Fiction: Hospital Ministry...
As you know, I am in the process of writing "Modern Awakenings". While this setting is being developed, I'm continuing to write stories for your enjoyment and for the sourcebook. This one covers ministers, a new template class being developed for MA. Ministers are effectively doctors who use clerical magic and technomancy to heal the sick. This story will begin the section dealing with medical technomancy and the hospitals of the church (unless layout styles change, or I write something better).
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“…and earlier today, a hoverbike went out of control and crashed into a group of two-dozen children on fieldtrip. While most of these children got away with only minor injuries, six were transported to the Holy Light of Innocence hospital in stasis cradles. Their status is unknown, and names are being withheld until the families can be contacted. The hoverbike pilot, a Mr. Wallace Highthorn, was already having his private piloting license reviewed for annulment due to previous charges of recklessness. An ECM pronounced him dead on the scene. It is doubtful that he will be Raised by local ministers, regardless of payment, due to the repeat nature of his…”
News-being Delihla Silverhair, reporting for the Bardic News Network.
The first thing Jacob Victors heard upon entering his office at the hospital was the sound of his personal assistant, Cindy, scolding him. “Took you long enough to get here, Jacob…” She also sounded out of breath from running about the ER all morning. “We have about a half dozen kids in stasis that some maniac plowed into with a hoverbike earlier today.” She offered him a view-pad with charts listed in its display.
Jacob’s face frowned; it was the third hoverbike incident this week. “The rider?” He took the chart offered by Cindy and began scrolling through it.
“His fate is for the gods to decide.”
Her smug tone irritated him. While Jacob hated the dangerous hoverbikes, the riders were guilty of nothing more than poor judgment in most cases. “Have the families been contacted for authorization?”
“On all but one, but she’s one of the worst. We may loose her the moment we crack the seal.” Her face was stony. So was Jacob’s. Even if Minister Stevens could bring her back, it would be an experience that would be good for the girl to avoid. Some never recover from the trauma.
“Well, I’ll work on her first while I’m still fresh for the day. How long has she been out?” The little girl’s stats were not too good. He might have to use his resuscitate prayer before he even got started.
“Minister, we don’t have…”
“I know, but the longer we leave her in there, the harder it will be to keep her alive on the table. Do you want to risk her having to see what’s beyond Death’s Veil?” The term referred to what happens to a soul after the death of its body. Even children were known to fall to evil, and while the punishments of the afterlife have to be earned as much as any reward, Jacob felt a child deserved every chance he could give to avoid it. It was part of the reason he was in charge of the children’s ward.
Though Cindy’s face showed concern, her was voice was resolute. “Yes, Minister. I’ll get her into O.R. with a team ready.”
“You do that. Give me five minutes.”
“Minister?”
“This one feels in need of a moment of prayer, Sister.”
She lowered her face. “Of course…” She left quietly as Jacob knelt before a private shrine that was placed to one side of his office. He cleared his mind, and focused on the lone candle in the middle of it. A ritual word, the name of his god, lit the wick and turned out the lights in the room. He then, silently, began to pray.
* * *
When Jacob arrived at the operating room, his team was assembled as promised. Cindy immediately walked over to him as he put on a medical robe.
“The parents called and gave permission to go.”
Jacob nodded. “See, Cindy. The gods DO listen to prayers, even if they are sleeping.”
“Of course, Minister.” Her face was still concerned. While her faith in Jacob’s healing skills were near absolute, the girl was badly hurt. She would probably die within seconds of the cradle being opened without immediate assistance.
Jacob smiled at her and nodded to the table. “Take your place, and we will begin.”
As she moved to the table, the others took their places as well. Before them was a rectangular box with a transparent lid. Inside was horror and pain, and a little girl trapped inside of it. Frozen in the instant.
“David.” An acolyte looked up from his tray of potions. “Hit her with a full dose of PK529.”
David’s face was serene as his voice softly replied. “It will kill her.”
“Not immediately, but it will stop her suffering. After I bring her back from the edge of the Veil, I can purify the drugs from her system.”
David picked up a syringe, loaded a vial and waited. His mouth moved in silent prayer.
Two acolytes took the handles of the case and looked to Jacob for his command. He raised his hands and nodded. The case’s lid and sides were raised, leaving only the flat base behind. Jacobs’s hands slammed down with almost brutal force. As he shouted the final words of his healing prayer, a brilliant white light flashed from beneath his hands.
