Star Trek: The Rings of Time (15 page)

This was not an encouraging sign.

“You again,” Kirk snarled. “What did you do to me before?”

Spock assumed that he was referring to the nerve pinch. “My apologies. You were resisting our efforts to assist you. It seemed necessary at the time.”

“Necessary?” Kirk challenged. “Is that what you call it?”

“This is Mr. Spock,” McCoy said, intervening. “Our first officer.”’

Spock frowned. That the doctor found it necessary to introduce him indicated that Kirk’s memory was still impaired.
Don’t you know me, Jim?

Kirk regarded him warily. “And is he . . . human?”

“I am Vulcan,” Spock stated. “As you should be aware.”

“And why the hell should I know you’re a Vulcan, whatever that is?”

“Because you are Captain James T. Kirk of the
U.S.S. Enterprise,
and we have served together for some time.”

“Oh, God, not that again!” Kirk threw his head back, visibly agitated. “I already told the doc here. I’m not this Kirk person. I’ve never even heard the name before today.” He tugged on his bonds. “I keep telling you. You’ve got the wrong guy!”

Chapel gave Spock a sympathetic look, as though she feared that Kirk’s failure to recognize him might have hurt Spock’s feelings. Despite her considerable skills and intelligence, she had always tended to underestimate his control over his emotions. If he was being completely honest with himself, though, he did find the captain’s current behavior troubling.

He turned to McCoy for answers. “Amnesia, Doctor?”

“More than that, I’m afraid.” McCoy addressed his patient. “Tell Mr. Spock who you think you are.”

“I don’t
think
anything!” Kirk insisted. “I am Colonel Shaun Christopher, commander of the
U.S.S. Lewis & Clark,
and I demand that you return me to my ship.”

An arched eyebrow betrayed Spock’s surprise. Of all of the eventualities he had considered regarding the probe’s
effect on the captain, this had not been among them.

“You see what I mean?” McCoy said.

For once, Spock was not certain what to think. He gestured to McCoy that he wished to converse in private. They moved to the other end of the cabin and lowered their voices.

“Interesting,” he observed, even as Kirk glared at them as if they were strangers. Spock consulted the doctor. “A delusion?”

“You tell me,” McCoy said. “I assume you recognize the name.”

“
My
memory is unimpaired, Doctor.” Spock easily retrieved the relevant data. “Shaun Geoffrey Christopher, son of Captain John Christopher of the United States Air Force, circa the late twentieth century.”

He recalled the incident well. Exactly three years, ten months, and twenty-three days ago, the
Enterprise
and its crew had been accidentally transported back to Earth orbit in the year 1969. During that unplanned sojourn in the past, they had been forced to beam aboard an American jet pilot who had been in pursuit of what had then been termed an “unidentified flying object.” Captain Christopher had been a reluctant guest aboard the ship for a time, until it was discovered that he needed to be returned to his life in order to father Shaun Christopher, the future commander of Earth’s first manned mission to Saturn. Ultimately, a means was devised to beam John Christopher back to the precise
moment he had been plucked from his aircraft, so that he would have no memory of his time aboard the
Enterprise,
which had returned to its own era shortly thereafter. Spock had given the incident little thought since.

“I don’t get it,” McCoy confessed. “Why Shaun Christopher, of all people? We never even met him. Just his father.”

“A valid question,” Spock said.

While the Earth–Saturn mission of 2020 was certainly an important milestone in the history of human space exploration, he was not aware that it held any special significance to Kirk, aside from their brief acquaintance with Colonel Christopher’s father, and even that was now some years in the past. Kirk had been involved in any number of equally memorable encounters since. Why had he not fixated on, say, Zefram Cochrane, Commodore Matt Decker, or Apollo?

“I have not heard the captain speak of either Christopher recently,” Spock noted. “Have you, Doctor?”

“Can’t say that I have.” McCoy scratched his head. “Heck, if Jim was going to go off his rocker and think he was some famous historical figure, you’d think he’d fixate on Abraham Lincoln . . . or maybe Casanova.”

The object of their discussion grew restive. “You there!” Kirk fought in vain against his restraints. “Stop talking about me like I’m not even here. I’ve told you
who I am. Now I want to know who exactly you people are and what I’m doing here!”

