10-60:

Jim gripped his line tighter as the rotorcraft bucked. Through the front window, the dark of space dissolved into a ball of red.

"Atmosphere approaching," Martine called. "Preparing hover-guard."

The ship bounced again as the propellers tipped downward slightly. Jim watched as Vulcan edged closer and closer till it was there, just out of reach. He let his eyes slide over to the holoscreen that shook on its router cables, the small image of Spock rocking along with it. Jim let a gloved hand swipe the picture away.

Through the screen, Pike caught his eye. They stared at each other before Pike tapped on the comm. dangling from his shoulder pad and mouthing a "Turn it on." Jim pressed on the small black button on the comm. and his captain's voice came out clear. "Pretty?" he said, nodded his head back at the advancing planet.

Jim found a tense smile. "Pretty red," he spoke into the comm.

Pike smirked and ended the conversation with a turn of his head. He and Jim normally had longer talks while heading to missions, but today it felt wrong to talk and break the silence. Jim winced as both of his ears were suddenly clogged and buzzing.

"2.72 kilometers from atmosphere. Steady entrance." Sulu called this time, voice coming through Jim's comm. like a little echo.

"Hover-guard set," Martine added.

Jim sighed deeply before popping his ears. Under his suit, he could feel his heart pounding away. Each bump the ship endured sent tremors up Jim's legs and into his abdomen. A cold sweat had settled between his back and his suit, causing an uncomfortable itch. Jim grimaced. Nerves, he told himself. Fuckin' nerves…

"1.5 kilometers." Sulu's voice hummed into Jim's comm. ".89—.50. Breaching atmosphere,"

With a roar, the craft plowed through the alien planet's atmosphere, a high pitch skeeee following. The metal panels alongside the interior of the craft shifted and rattled and the extension cord that connected Jim to the ceiling swayed violently.

Jim watched through the window as red and grey clouds rushed up to meet them. The craft continued through, turning the heavy clouds into thin wisps with a brush from it bulky frame. For a moment, it was like the clouds had trapped them, binding together to make an endless tunnel of whites and greys and reds. But before Jim could blink, the craft shot through the exit of the haze and hurtled towards the red ground.

By then, the craft's entire front window was stained with a thick layer of crimson dust. Martine pressed a button and two wipers shot over the grime. Jim watched the wipers go back and forth, subconsciously wanting a distraction from the pending moment when the craft would stop rocking and the doors would open and he'd be exposed.

"You shouldn't be afraid…"

Jim flicked his tongue over his dry lips. I'm not, he thought, desperately wanting to wipe at the sweat that was pooling under his bangs.

Ever.

A small beep sounded from Jim's shoulder. He cocked his head and listened through the glass of his mask. "Alpha, this is the Ulysses. You have reached 0.09144 kilometers from the surface of Vulcan." Jim could recognize the stoic voice of the First Officer.

Jim huffed and glanced around. Everyone had their heads cocked in the same manner. "We are sending a dispatch to the pickups 99941-01 and 99941-02 to enter the pick-up area. When your craft reaches 0.01524 kilometers, you will set your rotors to hover. Is this clear?"

"Clear," Pike said into his comm. before canceling the First Officer's call, leaving the comms. dead. "Alright," Pike shouted, looking around the space. "Eyes open. Stay alert. We'll be done before you can say Jack Robinson." Jim watched everyone nod sharply.

Pike turned his gaze to him. "Ready?"

Jim blinked a few times, letting the acidy taste in his mouth die down before nodding, "Yes, sir."

Pike gave him a wrinkled smile.

Sulu snapped into his comm., black hair ruffled under his mask. "Hover-guard set…locked." The craft lurched and then everything was still except the whir of the propellers.

"Ready for doors." Jim flinched as the large panels to the side of him began to split apart. Behind him, Finney, Brent, Lamli, and Farrell all rocked themselves closer to their guns, hands itching around stocks and triggers.

Jim blinked the sweat out of his eyes and watched the doors open. Heat immediately swarmed around the craft's room. Jim stifled a heave as the burn ripped into him through his suit then died down, the "breathable" rubber doing all it could to keep the warmth at bay. Jim gripped his line and leaned slightly out of the craft.

A dessert stared up at him. Dunes rolled along the surface of the planet like snakes, all coiling themselves around a walled off collection of curving buildings and walkways: ShiKahr. Jim gawked down at the city before spotting the building that had been in his file. A small gasp caught in his throat as he saw two figures run out of the building and stop in the small courtyard nearby.

Jim could hear Pike scream "GO!" but he was already zipping down his line, heels clamped around the cord while his right arm hung on. Warm air and dust whistled past him as he dropped, falling further and further, the city seemingly growing from the ground. A tight knot had formed in his gut that shifted closer to his chest the lower he slid. His mask let out a puff of air that hit Jim's face and making him realize he'd been holding his breathe. He took a lungful in through his teeth.

