Byrd Man

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Is there a name for the day after Precipipheny? Like how Christmas has Boxing Day, do we have Goat Day?

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Short post, but it's part of a new story thread I want to do.

Happy POW-anzaa!

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Natchez, Mississippi

Bedlam.

That was the only word that came to Boyd Rafferty's mind to describe the scene in front of him.

The small house just off the dirt road was a pile of smoking rubble, still smoldering in the early morning light. Around the house were firefighters cleaning up wreckage while the Adams County Sheriff's Department handled the bodies. Six tarp-covered bodies lay on the grass beside the house, four of the tarps were so much bigger than the tiny bodies they covered. Under those six tarps was the entire Johnson family. The firemen found Shelby and the children in the cellar, dead from smoke inhalation. Boyd was thankful they had died before the fire touched them. Will Johnson wasn't so lucky. They found him strung up on the live oak beside the house while the fire blazed. The man's face was beaten into pulp so much so that they were just assuming it was Will since it was his house and his family in the fire.

The sheriff's department also handled crowd control around the crime scene. What seemed like the entire black community of Adams County stood on the other side of the cordon. Plenty were yelling and protesting and singing their songs, but plenty still just looked on in some kind of stupor. It looked to Boyd like a sense of defeat so acute that it bordered on heartbreak. Those were the people's gaze whom Boyd hated meeting the most. He could handle outrage and anger, but he could not stand to see that soulless gaze from the people who could not comprehend the scope of the violence.

"Boyd!"

Terry Wilkerson, Adams County Sheriff, ambled over to Boyd with a dribble of tobacco juice on his lip.

"What are you doing here, son? Ain't no charges been filed yet."

"A phone call woke me up," he said softly. "I had to see it for myself."

"Me and my deputies will do what we can to see that those who committed this crime are arrested," said Wilkerson. "Then we'll let you take it from there, counselor."

Boyd was just one of a half-dozen junior lawyers working for the Sixth District Attorney of Mississippi. Adams County and three other adjacent counties made up the Sixth District. A native of Adams County and the most experienced of the DA's prosecutors, Boyd was Assistant District Attorney responsible for all prosecutions in Adams County.

"I want my own investigators involved in this one," said Boyd. "People I can trust."

Wilkerson snorted and spat a wad of tobacco juice at Boyd's feet. His three hundred dollar loafers nearly ruined by thirty-five cent chaw. "I don't think I like your tone, son."

"Too goddamn bad, sheriff." Boyd thrust a finger towards Wilkerson. "For weeks y'all been getting reports from negroes in the county about threats of violence and you just sat on your asses. As soon as I get back to the DA's office, I will request state and federal assistance on this one."

Wilkerson's already ruddy face went even redder, a shade of beet red mixed with purple. He slapped Boyd's finger away with his pudgy hand and pushed his face up into Boyd's personal space. Boyd could smell the tobacco on Wilkerson's breath and felt spittle hit his chin as the sheriff hissed his warning.

"You goddamn Raffertys are all the same! Just because your granddaddy made all that money, you think you're better than the rest of the county, you think you can talk to anyone like you damn well please. You ain't gonna talk to me like that."

"Sheriff."

Wilkerson stepped back just as Boyd was preparing to swing his balled fist into the sheriff's face. Instead, he took a deep breath and watched the fat man amble away in the wake of his deputy. Boyd followed after them to see what was going on. The crowd on the other side of the crime scene tape parted as two young men carried an unconscious elderly woman towards the tape.

"We need an ambulance," one of them shouted. "Mrs. Tillman done fainted."

"Y'all gonna have to get a car for her," Wilkerson told the crowd. "We can't put her in an ambulance. Adams county ain't got any for coloreds."

An angry murmur went through the crowd. The last thing these people needed to be reminded of was segregation and how the people that were supposed to protect them had no place for them.

"Here," Boyd said as he tossed his keys to the deputy beside Wilkerson. "Take my car. If the county government won't provide for, then I'll help."

Wilkerson looked long and hard at Boyd before spitting on the ground. Slowly, two deputies helped the young men carry the old lady through the crowd to Boyd's car. The angry murmur seemed to grow. Boyd heard more shouts and yells and protest before--

"We don't need to be here," someone from the crowd yelled.

The people seemed to stir and give a wide berth to someone in the center. Boyd stood on his tip toes and saw a man he recognized standing in the middle, his arms up and speaking loudly. James Calhoun, that was his name. Boyd had never met the man, but he remembered him from the protest at the courthouse a few months ago.