Spock returned to the foot of Kirk’s bed. “My apologies.” He started to call Kirk
Captain
but caught himself. It would not do to upset Kirk further. “I assure you, we find the present situation equally as puzzling as you do, perhaps even more so. May I ask what your last memory was before you found yourself in our transporter room?”

Kirk eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t you know that?”

“Indulge my curiosity,” Spock said calmly. “There is still much about your presence here that we do not entirely comprehend. Any data you can provide may ultimately benefit us all.”

“Hmm.” Kirk mulled it over for a few moments. “Okay. I’m not sure what your angle is, but I’ll play along. I was conducting an EVA to retrieve what appeared to be an artificial space probe of unknown origin. I had just made contact with the object when there was a sudden flash . . . and I found myself with you and your buddies in your so-called transporter room.” His brow furrowed. “What does that mean, anyway? Are you telling me you have some sort of teleportation device?”

“Affirmative,” Spock stated. He found Kirk’s unusual narrative intriguing, although it bore little resemblance to the actual circumstances of the captain’s injury. “You encountered the probe in space? Where precisely?”

“In orbit around Saturn, naturally.” His eyes
widened in alarm. “Wait! Aren’t we there anymore?” He tried to sit up, only to be forcibly reminded of his restraints. “Where in the universe are we? Where is my ship?”

Spock chose not to answer those questions, uncertain how Kirk might react in his present state of mind. Instead, he continued his interrogation. “And you believe yourself to be in the year 2020 C.E., as reckoned by traditional Earth calendars?”

“Of course! Why shouldn’t I?”

“Why, indeed.”

Spock contemplated what he had just heard. The captain’s delusion appeared to be remarkably consistent, aside from the fact that there was no record of the real Shaun Christopher ever encountering an alien probe on his mission to Saturn centuries ago. Humanity had not made conclusive contact with another sentient species until First Contact some forty-three years later. Had Kirk interpolated the probe into his fantasy of being Colonel Christopher? Spock was not certain why Kirk should do so, but the human unconscious, as he understood it, was even more irrational and unpredictable than their surface thoughts. It might require a specialist trained in abnormal human psychology to explain the nature of this obsession fully. Spock was more concerned with how to restore the captain to himself. He wondered what might be required to dispel the delusion.

“Doctor, a word.”

He stepped away from the bed to confer with McCoy once more.

“Have you attempted to confront him with his true identity?” Spock asked. “Perhaps via the simple expedient of a mirror?”

“I considered that,” McCoy said. “But I wasn’t sure if that would make things better or worse. His mental state seems precarious enough as it is.”

Spock swiftly weighed the pros and cons. Now was no time for a protracted course of psychological treatment. “Do it,” he instructed. “The ship requires its captain.”

“I don’t know,” McCoy said hesitantly. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Your reservations are duly noted, Doctor. I will take full responsibility for any consequences.”

“I don’t care if my butt is covered,” McCoy protested. “I want to do what’s right for Jim!”

“As do I, Doctor. And the captain deserves a chance to recognize himself.”

McCoy shook his head dolefully. “All right. If you say so.” He resigned himself to the prospect. “God help me, I’m not sure what else to do.”

Antique medical instruments were displayed on the walls of sickbay. McCoy retrieved a small hand mirror from one frame. “Physicians once used mirrors like this one to determine whether patients were still breathing,” he explained, perhaps to take his mind off what they were about to attempt. He shrugged his shoulders. “At least we don’t have to worry about that, I suppose.
Aside from his case of mistaken identity, he seems fit enough. Just confused and agitated.”

“Wouldn’t you be, Doctor, if you awoke thinking you were someone else? From a completely different time and place?”

“Good point.”

Spock stood back, observing carefully, while McCoy returned to Kirk’s bedside. The doctor held the mirror behind his back and conferred briefly with Nurse Chapel before speaking gently to his patient.

“Capt— I mean, Colonel, I’m going to show you something. There’s no reason to be alarmed. I just want you to look in a mirror and tell me what you see.”

“Fine,” Kirk said sullenly. “Knock yourself out.”

McCoy brought out the mirror and held it up to Kirk. Chapel stood by with a sedative, just in case.

