The Medicae

[carpediem]

I'm not certain this really belongs here, as the viewpoint character doesn't wear PA; best to read and judge for yourselves. Inspired by too much ER, and the discovery that royal doctors could once be executed for treason if their patient died. Constructive criticism warmly welcomed.

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All you will be able to say, after, is that you tried.

 

Tried not to burst into tears when you knew who would be next in your trauma room. Tried not to be hard on the medicae who did cry, or vomit, or worse. Tried to forget who He is. Tried to see the damage not the man.

 

The Patient (because He has no known name, and no-one dares use His title for fear of remembering) has no medical records. He has never been ill or injured as far as anyone knows, never graced these halls except to visit patients (crown servants, captives, His own children). You scan Him, and take blood samples, and it is a relief and a terror that they come back normal. A relief because He is human, and you can treat humans. A terror because every iota of medical knowledge says that normal people do not survive this sort of trauma. Yet here He is.

 

He dies on the table, three times. You bring Him back with epinephrine and electricity, apologising under your breath for every shock. His windpipe is in ribbons. You turn the gaping hole into a tracheotomy. He develops peritonitis. You excise a great length of infected bowel and pump Him full of antibiotics. You cut. You stitch. You amputate. You cauterise. You set bones. You push drugs. You exhaust every medical possibility and every dwindling resource in the service of keeping your Emperor alive. You pray.

 

You try to sleep, because exhaustion kills. But even from the depths of a medical coma The Patient screams and babbles in your head, in everyones' heads. Not in Gothic; not in any language that anyone understands, except that He sounds scared, and that is absolutely terrifying. And His children and grandchildren are waiting outside, sitting a death watch in shifts, and the price they will exact for failure haunts your dreams. You were already living on re-caff, now you take to amphetamines, then combat-stims.

 

It is not enough. There is nothing else you can do. Nothing. Except curl up in a corner and weep for despair and self-pity, and that helps no-one (you do it anyway). You try to stand up straight, try not to faint or soil yourself, when you finally have to admit this to whichever Primarch is in attendance. Lord Dorn is appallingly calm (but later you are grateful that it is him, not Corax, or the Khan, or Russ, who would have torn you to bloody shreds where you stood). He says that this was expected, but thanks you for your efforts. He says that there is a Plan, that you have bought time for its completion, that the Imperium owes your team an un-payable debt. You manage two steps before blacking out.

 

It is an Apothecary, in Pretorian yellow, who watches until you wake. An Apothecary in battered armour (it might have been red, once) who outlines The Plan to the medicae teams involved. An Apothecary with metal hands who leads the surgery. And who better than Astartes? The Plan is monumental, The Plan is ambitious, The Plan has the subtlety of a brick to the face. The alternative is worse.

 

The Patient is woken once before internment, to speak last words to whoever He so wishes. You are there, because they need a medicae present just in case, because, somehow, impossibly, you have Lord Dorn's favour. You remember nothing of what passes between the Emperor and His Sons, only a clinging, sad, grey, fog. Except one thing. You hear it as you are handing over to the Apothecaries for the last time, glad to leave the stage of this sordid drama, glad if you never practice again. It is so faint you are never certain if it was real, or imagined, or hallucinated from exhaustion and stim withdrawal. A whisper in your ear, maybe the same voice that has raved at you, day-in, day-out, maybe not.

 

"Thank you."

[lokkorex]

this was pretty darn good, if i may say so!

[Lysimachus]

Very nice indeed. The only thing I'd change is don't reveal it's the big E at the end of the 2nd paragraph, just say 'Him' again. It is fairly clear who it is but it would keep the mystery a bit longer.

 

Excellent work though!

[Wulfkry]

wow that was really good...