Title: The Man Who Never Was (3/6)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Summary: After a seemingly benign encounter with a new race of beings, the Enterprise is less one member of its crew; and unfortunately getting him back may be impossible, as the man can only be reclaimed if those who wish for his return can prove his value to them. Except there is a catch: no one remembers who he is.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2
Or read at AO3

A Study in McCoy

Silence envelopes the three officers in the conference room. The CMO’s expression is unreadable, the Chief Engineer is invoking a few selective curses, and the First Officer sits tall and imposing in his seat opposite of the two men. This is a meeting of the senior officers of the Enterprise, minus Kirk, in which Mr. Spock has just debriefed them on the situation with the Talrek.

After a moment, Mr. Scott leans back in his chair and asks, “What do you need us to do?” M’Benga nods.

“The next petition has little chance of success if the Captain’s knowledge of the missing officer is not complete. I suggest that we work to this end, gentlemen, to procure what facts we can to aid us in breaking through the deception of the Talrek.”

Mr. Scott shakes his head, looking grim. “Ye’ve got our help, Mr. Spock, but I dinnae think it’ll be enough. I’m not sure I’d have known meself if a man was missin’, save for the funny feeling I’ve had these past few weeks.”

Dr. M’Benga adds, “I concur. Whatever the Talrek have done to us seems to be effective. If the damage to the mind is not of a physical nature, I doubt I can provide much insight from a medical standpoint, Sir.”

“Understood, Doctor. Yet it is imperative that we determine what we can about the officer in question. In this regard, each department should come under review for any… administrative inconsistencies, as one less fulfilled duty, however menial, is not insignificant to the functionality of this ship, nor would it go unnoticed. Once we ascertain the officer’s assignment, we can narrow our investigation of his identity.”

The engineer wants to know, “Isn’t his name the first thing we ought to discover?”

“I fear, Mr. Scott,” says the Vulcan gravely, “that information as simple as a name is beyond us now. It is logical that the Talrek would seek to eliminate the most distinguishable aspect of any being—its given name—and would do so quite thoroughly. We will focus on that which gives rise to a fallacy in memory or in record, and piece together what background we can from such instances.”

“Aye,” says the engineer. “Maybe this explains why I’ve got an opened bottle of bourbon in my office.” Mr. Scott adds hastily, to prevent Spock from citing a regulation about the consumption of inhibiting substances, “I don’t drink bourbon! Not to me taste, I like it a wee bit harder.” The CMO sighs at this confession. “But it’s there all the same, and so I ken we must have a friendly stomach hereabouts that likes it. Except I cannae think of who it might be.”

“Perhaps it is not a coincidence, Mr. Scott,” Spock concedes but pursues the subject no more.

M’Benga sighs again. “Mr. Spock, I think I know a good place to begin the search.” He rises from his chair. “Do you have a moment to come to Sickbay?”

Spock nods. “Mr. Scott?” he questions, without voicing more than the man’s name.

“I’ll keep to the Bridge until ye return, if that’s all right,” remarks the man.

The Vulcan agrees. The meeting is concluded and the First Officer follows the CMO to the medical bay.

“What do you make of this?”

Spock joins M’Benga in front of the bookshelf in the CMO’s office. He looks at the series of printed publications—rare in itself, which also gives him a moment’s pause—and lifts an eyebrow. “Fascinating.”

M’Benga has an amused look in his eyes. “Not the term I’d use, Mr. Spock, but it works. Why do you suppose they all say the author is anonymous? I have yet to see a short article in a medical journal with an unaccredited author—so an entire paper?”

“Yes, the occurrence is unusual, Dr. M’Benga. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He begins to turn away when the doctor hesitantly asks him to wait. “Yes?” the First Officer inquiries politely.

M’Benga seems to need a few seconds to gather his thoughts (or his courage) and Spock is nothing if not patient. At last the doctor sighs and says, “This may sound strange to you, Mr. Spock, but I—I know that I am Chief Medical Officer… but I’m not. At least,” he adds at Spock’s sudden, sharp attention on his person, “I don’t believe that I have always been the senior medical officer on this vessel.”

“What gives you cause to say this, Doctor?”

“My memories on the Enterprise only go back as far as… thirteen months, maybe? How can I have been here for over two years when I remember being elsewhere during part of that period?” M’Benga returns Spock’s serious expression. “Don’t misunderstand me, Sir. It is an honor to serve aboard this ship and an even greater honor to be its CMO but…”

“But you do not feel a familiarity with your current position,” finishes the Vulcan.