"All we're seeing here is a reminder of how powerless we are. It does nothing but makes us angry, which we have every right to be. Six people are dead, four of them children. And who speaks for them? Look around and see who all is here besides us. You got the sheriff, Mr. Rafferty, and a few deputies and that's it. If this were a white family, not even a rich one like Mr Rafferty's family, the sheriff's department would be all over this place like a fly on a cow pie. Will Johnson was a good man, but I'm afraid he and his family will not get their justice. That's why we need to leave, because if we stay here we realize the truth. Justice does not exist for our kind. In Mississippi, justice is for white people."

The crowd let out claps and amens at Calhoun's words.

"We need to all pray, not for Will and Shelby and the children, because I rightfully believe they're in a better place. I rightfully believe that they are in heaven, at the side of a God who loves everyone regardless of the color of their skin. No, we need to pray for Sheriff Wilkerson and Mr. Rafferty and all the other white people of Adams County that decide who gets justice and who doesn't. Because we've seen this here before many times, and we know the end result. We know justice will not visit those who committed this heinous act. So pray, pray that God touches their hearts and shows them the light."

The crowd whooped and let out more amens. Boyd caught Calhoun's eye. Calhoun stared straight ahead at him, seemingly looking through him. In these parts, that was the most condemning stare a negro could give and get away with. Boyd couldn't look at him and instead stared down at his feet. He felt ridiculous in his three hundred dollar loafers and five hundred dollar suit. Calhoun was right. Despite his money and his Ivy League education, Boyd was part of the system whose inaction silently condoned atrocities like what happened to the Johnson family.

Sheriff Wilkerson spat another glob of brown liquid towards the cheering and chanting crowd. Boyd saw hate in the man's flushed face. He knew he made the right decision by asking for the help of state and federal agents. Wilkerson would never seriously investigate this case. He'd already made his mind up that justice would not be given to the Johnson family.

"Hey, sheriff," Boyd said as he walked over.

The fat man turned his head just in time to catch Boyd's left hook square in the jaw. Spit and blood and tobacco juice went flying into the air as Wilkerson crumpled to the ground like a leaf. He muttered something and stared up at Boyd with wide eyes and a crazed look on his face.

"I can talk to you any goddamn way I please," Boyd adjusted his cufflinks and spoke softly. "I'm a Rafferty. I can buy and sell your cracker ass a hundred times over if I want. You work for the people of Adams County and you work for me. Don't forget that. If I find out you're obstructing this case or impeding its progress in any way, I will use all my wealth and influence to have you run out of office and run out of this county."

Wilkerson held on to his swollen jaw as he spoke. "You son of a bitch. I'll kill you for this."

"Try me," Boyd said as he stepped over him. "And I'm taking your car, sheriff. I need a ride back into town since those boys took that old colored lady in my car. You can catch a ride with one of your deputies."

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

I've been working on a post I'll try to have up in the evening.

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Sick Bay

"So, tell me something about yourself, a big strong strapping young man like you. Where are you from?"

Dera, the green-skinned nurse serving in Sick Bay with Carter, smiled a him and placed a hand on his wrist. Carter shifted in his seat and shrugged. They'd been working together for the better part of six months now. Dera liked to flirt with Carter, but he was usually dismissive. Mixing relations with work had proved to create a toxic atmosphere on his last ship. He wasn't involved in it, but he still suffered all the same. He didn't want any of the medical staff to suffer all because their chief couldn't keep it in his pants.

"Well, I'm from Earth. I don't really want to talk about my family. That story is a whole mess I don't want to--"

"Make way!"

Carter and Dera turned to see a Klingon officer carrying an unconscious pregnant woman into Sick Bay. The woman was human and dainty compared to the large and mean looking Klingon.

"What's going on here?" Carter asked, standing.

"My wife," said the Klingon. "She's going into labor."

Both Carter and Dera exchanged looks. The chances of Human-Kligon conception were impossibly high. If there was conception, most pregnancies didn't make it to full term. Carter stepped forward as Dera hurried towards a gurney.

"How far along is she?" Carter asked as he pulled out his tricorder and scanned the pregnant woman.

"Almost twenty-five weeks."

The doctor ran through his medical knowledge on Klingons, humans, and the rare hybrids. The usual pregnancy time for a Klingon was thirty weeks, forty for a human. If the baby inside the officer was ready to come out, then Carter hoped the child was more Klingon than human. Dera stopped the hover gurney in front of the officer while he and Carter gently laid the woman down on to it.

