If the chemicals and the smoke and the general pollution all around them were not there, Spock would almost be reminded of Vulcan, with the heat and the near-barren plain. The broken architecture of the city in the distance almost looked like Shi'Kahr from the afar, in the Forge.
The environment was everything he expected in a planet ravaged by war--though he was surprised that, at the moment, they were not being shot at currently. The handful of viable coordinates he had given to the transporter room seemed to panned out. Though, now that they were outside the city, they needed to start heading in, and against the heated wind and the terrain. Doing so undetected would be difficult if anyone was bothering to look--no cover, nothing. With a impassive glance around, Spock brought his pack forward, pulled out the tricorder, and slung it back again.
Just as bad as the godforsaken Mojave desert as far as the heat was concerned. "Are we gonna needta use rebreathers?" He unhooked his phaser from his belt. This looked nastier than anything and he wasn't going to be caught off guard.
"Spock said we'd be okay down here." Kirk called out over the wind, looking to the other two. "Let's get going." And started in towards the city. He pulled out his phaser as well, but within about half a mile, something became very clear.
They were above the city.
It was about an eighty to one-hundred foot drop going straight down, and the edge of the city began there. Kirk looked left, looked right, but saw no way down other then suiciding or-
Spock came up beside him and looked down the vertical drop; unimpressed. He glanced to the city, the cliff, to the sky, to his tricorder, and again several more times. While they could only see partially-burned hydrocarbons curling through the sky, his tricorder confirmed the presence of chemical fallout, of compounds that the sensors had told him would be here. They would be 'safe,' as long as they did not stay too long. It was still like walking through one of his laboratory containment fields, but now with sentient enemies.
George made sure the universal translator was set correctly and then said just above normal conversational tones. "We're just wondering where the hospital is, and if we can have a guide there. If someone's injured, we'll take them with us as well." He glanced around slowly. "We mean no harm, and don't want trouble."
Kirk's eyes flickered in the direction Spock said that they were being watched from. His fingers tightened minutely on the phaser, knowing that if he needed to, he could use it. He would protect himself, his father, and Spock no matter who was stupid enough to attack him
( ... )
Spock gestured silently over to the one area where there were no life-readings; a building that hadn't survived any better than its neighbours, but provided some small shelter in a concrete ceiling that had only half-collapsed. After reaching the overhang, clearing the debris from under it provided them with space to stand apart, as well as strategic cover, should they be cornered there. Now he could spare a thought to notice how the skin of his hands tingled slightly.
"Wish we'd brought hazard suits," George said, checking his phaser. "How good a shot are either of you?" He shook his hair. Hopefully this crap wouldn't make him go bald. He was so using up the conditioner though when he took his next shower. He wondered how Chris was doing. Wish he could have said later in person.
Spock stood as well, with a nod. He checked the tricorder again: half of the screen telling him what exactly was falling from the sky and making his skin itch, and the other half telling him which direction they needed to go to follow the crude map they had received. "I suggest we continue towards our destination."
"Grab any weapons you see, so we don't get them in the back later," George suggested suiting action to words, and disabling the ones he couldn't carry.
Kirk eyed a strange weapon and grabbed it, pulling the trigger. It was a small version of the nail gun that had shot a huge amount of them. He tucked it into his belt, then started back out in the direction they were supposed to be going.
"...I think... this road we're following might be the main road of the city. If that's true, we just need to keep following it for a few more... miles..." He looked ahead, through the rain, and rubbed green blood off onto his pants.
From one of the fallen assailants, Spock took a weapon from a cold grip and idly tried it into the ground: staples. It would do. He put it on his belt. "Until we come across something noteworthy, regardless of the distance," He crushed another assailant's weapon--too hefty--underfoot with a crunch of metal on metal, before starting off down the road again.
He hadn't moved since that afternoon, though he'd drifted in and out of consciousness for the last few hours. He'd seen a few people running for cover in the distance, the silence occasionally punctuated with sounds of gunfire and screams.
