+1 smol Vulcan
Two days of wondering how many more people they will find alive.
Handing command to Spock had been both the easiest and hardest choice he'd made since resuming their five year mission, and he can't think about it right now as he comes across another group huddled in a medical tent receiving treatment. He taps on his PADD to load the list of survivors they'd been cultivating and quietly begins asking the adults for names.
He doesn't notice the small boy whose dark eyes followed him around the tent at first. But it was hard to ignore when he began passing out pouches of electrolytes and came to him last, alone and quiet. Jim hands a pouch to the child and crouches in front of him, eying the green flush and glassy dark eyes. Pointy ears. Why was a Vulcan in a human colony?
"Has anyone come and checked you out yet?" he asked gently.
"Negative. I was told to wait."
Bones was clear across the tent holding his tricorder above the head of an elderly woman and scowling, which, could honestly mean anything, until he saw the quick flash of the vaccination hypo hit the ladies neck and Bones' brow furrowed.
"Let's change that." Jim unwinds his makeshift turbin and shakes out his shirt before slipping it back on to hide the burns. Sunburns were the last problem on this planet. "Follow me."
He doesn't take the kids hand, doesn't even touch him on the back to get him moving, just trusts that the boy will move when he does and stay close enough to not misplace him. He saunters over to the cluster of beds McCoy was checking on.
"Bones!"

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