“Bones, you can do the most for her by solving this case. I’ve seen you crack tougher mysteries.”

“I’m hardly an unbiased researcher in this case. How do I know I can trust my own findings? I’ll grasp at any straw if I think it’ll satisfy Portia and save Ashley.”

Kirk smiled, amazed at his friend’s humility and wisdom. Spock often accused the doctor of being blinded by his emotions, but McCoy had just demonstrated that he was keenly aware of their potential impact on his work as a scientist. But the very fact that he asked the question—as his first impulse, no less—provided its answer.

“Doctor, I have complete faith in your medical judgment. You were a scientist long before you met her. That’s what brought you together.” Kirk clasped his shoulders. “So be a scientist now. Find the truth. Let your personal stakes be a motivator rather than an impediment.”

McCoy set his jaw and nodded. Captain sh’Deslar looked skeptical, but let out a resigned sigh. “Report to Security HQ. I’ll have my people give you access to the case files.”

Sulu nodded to her. “Thank you, Captain.”

McCoy paused to give Kirk one last intense look. “You make damn sure Ashley stays safe, you hear?”

“I promise, Bones. You and Sulu do the same.”

Starfleet Headquarters

Major Missions Room

“This is it,” Lieutenant Kexas said as she, Admiral Cartwright, and President Lorg watched the newest vacuum flare grow on the central wall screen—less than half an astronomical unit ahead of Earth in its orbit. The screens were already suffused with static and data dropouts as the interference mounted.

“Given its projected size and duration,” Kexas went on, “it will grow large enough to engulf Earth in approximately three hours, forty-one minutes. Our orbital path will be close to the periphery of the flare zone, but still, expected duration of passage is… probably as long as the flare lasts. At least another two to three hours.” She turned her elongated, skull-like head toward the admiral and the president. “The concentration of microflares should be lower toward the periphery, but over that long a time, they will add up.”

Cartwright grimaced. “And we’ll have no more than five working verteron arrays and maybe fourteen ships ready to pour Mister Scott’s ‘oil’ on the water by the time it hits. Estimated coverage?”

Kexas shook her head. “No more than twenty, twenty-five percent, planetwide.”

“And that will only reduce the number and size of the wormholes, not stop them,” the admiral grated. “We’ll still have microflares forming inside buildings, people, power plants… subspace disruptions affecting safety force fields and warp reactors… how many could we lose? How much of our infrastructure could be ruined?”

Kexas tilted her head. “And that’s assuming there’s no subspace rupture this time. The erosion is already accelerating.”

Lorg sighed heavily. “I should go.”