The girl, still badly mauled, gathered enough breath to attempt a scream. It came out as more of a mewling rattle. David carefully inserted the syringe into the girl’s neck and pushed the plunger. The drug was potent, and quieted her within seconds.
Jacob ignored it as he flooded spell after spell into her broken body. He had no time for mundane healing methods. To stop the flow of his god’s blessing would be for her to die. His hands moved quickly, mending meat and bone without grace or beauty. He traced the blessed power across her lungs and heart, and mended her spine as best he could. He reduced the swelling inside of her skull and healed the damage to her throat. Soon, he felt her body labor once again to keep her alive. Her breathing, while slow, was constant.
He spoke again for the first time in minutes. “Ready a dose of PK506.”
David loaded another vial with cold efficiency.
Jacob looked down at the stable, if now horribly scarred, girl before him. It would take months to grow cloned tissues to replace the damaged skin and muscle. She would be placed on a waiting list for laboratory space to grow them. It would be done, but would take time, and she would suffer having to relearn how to walk and move normally once again.
With a sad look, he rested his hands lightly on her chest. His mouth opened and chanted as he concentrated on purifying the toxic levels of painkiller from her body. He watched as her eyes opened in shock, the pain returning full force to her ruined form. He removed his hands and gave a quick nod. Cindy moved close to her ear, cooing soft words to her as David moved the syringe forward. His hands were gentle as a less deadly level of painkillers deadened the sensations attacking her.
His hands felt on fire from the healing energies he had directed. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but distracting. He washed his hands under cold water as she was being wheeled off to the intensive ward for further healing. Cindy went with her.
Looking at his team, he nodded to the door. “Bring in the next one, Brothers. Those children won’t heal themselves.” His team went to work.
He went back to work as well.
---------------------------------------------
All ministers, regardless of religion or church, abide by the Oath of Arameal. It is written as follows:
"I will administer healing to all in my care, without prejudice or favoritism, for as long as is needed. I will show others the power of my faith not in the harshness of my words, but in the kindness of my actions. I will cause no harm to those in my charge, even though they might cause me pain. I will take the pains of the world as my lot, and save the suffering with the love of my god. None shall be denied."
Foolish Frost
“The gods DO listen to prayers, even if they are sleeping.”
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“…and earlier today, a hoverbike went out of control and crashed into a group of two-dozen children on fieldtrip. While most of these children got away with only minor injuries, six were transported to the Holy Light of Innocence hospital in stasis cradles. Their status is unknown, and names are being withheld until the families can be contacted. The hoverbike pilot, a Mr. Wallace Highthorn, was already having his private piloting license reviewed for annulment due to previous charges of recklessness. An ECM pronounced him dead on the scene. It is doubtful that he will be Raised by local ministers, regardless of payment, due to the repeat nature of his…”
News-being Delihla Silverhair, reporting for the Bardic News Network.
The first thing Jacob Victors heard upon entering his office at the hospital was the sound of his personal assistant, Cindy, scolding him. “Took you long enough to get here, Jacob…” She also sounded out of breath from running about the ER all morning. “We have about a half dozen kids in stasis that some maniac plowed into with a hoverbike earlier today.” She offered him a view-pad with charts listed in its display.
Jacob’s face frowned; it was the third hoverbike incident this week. “The rider?” He took the chart offered by Cindy and began scrolling through it.
“His fate is for the gods to decide.”
Her smug tone irritated him. While Jacob hated the dangerous hoverbikes, the riders were guilty of nothing more than poor judgment in most cases. “Have the families been contacted for authorization?”
“On all but one, but she’s one of the worst. We may loose her the moment we crack the seal.” Her face was stony. So was Jacob’s. Even if Minister Stevens could bring her back, it would be an experience that would be good for the girl to avoid. Some never recover from the trauma.
“Well, I’ll work on her first while I’m still fresh for the day. How long has she been out?” The little girl’s stats were not too good. He might have to use his resuscitate prayer before he even got started.
“Minister, we don’t have…”
“I know, but the longer we leave her in there, the harder it will be to keep her alive on the table. Do you want to risk her having to see what’s beyond Death’s Veil?” The term referred to what happens to a soul after the death of its body. Even children were known to fall to evil, and while the punishments of the afterlife have to be earned as much as any reward, Jacob felt a child deserved every chance he could give to avoid it. It was part of the reason he was in charge of the children’s ward.
