10-59:

Jim could feel beads of sweat roll down the line of his spine and bury themselves in his between the rubber of his suit and the top of his ass. Even in the "breathable" suit he was sweating like a pig.

Stopping, Jim patted at the sweat around his wounded shoulder. The hole there was caked in stale blood and sand with a large bruise forming around its edges. Jim hissed as he poked a gloved finger at the tender skin.

They had been walking for (from what the clock in his mask was telling him) two hours, yet it felt like they had been going for weeks. The dessert heat swamped over his shoulders and back, clinging to him and weighing him down. He hung his head and took in a large breath in hopes of settling his upset stomach. Jim nearly retched at just how weak he felt. He never felt weak, but Vulcan made him feel like he was an ant under a microscope.

Spock didn't seemed effected by the heat; he plucked on behind Jim without a word. "Do you require rest?" he asked from behind, voice so stiff that it made Jim want to puke.

"Nah. It's just fuckin' hot," Jim shook his head and swallowed back bitter spit. He squinted forward. "How far…have we walked?"

Coming up beside him, Spock turned his head almost robotically to the side. The pistons on his mask pumped up and down. "I estimate around 3 miles," he said finally.

Jim groaned. I could run that in my sleep, he thought. "Christ, this atmosphere's fucked up."

"Are you unwell, Liuentant?" Spock asked, inching closer to Jim yet still keeping a decent distance between them.

"I'm fine," Jim snapped, itching to get at the sweat under his mask. He and shook off the brief heat stroke that ripped at him under his suit and started walking again. He wasn't going to let a little sun turn him into a pussy.

He heard Spock's mask sigh. "Lying about your health is unwise."

"I'm fine," Jim sneered over his shoulder. He hiked up his tank, the comm. patting at his thigh.

"Then you would not oppose the suggestion to quickening our pace." Jim stopped and turned around to stare down at Spock. The Vulcan looked back at him with a glint in his eyes. "You are fine, are you not?"

Jim felt his chest cave in as he let out a laugh. "Little bit of an attitude there kid?" he smirked, raising a fist and gently tapping it on the Vulcan's boney shoulder.

The light in Spock's eyes vanished almost immediately as he flinched back. "Vulcans do not possess "attitudes." That is a human characteristic."

Jim blinked dumbly at his still raised fist. He flexed it before dropping it to hang limply at his side. "Attitudes come with personalities. Everyone has a personality."

"Vulcans are born with near-identical attitudinal and behavioral response patterns. Therefore, Vulcans do not have personalities nor attitudes," Spock droned from behind his mask.

"That doesn't matter," Jim said, almost defensively. "Everyone's different and if it's only near-identical patterns or whatever then there's room for someone to be their own person—"

"We will cease this conversation," Spock cut in, "as you obviously have no knowledge on the topic you are speaking about," He stared up at Jim before turning his face.

For a moment, Jim stood with his mouth open. He shut it and wiped a hand down the back of his head. "You're right," he said. "I don't know anything. Sorry."

Spock continued to look away. Jim felt his stomach churn. He was never good with kids—or apologies. "Look, I'm sorry kid. Sometimes I can talk too much, ya know."

He stopped when Spock held up a thin hand. "What?"

Spock stayed silent.

Jim furrowed his brow and huffed. "Hey, take the apology or not, like I give a fuck, but don't go given me the silent treatment."

"Be quiet," Spock spat, jerking his head to the side. His eyes were wide and his pointed ears were twitching on the sides of his head. He looked past Jim's shoulder with a start. "There is something coming."

Jim blinked before whipping around. He stared down the deserted street, cautiously scanning the horizon. He shook his head and turned back to Spock. "There's nothing—HEY!" Jim nearly tripped over his own feet as Spock sprinted past him and into a nearby building.

Jim stood in the middle of the street, dumbfounded, before darting off as well. Jumping a low wall, Jim landed on the other side of a deserted house, face to face with Spock. "Fuck, kid!" he hissed, breath fogging up his mask. "The hell are you doin'—"

"SHH," Spock interrupted with a quick wave of his hand. Jim watched as the young Vulcan pressed his ear on the wall and listen.

Slowly, Jim turned his head to look down at the ground. Specs of rock and rubble bounced off the dirt floor and soon a rumble shook Jim from the inside out. Jim propped himself up higher on an elbow and peeked over the wall's top.

Coming around the bend of the street was a large tank. It had four tracks and a large body, black paint coating its entire metal surface. Gun barrels and hatch doors seemed to jut out from the tank at all angles while grey fumes spilled out of its rear and rose into the sky. It screeched as its wheels slowed and the behemoth parked in the middle of the street.

