10-20:

After a while, Jim determined the gunman had wandered off; there were no more bullets and the Romulan hadn't come down looking for them, so Jim risked a glance through the open wall. There was no one.

Jim looked over at Spock. "He's gone," he whispered.

The boy remained still, shoulders barely raising with each small breathe he took. Jim frowned before pushing his back off the wall and standing. He hissed as a gut-clenching pain ripped through his shoulder. Jim slapped a gloved palm over the bloody hole in his suit.

Outside, two suns blared in the sky. They hung parallel to each other, their light and overwhelming heat spilling out over the broken city. The sky had turned from a dusty grey to a very timid blue with no clouds in sight. Jim could feel sweat start to build up around the edges of his mask and under his armpits as he edged out from cover, thanking his suit for giving him some layer of protection against the temperature.

The heat only rose as Jim got closer to the burning rubble of the rotorcraft. Heaps of charred metal sat under a shroud of crackling fire. Black smoke rolled up into the air and dispersing into a haze that floated away in the sky. Jim raised an arm as he walked closer to the rubble.

He reached for a large panel that leaned against the heap and quickly ripped it away. A pocket of smoke rushed out, sending Jim two paces backwards. He wiped down the smudges on his mask and edged closer. Jim's eyes scanned it, looking for…something.

Someone.

He pulled back some more debris. He tugged on a chunk of glass, sliding it out of the fires and throwing it away, then reached for more. Jim reached for some more and blanched. A slumped shape was draped over a metal bar, limp and lifeless, body burnt beyond repair.

"Jesus!" Jim yelled and reeled back, body shaking as if the sight had punched him in the gut. Hot anger flashed through him as bile flooded the back of his throat. He turned his back on the crash and gritted his teeth together, screams and curses bubbling on his tongue. He felt like dying too, becoming another piece of ash in the wreckage just like his team.

Why?

Jim shut his eyes tightly and shook his head.

Why was it always him?

He could feel the itch of tears in his eyes but bit those back so hard Jim thought his head would explode.

Always his family? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy—

Jim took in another breath and composed himself before stalking back into the building. He didn't look back. Spock was still sitting in his ball on the floor, body stiff. For a brief second, Jim wanted to shake him, ask him why wasn't he crying or screaming or angry or anything. Why he was so calm while Jim felt like he was a lit fuse.

"Let's go," Jim said, trying to keep his voice leveled. "We don't want to be here when they send a team to check out the craft."

Spock didn't move.

Jim felt his lips twitch and bit down on them. "Let's go," he said again, this time reaching down and tapping the Vulcan on the thin shoulder.

At this, Spock's head shot up and he glared up at Jim over his filter-mask. The two stared at each other for a moment before Spock stood. This close, Jim could see how small Spock was compared to him. His head hit his shoulder, maybe higher, but that didn't seem to faze the kid. He stood with such a sharp posture that Jim felt like he was the one in charge.

Jim tried to match the scowl on Spock's face as he said again, "Let's go. We need to find a comm." He kicked at the broken comm. he had thrown on the ground only hours before. "All of the communication towers are probably shot but there might be a personal comm. in a house somewhere…"

He stopped when Spock lowered his head, more interested in his feet than what he was being told.

Jim snorted and made his way over to the hole in the wall. "You stay right behind me, alright?" he muttered over his shoulder at Spock. He walked out, making sure that he didn't looked towards the rubble, and slowly made his way along the curve of the building. He made it to the building's side and peek around the corner. A quiet, barren street lined with crooked houses looked back at him. Jim eyed the closest house.

"Alright, stay with me. We're going to run to that—" Jim stopped when he turned to look at Spock.

He was crowded behind him, not to close, but there, hunched together. His human eyes were looking off to the side. Jim followed the line of sight over to the fiery pile of debris. His stomach did a flip. He knew what Spock was thinking, even if the kid would never say it himself.

