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“Yes” Picard drawled. “Mr. Worf, shields down. Subcomander, prepare for beaming.” “We are prepared.”

Impressed, Spock once again looked at Picard. “How did you know, Captain? Even I was not sure.”

Because it’s logical, Ambassador” the captain responded, his dark eyes glinting. “Mr. Data, please scan for human physiology and beam their passenger directly to the bridge.” “Understood, captain. Transporter room, this is the bridge.” The android relayed the captain’s orders, and in 4.9 seconds the shaft of glittering energy appeared as expected on the portside deck ramp leading to the captain’s ready room. Spock noted the angle of the ramp and hoped it would cause no trouble or surprise.

As the column of lights coagulated into familiar form, he stepped toward it, then again restrained himself, not wishing to appear too custodial. He was relieved when Mr. Riker stepped to the ramp and put out an assisting hand in anticipation. Another two seconds brought the white-haired, pin-thin form of Leonard McCoy fully onto the bridge, shouldering a simple canvas satchel. The work of the Romulan wing was done.

“Sir, the Tdal is bearing off;’ Worf reported immediately. “They are vectoring back toward Romulan space at emergency high warp.”

“Very good-and I don’t blame them,” Picard said. “Stand down from general quarters. Welcome to the Enterprise, Dr. McCoy.”

“Captain Picard, nice to be aboard” the doctor’s elderly voice scratched. “Can you turn the heat up in here? That Romulan shoebox was cold as a coffin nail. Hi, Spock:’ “Doctor.” “You’re looking stiff?’ ‘Thank you” “Back trouble?” “ff you like.”

“I brought a big hypodermic needle from my medical antiques collection:’

“A display which ideally fits your personality, I have always reflected.” “I… all… all right, I owe you one. Morning, Beverly”

“Leonard” the other physician chuckled. “And it’s evening here”

“Dammit. Why can’t the galaxy just go to Federation Standard Time?”

William Riker smiled again and took McCoy’s sticklike arm in his to escort him down the ramp. Spock resisted the urge to reach out and stop Riker’s robust grip-McCoy’s spidery limbs seemed so frail then chided himself for his absurdity.

“That was hardly a Tellerite grain ship, Doctor,” he commented instead.

“So I lied. It was the only way I could get a ship with high warp to bring me all the way back. Anything else would’ve taken ten weeks. We don’t have ten weeks.”

“No, we don’t,” Crusher endorsed. “The Romulan royal family is not a dozen people. It’s over a thousand, installed in positions of power all over the empire. How close you are to the current ruler causes a lot of jockeying and marrying and even assassinations, but there’s never been anything like this. This certainly isn’t just some jealous cousin maneuvering for the crown.” She turned specifically to McCoy. “What have you concluded?”

“Concluded? Oh, I did say that in my message yesterday, didn’t I? What I came up with is that the Romulans are right. The infection is definitely man-made. Not an accident.” “How did you come to this?” Spock asked, careful to phrase the question in a way that would dodge McCoy’s still-youthful barbed humor.

“I’ve made some progress. What else do you expect from a man old enough to call Moses by his first name? Anyway, that’s why I need Beverly’s help.” “You need my help?” Dr. Crusher asked.

“Hell, yes, I need help. I’m old, all right? Besides, you’re the one who worked on this mess before.”

She regarded him with a gaze startlingly similar to the way Captain Kirk used to regard McCoy. “You mean this Romulan disease is the same multiprion nightmare,-?”

“That’s right. The same thing you and Dr. Spencer of the Constitution encountered back on Archaria m. It’s mutated or been artificially mutated. That’s why you haven’t recognized it. It’s been targeted to the genetics of the Romulan royal family.”

Clearly irritated that her victory was being compromised, Crusher scowled. “How did you recognize