Suddenly, the dropping feeling stopped and a jarring shock flew up Jim's calves. Jim steadied himself and looked out ahead of him.

Lady Amanda stood there, her eyes wide as they searched Jim's face. She wore a grey dressed that fluttered around her ankles and a hood sat over her thick brown hair. Over her nose, mouth, and chin was a filter-mask, much lighter and less constricting than the mask Alpha was given. Little pistons moved up and down to the beat of the woman's heaving chest. Jim blinked at her almost in a daze then saw him; halfway behind Lady Amanda's leg was the small frame of Spock, his dark eyes peeking out from under a line of black bangs.

Jim felt his body numb. They were there— He was right there.

A heavy thunk sounded from Jim's side as Pike joined him on the ground. It took Jim only a second to follow after his captain when he darted over to the pair, his line stretching and trailing after. Pike came to a stop in front of Lady Amanda, Jim right behind him. "Lady Amanda!" his voice came out strained and muffled from the mask and the drone of the craft above them. "We are here to evacuate you!"

The woman's eyes glistened and crinkled above her mask. The pistons on her mask pulled apart as her voice came, "Thank you."

Pike nodded and pulled on his line. He tugged the noblewoman closer and began strapping her to him. He flicked his head at Jim.

Turning, Jim looked down at Spock. He stood ram-rod straight where his mother had been pulled away from him. He wore a grey tunic and black pants, and his round face was wrapped in a blue filter-mask. He stared up at Jim with weary yet stern eyes.

Jim stepped forward and grabbed Spock's arm to pull him closer. He hesitated when the boy visibly froze. "It's okay!" Jim shouted over the whipping air, taking his hand away. He held his palm out and tugged on his line. "Everything will be okay now!"

Spock stared at Jim's palm before edging closer; he jumped when Jim wrapped the line around his hips and over each shoulder. Jim clipped the lines together and tugged it. He looked over at Pike and gave him a thumbs-up.

Pike returned the gesture and turned to yell into his comm. "Kirk coming up!"

Jim felt a wave of relief flood his chest as he felt his line tug. He flung an arm around Spock's waist, ready to hike him close, but was slapped away by a quick hand. His line stopped moving. Jim blinked and frowned. "Let's go, kid!" he yelled, eyes bulging as Spock actually took a step away from him.

Spock shook his head once, his slanted eyebrows lowering over his intense eyes. His filter-mask hummed as he barely yelled, "You will allow my mother to board first."

Jim blinked in bewilderment—his brain not processing why the hell they were still on the ground and not high-tailing their asses out of there. Jim shook his head and tugged on the extension between him and Spock. "You first!"

Dark brown eyes glared at him over the filter-mask. "You will guarantee my mother's safety before mine," Spock half-yelled again. "I will not board until she does."

Behind them, Lady Amanda yelled through her mask. "Hal-tor!" Jim watched Spock whip his head around to stare at his mother. He gave her the same steely gaze he'd just given him and shook his head.

"Jim! We gotta go!" Pike yelled, voice piercing through Jim's comm. and racking his ear.

Spock turned his head back to Jim. He was sturdy, like a rock. Jim knew he wouldn't budge. "Then go!" he felt himself say. He heard Pike curse then the sound of his line reeling through the air. Jim looked up to see both his captain and Lady Amanda being pulled up into the craft.

"Now, Kirk!" Pike's voice rang through his comm.

Jim looked back at Spock. The harshness in the kid's eyes had died down. He almost looked…thankful now. Jim yanked the extension between them tight, lurching Spock into his chest. He hooked his arm around the Vulcan's waist and tugged on his line. Within a second, the line took them off the ground.

Jim let out an audible sigh. He shut his eyes briefly, letting the enormous rush he'd just had sweep over him. Pike would give him hell for not following orders, but at least they were safe now. Everyone was safe and Jim could finally start to relax. He blinked up at the belly on the craft, seeing how they were feet away, then back out to look over the tops of ShiKahr. He made a mental note to never come back to the city—shit, the planet. Hot and dry was a climate that he was used to, but this place was insane compared to Iowa summers.

In his arms, Spock clutched to the straps around his shoulders and tucked his knees up between them. He was completely still. Jim could feel a thump-thump-thump under the spot where his hand met his side.

It felt like a heartbeat…

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw something gleam. He turned his head and squinted against his glass of his mask. There was a row of buildings next to the pick-up area, all crumbling and bent. On one wall, there was a wide arch that used to hold a window, now empty. Jim stared at the window with a knot in his throat. The gleam came again.

Twisting his head, Jim talked into his comm., "Finney, your side. There's a building with…" Jim stopped as a figure stood up from behind the window.