M’Benga nods in relief. “Yes. That’s it. I know I can do this job, I know I would want this job, yet I can’t shake the feeling that I am taking credit for another man’s work.”

“Thank you,” says the First Officer, “for informing me of this, Dr. M’Benga. Your words are helpful.”

“I hope so, Sir.”

Spock pivots on the ball of his foot and exits the CMO’s office without a backwards glance. He spends the rest of beta shift on his personal computer examining the starship’s log entries since the start of the five-year mission. He collects enough evidence after several hours of diligent work that he is satisfied he has uncovered a crucial piece to the puzzle of the missing crewman.

Leonard pinches the bridge of his nose and sits up from his sprawl on the guest bed in the room he has occupied since the initial landing party beamed down to the planet of the Talrek. The candle by his bedside has burned down to the base of its holder. Tired but unable to sleep any longer, McCoy pulls on a robe to keep his skin warm from the bite of cold to the air and pads barefoot to the small balcony attached his room. The courtyard below, in the darkest hour of the night, is empty. The triplet moons glow faintly along the eastern skyline.

Leonard leans his weight against the low railing and drops his head forward with another heavy sigh. He isn’t surprised that sleep seems elusive. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the anger lining his captain’s face. It’s only a matter of time, Leonard knows, until that anger finds him. Jim is tenacious, a good quality for a captain but a terrible quality for the party on the receiving end of that tenacity. Jim won’t be satisfied until a complete search of the palace grounds reveals no trace of his quarry; even then, Jim won’t accept that and will continue to doggedly look for the missing person he came back to retrieve. At some point, McCoy will have to confront Kirk. Leonard can only imagine how wonderfully that scene is going to play out.

“Sorry, Jim, I won’t beam back to the ship with you.”

It’s a good thing Spock is on the Enterprise; Leonard is not fast enough to evade a nerve pinch. He’d wake up a million light years away from the Talrek on a ship of officers who are without a clue as to who Leonard McCoy is. Wouldn’t that be a bucket full of fun?

What a mess this is.

Fighting valiantly against the moroseness that threatens to consume him, the doctor abandons the railing for a nearby chair. He watches the skyline until the moons are echoes of themselves and morning light begins to warm the stones of the palace beneath his feet.

James T. Kirk rubs his right temple. The migraine is with him always now, sometimes a light ache he can ignore and sometimes a horrid throbbing pain behind his eyes. It shouldn’t be this persistent despite medication, yet Jim wouldn’t be surprised if it were a complication of whatever the Talrek have done to his mind or simply his frustration manifesting in physical form.

Nevertheless, a migraine is not as important as the task at hand. He has been on this planet for two days, questioning the Talrek to no avail. His “petition” is scheduled for tomorrow morning.

What can Kirk say that hasn’t already been said?

They refuse to heed his warnings; they don’t listen to his demands. Jim is at the very limit of his patience, even the particular kind of patience he stores for diplomatic parley with a race that sets his teeth on edge. The Talrek want something specific from him, and Jim has no idea what it is.

Why is the return of your officer of importance?

It’s an unfair question because the answer they want to hear cannot be given without the knowledge they took from his entire crew. And how many times must Jim recriminate himself for not being to answer it?

His communicator gives a token beep and Jim forgets about his headache. “Kirk here,” he answers.

“This is First Officer Spock, Captain.”

Jim has a flash of amusement. As if he would not recognize that voice! Alas, protocol has to be followed.

Spock wants to know, “Did you receive the equipment we transported to you?”

Jim spies the small trunk in the corner of his room. “Yes. Hold on.” He enters a voice command. The trunk unseals when the security encryption confirms his voice pattern. Inside are items such as uniforms, meal replacements, another phaser and communicator; on the very top lies a PADD. “What am I looking for?” he asks.

“I have uploaded the latest version of my report.”

Kirk boots the PADD. “Summarize, Mr. Spock,” he says as he brings up the correct data-bank and scrolls through the report.

“The unknown officer is from medical personnel, Captain. While many departments feel a sense of perplexity, Medical appears to be the most disturbed. I confirmed this after a meeting with Dr. M’Benga by questioning several of the staff.”

Jim’s eyes are caught by a list of cited reports. “Spock…” he begins.

Spock is ahead of him. “One of my searches for evidence consisted of away missions which included the presence of an officer from Medical or a Medical team. I listed those missions whose reports were, for a lack of a better term, incomplete.”

“Incomplete? Explain.” They don’t send incomplete reports to Command.

“By incomplete, I refer to the event that any medical personnel is not identified by name.”