Though Cindy’s face showed concern, her was voice was resolute. “Yes, Minister. I’ll get her into O.R. with a team ready.”
“You do that. Give me five minutes.”
“Minister?”
“This one feels in need of a moment of prayer, Sister.”
She lowered her face. “Of course…” She left quietly as Jacob knelt before a private shrine that was placed to one side of his office. He cleared his mind, and focused on the lone candle in the middle of it. A ritual word, the name of his god, lit the wick and turned out the lights in the room. He then, silently, began to pray.
* * *
When Jacob arrived at the operating room, his team was assembled as promised. Cindy immediately walked over to him as he put on a medical robe.
“The parents called and gave permission to go.”
Jacob nodded. “See, Cindy. The gods DO listen to prayers, even if they are sleeping.”
“Of course, Minister.” Her face was still concerned. While her faith in Jacob’s healing skills were near absolute, the girl was badly hurt. She would probably die within seconds of the cradle being opened without immediate assistance.
Jacob smiled at her and nodded to the table. “Take your place, and we will begin.”
As she moved to the table, the others took their places as well. Before them was a rectangular box with a transparent lid. Inside was horror and pain, and a little girl trapped inside of it. Frozen in the instant.
“David.” An acolyte looked up from his tray of potions. “Hit her with a full dose of PK529.”
David’s face was serene as his voice softly replied. “It will kill her.”
“Not immediately, but it will stop her suffering. After I bring her back from the edge of the Veil, I can purify the drugs from her system.”
David picked up a syringe, loaded a vial and waited. His mouth moved in silent prayer.
Two acolytes took the handles of the case and looked to Jacob for his command. He raised his hands and nodded. The case’s lid and sides were raised, leaving only the flat base behind. Jacobs’s hands slammed down with almost brutal force. As he shouted the final words of his healing prayer, a brilliant white light flashed from beneath his hands.
The girl, still badly mauled, gathered enough breath to attempt a scream. It came out as more of a mewling rattle. David carefully inserted the syringe into the girl’s neck and pushed the plunger. The drug was potent, and quieted her within seconds.
Jacob ignored it as he flooded spell after spell into her broken body. He had no time for mundane healing methods. To stop the flow of his god’s blessing would be for her to die. His hands moved quickly, mending meat and bone without grace or beauty. He traced the blessed power across her lungs and heart, and mended her spine as best he could. He reduced the swelling inside of her skull and healed the damage to her throat. Soon, he felt her body labor once again to keep her alive. Her breathing, while slow, was constant.
He spoke again for the first time in minutes. “Ready a dose of PK506.”
David loaded another vial with cold efficiency.
Jacob looked down at the stable, if now horribly scarred, girl before him. It would take months to grow cloned tissues to replace the damaged skin and muscle. She would be placed on a waiting list for laboratory space to grow them. It would be done, but would take time, and she would suffer having to relearn how to walk and move normally once again.
With a sad look, he rested his hands lightly on her chest. His mouth opened and chanted as he concentrated on purifying the toxic levels of painkiller from her body. He watched as her eyes opened in shock, the pain returning full force to her ruined form. He removed his hands and gave a quick nod. Cindy moved close to her ear, cooing soft words to her as David moved the syringe forward. His hands were gentle as a less deadly level of painkillers deadened the sensations attacking her.
His hands felt on fire from the healing energies he had directed. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but distracting. He washed his hands under cold water as she was being wheeled off to the intensive ward for further healing. Cindy went with her.
Looking at his team, he nodded to the door. “Bring in the next one, Brothers. Those children won’t heal themselves.” His team went to work.
He went back to work as well.
---------------------------------------------
All ministers, regardless of religion or church, abide by the Oath of Arameal. It is written as follows:
"I will administer healing to all in my care, without prejudice or favoritism, for as long as is needed. I will show others the power of my faith not in the harshness of my words, but in the kindness of my actions. I will cause no harm to those in my charge, even though they might cause me pain. I will take the pains of the world as my lot, and save the suffering with the love of my god. None shall be denied."
Foolish Frost
“The gods DO listen to prayers, even if they are sleeping.”
posted by Unknown at 4:53 PM
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