Spock had gone to warp first. The Klingons, second. Shortly after, but yet still with so much lingering time in between, the Enterprise came third.
"How can you be so sure of all this, Jim?" exasperated McCoy, his hand swiping through the air. Kirk shook his head.
"It's simply logical, Bones. It just is."
"But a dog? An earth dog? Why would the Klingons choose that, of all things, to use as the base for their weapon?"
"Do I look like a Klingon, McCoy? I don't know why. Maybe to pin blame on humans, or to throw the Federation off their scent. I don't know. But I do know that the Klingon empire is responsible for the genocide of an entire race."
"Jesus, Jim…do you know what you're saying?"
"Oh, I know."
"War."
"I know."
They fell into silence. The weight of the word was as heavy as gravity itself. Finally McCoy spoke again.
"Spock?" he asked dismally.
"I won't leave him."
McCoy nodded. He pursed his lips and looked down to the tile beneath his feet. They'd been playing chase for almost an hour. When Jim had given him that look, right before they went to warp themselves, right after the Galileo was registered as missing…well, McCoy could see the answer to his question in his eyes. What? McCoy had asked. Spock is gone, Kirk's eyes answered. He is in a shuttlecraft, he is being hunted by a warship, and he is gone.
Then those hazel eyes hardened, and oh did anger fill them, because first Barot tried to kill his ship and now he was going to try and kill his greatest friend and it simply was not allowed. McCoy had many questions, drifting thoughts that couldn't settle for they didn't seem to connect to one another. Why Lyro? Why a dog? Why that dog? Why commit genocide in the first place?
But with a look at Kirk, he knew the answers didn't really matter anyhow. Kirk didn't care about the specifics, didn't care about the motivation or the logistics or the execution of it all. What mattered was that it had happened and it was the Klingons who did it. And two things would happen if and when they found the Galileo…
The catastrophic weapon they produced would be right back in their possession.
They would find Spock.
Neither was acceptable.
"You do understand," started McCoy with a gravelly voice, "that we likely will not reach Spock before the Klingons do."
"I do understand that."
McCoy said nothing more and inhaled deeply. Kirk was sitting tall in his captain's chair, his fingers cupping his chin as he stared intensely out the view screen. They were silent again before it was Kirk's turn to speak first.
"I must try, Bones. We're at warp 8, and logically, Spock is probably at 4 and the Klingons 5. We may be last in this chase, but we are the fastest. I have to find him first. I have to."
Though he inwardly thought otherwise, McCoy outwardly tried to give himself and his captain some console. "They may not kill him, Jim."
Silence came again, and McCoy thought Kirk would not add to this. Perhaps he was convincing himself of the thought as well. But then after several moments, he did speak, and suddenly McCoy did not think what he just said was such a solace anymore. Kirk continued to stare out to the stars with his eyes stone and unmoving.
"There are worse things than death."
—
It was not often that Spock stopped to truly appreciate the magnificence of the insides of the universe. He understood the beauty of it, the magnitude of it, the richness of it. However, understanding and feeling magnificence were two different things. And he hadn't truly realized that before.
Somehow, sitting with his back against the wall on the starboard side of the little shuttlecraft, the warmth of a dog right beside him, her coat pressed beneath his hand…this was what made realize that he'd never really recognized his own marvel before.
After setting his course, which essentially was just straight, Spock found no reason to continue sitting in that chair. Or rather, Kivuli was on the ground and he thought joining her seemed appealing. So he sat against the wall, and she curled up right beside him.
She truly was a magnificent creature.
In the short weeks she was with him, Spock found he consciously enjoyed her company. He really, truly liked having her near, and this was a sensation foreign to him. Though, a corner of his mind reminded him of a similar feeling when working with James Kirk. A bemused part of him thought the captain would give him a smirk at the admission of comparing him with a dog.
Spock knew he would not see James Kirk again. He also knew his time was limited. There was one escape pod, tucked away in the back of the shuttlecraft, and fortunately for Spock, the pod's door slide open identically to the turbo lift's door - even the sound was a clone - and even more fortunately, the pod shared the same computer voice with the lift. It was not difficult to use the word 'turbo lift' as a command for Kiv, and she efficiently learned what Spock wanted after only 25 minutes of exercises.
He blinked slowly as he ran his thumb over her head. She was at his side every minute of every day for almost two solar weeks, an impressive amount of time, and not once did Spock feel aware of himself while he was with her. She never made snide comments about his Vulcan heritage. He never felt energy emitting off her that screamed the phrase we don't want you here. Being in her presence was starkly different than being in the presence of many, and even more so, Spock felt a tingle of belonging with her. Like she somehow made him feel more whole. Spock found he did not wish to separate from her.
He heard the scream of an incoming torpedo, and his mind thought nothing. He only took action. His arms mindlessly gathered Kivuli and he practically leapt into his chair and his weight on the seat barely gave enough time for the automatic belt to wrap around his waist and suddenly he saw darkness.
He saw darkness, his mind was floating away, but he felt the pressure of his hands gripping the dog as tightly as possible and the Galileo lurched.