RobertScorpio
Pariah
Frank Grayson USS ENTERPRISE--To Serve A God
FRANK GRAYSON
USS ENTERPRISE
The crew of
THE USS ENTERPRISE
#09
To Serve A God
Featuring
Ernest Coe
Junius Morgan
Special Guest Star
Zeb Macahan
October 24; 1869
The rides and stops along the way made the journey to Chicago Illinois even longer that in seemed, or so Ernest Coe thought. It was also very expensive. He had to chart a private stage out of Sante Fe, and it cost a pretty good penny. Due to the sensitive nature of the cargo, and value, there was no other way. But, no matter, he had at last arrived in Chicago with his precious cargo.
He later checked into the hotel he had arranged berthing at while he waited for the signal from his secret client. So as to protect him self from any back handed dealings, Coe had made it clear to Orvin Kiley, the broker, that only he, Coe, would deliver the goods. And upon doing so, the client would pay the other half of the two-million dollar price tag.
Coe checked into his room, which also contained an insured safe, after his belonging had been brought up by the porter. But through the whole process of arriving, and checking in the hotel, Coe never lost sight of the precious cargo, wrapped in deer skin, until he put it inside of the safe. He even kept the mysterious object wrapped in the same deer skins it was handed to him in by the dead Indian Chief. There was now nothing to do but wait for the signal from the buyer.
Later, after evening had come, Coe went down to the rambunctious saloon below the hotel and grabbed him self a bite to eat. He even had time for a hand or two of poker before retiring up to his room.
Upon entering his room, he closed the door and lit the candle on his wall. The moment the light of the flame swept over the room, Ernest Coe knew he wasn’t alone.
An elderly gentleman was sitting at the main table in the kitchen area of the nice room. Although they had never met, Ernest Coe recognized the man from the photos in the papers. His name was Junius Spencer Morgan. He was, with out a doubt, one of the richest men in the world. Orvin Kiley never told Coe who the client was, so Coe was surprised to find that the purchaser of the Indian artifact was none other than Junius Morgan.
“Please to make your acquaintance.” Coe said as he walked over to where the senior Morgan was sitting. Coe sat down in one of the chairs.
“I assume you have it?” Morgan asked suddenly.
Coe nodded his head. “Yes I do. And it cost many souls to obtain it.”
“Does that bother you?” Junius asked.
Coe shook his head. “No, not at all,” Coe said as he lit a pipe to smoke. “not as long as you brought the other half of my payment.” Coe said. “And don’t forget, should any thing funny happen to me soon after I take your money, I have made arrangements to make our little deal go public.”
Junius Morgan smiled. “You are a very wise man.” Morgan smiled at Coe. What Coe didn’t know, and never would know, was that Morgan had spent much money to undermine all of Coe’s arrangements. And, if fate was kind, Coe would also be dead before to the night was done. “Do not fret Mr. Coe. I assume you will also live up to your part of our deal and leave this country, never to return, by the end of next month.”
Coe nodded his head. “My feet will never touch these shores again.” Coe replied.
With that said, Coe opened the closet and opened the secured safe in the wall. It had cost extra to obtain the special room, but it was worth the security of knowing it was secure. He opened up the safe and slowly lifted out the deer skinned wrapped item. He set it on the large king size bed that took up a large portion of the room. The object was nearly half the width of the bed. Coe slowly unfolded the deer skin, and as he did, Morgan stood up to observe. As the object came into view the candle that Coe had lit earlier, with out the slightest gust of wind in the room, went out. The glow of the object cast a strange, violet glow through out the room.
“Amazing, utterly amazing,” was all Junius Morgan could muster to say.
“What is it?” Coe asked, not too particularly impressed with what he was seeing.
Morgan stared into the violet light as he replied. “Perhaps it is just what the Natives say it is; the power of the Gods.”
Coe chuckled. “I can’t imagine any power worth two-million dollars, but; it is your money.” Coe said as he watched Morgan rewrap the object. Once the violet light was gone, the candle, with out the aide of a match, reignited. Coe lifted an eyebrow at the sight of the candle relighting.
Coe walked over to the table where another brief case was waiting for him on the table. He opened in momentarily, and saw that the inside was stacked with immaculate rows of hundred dollar bills.
