“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 202 °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.”