They had both failed them, all of them, and now they were leaving them to turn into dust. Jim sighed and swallowed. "Keep with me," he said before jogging across the street and towards the house.

Spock followed without any objections.

0-0-0

Jim pushed back the tattered curtain that split the house's rooms apart. He looked in. "Okay," Jim turned back to look at Spock. "Go a…what are you doing?"

Spock stood in the doorway with one leg bent up. He glared over at Jim, the pistons on his mask twitching. He slipped one of his boots off and held it tentatively. He did this again for the other foot then walked into the room, both boots tucked into the crook of his arm. He stopped when he reached Jim's side.

Jim eyed Spock's boots before cocking an eyebrow. "No one's home."

Spock's response was a puff of steam from his mask.

"Well, go ahead," Jim said again, raising the curtain. Spock ducked under it without a word, causing Jim to roll his eyes.

The room was practically empty other than two tall overturned tables and a large mat lying on the floor. Small dishes sat along the sides of the mat, all full of black ash and burnt wicks. The furthest wall was covered by a wall-hanging depicting Vulcan inscriptions. Jim walked toward the drapery and ran his gloved hand down it.

"Sss," he hissed as his bullet wound flared. "What does this mean?" he asked, through his teeth.

Spock glanced his way but said nothing, to busy exiting through another curtain. Jim sighed and jogged after the young Vulcan, leaving the drapery to hang in silence.

"Don't run off like that, kid," Jim grumbled passing the curtain. He looked over at Spock who stood staunchly by a wall, his boots sitting comfortably in his arms. Besides him, a white box sat on a low table.

Jim's eyes widened.

"Holy shit!" He ran over to the box (not minding that Spock deliberately turned his shoulder so they wouldn't touch) and knelt down. He patted the side the box and wiped down the small black screen on top. The comm. was old, really old, but it was still a comm., a personal one at that. Jim felt around the back of the comm. till there was a little click and a small compartment opened up. He fished out the speaker cable from and held it close to his mask.

A small red button was at the bottom of the cable. Jim pressed it. "Come on, baby," Jim licked his lips as he rubbed the top of the comm. The black screen there flickered then came one with a buzz of static. "Yes! Fuck yes! We got a comm.!"

Above him, Spock's mask let loose another huff of steam. He watched as Jim fiddled with the speaker. "We'll have to send a dispatch through a tower to reach the ship but," Jim stopped to laugh sheepishly, "who the fuck cares, right? We got a comm.!"

Clicking on the small switch under the cable top, Jim talked into it. "This is Lieutenant James T. Kirk, FSOC Alpha to UFP tower 1, copy?"

The comm. buzzed as it took in Jim's words then there was silence. Jim glanced up at Spock then back to the comm. "FSOC Alpha to UFP tower 1."

Silence.

"Tsk," Jim hit the speaker on his mask in frustration. "Tower 1, please copy." The comm. buzzed and whirled yet the line remained dead. The vein in Jim's temple throbbed. "For fuck's sake, TOWER 1!"

The comm.'s screen skittered then a thick green line came across it, followed by a metallic voice. "UFP tower 1 to FSOC Alpha, please state your location."

Jim let go of the breath he'd been holding back with an, "Oh, thank God." He looked up at Spock and gave him a toothy grin. "Yes…yes, uh, coordinates unknown. Approximate to, ah, midtown ShiKahr. Request for two to beam up—repeat, two—by Federation Starship USS Ulysses."

There was a pause. "Please state names and recognition numbers."

"Kirk, James T., Rec. Number 51152-45196," Jim said slowly, smile faltering. "Juvie pickup 99941-02 under FSOC database."

Pause. "…State your location."

Jim felt his teeth clamp together. "I already did, God dammit. Midtown ShiKahr."

"…Please specify," the robotic voice came out cold.

"UGH!" Jim clenched the speaker cable tightly in one hand and slammed the other on the ground. "Listen to me you fuckin' machine, I've got a kid here who needs to get back to his dad. Now patch us through and beam us the fuck up!"

