Title: The Man Who Never Was (1/6)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Disclaimer: I love these characters but I don’t own them. It’s like playing with someone else’s dolls.
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.
Or read at AO3

Prologue

“The choice is yours.”

“How can I trust that what you say is true?”

An unfamiliar hand touches a blue-uniformed chest. “What does your instinct tell you?”

Resignation, and words with no real heat behind them. “Damn you.”

“I have seen your future aboard the starship, doctor. It is you and those closest to you who would be damned. Stay, and you save everyone.”

~~~

Chief Engineer Scott greets his superior officer. “Welcome back, Captain. Ship’s ready to leave orbit, on your command.”

Kirk steps down from the transporter pad and nods. “We had positive results in negotiations with the Talrek council. They seem open to the idea of joining the Federation.” His smile is somewhat stilted as he pauses, turns to look at the other officers vacating the transporter pad.

Spock, standing next to Kirk, lifts an eyebrow in question. “Captain?”

Kirk’s eyes skip past his First Officer and to the remaining three members of the landing party, a lieutenant of cultural survey and two men from Security (a precaution but largely unnecessary, as it turned out, for the delegation). He cannot, however, determine what it is that seems not quite right. “Nothing, Spock,” he replies slowly. Then, rolling his tense shoulders and turning in the direction of the exit, the Captain calls out, “Spock and I shall be on the Bridge, Mr. Scott. Prepare for warp.”

The Enterprise is humming with power as it speeds through the space. The ship’s heading is the nearest starbase in the next quadrant, where the Enterprise will re-stock its supplies and where Kirk has been ordered to discuss the potential endgame of his latest mission on the planet of the Talrek. Starfleet shall, no doubt, want to send another delegation party to smooth out diplomatic relations and secure the race’s agreement to join the Federation.

In the captain’s quarters, James T. Kirk leans back in his chair behind his desk and stares at an official report on the computer screen for some minutes. He doesn’t know why, but since the landing party beamed to the Enterprise he has had this niggling thought in the back of his mind. Strangely disturbing it is, yet so faded that he cannot seem to grasp ahold of it.

And why should he be so troubled? Nothing is out of place. None of his crew were threatened or harmed, the Talrek were pleasantly hospitable if slightly offstandish, and as captain of this vessel, Jim ought to be grateful that the mission was a success, that the respect of the Talrek was easily won.

Jim rubs a hand against his forehead, dismayed by the subtle ache at his temples. He should go to Sickbay, ask M’Benga for more of his headache medication.

Then again, maybe not. While the doctors and nurses on the Enterprise are top of their class and Jim feels lucky to have such an outstanding medical crew, there is no one in particular that sets him at ease. It’s better to stay away from the medical bay, he decides. Sickbay is for business only, and this ache is not a full-blown migraine. He can endure a slight discomfort.

The comm unit built into his desk gives a forewarning beep. “Bridge to Captain Kirk,” comes Spock’s voice through the speaker.

Kirk flips a button. “Kirk here.”

“Sensors show indications of an ion storm ahead, Captain.”

Finally, something other than mundane report-writing. “On my way, Spock. Kirk out.”

Spock, apparently, knows better than to insist that Jim remains resting in his quarters. The Vulcan only says, “Acknowledged.”

Jim tucks away all thoughts of unease and leaves his quarters.

Nurse Chapel stops outside of the open door of the CMO’s office. Inside, Doctor Geoffrey M’Benga is standing before a bookshelf, his expression bemused as his fingers walk across different publication titles.

“Doctor?” she calls.

Geoff turns to her. “Oh, Chapel. Do you need me?”

She shakes her head and waits within the doorway, hesitant to leave but not wishing to intrude.

M’Benga, smiling softly, offers her a seat in front of his desk. “Perhaps you need a minute to rest, then?”

Christine sits down, instinct pushing at her to speak with this man. “Geoff,” she begins, initiating a conversation between friends rather than colleagues, “can ask you something, unofficially?”

“Certainly. I am—” Something in the doctor’s face as his gaze flicks around the office says he is uncomfortable at present. “—not busy.” M’Benga sits in the chair behind the desk gingerly, his smile light but careful. Hand hovering over a discarded pen on the desktop for a brief second, M’Benga picks it up and rolls it between his fingers.

How can she phrase what she is thinking without Geoff taking offense? She sighs. There is no good way to say it. “Does Sickbay seem different to you, somehow?”

She does not expect the understanding in Geoff’s eyes. “Actually, yes,” he says. “Though, I thought it might be a result of my overactive imagination.”