“What a sight.” He said out loud before closing the case.
“You have done well,” Morgan said as he prepared to leave, “I may have need for you wishes should you end up in Europe.” Morgan said, though it was just a lie.
Morgan bowed his head. “Fair enough,” Morgan said, “I will be in France sometime next year I suppose. Look me up.”
Morgan smiled back at him. “I will.” And then the wealthy man, with the object wrapped in dear skin in his arms, stepped out. Morgan knew that he would never meet Coe again, and that please Morgan. He found the man quite detestable.
Two hours later as the night time sky of Chicago was lit by a full moon, Morgan boarded his private stage, the object well secured with in its hull. It was time to return to New York, his objectives having been met. Only one loose end remained, and Morgan smiled as he looked out the shaded window of his carriage.
A very large man, over six and a half feet Morgan estimated, was riding into the city atop a magnificent horse. The man wore animal skins, and sported a very large knife. His name was Zeb Macahan. Macahan was the last of his breed; mountain men. With America becoming a bicoastal country, there was very little to explore. Macahan’s time of frontier exploration of the west was coming to an end, and his nearly sixty years of aged showed. He was also known as White Eagle to the various India tribes. The Indians respected Macahan as though he was one of their own, perhaps even a chief.
Morgan knew why Macahan was in Chicago. Morgan had sent back door messages to Macahan letting him know where to find Ernest Coe; the man behind the butcher of nearly one hundred and fifty innocent Indians in one night. Morgan could only wonder what kind of justice Macahan would administer Coe with. Morgan rolled up his stage coach’s window as it was brought into motion and passed Macahan.
Once aboard the waiting train, Junius Morgan would be on his way back to New York at a last. And all the loose ends would have been cut away; Coe being the last.
--
Ernest Coe was sleeping soundly, the door to his hotel room bolted shut. But the bolt of the door did not stop it from being kicked open, hard!
Ernest awoke, startled by the sound of the door crashing open. He saw a large figure lighting the candle by the door. As the candle light came over the room, Coe saw the invader; a massive man; Zeb Machanan. The two had met a couple times before.
“It took a long time to find you Ernest.” Zeb said he walked over to the bed. The moon light sky cast a white light upon the drapes. “But I did.”
Coe knew his life span had just been shortened. He looked to the two brief cases of money on the floor by the desk.
“Now listen Macahan,” Coe said, “there are two brief cases over there. Each one is loaded with a million dollars. I’ll let you take half.”
Zeb only stared down at Coe in disgust.
“Come on Zeb,” Coe pleaded. “Those Indians were starving anyway. You could leave here a very wealthy man!!!”
Zeb shook his head. “The only way I’m leaving here wealthy is if I have your scalp in my hand.” With that said, Zeb unsheathed his very large knife.
Coe stood up to run, but the much stronger Macahan grabbed him and threw him, Coe, on the bed. Zeb ripped a string of material from the expensive hotel bed’s sheet. Then he forcibly wrapped it around Coe’s mouth. Then Zeb Macahan grabbed Coe by the front of his hair and prepared to scalp the Indian killer.
As Ernest Coe waited for death to come, he gazed over at the window. The drape was sheer enough to show the round glow of the moon on the other side of the drape. Due to the heat of the day, Coe had opened the window before climbing in to bed earlier.
And as he felt the icy cold blade from Zeb’s knife on the tip of his forehead, Coe saw the silhouette of a bird land just outside the window, on the ledge of the balcony. And as the first trickle of blood drained down his head, and down his cheeks, Coe watched in stunned silence as the bird stuck it’s beak through the part of the drapes. It was a red tailed Hawk. And as the bird gazed into Coe’s eyes from the window, Coe knew it was Seti’engui. And through the icy stare of the Hawk, Coe felt no mercy from the Hawk, just as he had been warned.
--
Zeb Macahan exited the hotel entrance. He had left one of the brief cases of money behind to who ever found it with a simple note; “Money is yours, if you keep it quiet.” Zeb was quite sure that the small hotel, only the second of its name, would keep the money, and keep the secret. The Hilton hotel would one day become a giant in the hotel business, at least if they managed the million carefully, Zeb thought to him self.
