
Vulcan was destroyed. The earth enslaved. Which fate was better?
Jim didn't know. He only knew that Spock was warm and that he would take more comfort in his hug.
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I looked for another point of survival. Many stories are about food or weapons. I took clothes as an important point. It should be something else.