The robot seemed to process what had been said then returned with a, "Please state your location."

At this, Jim jumped up from the floor and punched the top of the comm. "You're. Not. Fuckin'. Listening, you piece of shit!" he roared. "We don't know where we're lo—"

Jim's words mushed together as Spock quietly leaned over his shoulder and spoke. "We are approximately 12.37586 kilometers from the center point of ShiKahr," he said, voice so foreign that it made Jim's ears itch. When he finished, he pulled away and looked down at Jim's shocked face.

"Really?" Jim managed.

Spock glanced up at him.

"Hah…" Jim shook his head and said into the speaker, "You hear that?"

A long pause. "…Please stand by."

There was a click then the green line on the screen disappeared. Jim gawked over at Spock, eyes wide. "How'd you know that?"

The young Vulcan gave Jim a look, his human eyes glinting before returning to their normal edge. "I mapped our steps here."

Jim stared at Spock even after he looked away. Hah, smart son of a bitch, he thought.

"Transfer commencing." Jim flinched as the robot called through the speaker. "Transfer complete."

This time, a high-pitched voice came on. "Hello. This is UFP Tower One. Am I speaking to Lt. James Kirk?"

"Yes you are. Am I speaking to an actual person or is this just another fuckin' Federation robot?" Jim spat out.

The voice on the other line came back stuttering. "Y-Yes I am a p-person, sir. P-Pavel Chekov, transmission office, s-sir. Sir, you have r-requested a beam up by the USS Ulysses from an approximate radius of 12.37586 from the center point of ShiKahr. Am I correct?"

"Yeah."

"…Y-Yes I have found your approximate position."

Jim waited. "…Well, what? What are you waiting for?"

"…I am being told that ShiKahr has been deemed a lock-down zone, sir. Bok-Beam ups are strictly forbidden in lock-down zones. Ve cannot—"

"Chekov, right?" Jim cut in.

"Yes, sir?" Chekov squeaked.

Jim smiled tightly. "I've got a minor with me who I have been sent directly from the top to retrieve and bring back safely. Now tell me how I'm supposed to do that if you can't beam us up!?"

"I-I…stand by."

Jim scratched at the bit of scalp that his mask didn't cover. "Motherfucker…" he glanced over at Spock to find his eyes trained on him. I'm working on it, kid, he thought.

"Lieutenant Kirk?"

Jim rolled his head back to the comm. and switched the speaker on. "Yeah, what?"

The person on the other line cleared his throat. "This is Anton DeSalle from UFP Tower 00. Am I to understand you have pickup 999410-2 with your persons?"

"Yes."

"Has the pickup been compromised?"

Jim heard himself laugh. "What?—compromised. No! No, he's fine! We're both fine!" Jim stressed. "Now beam us up! The ensign I was just talking to said you had our position—"

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

DeSalle's voice came out grave, "I regret to inform you that the Federation, or any branches of the Federation, cannot assist you further. The city of ShiKahr, as well Gol, T'Paal, and Vulcan Regar, have been deemed infected under 42 code CFR 71. Any persons who have been exposed to these areas before the time 7:14 this morning are to remain in their current positions."

Jim felt his blood run cold. "42…42, that's Foreign Quarantine! Are you saying we're under quarantine?"

"Yes. I'm deeply sorry Lieutenant."

With that, the line went dead.

It took Jim a moment to realize that the only thing he was listening to was static. "Wait!—Hello? Hello…" Jim blinked dumbly at the comm. and let the speaker drop out of his numb fingers. He breathed in and out, letting his breath cloud his mask.

"We are under quarantine?" Jim blinked and turned around to look at Spock; he stood quietly with his hands clasped behind his back, dark eyes attentive and wide. "We are under quarantine?" he repeated.

Jim furrowed his brow as he looked down at the ground. His head was buzzing, like he had just taken a blow to the skull over and over and over again.