“That’s impossible, Spock,” Jim argues, though he is already pulling up the first file, the report written for the planet M-113. He shudders inwardly at the memory of the creature’s suckered appendages against his face, feeding on the sodium in his body. Jim doesn’t get past the first page of the report. He reads aloud, “Kirk, Darnell… and the CMO?” He backtracks and pulls up another file. Just CMO, again. “CMO who?”

“Correct, Captain. Each officer is specified by name and rank; yet should you read further, you would find each mention of the Chief Medical Officer neglects to specify his name.”

“Which would prompt an automatic rejection of the report by Command,” mutters the Captain. And a reprimand, no doubt. He frowns at the list. Why isn’t M’Benga’s name there? Then the answer sinks in, and Jim starts at the possibility. “Spock,” he says sharply, “are you telling me the missing crewman is my senior medical officer?”

“That is the logical conclusion, Jim. The corrupted mission reports are those missions which occurred during the first fifteen months of our voyage. I have spoken with Dr. M’Benga. His recollection aboard the Enterprise does not span that early period, but rather begins in the fifteenth month in which the Enterprise accepted a transfer for a surgeon under the title of Assistant Chief Medical Officer.”

Jim sits back in his chair, floored. His silence prompts a “Captain?” from the communicator. “And the rest of the report, Mr. Spock?”

“Material which supports the conclusion.” Spock pauses. “Jim, also enclosed you will find two files. Please review them carefully. I regret that I have no more time to discuss these results. I am expected on the Bridge in three point six minutes.”

“Understood, Mr. Spock. And rest before coming down here tomorrow, won’t you? I need you in full form.”

Spock does not question his use of idiom. “Affirmative, Captain. Enterprise out.”

Jim flips the communicator closed and turns back to the PADD. He opens the first attached file. A picture loads. His breath catches.

Kirk’s first thought is that he does not recognize these two people—not the man and not the young girl. The girl with wheat-colored hair is grinning at the camera and the dark-haired man (her father?) is watching her instead with a soft adoration in the crinkling at the corners of his eyes and in the quirk of his mouth. His features are not striking, except for a vivid blue eye-color, and the lines of his face speak simultaneously of maturity, humor, and weariness earned from hardship.

(Some days, Jim sees the same type of face staring back him in a mirror. Being a captain is changing him in ways he never expected. He could feel a kinship with a person like this.)

With a gentle tap on the screen to enlarge the photograph, Jim studies at its details. Someone’s personal memento, he thinks. The edges of the scanned photograph are faded, worn from too much handling. But where did Spock find this?

Jim looks at the man for a second longer. Is this his missing officer? A elusive something whispers to his subconscious, says a name that is on the tip of his tongue. It fades the more he tries to grab ahold of it.

The second file is audio only. Kirk listens it to while drumming a rhythm on the arm of his chair with his fingers, captivated by the voice that comes through the PADD speakers.

Medical Log, Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise, …

Here the recording fizzles, or maybe it’s Jim’s brain that fizzles and doesn’t allow him to hear the name.

…results are coming back positive on the first round of victims infected by the parasites. We still aren’t certain if we are dealing with one giant organism, where each cell is larger than the span of a man’s hand—which would be a profound discovery in its own way… if it weren’t killing the innocent colonists of Deneva. We were lucky to find a way to stop it, damned lucky! I’ve never felt so close to losing hope since we shipped out and if it weren’t for Spock—Mister Spock—

The man breaks off, not from the sheer ache of tiredness belying his words but from an emotion too great to give voice to. Jim slowly draws in a breath.

After pausing for several seconds, the man starts again, subdued: I was a fool and I admit that freely. The price for my foolishness is the career of the best First Officer in the ‘Fleet. For that, I’ll never forgive myself.

Jim shuts down the file with a quick stab of his finger, too encumbered by his own memories to listen to the rest. Wrestling aside his personal pain, he tries to focus on a single thought: who is this mysterious officer with the molasses drawl of the old Terran South? Is he that man in the picture?

Jim feels no closer to an answer now than he did before. He is looking for his ship’s Senior Medical Officer but is that enough to free them all from the Talrek’s trap?

Somehow, Jim knows instinctively, it isn’t.

The pounding in his temples intensifies the moment Jim steps foot into the grand Hall used by the Council of the Talrek. Next to him, Spock is a steady, silent presence.

“Welcome,” greets the leader of the Council, hands raised as a symbol of Talrekian friendship.

