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Devil Went Down to Georgia

Canto I: Devilish Entrance

Captain's Log, Stardate 3910.9: The Darkness of space seems all the more overwhelming as I stand here, staring down at the still, lifeless body that beamed aboard with us. I don't want to believe – can't believe – anything I saw down on the surface of that God forsaken planet. Nurse Chapel assures me he's still breathing, that there's still a chance, but Mr. Spock, Vulcan that he is, has informed me of the exact odds. They are not appealing.

If I could, I'd beam back down there and wring the necks of every one of those foul creatures who did this until they undid it, but I know that will only make matters worse. I can't even order Sulu to get us as far from here as possible as quickly as possible, as Mr. Scot informs me that our engines are, for some inexplicable reason, not responding to the helm and it will take him far too long to diagnose the problem and fix it. I have no doubt it is the Qillarans' doing.

We are stuck orbiting this rock, at the mercy of its less than benevolent inhabitants, for as long as they deem necessary.

I will not stand for it.

I

The stars shown brightly in the black-blue sky, twinkling and dimming as wispy clouds passed by, pushed lazily along by the soft wind that rustled in the trees. The moon hung bright and full, bathing the house below in a soft, white light. On the porch, curled up on a creaking rocking chair, was a young girl. Soft brown hair tumbled to her shoulders, and her head drooped down, her eyes blinking furiously as she struggled to stay awake.

She'd already waved her mother off, insisting that she wasn't tired, and the cosmos be damned if she wasn't going to prove it!

"You're stubborn," her mother had said, fighting back the amused smile that twitched at the corner of her mouth. "You get that from your father."

"I know!" the girl had pronounced proudly, settling down into the rocking chair and staring out at the dark road that led up to the house, waiting. Her mother had shaken her head, clicking her tongue lightly, but she'd said nothing else, disappearing into the house and watching from the window while she feigned interest in one of the new novels her husband had brought back after one of his trips into town.

She had to be sure her baby was safe, after all.

The girl's head shot up as the soft clop of hooves on hard dirt reached her ears, filling her with a renewed energy. She sprang from the chair, jumping up and down and clapping her hands, her excitement drawing her mother from the house.

"He's home, he's home!" the girl cried, clutching at her mother's hand and pulling her towards the porch railing. The mother kept a hand on the girl's waist as she leaned over the railing, trying to see as far as she possibly could.

"Joanna," Mother said. "Be careful." As she spoke, horse and rider came into view, and Mother couldn't hold Daughter back as she rushed forward, clutching at her father's leg and calling up to him excitedly.

"Did you bring me something, Daddy?" she asked as he carefully dismounted, handing the reigns off to the young servant boy who'd appeared from around back (and disappeared just as quickly with the animal).

"Hullo, Leonard," Mother said with a smile, leaning towards her husband, He kissed her lightly on the cheek, a small smile gracing his face as his daughter continued to tug at his pant leg, looking up at him expectantly. He stooped and swept her up into his arms, grinning at her and hugging her tight.

But she'd have none of that. She squirmed in his grip until he loosened his hold enough for her to lean back and look at him.

"Didja bring me something, Daddy?" she tried again.

"Well, I dunno, Joanna, didn't I bring you somethin' the last time?" Leonard asked, winking at his wife, who shook her head, despite the smile on her face.

Joanna looked disappointed. "You promised, Daddy. You said whenever you had a chance to go in town, you'd bring me somethin' back. You promised!"

"You did promise, Leonard," his wife said, her voice soft.

Leonard looked over at her, shifting Joanna's weight to his other hip, and shook his head. "Well," he said. "I suppose we'll just have to go inside and see." He started for the door, Joanna clapping excitedly in his ear and his wife following behind, ready to turn in for the night after a long day of work and travel.

"It's good to be home," he whispered after he'd sent Joanna to bed, her new toy clutched to her chest. He pressed a kiss to his wife's temple, holding her close to him. "I missed you, Jocelyn," he whispered. "Missed you so much."

II

"Captain, Nurse Chapel informs me of a sudden spike in brain-wave activity. She thinks it would be prudent if you and I went down to Sick Bay to see for ourselves." Spock sounded so calm, so clinical, Kirk almost wanted to slap him, to remind him it was their friend on that examining table, not some stranger, but that was Spock's way. More Vulcan than human, Kirk had learned to expect things like this, but it was still hard to understand.

"What kind of spike?" Kirk asked, glancing at the view screen and the death-trap of a planet waiting below.

"She believes that he is dreaming, Captain."

"Dreaming, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Captain. And she believes the Qillarians are the cause."

"Shall we?" Kirk gestured towards the turbo-lift, following Spock as the headed for Sick Bay. The corridors were empty, almost desolate, as they walked to those all too familiar doors, into that all too familiar room. Nurse Chapel was waiting for them, stationed beside the unconscious body of the Enterprise' Chief Medical Officer, worry etched on her face.

"Nurse," Kirk said with a nod towards the stationary man behind her. "What have you found?"

"I've been monitoring his heart for the most part, Captain," she replied as Spock and Kirk came around to the other side of the table. "Making sure it's still beating, you know? But then I took a glance at his brain function and found something that may help us."