Jim's breath lurched as a hatch door creaked then slammed open. An armor clad body climbed out and jumped onto the ground, black boots stamping on the street with a crunch. He wore a slick black body suit, with pads and straps and clips. A gas mask, an older model, with lenses and a tube connecting his mouth to the tank on his back, covered his face. Looking closer, Jim could make out the design of sharp wings stamped into the metal of the large gun the soldier carried.

"Shit." Jim whipped his head back around and lowered himself even further down the wall. He looked over at Spock. "Romulans."

Nine or so more soldiers climbed out and joined the first, covered faces turning, simultaneously surveying the area. All of them had guns, some even had knives dangling from their belts.

"There will be exits near the back of the building," Jim heard Spock whisper. "We should vacate the area before our cover is found."

Jim shook his head as he watched the first Romulan swipe his hand in the air and the group of soldiers dispersed; two began walking toward the wall.

The hairs on the back of Jim's neck stood on end as he listened to the soldiers' feet crunching on the ground. The footsteps stopped just outside the wall. Underneath his suit, Jim's heart pounded. He shot a look over at Spock, subconsciously wanting to pull him closer, hide him. They were both silent as one of the Romulans peered into the wreckage of the building.

"Lliu," Jim's ears pricked as a guttural voice echoed above his head. "Kyrr'lep ilhaels, mrht aeu's aei."

Another one spoke. "Ishae aei?"

"…Ie."

Jim heard the two soldiers' boots scuff the ground as they turned and walked back to the tank. Jim sighed. "They're going," he whispered over to Spock.

"No."

Jim looked at Spock with a frown. "No." What do ya mean no?"

Spock turned his head. "They are planning to burn all the books in this building."

Blinking, Jim looked across the tattered room to see a self-full of dusty books. A booming SS-CHH echoed through the air, causing Jim to flinch. He craned his neck over the wall again.

The soldiers were all gathered around the largest of the group; even from where he was, Jim could see the Romulan's bulging muscles under his black suit. He held a large metallic pipe in his hands, one gripping the shaft while the other held on a lever on the machine's side. Smoke was pouring out of the pipe's end. The soldier walked up to the next building (two down from where they hid.) His comrades all watched from the tank as he pulled down the lever and a ball of fire shot out of the pipe, engulfing the building.

Jim's stomach sank.

"MOVE," Jim hissed and grabbed Spock's thin arm as another SS-CHH came from outside. He yanked the boy away from the wall and hustled them across the room. Throwing Spock behind a fallen roof panel, Jim turned just in time to see the Romulan braced himself in front of the building.

Jim fell to the ground as fire ripped through the room, curling himself into a ball on the floor. Heat blazed above him, licking at his back and neck. Even with his mask, Jim felt like he was suffocating.

Suddenly, the heat was gone, leaving only smoke and ash. Jim blinked and lifted his head, unfolding his legs and stretching out his body on the floor. Jim let out a sigh before pushing himself off the floor, injured shoulder aching. He crouched and peered out into the room.

The place was now a black, charred hole. Smoke filtered through out the space, hovering close to the ceiling, while piles of black ash sat in clumps on the floor. Jim felt his chest twist as he looked over at the shelves; the books that were once there were now gone, replaced by burnt scars on the shelves.

Jim blinked before his eyes snapped open. "Spock!" he called.

There was a shuffle before a small body crawled out of the rubble. Spock's brow was furrowed and his mop of black hair was tangled and, in some areas, burnt. "I am well, Lieutenant."

Jim smiled weakly and brushed at the back of his head, pulling back his own helping of burnt hair. He brushed off his gloves and watched as Spock made it all the way to the wall. "Are they gone?" he asked.

Jim risked a look over the scorched wall. The large solider was back at the tank, earning pats on the shoulders from the rest of the group. Jim let his back sag against the wall with a sigh. "I think so."

Spock nodded slightly and plucked at his charred locks of hair in disgust.

Jim laughed softly and shook his head. He turned and watched as the Romulans loaded back into the tank.

Too close, Kirk.

Pike's voice echoed through Jim's head, so clear Jim thought his captain was in the room with him.

"He-Hello?"

Jim's eyes widened as a stuttering voice reverberated through the room. He looked over at Spock; the boy's brown eyes were fixed on the comm. hanging from Jim's tank.

"Hello, Lieutenant Kirk. It's me, Pavel Chekov. Do you read!" the voice boomed again, followed by static from the comm.

Jim felt his blood run cold as he shot a look at the Romulans. The last one had paused just outside the tank's hatch, his head turned towards the wall. After a moment, the soldier stepped off the tank and began walking towards them.

"Fuck!" Jim cursed and sunk behind the wall.