"Nurse Johnson," he called to the other nurse on shift with him. "Prep Room 3 for baby delivery. Nurse Dera, I want this lady scanned and ready for delivery."

While he had never delivered one himself, Carter knew Klingon births were tricky. The babies thrashed and fought with usual Klingon aplomb. 25% of all births resulted in the death of the mother. That number was even higher with non-Klingon mothers.

"Doctor," the Klingon said softly as his wife was pushed towards Room 3. "If something happens to her, I am holding you personally responsible."

The Klingon looked down at Carter and refused to turn his gaze away as Carter slowly walked backward.

"Don't, uuhh, don't worry, sir."

---

"Doctor, she's fully dilated! Pulse is fading, she could be going into cardiac arrest!"

Carter cursed and looked at the data on the monitor above the now conscious woman. She was panting and blowing and cursing her husband while he stood stoically by her side and held her hand. Her pelvic region a squirming mass of flesh was poking its way out.

"Nurse Dera," Carter said as he reached down to feel the baby. "Prep the panels. If she starts to crash, I want to shock her back."

"Wouldn't that kill the baby?"

"It's half-Klingon," he grunted. "This little shock will be the easiest pain it'll have to endure."

Carter looked up at the woman and gave her his best reassuring smile.

"Okay now. Start breathing and....PUSH! PUSH! PUSH!"

The woman screamed as the baby started to slip out of her. The lump of flesh and mucus screamed and trashed. Carter positioned himself to catch the baby as it came out.

"Pulse is fifty and dropping," Nurse Johnson yelled. "Twenty-four... Doctor, she's going to crash."

Carter sprung up and helped Dera with the panels. They placed the plastic rectangles on the on the woman's chest and pressed down on them.

"Here we go....one, two, three, CLEAR!"

BBZZZZT!!!

The electricity coursed through her body and sent her shaking from the shock. The Klingon let out a yell of shock, pain, and despair that Carter tried his best to ignore.

"Still nothing," Johnson said after a few moments.

"Again," Carter told Dera. "One, two, three, CLEAR!"

BBZZZZT!!!

He looked down as the woman's body danced from the jolt. Her heart was still not beating. Worst of all, they couldn't hear the baby crying.

"Alright," he said. "We're going to have to remove the baby out manually. Nurse Johnson, take my paddle and you and Dera use them when I say."

Carter slapped on a pair of rubber gloves and reached down for the baby that was half-way out of the womb. The pregnant woman bucked and kicked as the nurses hit her with another jolt of electricity.

"She's back!"

From down below, Carter could hear the woman's deep breaths as squatted between her legs. Half of the baby's head was now sticking out. He could see Klingon ridge prominent on its forehead.

"Alright, now," Carter said as he reached up and grabbed the baby's head. "PUSH!"

The woman screamed and pushed. She pushed as he pulled. A minute later, Carter stood with the wailing newborn in his arms. The alien baby thrashed and screamed while Carter tried to hold on to it. Nurse Dera swooped in and wrapped it up in a towel. She held on tightly to it and managed to calm the enraged baby down.

"Congratulations," Carter said, removing his gloves. "It's a girl."

Both parents were beaming proudly at the sight of their new daughter. Dera gently handed the now calm child to her mother and stepped back while Carter wiped sweat from his forehead. He was hot, sweaty, and covered in bodily fluids that included afterbirth. Despite all that, the smile on his face couldn't have been any wider.

The joy of success was fleeting, however. Alarms sounded through Sick Bay. Carter and his nurses looked up, along with the new parents, as the lights dimmed to a crimson red. Red alert. The klaxons erased the newborn's calm state and caused the baby girl to cry and wail. Nurse Johnson checked her tablet and looked at Carter.

"Captain's orders, prepare for casualties, both friendly and enemy... they've spotted a Dominion ship."

"I have to go," the Klingon said. "They'll need me in Ops."

The sight of him being forced to leave his wife and newly born child tore Carter's heart apart. After tender goodbyes to both wife and daughter, the Klingon again looked at him. "I repeat what I said earlier. If they are not kept safe, I will hold you responsible."

"I understand," said Carter. "Now, go. We both have work to do."

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

<Snipped quote by Ruby>

Well there's always Chief of Security... :P

@Kentsukan

I nominate @Morden Man to apply for that post. He certainly watches the thread like he's running surveillance.