Bones managed to get a make-shift wrap around his side; must have worked, since he was still alive, he thought grimly in one of those few moments of clarity he'd been blessed with. He spent some time thinking about Joanna, smiling as he pictured her dancing, in his mind still the toddler she was when he'd left her behind.
Then there were the thoughts about Jim - fucking foolish he'd been. He waited too long, not brave enough, fucking afraid of the best thing that ever happened to him. And now? It was all going to end in ash and smoke and twisted metal. Jim alone. Didn't want that.
His head fell forward, that dizzy light-headed feeling returning. He looked down at his bandage - Fuck, he thought to himself, touching his bandage and seeing the bright red blood - fresh bleeding. Going to die now, he
( ... )
Kirk grabbed the offered torn shirt with a nod of thanks, covering ihs hands and digging where Spock had indicated.
Bones, fuck, I'd give anything for that bond to work right now. If we can't find you... I don't think I can ever forgive myself. I don't know if I can now. You didn't want to go... I forced you to.
He growled when he hit a wide metal sheet. Maybe part of a hallway or roof or something, "Spock, help me get this up?" Even for a Vulcan the wall looked to be made of thick metal and it was wide. He worked his fingers under it, waiting.
Spock also took the strips to wrap his hands with, giving a silent nod to George to acknowledge his warning. After taking a brief moment to place his tricorder into his pack again, he stepped up beside Jim, curled a grip around the bottom of the sheet, lifted it upwards--
McCoy looked like he would die any minute now, and he really didn't want to have come all this way just to retrieve a lifeless body. Strangely, upon this moment of discovery, he was silent. Spock focused on the task at hand: getting the wreckage up and out of the way, so they could attend to him.
George grabbed his communicator. "Jim use the medical tricorder on him, but don't move him. We don't know if he's got spinal injuries. Enterprise, this is George, four the beam up from my signal, directly to medical. Enterprise, do you copy? Spock, lay the metal down, in case we need to use it as a gurney. Dammit McCoy, you die and I'm gonna kill you myself!"
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The environment was everything he expected in a planet ravaged by war--though he was surprised that, at the moment, they were not being shot at currently. The handful of viable coordinates he had given to the transporter room seemed to panned out. Though, now that they were outside the city, they needed to start heading in, and against the heated wind and the terrain. Doing so undetected would be difficult if anyone was bothering to look--no cover, nothing. With a impassive glance around, Spock brought his pack forward, pulled out the tricorder, and slung it back again.
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They were above the city.
It was about an eighty to one-hundred foot drop going straight down, and the edge of the city began there. Kirk looked left, looked right, but saw no way down other then suiciding or-
"...looks like we have to climb!"
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"Apparently so, Captain."
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"...I think... this road we're following might be the main road of the city. If that's true, we just need to keep following it for a few more... miles..." He looked ahead, through the rain, and rubbed green blood off onto his pants.
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Bones managed to get a make-shift wrap around his side; must have worked, since he was still alive, he thought grimly in one of those few moments of clarity he'd been blessed with. He spent some time thinking about Joanna, smiling as he pictured her dancing, in his mind still the toddler she was when he'd left her behind.
Then there were the thoughts about Jim - fucking foolish he'd been. He waited too long, not brave enough, fucking afraid of the best thing that ever happened to him. And now? It was all going to end in ash and smoke and twisted metal. Jim alone. Didn't want that.
His head fell forward, that dizzy light-headed feeling returning. He looked down at his bandage - Fuck, he thought to himself, touching his bandage and seeing the bright red blood - fresh bleeding. Going to die now, he ( ... )
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Bones, fuck, I'd give anything for that bond to work right now. If we can't find you... I don't think I can ever forgive myself. I don't know if I can now. You didn't want to go... I forced you to.
He growled when he hit a wide metal sheet. Maybe part of a hallway or roof or something, "Spock, help me get this up?" Even for a Vulcan the wall looked to be made of thick metal and it was wide. He worked his fingers under it, waiting.
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McCoy looked like he would die any minute now, and he really didn't want to have come all this way just to retrieve a lifeless body. Strangely, upon this moment of discovery, he was silent. Spock focused on the task at hand: getting the wreckage up and out of the way, so they could attend to him.
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