Robert "Doc" Huang
Ship’s Doctor (Know, Operate, Treat) : Natural Healer: Spend 1 PP to step back another character’s medical or injury- based Complication.
By the Book (Focus, Know, Operate) : No extra distinctions
Veteran of the Unification War ( Fight, Shoot, Survive) : Spend 1 PP to step up or double your Shoot or Fight when you’re outnumbered.
Know d8 (Alliance Tactics)
Operate d12 (Battlefield Surgery)
Shoot d10 (Pistols)
Treat d10 (First Aid)
Battered Alliance Corpsman Satchel D8
Old and slightly outdated medical bag of the corpsmen of the Alliance Navy.
They called it the Kane Madness. We were originally told it was side effects from a homegrown stimulant named "Sugakane" that some Independent soldiers ingested before going into battle. My hospital, Walter Langham Military Medical Center, saw around twenty cases. Symptoms varied from complete catatonia to violent psychotic outbursts to horrific debilitating night terrors with a smattering of respiratory and neural-muscular problems thrown in. We were briefed that all who suffered from it were Independent soldiers that were guilty of various criminal acts. Prisoners. I am not proud to say that they were treated poorly in our hospital. They were garbage, especially to former combat corpsmen like me. They created dangerous and illicit substances so they could more easily murder our friends. We let them lie in their own filth a bit longer than necessary, had the orderlies be a good deal rougher with them when they got angry or violent, left them locked up in padded rooms in restraints for days at a time, or stole or even urinated on their food. Standard stuff, right? Despite their infirmities, they were still traitorous rebel scum.
One day, we got a new transfer. He was listed as a former sergeant of the Independent army. Despite his twisted and partially paralyzed face, I recognized him. He was an Alliance Marine named James Enfield. I was attached to his unit during the battle of Du-Khang. He still had the scar from when I fished a chunk of shrapnel out of his chest. My superior officers didn't seem to believe me, so I kept going up higher and higher up the chain of command and doing my own investigating on my own time. I went from hospital to hospital and found more Alliance victims of the "Kane Madness". The ones that could speak, told me that it wasn't from some ill concocted designer drug. It was from an experimental chemical agent that was deployed by the Alliance in the last stages of the war. It was supposed to be an anti-riot countermeasure; a gas that enhanced the fear of a crowd and forced them to disperse. It worked on some of the Independents. Some, faced with horrific hallucinations and elevated pulse and heart rates, actually fought much more aggressively. Some were described as going into a beserker rage. The unit that was responsible for the gas took that as a challenge and released more of it and in higher concentrations. The gas lingered in pockets all over the battlefield and when the Alliance Marines took positions vacated by the Browncoats, they fell victim to the gas as well.
Again, I tried to bring this to the attention of my superior officers. Again, I was told to drop it. I was pissed. This was not the Alliance I fought for. This is not the Alliance that my friends died for. We were supposed to bring law and order to the criminals, not commit war crimes. I took my findings to the press. Most reporters would not give me the time of day. Frustrated, I went home.
There was someone in my house. A man was sitting at my dining room table. On the table was all of my evidence, my computers, and devices neatly packed away in a box. Next to the box was my service pistol. The disturbingly nondescript man wearing a plain nondescript suit first thanked me for my service. He then pulled out paperwork for my immediate discharge from the Alliance Navy. I would not receive my pension and I would not be able to continue medical school on the Navy's dime. I would no longer be welcome to stay in my subsidized apartment. I was of course never to speak of the Kane Madness or chemical weapons ever again. I was told this was option one. When I inquired about option two, the man told me about how many veterans sadly take their own lives every day. I would get a full military funeral and my pension would pass to my mother. The matter of fact way that the man relayed this gave me no doubt in my mind that he would have no problem with either option.
I got my ass off planet the very next day. I ran. I am a coward. Perhaps someday I will sack up and go back and get more evidence and help my former comrades and foes. Until then, I guess I will roam the Borders and the Rim. Help out where I can. Save up some money. Steel myself for what needs to happen. I once thought the Alliance was the shining light in the Universe, perhaps these former Independent Planets aren't as bad as I thought.