"Look out!" Someone slammed into Jim Kirk from the side, knocking him to the ground as something flashed by overhead. Whoever had tackled him fell with Jim, letting out a yelp as they both hit the ground.

The boy wasn't much older than Jim; a skinny dark haired kid who looked like he'd been in a fight, he was up again in a hurry, trying to drag Jim along with him. "Come." He urged, trying to duck past the antique shop and down a dark alleyway.

Once around the corner, Jim stopped and jerked his arm free of the other teen, turned and blinked in surprise. "Who are you?" Jim demanded, rubbing his elbow where he had landed on it.

The other boy was trying to catch his breath. His eyes were filled with urgency as they darted from Jim to the alleyway entrance and back.

A tall alien, scarred and angry, appeared in the alleyway. The boy uttered some exclamation Jim didn't understand, and stepped between him and the newcomer.

The newcomer leveled some sort of laser gun at the other boy. Jim started to move away from the boy, somehow certain that that blast was not meant for him. It was meant for Jim Kirk. He wasn't about to just stand there and let some other kid get killed for him.

The boy jerked Jim back behind him and gave the newcomer a defiant look. "Fine." The newcomer spoke. His finger tightened on the trigger.

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin as someone let loose what sounded like a war cry from one of those old kung fu movies. Their attacker grunted and fell forward, his shot going wide and hitting Jim's defender in the shoulder. Jim reached out an arm to steady the boy, staring all the while at the newest addition to this odd scene.

The man was in his twenties, and of Asian descent. He stood behind where the alien with the gun had fallen, also out of breath.

"Sorry." He panted. "You okay?" The other boy nodded, even as he bit his lip against the pain. Both of them turned to look at Jim.

"I'm…fine." He answered them uncertainly. What was going on here?

"Then come on. We've got to get out of here." The man spoke quickly, as if in a hurry. Jim didn't move.

"Hang on, just hang on a minute." He said, and the two stopped and looked back at him. "Who are you? Who was that?" He demanded. "He was trying to kill me. What's going on?"

The two dark-haired strangers exchanged a glance. The older man spoke. "We can't tell you, Jim." He said uncomfortably. "But we're here to rescue you."

"Rescue me." Jim repeated incredulously. "Really?"

The younger boy nodded, and pointed to the unconscious alien in the alley with them. "It's not safe here." The Asian said, also looking at the alien on the ground. Jim still didn't move.

"So you can't tell me anything, but you still expect me to go with you. Is that right?" He couldn't believe this.

The two strangers sighed. Again they shared a glance. "This is Paul," the older of the two finally offered, nodding to the boy, "and right now someone really wants you dead. We can't really tell you anything else."

Abruptly the man dropped, dragging Jim and the other kid down with him. Another laser blast flashed overhead.

Paul swore, but Jim was almost sure it wasn't in English. The man scanned the alleyway for some sort of escape. Jim didn't bother pointing out that it was a dead end.

The man's eyes rested on a window above their heads. He moved to stand below it. "Come on." He said to Paul. "I'll boost you up."

Paul gave him an incredulous look, but obliged. He moved quickly; his foot found the other man's hand, fingers intertwined, and his hands caught the window ledge. He hauled himself up and inside.

"Your turn." Kirk stared at him in disbelief.

"You've got to be kidding me." Paul was leaning back out the window, ready to help him up. Laser fire flashed by once more. Jim groaned and followed Paul's example. Paul helped him in through the window, and the two leaned back out.

The other man didn't hesitate but backed up and approached at a run. He jumped, and by some miracle Jim and Paul caught him by the arms and managed to pull him up.

"Now what?" Jim asked. Paul looked up.

"Upstairs." The other agreed. "The roof."

They took off through the room, looking for stairs that lead up. They found them, and dashed upwards desperately.

When they reached the roof, there was nowhere to go.

"Now what?" Jim asked again. Neither of his companions answered.

Paul fixed a frightened gaze on his friend. He looked as worried as Jim felt.

Their assailants burst on to the roof and prepared to fire. This was it.

The three found themselves standing straight and tall, determined to face their executioners bravely.

They materialized in an odd room and were greeted by two men. Jim's older companion grinned. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

The 'Captain' returned the smile, but the other man scowled. "Just what I need." He complained. "Another injury! You're going to sickbay. All of you!"

Kirk eyed Chekov as he settled back down on the bed. The dying man had taken a turn for the worse during Kirk's trip to the transporter room.

"They make it?" He gasped; all the color was gone from his face. Kirk nodded.

"They made it. The kid took a hit to the shoulder, but the doctor's looking at it now."

"Good." Chekov nodded.

"How-" Kirk didn't finish, but Chekov answered anyway.

"I'm stubborn. I don't really want to die. Not yet, anyway. I'd like to see this finished."

"I'm sorry about Sulu." Kirk said quickly. He wasn't sure this Chekov actually cared, but he needed to say it all the same.

Chekov sighed. "He knew, Captain."

Kirk started. "He knew?" He echoed

Chekov managed a bitter smile. "We both knew we weren't going to make it through this. Admittedly, we both thought I'd go first, but we knew. Why do you think he told Hikaru?" He asked, before lapsing into an agonized silence. He was in pain just trying to breathe.

Kirk hated this. He hated seeing Sulu killed, and he hated watching Chekov die. It didn't matter that these weren't the same Sulu or Chekov, and it didn't matter that if they succeeded, Sulu and Chekov would be alive and well once more.

Right now Kirk was here, watching Pavel Chekov, who had trusted him when he had had no reason to, who had saved his life at the cost of his own, die.

"I think I would not have minded serving under you, Captain." Chekov interrupted Kirk's thoughts. His voice was low; Kirk had to strain to hear it.

"Oh?" Was all he could think to reply.

"Given more time, I would have liked you." Chekov continued. "As it is, I can only say that you seem to be a man of integrity, honor, and strength."

Kirk hated this. "Thank you." He managed.

"Nyet." The man shook his head. "Thank you."

Kirk wondered how much longer the Russian had.

Pavel glared at the Doctor. McCoy stood there and glared right back. "I said, take your shirt off." He repeated stubbornly. Pavel didn't move.

"Fine." McCoy snapped. "But when that gets infected and your arm rots off, don't come crying to me."

Pavel hesitated for a second longer before he reluctantly pulled of his shirt. McCoy gasped.

Shoulder wound aside, the boy was a mess. His skin was mottled with bruises, scratches, and a few burns as well, to say the least. Someone had tortured this boy. "Good heavens, what happened to you?" McCoy demanded.

Pavel shrugged in reply, and McCoy remembered that he wasn't supposed to talk. "Did someone here do this?" He asked.

Pavel shook his head, but McCoy wasn't completely convinced. There was a lot of odd stuff going on here, and he wasn't sure he trusted some of these people.

Pavel sighed. "Ve Rescue Jim." He said. That was the other teen, McCoy remembered. "Vas rescued also." He said thickly.

McCoy shook his head as he began treating the boy. "Remind me never to get on a Starship again. Too many injuries, and too many people who think they don't need a doctor. I'd hate to have to deal with you people on a regular basis."

Disclaimer: Like everything other category in which I write on this website, Star Trek does not belong to me.