The other brief case of money would be invested and then used to help the various Indian orphanages that had sprung up. It was the latest movement by a growing liberal group that pressed the system to treat the Indians, who were a vanishing race, with the respect due.
And as Zeb’s horse trotted down the dusty main street of Chicago, he couldn’t help but notice the image of a hawk flying in the sky, against the moon high above. Zeb smiled. He couldn’t know for sure if the Hawk was his old friend Seti’engui, but then again, Zeb couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a red tailed Hawk flying in the sky as midnight approached. He smiled, tipped his hat to the bird, and then Zeb aimed his horse for his long away ranch home in Oregon.
--
One week Later.
Junius Morgan had made it back to his home in the northern part of New York State. His thirty-five room mansion was a sight for sore eyes. He had his hired hands move his luggage into the stately manor as he him self climbed the stairs to his private den.
Once behind the locked doors of his den he unwrapped the strangely shaped object, it’s violet light once again pleasing to his eyes, and set it carefully on his desk. He walked over to his private safe, the most advanced of its kind, and opened it. He retrieved the object and slid it into a very secure position inside the safe. He took one last look at it before closing the safe. He spoke to it, as if it could hear his voice.
“Some myths say you are an instrument to control the power of the Gods.” Morgan said. “Some might even say you were place on Earth to help us in our service to the Gods. I do not hold such beliefs.” He said with a smile. “I believe man is his own God. And rather than use you to serve a God who does not exist, I shall use you to service me. I am the God, and you,” Morgan said to object as he slowly closed the safe, “are The Server.”
--
FRANK GRAYSON USS ENTERPRISE
will continue with all new episodes soon...and next time? Uh huh... you knew it would happen...THE ROMULANS know where Earth is...and they....are.....coming!!!
--
So how did FRANK GRAYSON even find the USS ENTERPRISE waiting in space for him? Go back to where it all started>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>ENGAGE!!http://www.trekbbs.com/showthread.php?t=52528
Rob
Scorpio
FRANK GRAYSON
USS ENTERPRISE
The crew of
THE USS ENTERPRISE
#09
To Serve A God
Featuring
Ernest Coe
Junius Morgan
Special Guest Star
Zeb Macahan
October 24; 1869
The rides and stops along the way made the journey to Chicago Illinois even longer that in seemed, or so Ernest Coe thought. It was also very expensive. He had to chart a private stage out of Sante Fe, and it cost a pretty good penny. Due to the sensitive nature of the cargo, and value, there was no other way. But, no matter, he had at last arrived in Chicago with his precious cargo.
He later checked into the hotel he had arranged berthing at while he waited for the signal from his secret client. So as to protect him self from any back handed dealings, Coe had made it clear to Orvin Kiley, the broker, that only he, Coe, would deliver the goods. And upon doing so, the client would pay the other half of the two-million dollar price tag.
Coe checked into his room, which also contained an insured safe, after his belonging had been brought up by the porter. But through the whole process of arriving, and checking in the hotel, Coe never lost sight of the precious cargo, wrapped in deer skin, until he put it inside of the safe. He even kept the mysterious object wrapped in the same deer skins it was handed to him in by the dead Indian Chief. There was now nothing to do but wait for the signal from the buyer.
Later, after evening had come, Coe went down to the rambunctious saloon below the hotel and grabbed him self a bite to eat. He even had time for a hand or two of poker before retiring up to his room.
Upon entering his room, he closed the door and lit the candle on his wall. The moment the light of the flame swept over the room, Ernest Coe knew he wasn’t alone.
An elderly gentleman was sitting at the main table in the kitchen area of the nice room. Although they had never met, Ernest Coe recognized the man from the photos in the papers. His name was Junius Spencer Morgan. He was, with out a doubt, one of the richest men in the world. Orvin Kiley never told Coe who the client was, so Coe was surprised to find that the purchaser of the Indian artifact was none other than Junius Morgan.
“Please to make your acquaintance.” Coe said as he walked over to where the senior Morgan was sitting. Coe sat down in one of the chairs.
“I assume you have it?” Morgan asked suddenly.