Jim isn’t feeling friendly, no moreso than he did at his first meeting with this indifferent group of beings, but he nods once in return. “We have come to petition the Talrek on behalf of the Enterprise for the return of its officer.” There, maybe that’s formal enough.

As one, the Council asks, “Why is the return of your officer of importance?”

For a split second, Jim fancies that the pain in his head is not pain at all but the intrusion of an unwanted presence. No, no time for that. He pulls back his shoulders and gets to the point. “The man is the Chief Medical Officer of the starship Enterprise. His work is invaluable; he oversees the well-being of my crew, and he lends his expertise to the success of our expeditions when needed.”

The Talrekians shift in their seats and exchange looks with one another. Oddly enough, the leader looks at none of his colleagues and replies for the Council. “Is it not true that you employ a man who may undertake the position of Chief Medical Officer, should an event befall the officer and prevent the performance of his duties?”

“That is correct,” Captain Kirk admits. Then he adds, “It is also correct that the Assistant Chief Medical Officer is not commissioned to maintain the responsibility of a Chief Medical Officer for an extended period of time, unless approved by a chain of command which exceeds my authority as a captain.”

“Yet you do not claim this… assistant is incapable?”

Kirk grinds his back teeth in frustration.

Spock, undoubtedly sensing that Kirk’s temper is already far too short, answers for him. “That fact is irrelevant. The doctor who performs the duties of a chief medical officer is carefully selected by his experience, credentials, and aptitude to adjust to the demands of a senior position. Only by Starfleet’s code of conduct can he be deemed unworthy of the title of Chief Medical Officer. By keeping an officer from the Enterprise, you interfere where you should not; your interference is, therefore, criminal.”

“The address is made to Captain Kirk and must be answered by Captain Kirk. Your speech gives no sway to the petition, First Officer Spock.”

Jim says, tone hard, “Then should I repeat his words?”

The leader only replies dismissively, “If you must.”

“Enough of your games! Is this how a respectable oduni behaves?”

Startled, the leader pins his silver eyes on Kirk. Kirk blocks out sounds of protest from the other Talrekians. Hm, it seems the oduni forgot to erase that particular detail from Jim’s last visit.

Kirk demands, broking no argument, “Where is my officer?”

The leader looks away to the right side of the expansive hall and so Kirk steals a glance in that direction but sees nothing except tall pillars and empty space. At last the Talrekian resumes his study of Captain Kirk and First Officer Spock. Kirk gets only a tingling of red alert along the back of his neck at the leader’s blank expression in warning before his headache increases tenfold. Jim doubles over instantly, almost incoherent with pain.

The leader is saying, “This one answer I will grant you, Captain Kirk.” Intermingled is Spock’s alarmed “Captain!“, which seems to spiral farther and farther away, and Jim spares a half-second’s thought that someone is grabbing him as his knees buckle. Then he blacks out.

“Jim!”

Spock turns, arrested by the cry of his captain’s first name. A man bolts between two pillars separating the promenade from the main area of the Hall. The Vulcan’s muscles tense on instinct, and Spock shifts the crumpled Kirk against his side as the stranger aims a headlong sprint at the pair of Starfleet officers. Then the man drops to his knees in front of them, Spock sees the face from the framed photograph found in the back of a drawer in the CMO’s desk, and makes a snap decision. “Doctor?”

“Spock,” says the missing officer, “let me see him. Please.” One of the man’s hands—the one with a ring on its smallest finger (strange, thinks Spock)—fishes out a Medical-issued tricorder from a pocket. The device begins whirring once activated.

Spock says nothing as the man waves the tricorder around Jim’s upper body and then his head, centering on a temple. Kirk groans, and the Vulcan immediately refocuses his attention. “Captain?”

The doctor soothes as Kirk tries to blink open his eyes, “Take it slow, Jim—that’s right. Where’s it hurtin’ the worst?”

“Head,” mumbles Jim.

The dark-haired man, complete with the accent from the medical logs, frowns at the tricorder and angles it at the captain’s other temple. “That can’t be right” is the surprised mutter.

Jim is fully conscious now. He pulls away from Spock at the instant Spock lets go of him. “You,” Captain Kirk says, renewed power returning to his voice.

The man freezes, flicking blue eyes first to Jim then to Spock and back. “Well… damn.” Then quickly, “Look, no questions right now. Jim—I mean, Captain, can you stand?”

Spock is pleased to see that Kirk’s logic wins out over impulse. The Vulcan keeps a light touch for assistance under the human’s arm as Jim rises to his feet. The doctor automatically seeks to put distance between them but Jim snaps out “No!” and grimaces in obvious pain.