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Name: Carter Cole

Age: 38

Rank/Position: Lt. Commander/Chief Medical Officer

Race: Human

Appearance: I'm not good with face claims, but Carter is a white male with black hair that has flecks of grey in it and blue eyes. He's of an average height and is slightly overweight. There's a short, deep scar on his chin from a crash he was involved in years earlier.

Personality: As a doctor, Carter has a deep compassion for life and a desire to help people. Although he does not wear his heart on his sleeve, he has a temper buried deep inside of him and can occasionally let it out. Carter enjoys the travels and adventures of space as well as meeting and interacting with the various different aliens he encounters.

History:

Born and raised in California, Carter Cole came from a background of privilege. His family was old money, the Coles having capitalized on the California oil boom centuries earlier and diversified into a large business conglomerate. He was the youngest of four children born into the family of Roger and Janet Cole. While his parents were loving, but distant, his two brothers and sister were ruthless. They all had designs for the money they would inherit and the company they one day wanted to control. While Carter never wanted for anything as a child, he was constantly lonely thanks to his parents distance and his siblings' cruelty. Carter was twelve when he was sent to boarding school. Life there was better and he made fast friends with his fellow students and, curiously enough, the school's resident doctor.

While Carter attended boarding school, his parents were busy setting the course of the lives of Carter and his siblings. Upon graduation of boarding school, they would all attend the Ivy League and graduate there before taking a mid-level job in one of the many businesses the Cole Empire controlled. So it went with all the children, up until Carter. He shocked his parents by telling them he desired to become a doctor. Furious, his father vowed he would not pay for any schooling if Carter went that route. Even Carter's trust fund would be off-limits to him.

Unperturbed, Carter applied for scholarships and student loans and managed to find enough capital to start school. Refusing even the slightest support from his parents, he took up two jobs and worked them as he made his way through UCLA as a undergrad, then medical school where he graduated Summa Cum Laude from UCLA Med, specializing in Xeno-Astrobiology. After graduation, his now jubilant and proud father offered him a job in a hospital owned by the Coles. Three days later, Carter enlisted in Starfleet and graduated with the rank of Medical Officer.

Carter served as medical officer on the USS California, the USS Shanghai, USS Resolute before joining the Orion as chief medical officer.

Skills: Carter is a skilled doctor and surgeon capable of treating patients from different species, races, and backgrounds.

Other: I'm a doctor, not an adder!

Sample Post:

USS Orion
Beta Quadrant

"Okay, Ensign. What's your problem?" Carter casually asked the crewman sitting on the medical examination table.

He looked at the table in his hands. It contained all the young man's medical stats. The kid was fit as a fiddle in his last check up two months ago. He had slightly high blood pressure, but nothing the medicine Carter prescribed him couldn't fix.

"Well, Doctor...I have this strange burning sensation...."

Carter nodded and scribbled the information down on to the tablet in a scrawled handwriting fit only for a doctor.

"Okay. Where exactly do you feel this burning at?"

"Well, sir...it's uh....below the waist."

He looked up suddenly at the ensign, his eyes wide with apparent alarm.

"How long have you been having this feeling?"

"For about a week now."

"Yes, and we were at port two weeks ago," Carter said with a slight grin. "Did you happen to visit any women when we were at port?"

The fact that the kid's faced turned red as all the information Carter needed, but he wanted to hear it from the ensign firsthand.

"There was a guy, actually."

"Oh," said Carter. He shrugged his shoulder. "Well then it's the twenty-fourth century. Nothing to be ashamed of. I have some medicine here that can clean it right up."

"But, doctor. He wasn't a human, he was an Orion!"

Carter sat the tablet down on the table and looked at the young man solemnly.

"Oh, well then. I'll have to prep you for surgery. The body fluids of Orion's contain acid highly damaging to all humans, your....member, could be rotten and have gangrene. I'm afraid it will have to come off."

"NO!" The ensign cried out, holding on to his crotch for dear life.

Carter chuckled and picked his tablet back up, quickly tapping out a message on it before sending it to its recipient.

"Joking," he said without looking up. "Go see the nurse down the hall, she'll give you a shot and fix you right up."

"Thank you, doctor," the young man said with a nervous laugh.

"No, problem." Carter looked up, another serious look on his face. "Remember this: flies spread disease... so keep yours closed."