Everything seemed to slow as Jim watched the Romulan take a silver ball in his teeth and rip it back in his hand. He hurled it, sending the ball flying towards the craft and backing away as it clunked inside the opening.

"Sorry, Jim. Repeat?" Finney's voice came through just as Jim heard a click and the craft above him blew.

0-0-0

Above him, Jim heard his line snap. His blood turned to ice as a sinking feeling punched him in the gut and he was falling—no, they were falling. Just before colliding with the ground, Jim managed to place himself between Spock and the concrete street.

The ground connected with Jim's back like lightning, sending a current through his bones and making him limp. He opened his mouth to scream or curse or anything, but nothing came. His head spun and a rumble had settled itself in his ears. A blast of red and orange hovered in the air. He watched, almost dazed, as the craft that had just been there was replaced with a heavy cloud of black smoke.

What…

Something zinged past Jim's face and buried itself into the concrete. He turned his head slowly to look at the bent propeller that had landed next to him. It took him a moment to realize what was happening.

Groaning, Jim summoned the strength to flip Spock over, laying himself across the other as chunks of metal and broken glass pelted the ground around them. He could feel the debris hit his back and dig into his suit. Spock laid under him, wide-eyed and as straight as a board.

When the size of the debris soon turned to just pellets of heated metal, Jim looked up. He whipped his head this way and that before pushing himself gently off of Spock; he remained on the ground. Jim walked over to the burning mass of metal that smoldered just a few feet away. The flames and smoke licked up at his mask, sending dancing movements across the glass.

What…No…

Jim shook his head, the realization finally clicking with him. "NO!" he yelled, running all the way over to the rubble. He screeched to a stopped and held his hands out in front of him, shaking and thinking of what to do. "Alpha!? Alpha!" he called into the fire.

There was no answer, not a sound.

Jim shivered as he flipped on his comm. "Alpha, respond! Anyone!" He waited. "Captain… Chris!? Chris! Please!" Jim gagged as only static sounded through the comm. Cursing, Jim drove both arms into the heap, ready to dig for his team, only to pull it back as fire nipped at his suit. "Jesus!"

He staggered back and wiped at the black ash that was now dusted across his mask.

What is this? How…No…

He stood motionless for a moment before feeling his lips quiver. They're dead, he thought. How…

Jim stopped when a shot zoomed past him. He spun around and locked his eyes onto the spot where the Romulan had been. He was still there, gun in hand, aimed at his position. "Shit!" Jim darted backwards as the Romulan let lose another shot, this one barely grazing his left thigh. Jim ran towards Spock—Spock! The boy had sat up from his spot on the ground and now stared absently at the burning rubble. His eyes reflected the fires with intensity, yet his gaze was far-off and empty.

Another shot came, and then two quickly in a row, all missing, but Jim could feel the Romulan locking down on them. Without stopping, Jim scooped Spock into his arms and flung him over his shoulder. Spock grunted but didn't struggle as Jim darted them into a nearby building. Jim hurled Spock through a broken piece of the buildings wall and then followed suit, just managing to avoid being shot.

Jim landed in a heap next to Spock, who lay (yet again) on his back. Jim gritted his teeth and pulled both Spock and himself up against the wall, out of view. He panted, letting his racing heart try and slow down. Clicking on his comm., Jim yelled out as a shot sliced through the brick wall across the room.

"USS Ulysses, this is Lieutenant James T. Kirk! Our craft has crashed! Repeat, our craft has crashed. Uh…" the spit in his throat was sticky and dry and Jim struggled to get his words out, "s-seven down, no, uh, eight. Shatter-grenade used…ah… Immediate beam up needed—"

Jim stopped as a shot echoed through the air and collided with his comm. "FUCK!" he roared and ripped the short circuiting comm. off of his shoulder, flinging it onto the ground. He clamped a gloved hand over the bloody hole the shot made as it buried itself into his skin. "Fuck me…" Jim whimpered.

Beside him, Spock sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, his face turned down and shoulders hunched. Jim stared at him before telling him to stay. He stood and hissed through his teeth as his shoulder burned. Jim inched over to the opening they had come through. He counted to three and then stuck out his arm. A shot followed soon after.

Jim jerked his arm back and returned to his spot near Spock. The gunman would either wait for them or get tired and leave; Jim wasn't sure which one a Romulan would favor. Jim staggered over and slumped against the wall, letting his back slide down it and sag to the ground. He took in labored breaths. Spock still sat with his body curled in on itself. Jim felt his lip quiver again.

Everything was fucked. None of this was supposed to have happened. No one was supposed to die—not Spock's family, and definitely not his, not again. Anyone else would have cried, Jim guessed, but he never cried, not for anything—

And apparently neither did Spock.

Finally got to this chapter!