[The Nightmare]
He was running for his life. His lungs were burning as he dodged around the side of a building and down a thin alley-way, just about tripping over something that could have been a body. He looked down to his hands, staring at the treasure he carried. The bread had green spots on it, but to him it was the most delicious thing he had ever seen. Water was easier to get, much easier. He had places he had bowls collecting dew and rain water. People would find them, would drink his hard work, but as long as he could get some he could survive.
Surviving on Tarsus IV was impossible anymore, but he was forcing himself to.
Jim sat down in the alley and broke into the bread. He pulled off the moldy pieces and put them aside, wishing he had gotten better but not expecting it. Not anymore. He looked to the edge of the bread and swallowed thickly, pulling off a large chunk. It hit the ground, getting dirt. He couldn't eat it - it was stained with blood.
He had seen the two people fighting over the scrap of bread. One had gotten stabbed. He had grabbed it and run in the process. Jim's eyes closed as he shoved the tasteless meal into his mouth, chewing with the hunger of the desperate. He had been running for so long now, ever since he had come home to find his Aunt dead where she laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Everyone was hungry. Everyone was starving.
Jim heard a sound and he clutched at the remains of his meal tightly. He looked towards the mouth of the alley and bared his teeth unconsciously. It had been three weeks since the death of his aunt. It was four since his Uncle had been stabbed trying to protect their house from people trying to get into it. His cousin had run away from him when they had been forced to run from the house. Jim had no idea if he was still alive, but he had a feeling that the answer was probably no.
He was fifteen. His cousin was seventeen.
Slowly he made his way to the opening of the alley and looked out. It came out into a small courtyard-sized area, and he could see two people moving in the gray light of the cloudy day. No. One was still, the other was moving. He could hear a language that was harsh, spitting, unfamiliar spoken in a familiar voice. Jim cautiously made his way closer, and when he got close enough to see faces, his eyes went wide.
"Did you sleep vell? Da, da, of course you did. I vill join you for a little vhile, then I vill try again."
He watched Chekov lay down beside a very still Sulu and close his eyes. Jim waited for several minutes, terror keeping him frozen in place. When all was silent, still, he made his way towards the other two men. There was no movement from either, and he nearly threw up when he got a good look at Sulu's face. He knew the look now, he had seen it before, smelled it in the air. Sulu was dead, and had been for some time.
He tried to shake Chekov awake.
The blond never woke up again.
He was running for his life. His lungs were burning as he ran as fast as he could from where the two dead men where. He had seen others before, but people had resorted to even eating the corpses when nothing else could be found. His aunt had refused to do it, saying that if they ate the bodies of another, the soul would stay inside him forever.
She was dead, now. Maybe if she had been willing to share her body with another soul, she would still be alive. Jim had yet to even dare.
"Come on! No one is allowed to be left behind! Get a move on!" The words were called out, loud and clear, echoing. Jim looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He finally spotted it - a guard was pushing a dark skinned woman forward, his fist wrapped around her hair, half-dragging her when she fought. Jim tucked back into the shadows, bread crumbling in his hands, terror gripping at him. The guards were the Governor's dogs, attacking like dogs, barking like dogs, killing like dogs - ruthless, messy, violent. Looks like the guard had a new bone.
When she spoke, he knew it. He knew it. Knew her.
Jim followed her and the dog-guard, the remains of his meal dropping from his hands to the ground. He stuck to the shadows, along the edge of a building--
"Nn!" He hit the ground hard when he tripped over something he hadn't seen. He looked to what it was and had to swallow hard. The face was known, even if it was so decomposed. Some of the flesh on the body was missing. The white hair was a feature that was hard to forget.
Jim scrambled up and kept following.
He ended up in a large field on the outside of town. There were six people lined up, down on their knees, with a guard behind each one. Uhura was muscled into place at the end of the line, the guard at her back. In front of them, a side profile for Jim, was Nero, and Ayel at his back. Spock was at their side, bound, bloodied, beaten.
Jim could see Nero's mouth moving, but couldn't hear the words. The Romulan seemed to gesturing, talking at Spock, who stared stoically forward. Jim started to get closer, but no matter how close, he couldn't hear anything except the endless whine of the wind.
Scotty was the first to die. With a gesture from Nero, the guard behind Scotty pulled out a dagger and drew it across the engineer's throat. The color of his blood made the crimson of his shirt darker, darker, black.
Even as Jim drew his breath to scream, another gesture, and Winona would be the second to die. His scream was hidden inside of his father's and Pike's as they merged together into a sound of anger and pain.
Another gesture, and Pike was killed next. Jim heard the body hit the ground. He screamed again, and hands grabbed for him. He fought, staring at the bodies on the ground. Those remaining kneeling turned, saw him, stared at him. They needed to be rescued. His crew. He was fifteen.
Nero looked to him as the hands - more dogs, more guards, forced Jim forward. He smirked, all green and darkness, and looked down to Spock, "And now we have your pretty captain as well." His voice was rich, the voice of command, but now only twisted and taunted instead into something surreal and disgusting.
