[ Jim is reckless at the best of times, especially when it comes to his own safety versus the safety of others, but he doesn't feel steady enough to cut off his own right hand in the form of Spock. He knows he's growing increasingly unpredictable the more time goes on, but it's a distant sort of revelation in the back of his mind.

He slows a bit as they come up on the first houses. He remembers what bothered him the most outside of the massacre itself---it was the empty houses. Empty houses with dust voids from valuables taken by the patrols, or the way the dust settled at all. How it caked down and touched everything with a grey reminiscent of death. His standard issue boots kick up the dust and it settles on his working uniform and his hands, and he finds himself staring at it numbly until Spock grabs his shoulder.

He catches a shadow of movement that most would dismiss, but ---god. He knows what it's like to turn into something else. To turn into a wraith and steal through the shadows during the brightest part of the day, and be wary of watching eyes because you have to survive. ]

On me. No phasers, keep it quiet.

[ Jim moves towards the house, trying to separate himself from the parallel memory that is trying to replay in his own head. Bootsteps over broken glass, dust kicking up, it's the guards it has to be. ]

This is Captain---[ Robert April of the---]---James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. We know you sent out for aid, we're here to help. I have a medical chief with me if you have wounded.

We have no affiliations with the government of your world. You're safe with us.

[ Jim puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender and also to show that he's unarmed. ]