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

@Byrd Man

@Morden Man

Shit or get off the pot, you lurking muthafucka!

Star Trek: To Boldly Go

Name: Carter Cole

Age: 38

Rank/Position: Lt. Commander/Chief Medical Officer

Race: Human

Appearance: I'm not good with face claims, but Carter is a white male with black hair that has flecks of grey in it and blue eyes. He's of an average height and is slightly overweight. There's a short, deep scar on his chin from a crash he was involved in years earlier.

Personality: As a doctor, Carter has a deep compassion for life and a desire to help people. Although he does not wear his heart on his sleeve, he has a temper buried deep inside of him and can occasionally let it out. Carter enjoys the travels and adventures of space as well as meeting and interacting with the various different aliens he encounters.

History:

Born and raised in California, Carter Cole came from a background of privilege. His family was old money, the Coles having capitalized on the California oil boom centuries earlier and diversified into a large business conglomerate. He was the youngest of four children born into the family of Roger and Janet Cole. While his parents were loving, but distant, his two brothers and sister were ruthless. They all had designs for the money they would inherit and the company they one day wanted to control. While Carter never wanted for anything as a child, he was constantly lonely thanks to his parents distance and his siblings' cruelty. Carter was twelve when he was sent to boarding school. Life there was better and he made fast friends with his fellow students and, curiously enough, the school's resident doctor.

While Carter attended boarding school, his parents were busy setting the course of the lives of Carter and his siblings. Upon graduation of boarding school, they would all attend the Ivy League and graduate there before taking a mid-level job in one of the many businesses the Cole Empire controlled. So it went with all the children, up until Carter. He shocked his parents by telling them he desired to become a doctor. Furious, his father vowed he would not pay for any schooling if Carter went that route. Even Carter's trust fund would be off-limits to him.

Unperturbed, Carter applied for scholarships and student loans and managed to find enough capital to start school. Refusing even the slightest support from his parents, he took up two jobs and worked them as he made his way through UCLA as a undergrad, then medical school where he graduated Summa Cum Laude from UCLA Med, specializing in Xeno-Astrobiology. After graduation, his now jubilant and proud father offered him a job in a hospital owned by the Coles. Three days later, Carter enlisted in Starfleet and graduated with the rank of Medical Officer.

Carter served as medical officer on the USS California, the USS Shanghai, USS Resolute before joining the Orion as chief medical officer.

Skills: Carter is a skilled doctor and surgeon capable of treating patients from different species, races, and backgrounds.

Other: I'm a doctor, not an adder!

Sample Post:

USS Orion
Beta Quadrant

"Okay, Ensign. What's your problem?" Carter casually asked the crewman sitting on the medical examination table.

He looked at the table in his hands. It contained all the young man's medical stats. The kid was fit as a fiddle in his last check up two months ago. He had slightly high blood pressure, but nothing the medicine Carter prescribed him couldn't fix.

"Well, Doctor...I have this strange burning sensation...."

Carter nodded and scribbled the information down on to the tablet in a scrawled handwriting fit only for a doctor.

"Okay. Where exactly do you feel this burning at?"

"Well, sir...it's uh....below the waist."

He looked up suddenly at the ensign, his eyes wide with apparent alarm.

"How long have you been having this feeling?"

"For about a week now."

"Yes, and we were at port two weeks ago," Carter said with a slight grin. "Did you happen to visit any women when we were at port?"

The fact that the kid's faced turned red as all the information Carter needed, but he wanted to hear it from the ensign firsthand.

"There was a guy, actually."

"Oh," said Carter. He shrugged his shoulder. "Well then it's the twenty-fourth century. Nothing to be ashamed of. I have some medicine here that can clean it right up."

"But, doctor. He wasn't a human, he was an Orion!"

Carter sat the tablet down on the table and looked at the young man solemnly.

"Oh, well then. I'll have to prep you for surgery. The body fluids of Orion's contain acid highly damaging to all humans, your....member, could be rotten and have gangrene. I'm afraid it will have to come off."

"NO!" The ensign cried out, holding on to his crotch for dear life.

Carter chuckled and picked his tablet back up, quickly tapping out a message on it before sending it to its recipient.

"Joking," he said without looking up. "Go see the nurse down the hall, she'll give you a shot and fix you right up."

"Thank you, doctor," the young man said with a nervous laugh.

"No, problem." Carter looked up, another serious look on his face. "Remember this: flies spread disease... so keep yours closed."