Nero slowly walked over to Jim, standing in front of him, "Tell me something, James T. Kirk. Who should die next?" Jim let out a whimper, trying to work out a sound from his throat, but nothing would come out. Nero took it as a sign of defiance, or maybe weakness, and gestured towards Sam. Sam met Jim's eyes and mouthed at him.
Don't give in.
Jim screamed out as Sam's neck was snapped, a clean white sound over everything else, clear as shattering glass. He fought, every bit of his starving body fought against the guards.
"You could have saved him, Kirk. Just like the rest of your crew, you could have saved them. Starfleet never raised a finger to help my people, and now, yours will suffer and starve and die. They are the weaker species. Weak, pathetic. Inferior."
It wasn't true. Wasn't true. Jim knew it wasn't. Starfleet had tried to help. Was coming with supplies, a ship, red matter, food... coming, had to come, they just had to hang on...
"The other." Nero called out.
Hands took George's head. "Look away!" George called out. It didn't stop Jim from hearing it as George choked to death on his own bubbling blood.
Uhura. Spock. Bones. Uhura had a bruise on her cheek, her clothing was torn. She had fought against the guard. Bones was glaring death at Nero's back, but looking worriedly to Jim with what Jim had always called 'the doctor's eyes'. Nero turned away and moved over to where he had been before, beside Spock. The guard forced Jim forward, a perfect view of all of them. Jim could hear someone coming up behind him, stopping just at his shoulder, but he didn't dare look away.
The world went silent, until his heart beat was all he could hear. The pulse of blood in his veins. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Bones met his eyes. Nero's mouth was moving. The world was silent. He was talking to Spock, that murderer. The guard forced Uhura over to Spock, and Jim could see her lips moving. Talking to Spock. Telling him something. Spock only nodded once, and said something back. Three movements of his lips.
The dull, loud crack.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
He couldn't hear his own scream as Nero stepped behind Bones in a fluid motion, drew a blade, and slit his throat.
Bones' eyes never left his.
Crimson and blue do not always purple make.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Spock and Jim looked to each other. He saw Spock's eyes go wide, his lips part in the slightest. Jim felt the coldness of something at his throat. Felt lips at his ear. The voice in his ear was his own, deeper, richer. He knew that voice. He had heard it groaned into his ear, had heard it beneath sparkling golden eyes.
"I'm sorry, Jim. They have to live to stand trial."
He felt the coldness move through him. It didn't hurt. Nothing could hurt. Everything hurt. He tasted copper on his tongue, thick and hot, the opposite of the cold. He felt Jim let him go.
Jim lay on the ground, staring. He tried to take a breath.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
He breathed in blood. The edges of the world went dark.
He watched Spock's head drop, and thought he saw pale lips moving. He saw Nero's blade move.
He choked.
The world went black.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
Ba--.
Surviving on Tarsus IV was impossible anymore, but he was forcing himself to.
Jim sat down in the alley and broke into the bread. He pulled off the moldy pieces and put them aside, wishing he had gotten better but not expecting it. Not anymore. He looked to the edge of the bread and swallowed thickly, pulling off a large chunk. It hit the ground, getting dirt. He couldn't eat it - it was stained with blood.
He had seen the two people fighting over the scrap of bread. One had gotten stabbed. He had grabbed it and run in the process. Jim's eyes closed as he shoved the tasteless meal into his mouth, chewing with the hunger of the desperate. He had been running for so long now, ever since he had come home to find his Aunt dead where she laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Everyone was hungry. Everyone was starving.
Jim heard a sound and he clutched at the remains of his meal tightly. He looked towards the mouth of the alley and bared his teeth unconsciously. It had been three weeks since the death of his aunt. It was four since his Uncle had been stabbed trying to protect their house from people trying to get into it. His cousin had run away from him when they had been forced to run from the house. Jim had no idea if he was still alive, but he had a feeling that the answer was probably no.
He was fifteen. His cousin was seventeen.
Slowly he made his way to the opening of the alley and looked out. It came out into a small courtyard-sized area, and he could see two people moving in the gray light of the cloudy day. No. One was still, the other was moving. He could hear a language that was harsh, spitting, unfamiliar spoken in a familiar voice. Jim cautiously made his way closer, and when he got close enough to see faces, his eyes went wide.
"Did you sleep vell? Da, da, of course you did. I vill join you for a little vhile, then I vill try again."
He watched Chekov lay down beside a very still Sulu and close his eyes. Jim waited for several minutes, terror keeping him frozen in place. When all was silent, still, he made his way towards the other two men. There was no movement from either, and he nearly threw up when he got a good look at Sulu's face. He knew the look now, he had seen it before, smelled it in the air. Sulu was dead, and had been for some time.
He tried to shake Chekov awake.
The blond never woke up again.
He was running for his life. His lungs were burning as he ran as fast as he could from where the two dead men where. He had seen others before, but people had resorted to even eating the corpses when nothing else could be found. His aunt had refused to do it, saying that if they ate the bodies of another, the soul would stay inside him forever.
She was dead, now. Maybe if she had been willing to share her body with another soul, she would still be alive. Jim had yet to even dare.
