“Well, now,” said McCoy, drawing the words out in his best Georgia drawl and knowing it irked the hell out of Stern (which, she figured, was precisely why he did it). “They don’t put us old coots on ships, and so I don’t have any basis for comparison. Now sit down, would you? You’re giving me a headache, what with you shooting back and forth like a shuttle on overdrive. Going to need the services of your own ship’s psychiatrist, you’re not careful. How is that boy anyway?”

“Beats me.” Stern slid into a chair. “He’s not a chatty guy. You know, he’d do himself a favor if he were more visible about ship. On the other hand, his plate’s full, what with everything going on.”

“Well, that’s classic shrink behavior. All psychiatrists are a little squeamish when it comes to dealing with real people, and vice versa. I’ll bet it’s a tough row to…”

“Mac.” Stern washed her face with her hands. “Forget Tyvan for a sec. He’s a big boy. Now, are you going to help, or not?”

“Jo,” said McCoy, his creased and weathered features arranging themselves into a study of sincerity. “For you, anything. Just…I don’t think there’s a thing I can do on this end.”

“That’s crap. Snoop around. Dig up the autopsy reports on Thex and Strong. For crying out loud, you’ve practically been there since they laid the concrete.”

“I’ll overlook that reference to my age,” said McCoy, though his watery blue eyes sparkled. “You know, you’re about the only person I let get away with that.”

“Do you good, somebody take you down a notch or two. You always have been a stubborn old coot.”

“And you’re one of my best firebrands. My God, I don’t think there’s anyone else can get my blood pressure going. Remember that case where that Andorian…?”

“Mac,” said Stern, loudly. “Memory Lane some other time. I need help here.”

McCoy pooched his lips in a sulk. “Memory Lane’s what we old-timers do best. Besides, you used to be a lot more fun. Get a couple bourbons in you and…”

“Would you cut it out?” Stern hated it when McCoy played the age card, something he did when he wanted things his way. True, he didlook much older than she remembered: the wrinkles more deeply etched, that white thatch of hair a little more unruly and in need of a good combing. Well, that was only to be expected. After all, McCoy was over 100. “Mac, I have a time limit here. They’re taking him out in an hour, maybe less. Then, we’re heading to the Draavids, and there’s no way anything you send via subspace will get through. Now, are you going to help, or what?”

“All right, all right.” McCoy held his hands up in surrender, his tone letting her know that he understood he was pushing her too far. If she’d had the time and inclination, she might have played along, and not just because McCoy had been her best, and favorite, teacher. “Jo, I’ll be straight with you. I’ve read your report—mighty fine piece of detective work there, by the way, you picking on the discrepancy in those knife wounds and dirt samples, mighty fine. Probably would have passed most of these younger folks right by.”

“Thanks. But, to tell the truth, I wish I’d never thought to look at the damn stuff.”

McCoy’s face pruned. “Whatever for? He was caught in his own lie, far as I can see. That dirt,” he made a sharp downward motion with his closed fist, “nail in the old coffin. Places him somewhere totally different.”

“But that’s what bothers me, Mac. On the one hand, you’ve got the fact that Halak lied. On the other, you’ve got Starfleet Intelligence conveniently making connections that rely on part-fact and part-conjecture. And just because Halak lied—well, omittedthe first fight, the meeting with this Arava character…”

“Kind of a big hole there.”

“It still doesn’t follow he lied about Ryn III, see what I’m saying? This whole revenge theory thing, it sounds too, too…”

“Connect the dots?”

“Pardon?”

“Never mind.” McCoy batted away the comment with a flap of his hand. “Before your time. What you’re saying is you’re hearing true, true, unrelated.”

“Or true, false,unrelated. That’s right.”

“Okay, so you want me to do some digging around. The reports on Thex and Strong,” McCoy tugged at a wattle of loose flesh under his chin, “yeah, maybe I can get to them. And how about I nose around about this Burke character, and Batanides?”

“That’d be great, Mac. We’re in the dark here.”

“All right, let me think on this, let me think,” said McCoy, musing. His rheumy blue eyes, deep in their valley of wrinkles, took on a faraway look, and he touched a contemplative finger to his lower lip. To her dismay, Stern saw that he’d developed a slight palsy she didn’t remember seeing before. McCoy might make jokes about his age, his surgeries, but he really was getting up there in years. With a pang, she realized that she hadn’t made the time for him the last time she’d been back to Earth. She knew this was because if she spent time with McCoy, she might be tempted to stay. She really didn’t know what their relationship was. They were colleagues, friends. Not lovers. Well, not physicallyanyway—Stern just wasn’t the romantic type—but McCoy was her closest friend, closer than Garrett. Maybe McCoy looked at Stern the way a father did a daughter. Or maybe they were just two lonely people who enjoyed each other’s company. Or maybe there was love there, somewhere.

“By the way,” she asked, “how’s the heart?”

“What?” McCoy looked up, startled out of his blue reverie. “Oh, that. Which one?”

“Putz. The newone.”

“Oh, I knew what you meant. And it’s fine, fine.” McCoy thumped his chest with a closed fist. “Make these things better and better. You watch. I’m going to outlive a couple of Vulcans I know. Certainly long enough to see that ship you’ve abandoned me for get decommissioned. You mark my word, Jo Stern, when that day comes, you are just going to come crawlingback here, begging me to take you on staff.”

“Tell you what, Mac. That happens, I’ll buy the drinks and we’ll get three sheets to the wind, okay?” She folded her arms and leaned in. “Now, you going to do this?”

“My God, you’d plague a fence post. All right, here’s what I can do,” said McCoy. “I know a couple people; I’ll put some feelers out, see what I get, all right?”

“Fast.”

“Fast.”

“That’s a start. Thanks, Mac. Really. I owe you.”

“I already know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

“You take your next leave with me. We’ll go on a trip. Some nice R and R.”

Stern hesitated for a split second then said, “You got it.”

“Good.” But McCoy eyed her carefully. “You’re still as nervous as a turkey around Thanksgiving. We Georgia boys have a more impolite saying, about skillets and such, but this is an unsecured channel.”

“Never stopped you before.” Stern chafed her arms. “Sorry. Just want to dosomething, that’s all.”

“You want to dosomething?” McCoy pursed his lips into a wet rosebud. “Tell me, you give Halak a clean bill of health?”

“I discharged him from sickbay three days ago. Why?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I was just thinking: How long that poor soul been languishing in your brig?”

“Since yesterday.”

“Yesterday.” McCoy’s snowy white eyebrows reached for his hairline. “Over twenty-four hours without medical attention. And now he’s going to spend another four, five days, no medical care, cooped up on a godforsaken Vulcan warpshuttle, no doctor to make sure he’s comfortable, change his bandages.” He paused. “Give him his vitamins and such.”

“Vitamins.” Stern’s eyes slitted. “Vitamins?”

“Vitamins.” McCoy’s look was one of supreme innocence. “There are some powerful bugs out there, Jo, powerfulbugs.”

The silence was so complete Stern imagined McCoy heard her swallow even over subspace. “Mac,” she said, “he’s in the brig—in isolation. No visitors.”