She leans forward, relieved but anxious. “Then the entire staff is suffering from overactive imaginations. I don’t know what it is, but I get the feeling that something is… missing. Do you know,” she adds, “when the ensign with the hand injury almost bolted from Nurse Matthews, I anticipated that you were going to yell at him to sit back down.” Well, that’s not entirely the truth. She had braced for the harsh scolding to come, inexplicably amused, but it wasn’t M’Benga’s voice echoing like a half-forgotten memory in her ears. The voice had an accent, like a slow drawl.

Geoff looks startled. “I don’t yell, do I?”

“No,” Chapel replies honestly. “You don’t. Which is why it made no sense—and there are other things too. Odd things.” She glances away. “Mr. Spock came to the bay about an hour ago.”

M’Benga stops nervously tapping his pen against the edge of the desk. “Mr. Spock in Sickbay? Willingly?”

“He didn’t seem to know why he was there,” she mutters but Geoff hears her. At his inquisitive expression, she relates the story. “On a good day, it’s difficult to get him down here, even for a routine exam, so you can imagine how shocked we were when he strode in and began looking about. I mean it, Geoff—he looked at everything! I almost asked if we were under an impromptu inspection. When I did manage to catch his attention and see if he needed assistance, he simply said ‘No, Nurse Chapel. I thought, perhaps… I am unsure. Please, disregard my presence and proceed with your duties.’ Then he left.”

They stare at each other. Mr. Spock is never uncertain, or at least never admits that he is uncertain.

Geoff slumps in his chair, just the tiniest hint of down-sloped shoulders, but the sight causes Christine’s disquiet to intensify. She thinks she can picture another person in such a position, at that very desk. Someone who isn’t M’Benga. But the image never comes.

Is she going crazy? This is Doctor M’Benga’s office. M’Benga is the Chief Medical Officer of the starship Enterprise.

Why, then, does her gut scream wrong?

Jim gives the order for a detour around the ion storm but stays on the Bridge. The officers around him are intent on their duties, the atmosphere subdued. Jim looks to his right, seeing Spock out of the corner of his eye, who is seated and concentrating on sensor output. Then Jim looks to his left at the turbolift. In his mind’s eye, he sees the door swish open; in reality it stays firmly closed.

On some strange instinct, his finger seeks the comm button directly linked to Sickbay and presses it. He opens his mouth, caught by surprise, and closes it then hastily retracts his finger. Why had he done that? He manages to say, because he has to say something, “Captain Kirk to Sickbay.”

Kirk feels eyes on his back and ignores the urge to turn around.

After a second or two, a voice responds, “M’Benga here.”

Jim clears his throat. “Uh, Dr. M’Benga.” It would be strange to say Geoffrey, wouldn’t it?

“Yes, Captain?” prompts the doctor.

He does take a peek over his shoulder after all. Spock is watching him from the science station. “Doctor, I—I’d like to make an appointment to see you. At your convenience, of course.” He grimaces. Did he just volunteer himself for an examination? That’s seven kinds of wrong.

M’Benga sounds as surprised as Kirk feels. “Of course, Sir. Shall I send over a list of tentative dates?”

“Yes, that will be fine. Kirk out.” Dr. M’Benga obviously has no more inclination to talk to Jim than Jim does to converse with him.

Jim sighs and fixes his eyes on the stars drifting by on the Bridge screen. He asks helm, “Arrival time to destination.” Helm responds. Jim rubs his left temple, the pain there a bit sharper than before. He stands, saying, “Spock, you have the conn” ready to retreat to his quarters and away from any bright lights. His eyes are beginning to hurt.

But Spock stands also and asks, “Captain, may I speak with you?”

Jim considers the Vulcan for a moment, drops his hand to his side, and nods. “With me, then. Sulu, mind the store.”

They step into the Ready Room for privacy. Spock says nothing, only holds out a PADD for Jim to read. He does so cautiously, that sense of unease back and riding him. “What is it, Spock?” Kirk narrows his eyes at the data; it’s a transporter report dating back to… He looks up sharply at his second-in-command.

Spock holds his gaze. “According to the ship’s records, Captain, we transported to the planet of the Talrek with a landing party of six and returned to the Enterprise with a landing party of five.”

That… can’t be possible. They would never leave behind a crewman! He couldn’t.

Jim must have protested as much because Mr. Spock remarks, “It is indeed possible—and, I suspect, what happened. I have experienced periods of thought disorientation for which I could discern no cause. I am now convinced that my… sense of reality has been altered. I am willing to summarize the discrepancies within my memory banks in an official report, if you require it.”

Jim takes a step back. “Who?” he asks, fighting down a low acidic burning in his gut. His second glance at the data leads him to the line which states the sixth member as identity unknown.

The Vulcan’s voice is laced with regret. “I do not know, Jim.”

Jim isn’t certain if he is going to lash out or be sick. Now he knows what his instinct has been attempting to tell him for more than a week.

Something isn’t missing. Someone is.

The McCoy Trial

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