As the cavern progressed, you began to see thin layers of ice covering the ceiling and floor. Normally, that would have been a bad sign, but in this case, it meant you were nearing the surface. All the floodwater would freeze solid during the planet's night cycle, and chances were, you would also be met with heavy cloud cover, which would block out the totality of the natural light from the moons and stars. Dark, frigid, and partially frozen. Like you hadn't suffered enough already.
"I think I hate this planet," you suddenly mumbled out loud.
"Illogical."
You glanced over at Spock, able to make out the dim outline of his face in the glow of radioactive stone. "I'm human. I have to hate something."
"That is also illogical."
"Just be glad I hate the planet," you said drily. "I could have chosen to hate you."
He tensed up for a moment, then he turned his head to face you more directly. "(Y/N) . . . was that a joke?"
"What if it was?"
"I had concluded from observations that you were incapable of such actions."
"First McCoy, then you," you murmured. "Look, there's a difference between having no sense of humor and using one's sense of humor only every now and then."
"I was not criticizing you."
You stumbled slightly on a protruding rock in the dim light, and Spock gripped you tighter to keep you from falling.
"Are you all right?"
"Honestly?"
"Honesty would be preferable."
You sighed as you continued walking. "Yes and no, then."
"Explain."
"Well . . . yes, because I'm not dead, and no, because I hurt like hell all over and I'm slowly going numb."
"Is that the reason you have been falling more frequently in the past five point three minutes than the previous three-quarters of an hour?" he asked evenly.
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably." You blushed irately. "Never mind that. Why aren't you frozen by now? I thought you were from Vulcan. Isn't that a blazing hot desert?"
"Indeed. However, evolution has provided Vulcans with an exceptional tolerance to extreme temperatures of any sort, regardless of being high or low in nature."
"Great." You shivered more violently. "Spock . . . can I make a serious request?"
"I believe you may."
"If I die down here, would you please take my body back to the Enterprise?"
He stopped walking and looked at you more sharply than most Vulcans ever could. "You are not going to die." His voice was challenging, almost daring you to deny it, and for a moment, you were taken aback.
"You don't know that," you said at last. "You don't even know if you'll make it out yourself. If we both make it, wonderful. If we both don't, at least I didn't die alone. If you outlive me and get rescued alone, for God's sake, don't leave my body down here. Please promise me you won't."
"(Y/N)-"
"Please?"
There was a long silence. Finally –
"I . . . I promise."
"Thank you. Now come on, we need to keep moving."
"Wait."
"Why?"
"I will carry you entirely."
"What?! No! I can walk!"
"It is taxing you far too greatly."
"But-"
"Shall I make it an order, ensign?"
You glared at him in the darkness. "You're dead-and-determined to keep me alive, aren't you?" you asked. "Even if it's useless, am I right?"
"Yes," he said obstinately, "I am."
"Fine, then. But I'm not forgiving you for this."
"I shall accept that consequence."
Carefully, he gathered you up in his arms and continued walking, leaving you to sigh at him in humiliated irritation.