"I-I did not copy zat, sir. Repeat?" Chekov's squeaky voice piped up through the comm.

Jim pounded on the top of the comm. "Shut up!" He glanced over, breath catching as the Romulan was now only yards away.

"Hello?"

Jim slapped the comm. again. At this, Spock ripped the comm. away and surveyed it in his hands. "Shut it up!" he hissed into Spock's ear as the sound of footsteps grew louder.

"Lieutenant Kir—"

Before Chekov could finish, Spock pried open the back of the comm. and ripped out a thick purple cord. The comm. fell silent just as the Romulan stopped in front of the wall.

Everything was quiet, other than the Romulan's breath through his mask—phff-ha phff-ha. Jim sank so far down the wall that his shoulders went past his ears. Sweat ran down the curve of his jaw and down the line of his neck, itching at his skin, yet he didn't dare move.

Spock sat next to him like a small statue, eyes focused on the ground and breath stifled. In his hands sat the comm., dead and useless. Jim noted that he would destroy the thing if they got out of this.

Above them, the Romulan moved the head, the leather of his suit and mask squeaking. He placed a hand on the wall, fingers barely brushing the tip of Jim's hair. He leaned forward and tilted is head.

Inches—inches till he found them. Jim bit down on his tongue and prepared for the soldier to reach down and yank him out into the open, to kill them both.

"R'Imus, mnaes."

Jim nearly let out a yell as the Romulan leaned away when one of his comrades called him. He backed away from the wall and stood motionless near the side of the street.

"R'Imus!"

The other soldier called again. The Romulan tilted his head before shouting a, "Ra!" and turning away.

It was only after the Romulan boarded the tank and drove away did Jim take a breath. "Jesus!" he sighed, hanging his head in between his shoulders. He swallowed and licked his lips. He turned to Spock who immediately looked up at him. They stared at each other for a moment, both composing themselves, before Jim pointed at the comm. and purple wire in Spock's hands. "Can you put it back together?"

Spock blinked twice. "Of course, Lieutenant."

Before Jim could say more, Spock snapped the wire back into the comm.'s slot and shut it. Without missing a beat, a high pitched voice flooded the room.

"Lieutenant Kirk! Lieutenant Kirk! Are you there?! Plees, talk to me!"

Jim refrained from rolling his eyes and fished the speaker cable out of the comm. "Yeh, we hear you."

"Oh, thank goodness, sir! I thought zat you might haff been captured!" Chekov nearly squealed.

Jim sighed and adjusted his grip on the cable. He chose not to mention the fact that because of the comm., they were almost caught, as the young dispatcher seemed frazzled already. "No. We're fine, for now."

Besides him, Spock stared down at the comm. with disgruntled eyes. "Mr. Chekov," he began, leaning closer to the cable in Jim's hand, "why are you communicating with us? I was lead to believe that all branches of the Federation were not to aid us in any way."

Jim furrowed his brow. "Yeah. What are you doing?"

There was a pause. "V-Vell, I thought zat the decisions of my superiors was a bad one. I do not find it right zat you would be left with no one to help you. I-I'm not supposed to be doing zis, but I snuck into the comm. station after hours."

Jim blinked over at Spock. "So…what? You're going to help us?"

"Yes, sir!" Chekov piped. "I vill help you escape Wulcan! See, I steel have your coordinates and I hacked into the central line so I have wisuals on all on-ground Romulans."

Jim wiped a hand across the back of his neck before standing, black soot falling off of his suit as he rose. "You hacked in… That's, um, that's great, but," he paused. "H-How old are you, again?"

"Sewenteen, sir! I am the youngest deespatcher in Starfleet!"

Spock shot Jim a look then leaned over the cable. "Mr. Chekov, helping us will also bring a possibility that your tampering in Federation databases will be found and that your position will be terminated."

Pause. "I…I know zis, sir."

"And you're fine with that?" Jim felt his throat tighten.

Another pause. "Yes, sir."

Jim's head buzzed with wearenotalonewearenotalonethankGod. He sniffed before stepping over the wall. Spock followed. "You're gonna to help us?" he asked.

Chekov squeaked, "Yes, sir! I vill try my best!"

Looking around, Jim gestured for Spock to follow him down the line of burnt buildings; their boots crunched on the piles of ash scattered around the street. "Alright, if you're gonna help us, then tell me a clear path to the Interplanetary Docking Station."

Through the comm., Jim could hear the sound of fingers hitting a keyboard. "Ah…okay! Interplanetary Docking Station! Yes!" More typing. "From vhere you are going, you vill end up passing through Main Square. Don't do zat!"

Jim stopped. "Why?"

"The Romulans haff set up barriers there, sir. You vill surely get caught if you valk through!"