This proved a wise precaution. A look of utter shock and horror came over Kirk’s face as he spied his reflection in the glass. The blood drained from his features, so that he looked as white as a mugato. His jaw dropped.

“Nooo!” he wailed. “That’s not me!” He tried to reach for his face, but his arms were still strapped down. “My face! What have you done to it?” He thrashed wildly against his bonds and stared down at his body, which was still clad in the uniform of a Starfleet captain. He didn’t seem to recognize his own hands or clothing. “Oh, my God! What have you done to me!”

His face was contorted. His eyes bulged from their
sockets. Veins stood out against his neck. Spittle flew from his lips. He averted his eyes, unwilling to look at the mirror anymore.

“That’s not me! I’m Shaun Christopher! Shaun Christopher, I tell you!”

“Nurse!” McCoy barked. “Sedative!”

“Yes, Doctor!”

She handed him the hypospray, and he placed it against Kirk’s jugular. A hiss signaled the release of the drug. Kirk’s eyelids drooped, and he sagged against the bed. His straining limbs fell still.

“Damn,” McCoy muttered. “I was afraid of that.”

“It was worth the attempt, Doctor,” Spock stated. “If nothing else, we have demonstrated the considerable depth of the captain’s delusion.”

“He sounded so convinced,” Chapel said. “So terrified. For a moment there, I almost believed him.” A pensive look came over her face. “You don’t think . . .” She paused, as though hesitant to complete her thought. “Is it possible he’s telling the truth?”

McCoy scoffed. “That Jim Kirk is actually possessed by a dead American astronaut from more than two hundred years ago? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it, Doctor?” Spock gave Chapel’s query due consideration. “Upon reflection, have we not encountered similar phenomena in the past? Consider that incident involving Dr. Janice Lester or perhaps our experiences with the disembodied alien intelligences we made contact with on the planet Arret.”

On that latter occasion, both he and Kirk and a
third crew member had allowed their bodies to be temporarily occupied by the bodiless survivors of an extinct civilization—with nearly irrevocable results. Spock was also acquainted with various ancient Vulcan legends that spoke of the transference of minds between two or more individuals. It was said that in ages past, even the very
katra
—or living spirit—of an individual could be imparted to another.

And, sometimes, back again.

“Well, I suppose it is possible,” McCoy conceded. “Lord knows we’ve run into stranger things these past few years . . . maybe.” He shook his head. “But still, Shaun Christopher? He’s not some bizarre alien entity or superintelligence. He died hundreds of years ago on Earth. What would his mind be doing out here, centuries later?”

Spock considered the possibilities. “The captain, speaking as Colonel Christopher, told of encountering the probe during his celebrated mission to Saturn. If this event actually occurred and was omitted from the historical record, then it is conceivable that the real Shaun Christopher’s consciousness was somehow stored or duplicated in the probe’s memory banks until the captain came into contact with it earlier today.”

“Maybe, possibly,” McCoy groused. “But that’s a heck of a leap, Spock. How can we know for sure this isn’t just some wild theory?”

“There is a way to be certain, Doctor. One way or another.”

Understanding dawned in McCoy’s eyes. “A mind-meld?”

“Precisely. It may be our best means of determining the true nature of the captain’s condition.”

McCoy nodded. To Spock’s surprise, the doctor did not automatically attempt to dissuade him. “Well, I suppose it has worked before,” he said grudgingly. “But how can we be sure that you won’t be affected by whatever has unhinged Jim’s mind?” He indulged in a bit of mordant humor. “I don’t want to end up with
two
confused twenty-first-century astronauts on my hands.”

“I will endeavor to avoid being caught in the captain’s delusion, if that is indeed what it is.” McCoy’s concerns were not without merit, but Spock felt confident that he could navigate Kirk’s disturbed psyche safely. “As you just stated, Doctor, I
have
done this before.”

“Don’t remind me.” McCoy stepped away from the bed. “You planning to do this now?”

“I see no need for delay,” Spock said. “Although Lieutenant Sulu is an able officer, it is best that I return to the bridge as soon as possible. The Skagway colony remains in jeopardy, and an effective solution has yet to be found.”

Chapel looked on worriedly. She prepared another hypospray. “Do you need us to revive him, Mr. Spock?”