Coe nodded his head. “Yes I do. And it cost many souls to obtain it.”
“Does that bother you?” Junius asked.
Coe shook his head. “No, not at all,” Coe said as he lit a pipe to smoke. “not as long as you brought the other half of my payment.” Coe said. “And don’t forget, should any thing funny happen to me soon after I take your money, I have made arrangements to make our little deal go public.”
Junius Morgan smiled. “You are a very wise man.” Morgan smiled at Coe. What Coe didn’t know, and never would know, was that Morgan had spent much money to undermine all of Coe’s arrangements. And, if fate was kind, Coe would also be dead before to the night was done. “Do not fret Mr. Coe. I assume you will also live up to your part of our deal and leave this country, never to return, by the end of next month.”
Coe nodded his head. “My feet will never touch these shores again.” Coe replied.
With that said, Coe opened the closet and opened the secured safe in the wall. It had cost extra to obtain the special room, but it was worth the security of knowing it was secure. He opened up the safe and slowly lifted out the deer skinned wrapped item. He set it on the large king size bed that took up a large portion of the room. The object was nearly half the width of the bed. Coe slowly unfolded the deer skin, and as he did, Morgan stood up to observe. As the object came into view the candle that Coe had lit earlier, with out the slightest gust of wind in the room, went out. The glow of the object cast a strange, violet glow through out the room.
“Amazing, utterly amazing,” was all Junius Morgan could muster to say.
“What is it?” Coe asked, not too particularly impressed with what he was seeing.
Morgan stared into the violet light as he replied. “Perhaps it is just what the Natives say it is; the power of the Gods.”
Coe chuckled. “I can’t imagine any power worth two-million dollars, but; it is your money.” Coe said as he watched Morgan rewrap the object. Once the violet light was gone, the candle, with out the aide of a match, reignited. Coe lifted an eyebrow at the sight of the candle relighting.
Coe walked over to the table where another brief case was waiting for him on the table. He opened in momentarily, and saw that the inside was stacked with immaculate rows of hundred dollar bills.
“What a sight.” He said out loud before closing the case.
“You have done well,” Morgan said as he prepared to leave, “I may have need for you wishes should you end up in Europe.” Morgan said, though it was just a lie.
Morgan bowed his head. “Fair enough,” Morgan said, “I will be in France sometime next year I suppose. Look me up.”
Morgan smiled back at him. “I will.” And then the wealthy man, with the object wrapped in dear skin in his arms, stepped out. Morgan knew that he would never meet Coe again, and that please Morgan. He found the man quite detestable.
Two hours later as the night time sky of Chicago was lit by a full moon, Morgan boarded his private stage, the object well secured with in its hull. It was time to return to New York, his objectives having been met. Only one loose end remained, and Morgan smiled as he looked out the shaded window of his carriage.
A very large man, over six and a half feet Morgan estimated, was riding into the city atop a magnificent horse. The man wore animal skins, and sported a very large knife. His name was Zeb Macahan. Macahan was the last of his breed; mountain men. With America becoming a bicoastal country, there was very little to explore. Macahan’s time of frontier exploration of the west was coming to an end, and his nearly sixty years of aged showed. He was also known as White Eagle to the various India tribes. The Indians respected Macahan as though he was one of their own, perhaps even a chief.
Morgan knew why Macahan was in Chicago. Morgan had sent back door messages to Macahan letting him know where to find Ernest Coe; the man behind the butcher of nearly one hundred and fifty innocent Indians in one night. Morgan could only wonder what kind of justice Macahan would administer Coe with. Morgan rolled up his stage coach’s window as it was brought into motion and passed Macahan.
Once aboard the waiting train, Junius Morgan would be on his way back to New York at a last. And all the loose ends would have been cut away; Coe being the last.
--
Ernest Coe was sleeping soundly, the door to his hotel room bolted shut. But the bolt of the door did not stop it from being kicked open, hard!
Ernest awoke, startled by the sound of the door crashing open. He saw a large figure lighting the candle by the door. As the candle light came over the room, Coe saw the invader; a massive man; Zeb Machanan. The two had met a couple times before.
“It took a long time to find you Ernest.” Zeb said he walked over to the bed. The moon light sky cast a white light upon the drapes. “But I did.”