"Help us how?" Kirk prompted.

"Well, whatever dreams he's dreaming are vivid," Chapel explained. "So vivid, in fact, that he probably believes that he's actually living them."

"They are dreams," Spock cut in. "Are they not strange enough for the unconscious mind to determine that they are not, in fact, reality?"

"Usually, yes," Chapel replied. "But I believe that whatever images he's seeing or things he's experiencing have been put there by the Qillarians, that they're controlling what's happening in his mind, making him believe that he's actually there. That what's happening is real."

"Can you confirm this?" Kirk asked. "Can you bring him out of it?"

"No, Captain," Chapel said, shaking her head, any excitement she'd had at her deduction replaced by sadness at her inability to act. "We have no way of tapping into the human mind, no way to lure him out."

"Captain, if I may suggest an alternative?" Spock inquired.

"By all means, Mr. Spock," Kirk encouraged. "We're stuck here anyway, what harm can it do?"

Spock looked to Nurse Chapel, though he spoke to them both. "As you are aware, Vulcan's possess some telepathic ability. Not to the extent of the Qillarians, but enough, I believe, to be of use in this matter."

"Spock, are you saying you can get into his head; into his dream?"

"That is precisely what I am saying, Captain," Spock said, turning his head to look his commander in the eye. "It may take some doing, considering the strength of the Quillarian mind, but if I can ease myself into his dream, perhaps I can lure him out, help him to realize it isn't real."

Kirk turned to Nurse Chapel, concern and hope mingling on his face. "Will it be harmful to him?" he asked, gesturing towards their patient.

"As long as Mr. Spock is careful, no," she replied. "But he'll have to go slow, take his time. If he tells Dr. McCoy too much too quickly, he could cause him to go into shock."

"Proceed, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, nodding to his first officer and stepping out of his way. Spock knelt down by McCoy's head, positioning his hands around the unconscious man's face, his thumbs at McCoy's temples, his middle and pointer finger at the chin.

"Wait!" Chapel called out, stepping forward and taking Spock's hand, stopping the connection before it began.

"What now?" Kirk asked, doing nothing to hide his impatience.

Chapel looked straight into Spock's eyes, her voice heavy with the seriousness of her words. "To him, this is no dream. What happens to him while he's unconscious could affect his physical body."

"In other words, Nurse, 'be careful'?" Spock finished for her. She nodded, then stepped away, releasing Spock's hand. He returned to his task.

III

"Did you get up for the sunrise, Daddy?" Joanna asked, sipping at her orange juice as she watched her father eat his oatmeal.

"I did indeed, Joanna," he replied, taking a sip of his own juice and smiling down at his daughter. "I did indeed. Did you want me to wake you up for it?"

"Maybe tomorrow," Jocelyn interrupted, setting a bowl of oatmeal down on her daughter's place. Joanna nodded, grinning as she dug into her breakfast, eating so quickly Leonard wondered if she even had a chance to taste any of it.

He didn't wonder for long. A loud rap came at the door and he was up from his chair in a heartbeat, stopping Jocelyn from getting up herself. "Enjoy your breakfast," he whispered as he passed by her, pushing gently on her shoulder so she would sit down. He hurried to the front door, pulling it open to find Evan Coller, the boy from down the road, standing on the front porch, his hat in his hand and a worried look on his face.

"Say, Doc, you busy?" Evan asked, glancing around nervously, as though he were being watched.

"Not right now I'm not," Leonard replied, already reaching for his medical bag. "What seems to be the trouble, my boy?"

"We got a fella holed up in our spare room needs tendin'," Evan said. "Pop told me to rush down here and fetch you fast as I could, so here I am."

"Just gimme a second, will ya, son?" Leonard asked. The boy nodded, and Leonard returned to the small kitchen, trying not to let the look in Jocelyn's eye get to him as he gave his little girl a kiss on the top of the head, then turned to his wife and pecked her lightly on the cheek. "The Collers've got somebody needs tending," he said. "I'll be back before you know it."

And with that, Leonard was out the door, walking alongside Evan Coller as they made their way down the long, winding road towards the Coller farm.

"What kind of a man you got waitin' for me?" Leonard asked, making conversation with the boy so the trek wouldn't seem quite so long. He knew the Collers well enough, but he rarely saw them. They were an oddly healthy family, only rarely needing the services of the good Doctor, so he didn't know enough about the boy to start up any meaningful discourse. Discussing his soon-to-be patient would have to suffice.

"Well, that's the thing, Doc," Evan said, kicking a loose stone off to the side of the road. "We ain't even sure he's a man."

Leonard came to a halt, surprising Evan, who whirled around to face him. "What d'ya mean, you aren't sure if he's a man?"

"He don't look like a man, that's what I mean," Evan replied. "Pop says he musta been in an accident of some kind, way his ears are all pointed and his eyebrows are all high, but you wanna know what I think?"

"Sure, Evan," Leonard said, starting to walk again with Evan scrambling to keep up. "What do you think?"

"I think he's the Devil himself."