Jim sighed. "Well, Mr. Chekov? Ideas?"

"Ah…" Chekov's voice came out in a hurry. "Yes, yes! There is a place called the S…s…bahh…B…B…"

Jim's lip twitched as Chekov continued to stutter. He looked over at Spock's equally irritated face. "What is it?" he mouthed.

Spock looked down at Jim with that glint in his eyes. "I believe Mr. Chekov is trying to pronounce the name of ShiKahr's distinguished gardens: Sbah Bah-Ker. It is located east of here."

"S…Sahh…"

Jim cut in. "Sbah Bah-Ker, Mr. Chekov. Get on with it."

"Yes!" Chekov let out an audible sigh. "Zis place is located 9.97 kilomeeters from your current location. Romulan forces haff not entered zis location. You vill be able to valk through vithout trouble."

Jim's heart skipped a beat as the weight on his shoulders lessened. "Are…are you serious?"

"Dead seerious, sir!" Chekov beamed.

"For fuck's sake…" Jim stifled an astonished laugh. "Mr. Chekov, I swear to God that when we get out of this I'm going to recommend you."

There was a period where only static echoed out of the comm. "—I haff to go," Chekov whispered finally. "Someone is coming. Valk 5.95 kilomeeters Northvest. There you vill find a turn. Take it. It vill lead you there."

There was more static followed by a, "Good luck."

The comm. went dead.

Jim blinked then put the cable back into the comm. He looked forward. A charred empty street stared back. "Well," he sniffed and looked down at the top of Spock's head, "let's go."

Hiking up his tank, Jim began walking down the street, minding the burnt rubble around him. "We're going to get out of here, kid," he said over his shoulder. "Don't you worry."

"Lieutenant."

Jim stopped and turned back to look at Spock. "Yeah?"

"Northwest is this way."

0-0-0

Both suns had set by the time they made it to the gardens. Jim fought with the urge to fall to his knees and sob when they reached the entrance. All the walking had been hell on his shoulder and he guessed the midafternoon heat he had to wade through took (at least) two years off his life.

Jim let himself fall down onto the small patch of short grass with a deep groan. He sniffed in a big breath of sterile air then let is out, feeling his muscles stretch before turning into Jell-O. Above him, strange purple and red trees stood tall, shading him from the glow of the moonless night sky. Other oddly colored plants and bushes sat around the gardens, all accenting the winding pathway that cut through its middle.

Jim couldn't get over how bright the place was compared to the rest of the charred and broken city.

Across from him, Spock took a seat on a rounded rock. He hadn't talk the whole way—just followed.

"This place is awesome," Jim said after a bit, breaking the strange silence that they had been it for the last four hours.

Spock glanced over at him then at a bed of reddish buds. "It is quite beautiful."

Jim nodded, sensing that the conversation was over. He leaned his head back till his world flipped and he was lying uncomfortably on his tank. Positioning himself on his side, minding his shoulder, Jim let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He was exhausted.

"My mother used to take me here on my "birthday.""

Jim cracked his eyes back open and he propped himself on his elbow. He smirked over at Spock. "That's cool." They went back to silence. "Why do you say "birthday" like that?"

Spock rolled his shoulders back and folded his legs up on the rock. "Vulcans do not celebrate "birthdays." The only celebration similar to a Terran "birthday" is Kahs-wan."

Jim blinked tiredly. "Kahs-wan?"

"Yes," Spock's mask huffed. "It is a test of maturity."

"Why don't you celebrate birthdays?" Jim yawned.

Spock hesitated. "It is just not done. However, my mother, being human, did not abide by this particular Vulcan practice."

Jim gave a sad smile. "Your mom seemed like an amazing person."

Spock's mask huffed. "She was…"

Jim smiled again and opened his mouth to say more only for a loud yawn to spill out.

"You are fatigued, Lieutenant?"

"Call me Jim."

"I would prefer not to, Lieutenant."

"Hah…" Jim sniffed and glanced through blurry eyes at the little Vulcan. "Are you tired?"

"Vulcans do not experience fatigue. However, we do find that two to three hours of meditation a day aids our neurological health."

Jim nodded absently while his eyes sagged. "Well, how 'bout we both meditate for a little while, heh?" He listened to Spock shuffle his legs then there was nothing. Jim sighed, "Good night, kid."

Across from him, Spock blinked then shut his eyes as well.

"Good night, Lieutenant."

Chapter 6!

(Rough)Translations:

Lliu-Nothing.

Kyrr'lep ilhaels, mrht aeu's aei-Some books, but that's it.

Ishae aei- Burn it?

Ie-Yes.

R'Imus, mnaes- R'Imus, come on.

Ra-Fine!