They had left them. He didn't understand.

For some reason, he felt betrayed that the Federation didn't try harder, that they just dropped the comm. after he and Spock had suffered through so much already. They dropped them off the fucking comm. and that was it? UFP had never had his back, but to leave them stranded.

To be willing to let them die.

Jim looked down at the UFP insignia printed into his suit's chest. He set his jaw.

No—He did understand.

This was a war. This was "every man for himself." It had always been that way, and UFP didn't give a damn if they didn't make it.

Spock moved back as Jim bustled by him and grappled with the comm. He watched with narrowed eyes before sighing inwardly. "Lieutenant Kirk, I see no reason to waste the communicator's energy on further contact with—" Spock stopped talking when Jim ripped the comm.'s wires out of the wall. He watched as Jim hoisted the comm. onto his back, securing it with one of the straps that held his oxygen tank on.

Jim turned to look at Spock. "Come on," he sniffed before turning and stalking towards the curtain.

Spock blinked but followed, hugging his boots closer to his chest. "Where are we to go?"

Jim continued to walk. "Out of here."

He heard Spock shuffle to put on his shoes while keeping up with him. "There is no way to depart ShiKahr, Lieutenant," he called.

Jim kept walking.

"To travel out of cover would be unwise."

"…"

Spock slid his last boot on and strode in next to Jim just as they reached the exit of the house. "Lieutenant. Please listen to reason."

Spinning around, Jim shoved a finger in Spock's face. "I came here to save you," he hissed. "I'm not going to give up just because we're on "lock-down", alright. Just because they don't give a shit," Jim gestured upwards, "doesn't mean I don't."

Jim watched as Spock's posture stiffened and sighed. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, okay. I'm not leaving without you either." He glanced around. "And I'm sure as hell not staying here."

The pistons on Spock's mask twitched as he dipped his head away from Jim's gaze. Jim nodded and hiked up his oxygen pack, the edges of the comm. resting uncomfortably on his back. "And we're not infected, okay?" he added. "Whatever that guy was talking about is a load of crap. We got our masks on, we're…we're fine, okay. We're fine."

He nodded his head roughly at Spock. "Okay?"

Spock's brown eyes glanced about then he nodded in return, black bangs sliding to the sides of his pale face.

Jim swallowed down the lump in his throat and walked out into the scorching air outside. He waited for Spock to follow. "Now, where are the city's exits?"

Spock stopped a few paces behind him. He shook his head while saying, "There is a land bridge approximately 170.8 miles from our current location that connects ShiKahr to the local Interplanetary Docking Station. Other entrances were and are still blocked by Romulan forces."

"Hmm," Jim hummed and grabbed at his wounded arm. "A port?" He walked along the empty street and over to the next house. He backed both Spock and himself up against the house's wall. "How long would it take us to get there?"

Besides him, Spock blinked at the ground, brow lined. "With the lack of transportation, we are left with walking. This being said, I would estimate it would take nearly 55 hours to successfully reach the station."

Jim breathed as he looked down the street; there was no one. "Only 55?"

"Yes. However, Lieutenant, there is the likelihood that the station has been clos—"

"Only 55?" Jim said again.

Spock's thick eyebrows scrunched together momentarily. "Yes, Lieutenant, as long as we do not rest nor slow our walking speed for the entirety of the trip."

Jim closed his eyes and sighed.

He wasn't scared—ever, but he was at a loss. He didn't know what the hell to do, but he wouldn't let Spock know that. He was the only thing that was going to keep him alive, keep him from joining his mother…

Wiping at his mask, Jim flicked his hand for Spock to follow him. "Let's get going then." He jogged out into the middle of the street, all the while looking from each house's covered windows. They needed to be careful, cautious. They had no weapons, they had no backup. It was just them, Jim thought.

He shot Spock a look over his shoulder, checking to see if the boy was still with him.

It was just them.

Chapter 5!