Coe knew his life span had just been shortened. He looked to the two brief cases of money on the floor by the desk.
“Now listen Macahan,” Coe said, “there are two brief cases over there. Each one is loaded with a million dollars. I’ll let you take half.”
Zeb only stared down at Coe in disgust.
“Come on Zeb,” Coe pleaded. “Those Indians were starving anyway. You could leave here a very wealthy man!!!”
Zeb shook his head. “The only way I’m leaving here wealthy is if I have your scalp in my hand.” With that said, Zeb unsheathed his very large knife.
Coe stood up to run, but the much stronger Macahan grabbed him and threw him, Coe, on the bed. Zeb ripped a string of material from the expensive hotel bed’s sheet. Then he forcibly wrapped it around Coe’s mouth. Then Zeb Macahan grabbed Coe by the front of his hair and prepared to scalp the Indian killer.
As Ernest Coe waited for death to come, he gazed over at the window. The drape was sheer enough to show the round glow of the moon on the other side of the drape. Due to the heat of the day, Coe had opened the window before climbing in to bed earlier.
And as he felt the icy cold blade from Zeb’s knife on the tip of his forehead, Coe saw the silhouette of a bird land just outside the window, on the ledge of the balcony. And as the first trickle of blood drained down his head, and down his cheeks, Coe watched in stunned silence as the bird stuck it’s beak through the part of the drapes. It was a red tailed Hawk. And as the bird gazed into Coe’s eyes from the window, Coe knew it was Seti’engui. And through the icy stare of the Hawk, Coe felt no mercy from the Hawk, just as he had been warned.
--
Zeb Macahan exited the hotel entrance. He had left one of the brief cases of money behind to who ever found it with a simple note; “Money is yours, if you keep it quiet.” Zeb was quite sure that the small hotel, only the second of its name, would keep the money, and keep the secret. The Hilton hotel would one day become a giant in the hotel business, at least if they managed the million carefully, Zeb thought to him self.
The other brief case of money would be invested and then used to help the various Indian orphanages that had sprung up. It was the latest movement by a growing liberal group that pressed the system to treat the Indians, who were a vanishing race, with the respect due.
And as Zeb’s horse trotted down the dusty main street of Chicago, he couldn’t help but notice the image of a hawk flying in the sky, against the moon high above. Zeb smiled. He couldn’t know for sure if the Hawk was his old friend Seti’engui, but then again, Zeb couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a red tailed Hawk flying in the sky as midnight approached. He smiled, tipped his hat to the bird, and then Zeb aimed his horse for his long away ranch home in Oregon.
--
One week Later.
Junius Morgan had made it back to his home in the northern part of New York State. His thirty-five room mansion was a sight for sore eyes. He had his hired hands move his luggage into the stately manor as he him self climbed the stairs to his private den.
Once behind the locked doors of his den he unwrapped the strangely shaped object, it’s violet light once again pleasing to his eyes, and set it carefully on his desk. He walked over to his private safe, the most advanced of its kind, and opened it. He retrieved the object and slid it into a very secure position inside the safe. He took one last look at it before closing the safe. He spoke to it, as if it could hear his voice.
“Some myths say you are an instrument to control the power of the Gods.” Morgan said. “Some might even say you were place on Earth to help us in our service to the Gods. I do not hold such beliefs.” He said with a smile. “I believe man is his own God. And rather than use you to serve a God who does not exist, I shall use you to service me. I am the God, and you,” Morgan said to object as he slowly closed the safe, “are The Server.”
--
FRANK GRAYSON USS ENTERPRISE
will continue with all new episodes soon...and next time? Uh huh... you knew it would happen...THE ROMULANS know where Earth is...and they....are.....coming!!!
--
So how did FRANK GRAYSON even find the USS ENTERPRISE waiting in space for him? Go back to where it all started>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>ENGAGE!!http://www.trekbbs.com/showthread.php?t=52528
Rob
Scorpio
Last edited:
Let! (doubles over in spasms of laughter) Let! (face slowly turning purple from a lack of oxygen, collapses to the floor) Let! Ah, ha, ha, ha-*choke*(Funereal services to be held this Saturday).