"Come on! No one is allowed to be left behind! Get a move on!" The words were called out, loud and clear, echoing. Jim looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He finally spotted it - a guard was pushing a dark skinned woman forward, his fist wrapped around her hair, half-dragging her when she fought. Jim tucked back into the shadows, bread crumbling in his hands, terror gripping at him. The guards were the Governor's dogs, attacking like dogs, barking like dogs, killing like dogs - ruthless, messy, violent. Looks like the guard had a new bone.
When she spoke, he knew it. He knew it. Knew her.
Jim followed her and the dog-guard, the remains of his meal dropping from his hands to the ground. He stuck to the shadows, along the edge of a building--
"Nn!" He hit the ground hard when he tripped over something he hadn't seen. He looked to what it was and had to swallow hard. The face was known, even if it was so decomposed. Some of the flesh on the body was missing. The white hair was a feature that was hard to forget.
Jim scrambled up and kept following.
He ended up in a large field on the outside of town. There were six people lined up, down on their knees, with a guard behind each one. Uhura was muscled into place at the end of the line, the guard at her back. In front of them, a side profile for Jim, was Nero, and Ayel at his back. Spock was at their side, bound, bloodied, beaten.
Jim could see Nero's mouth moving, but couldn't hear the words. The Romulan seemed to gesturing, talking at Spock, who stared stoically forward. Jim started to get closer, but no matter how close, he couldn't hear anything except the endless whine of the wind.
Scotty was the first to die. With a gesture from Nero, the guard behind Scotty pulled out a dagger and drew it across the engineer's throat. The color of his blood made the crimson of his shirt darker, darker, black.
Even as Jim drew his breath to scream, another gesture, and Winona would be the second to die. His scream was hidden inside of his father's and Pike's as they merged together into a sound of anger and pain.
Another gesture, and Pike was killed next. Jim heard the body hit the ground. He screamed again, and hands grabbed for him. He fought, staring at the bodies on the ground. Those remaining kneeling turned, saw him, stared at him. They needed to be rescued. His crew. He was fifteen.
Nero looked to him as the hands - more dogs, more guards, forced Jim forward. He smirked, all green and darkness, and looked down to Spock, "And now we have your pretty captain as well." His voice was rich, the voice of command, but now only twisted and taunted instead into something surreal and disgusting.
Nero slowly walked over to Jim, standing in front of him, "Tell me something, James T. Kirk. Who should die next?" Jim let out a whimper, trying to work out a sound from his throat, but nothing would come out. Nero took it as a sign of defiance, or maybe weakness, and gestured towards Sam. Sam met Jim's eyes and mouthed at him.
Don't give in.
Jim screamed out as Sam's neck was snapped, a clean white sound over everything else, clear as shattering glass. He fought, every bit of his starving body fought against the guards.
"You could have saved him, Kirk. Just like the rest of your crew, you could have saved them. Starfleet never raised a finger to help my people, and now, yours will suffer and starve and die. They are the weaker species. Weak, pathetic. Inferior."
It wasn't true. Wasn't true. Jim knew it wasn't. Starfleet had tried to help. Was coming with supplies, a ship, red matter, food... coming, had to come, they just had to hang on...
"The other." Nero called out.
Hands took George's head. "Look away!" George called out. It didn't stop Jim from hearing it as George choked to death on his own bubbling blood.
Uhura. Spock. Bones. Uhura had a bruise on her cheek, her clothing was torn. She had fought against the guard. Bones was glaring death at Nero's back, but looking worriedly to Jim with what Jim had always called 'the doctor's eyes'. Nero turned away and moved over to where he had been before, beside Spock. The guard forced Jim forward, a perfect view of all of them. Jim could hear someone coming up behind him, stopping just at his shoulder, but he didn't dare look away.
The world went silent, until his heart beat was all he could hear. The pulse of blood in his veins. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Bones met his eyes. Nero's mouth was moving. The world was silent. He was talking to Spock, that murderer. The guard forced Uhura over to Spock, and Jim could see her lips moving. Talking to Spock. Telling him something. Spock only nodded once, and said something back. Three movements of his lips.
The dull, loud crack.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
He couldn't hear his own scream as Nero stepped behind Bones in a fluid motion, drew a blade, and slit his throat.
Bones' eyes never left his.
Crimson and blue do not always purple make.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Spock and Jim looked to each other. He saw Spock's eyes go wide, his lips part in the slightest. Jim felt the coldness of something at his throat. Felt lips at his ear. The voice in his ear was his own, deeper, richer. He knew that voice. He had heard it groaned into his ear, had heard it beneath sparkling golden eyes.
"I'm sorry, Jim. They have to live to stand trial."
He felt the coldness move through him. It didn't hurt. Nothing could hurt. Everything hurt. He tasted copper on his tongue, thick and hot, the opposite of the cold. He felt Jim let him go.
Jim lay on the ground, staring. He tried to take a breath.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
He breathed in blood. The edges of the world went dark.
He watched Spock's head drop, and thought he saw pale lips moving. He saw Nero's blade move.
He choked.
The world went black.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
Ba--.