The First Officer suspects it might be Jim’s grimace and not his shout that prompts to doctor to come back. Rather than addressing Jim or Spock, however, the man turns on the Council of the Talrek who had been silently observing the captain’s collapse and aftermath. “What did you do to him?” the man demands with an unexpected fire.

“Is Captain Kirk ill?” inquires the leader in a mild tone.

“According to my instrument he isn’t but a man doesn’t faint from nothing! So I’m askin’ you: what did you do to him?”

A dangerous silence settles in the chamber. The leader of the Council turns to look at the other Talrekians.

“Hey! I said what did you do to him!” the doctor yells for the third time.

Spock turns to Kirk, who gives him a short look and gestures at the incensed officer. Needing no words to interpret his captain’s orders, Spock places his hands behind his back and repositions himself slightly behind and to the right of the doctor. Kirk, on the other hand, steps into the man’s peripheral vision.

“Stand down,” Captain Kirk says to the man. Next, directly to the Council, “I have my officer. Since his safety takes precedence, he will return to the Enterprise with us.” After a deep breath—the return of Kirk’s complexion is a positive sign, Spock decides—Jim emphasizes, “If I contact you again, it will be to discuss the terms for the restoration of our memories.” The warning need not be spoken to be understood.

“Captain…” interjects the doctor.

“Lieutenant,” responds Kirk automatically, a challenging gleam in his eyes.

With a wry smile, the man corrects, “Lieutenant-Commander. Or Doctor, if you prefer, Sir.”

Challenge accepted. The byplay of humans is fascinating.

Jim says nothing, only appearing deceptively patient. The doctor finishes, “I’m not going back to the ship.”

Spock waits to see how his captain responds. Kirk says easily, “You are going back to the ship. That’s an order.”

“Well, I asked a question and I want an answer,” rejoins the dark-haired man. “You think going to the ship will solve everything?” Those blue eyes stay fixed on Kirk’s face. “You’re having a pretty bad migraine right now, aren’t you, Jim?”

Spock realizes that it is natural for this doctor to call Captain Kirk by an honorary nickname. If Kirk has also come to that conclusion, he gives no indication of it.

The doctor continues on, determined: “Whatever hocus-pocus the Talrek have used on you is clearly effecting your health. I doubt I could fix you up there,” here the man points upward, “better than I could fix you down here, especially if I don’t have a Talrekian to fix you with.”

“We are not staying,” Kirk says with finality.

The doctor’s eyes suddenly skip past Kirk to the spot where Spock had been, they widen, and he spins around to stare at Spock’s new (advantageous) position. “Keep your Vulcan Death Grip to yourself,” he warns the First Officer.

Spock lifts an eyebrow, aware of only one incident pertaining to that reference (a recent incident, in fact), and remarks with interest, “I am not in the habit of using it, Doctor.”

There is a rustle of fabric as the leader comes to his feet in an abrupt movement. “You are not free to leave. The petition must continue until its conclusion.”

Spock opens his communicator. “Spock to Enterprise. Enterprise, come in.” Static hisses back at him. He tries another frequency.

The doctor remarks dourly, “Why am I not surprised?”

“This session is at an end. We will reconvene tomorrow. Captain Kirk has yet to answer the question.” The leader says again, “You may not leave.”

Jim is about to reply—or rage at the Talrekian, which Spock believes is equally likely—when the doctor interjects heatedly, “Why should we answer your question when you won’t answer ours?”

The leader pauses in his descent from the platform, considering the man for a long moment. “Nothing was done to your captain which cannot be undone, doctor.” He looks pointedly in Kirk’s direction, who involuntarily lifts a hand to his head, face lined in pained, and staggers a step back.

The doctor gasps in realization, pale. “Stop! For God’s sake, stop it!”

The leader meets the man’s shocked gaze. “This is merely another portion of the test.” Then the Talrekian’s silver eyes move past the doctor and he tells Spock instead, “He comes to one of you unerringly when you are in pain. Interesting, First Officer Spock, is it not?”

The leader leaves, then, and the remainder of the Council files out of the Hall in his wake.

For the Sake of McCoy

Related Posts:

• The Man Who Never Was (6/6) – from August 21, 2011
• Mission Impossible: A Vulcan Discussing his Feelings – from August 20, 2011
• The Man Who Never Was (5/6) – from August 18, 2011
• IS NOT PANICKING… – from August 18, 2011
• Fic Deadline: 5pm, Thursday – from August 17, 2011