McCoy shook his head, hand gripping the arm of the chair. "You're taking one hell of a chance, Spock," he argued. "But that's nothing new in this business, I suppose." With a sigh, he leaned back until the chair rocked up on two legs. "But the question is, Spock, canyou do anything about it in the time we have left?"

The Vulcan considered that. "Essentially, if we do not act soon, research has shown that the molecular structure of this newuniverse will begin to shift—will mold permanently to complement the structure as it exists after the time alteration. It is much the same as many of your early medical transplants," he continued. "When a new organ is placed in the body, there is a period of time during which the body will either accept or reject the foreign organ. Time alteration—in this case—is working on the same theory, yet on a much larger scale. If we envision this new universe as the body, and ourselves as the foreign organs, perhaps the connection will become clearer. And," he stressed, "in this particular case, the 'body' has already begun to reject what is alien to it."

McCoy looked dubious. "I'm with you so far," he said haltingly. "Go on."

"It is as if we are occupying physical space which is molecularly alien to our minds, Doctor," the Vulcan continued. "However, in many ways, we are experiencing a reverse rejection. It seems that the organ—our physical and mental beings—is rejecting the body. And after a while, both organisms will become diseased. The diseased organ and the diseased body will continue to exist—but as individual units. And as the time-wound begins to heal, we will be unable to recreate what mustbe. The two units—organ and body—will become one gigantic diseased structure which is incapable of surviving."

McCoy rubbed one eyebrow thoughtfully. "I see what you mean, Spock," he conceded. "But it's still a big risk." But he let that angle go. "And there's something else," he said at last. "Your acting abilities leave a lot to be desired. How can you expect to pull off a pose as the Romulan Praetor when you can't even fool me?"

The Vulcan glanced away. "What do you mean, Doctor?" he asked cautiously, walls snapping firmly into place.

"Well," McCoy drawled, eyeing the Vulcan closely, "it doesn't take a trained eye to notice that you've been grouchy as an old bear in hibernation for the last week—not to mention that you've been off your feed for longer than that—not to mention that you haven't been sleeping regularly—not to mention that your bodily function readings have been erratic since before the incident on Canus Four. . . ." He let his voice trail off, then lowered the anvil. "Now if I was a suspicious man—which we both know I am—I'd say you were either sick or … well … entering the early stages of pon farr."

The Vulcan's eyes closed painfully. The displacement, the time-distortion … and as he had just explained, his body and mind were rejecting the new universe in the most dreaded of fashions.

"It is a possibility," he confessed presently, voice barely a whisper. "However, I still have enough time to do what must be done in the Empire before my own condition becomes … acute." He stared numbly at the floor.

Pulling a hand-held scanner from the top of the desk, McCoy ran it close to the Vulcan, almost surprised when Spock made no effort to protest. "And what happens when it doesbecome critical?" he asked, temper rising again when he remembered that the Vulcan was unbonded.

The Vulcan steeled himself. "If I am able to reconstruct the universe as it mustbe," he ventured, "the problem will most likely disappear. Since it is based on the physiology of my currenthistory—and not on the physiology of the other, correcttimeline, there is every possibility that it will—"

"Spock!" McCoy interrupted angrily. "Between the 'ifs' and the 'maybes,' you're going to get yourself killed! Well here's another one for you: maybeyou're wrong! What then?"

Coal-black eyes hardened as Spock met the doctor's accusing stare. "In that event," he replied stiffly, "I shall die." He turned toward the door, stopping only when McCoy's hand closed unexpectedly on his arm, forcing him to turn around. He hadn't seen the doctor even rise from the chair. . . .

"Now you listen to me, you stubborn Vulcan!" McCoy began, eyes blazing human fire. "Whether you care to admit it or not, I ama doctor. And while I may not be able to cure you of your biology, I cantreat some of the symptoms! And I'll be damned if you go charging off into the Neutral Zone without me!Try it and you'll find yourself slapped down with a medical restraining action so fast it'll make your logical Vulcan head do cartwheels! Try it!" he dared. "If the ship's doctor—meaning me—relieves you of command, not even those muscle-apes from Security will back you up!"

The Vulcan's eyes traveled to the hand which constricted on his arm and held him immobile. "If that is your formal request to … accompany me into the Neutral Zone, Doctor," he managed, holding the anger at bay, "I would be … grateful to accept." If nothing else, perhaps the persistent human would be able to slow the condition's progress, buy more time.

McCoy stared mutely at the Vulcan, a very faint smile hinting at the corners of his lips. "Well … why didn't you just say so in the first place?" he muttered. He bounced happily on his toes, but a sudden thought came to him. "Er … Spock? Just how do you intend to explain me to the Romulans once we get inside the Empire? Blue eyes and wavy hair don't exactly fill their bill."

The Vulcan studied him curiously. "There are various human offshoots in the Empire," he remembered. "You will be my … personal attendant. However," he added, forcing a lightness of mood which came with difficulty, "the Romulans have another word for it."

McCoy felt his face redden, but was too relieved to give a damn about pride. If Spock was agreeing to let him go, he could survive being called a slave.

At last, the Vulcan turned to leave, slipping into the corridor and leaving McCoy alone.

The doctor shrugged, trying to chase away the uncanny sense of displacement which replaced the Vulcan's presence. " Youwon't live it down either, MasterSpock," he muttered once the captain was conveniently out of hearing distance. But let's just hope I can keep you alive long enough to worry about dignity. You stubborn, pigheaded, crazy, illogical Vulcan! Just don't die on me now—not this close to a home I don't even remember but seem to want. Just don't die on me now, Spock. . . .

Alone in his quarters, Spock discovered sleep elusive. Somewhere, a stranger whom he recognized as himself walked deserted corridors … alone … yet not alone. He thought of Kirk, and mentally reached out to the human, attempting to verify … what?

An eyebrow rose. Jim?

For a brief instant, he thought he felt an answering echo; yet it faded as quickly as it came. He took a deep breath which came out as a sign. But at the very least, the human was alive. That much was certain, and the telepathic link between them had survived the transformation of a universe. And somehow, even Thea had recognized his price.

In a fleeting moment, he wondered what Alliance Command would say when— if—they learned of his agreement to Thea's scheme. Even if peace and trade treaties did eventually result from it, it would hardly matter. If he were able to reconstruct the original timeflow, it would completely erase everything he had known … including S't'kal and FleetCom. Technically, therefore, since the Alliance would no longer exist, he did not require their permission.