Posted by Lieutenant Jasmine Wynter (Chief Medical Officer) in Mundai Colony - A need to get away

Posted by Lieutenant Jasmine Wynter (Chief Medical Officer) in Mundai Colony - A need to get away

Posted by Lieutenant Jasmine Wynter (Chief Medical Officer) in Mundai Colony - A need to get away
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Original Post - https://www.star-fleet.com/core/stf1/manhattan/notes/43195/

Snip

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Mundai Medical Building
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Jasmine drifted in the inky darkness of exhaustion and sleep. It had been two days of non-stop surgeries. It was like she was in a war and the casualties were coming in faster than she was able to stop. Heart surgery, nephrectomy, Vascular grafts, liver transplants: the list went on and on never seeming to stop. Jasmine had no idea how another doctors were in the same situation as her but there had to be more. Pressing her arm hard against her eyes, she physically tried to stop the tears from forming. The reality was this wasn’t a war. This was all voluntary by the individuals rolled into her operating room yet it wasn’t. Cade’s explanation made it more of indentured servitude and Jasmine was just prolonging their suffering. The idea of noble sacrifice only went so far before it crumbled like a sandcastle at the ocean. Rolling over she tried to block the memory that refused to be buried deep.

Thirty Six Hours Ago....

As Cade’s wife was rolled out of the operating room, Jasmine looked guiltily at the man across the room. He had to be worried about his wife yet his mannerisms and posture did not show any evidence of it. Jasmine watched as he cleaned the instruments, made some notes on a PaDD, and prepared the surgical bed for their next patient. Stripping off her gloves, Jasmine deposited them in the trash take a deep breath. “I am sorry this is happening to you,” her voice sounded louder in her own ears as it reverberated against the cold, hard surfaces of the room.

The sound of her voice made Cade turn around. For a long few moments the pair stared at each other not sure what to say. During her time in the medical profession, Jasmine had many situations where she was uncomfortable but never until this moment had she felt the urge to beg for forgiveness.

“Thank you,” the man said quietly, looking at her with his unnaturally bright eyes. There was a natural nobility about his people that was at complete odds with this situation they were in. “This is the world we live in,” he told her, looking down at himself, and raising his hands slightly. “Once we had so much more, we were so much more. That was long ago now, now we serve a purpose to the Mundain in return for promises we never knew would never be filled, or filled at a cost we never knew we would have to pay. There is still hope for us, for my wife and for the family we wish to have. I’d rather be here and take on this responsibility for their care myself, than let a Mundain do it. You are a good person, Jasmine, in an evil place. I am sorry this is happening to you.”

“I can clean up. Go to your wife in recovery,” she offered gently. It was a small, inconsequential gesture but the only thing Jasmine could control for the moment.

“That is not going to be possible,” a sharp and serious tone filled the room pulling Jasmine’s attention off her nurse and to the door. The man entering was dressed in a trim black suit with a white shirt. He had the air of someone in authority. “His job is here and your next patient is on the way. It is going to be tricky but we need a lung so I would suggest you get a ventilator or whatever you use for respiratory systems to keep the patient alive until the organ grows back. You don’t typically have a spare set of lungs do you,” he wave a stylus at Cade casually as if his question was about lunch.

“Lungs are harder to grow,” Cade replied, his voice had grown far more matter-of-fact. “We don’t do the transplants here, this is the growing division. We don’t have room or supplies for patients not on the contract, Hemdriks.” Cade’s voice was business and stony, but Jasmine would tell it was far from confident in addressing this man.

“Who the hell are you,” Jasmine instantly turned her ire on the man. “I am Lt. Jasmine Wynter of,”

“Of Starfleet previously assigned to the USS Manhattan under the command of Alex Cochrane,” he completed her sentence checking things off the PaDD.

Jasmine’s eyes grew large trying to process what the man was saying to her. The past tense verb and the fact he knew she was an officer but did not seem to care made her stomach drop. “What do you mean previously assigned.” Part of her did not want to hear his reply.

“We have sent a communique that your ship experienced some damage in an ion storm. By the time we tried to assist the engines imploded and your body was not able to be recovered. A delegation will meet with your captain and your husband....Max…Maxwell,” his tone was matter of fact and crisp. Raising a hand to stave off any questions he continued. “Unfortunately for you I know how confusing this all is but rest assured no one is going to come looking for you but we will ensure they do not have to live with the thought you just disappeared. We are not that cruel. I am Sarton Hemdriks and I will try to make this as easy as possible but as you will soon find out it is my way or …well no other way.” Sarton’s smile was cold and manipulating. His dark eyes appeared lifeless and dead. His expression spoke volumes about the cavalier way he approached his job and Jasmine.

“Sarton…may I call you Sarton,” Jasmine’s tone was just as smug as the man who addressed her. “I am not sure you understand the crap storm you have just unleashed on you and however you work for. My husband, my captain, and the Federation are not going to sit back and,”

“And let a thief and drug trafficker take up any more of their day than I am right now,” Sarton sneered tapping his stylus on the PaDD. “You have been a very very bad girl. Stealing a shipment of narcotics,”

“Antibiotics,” Jasmine felt her stomach lurching. It did not take her long to see that she was being set up.

“You say toe mat oh I say toe may toe,” he casually waved her off as the door opened and two patients were rolled into the room. We can talk later but right now you need to get to work,” Sarton tucked the PaDD under his arm and walked out.

Jasmine’s legs buckled as the air seemed to be sucked from the space around her. If he had sent that message it would explain why Cochrane did not have half the crew in the facility by now. “They do not think I am dead,” she raised a hand to her forehead as she thought and spoke at the same time. Max would not buy some oily bureaucrat selling a store without proof. He was an engineer. He could fine-tune a sensor to locate a strand of hair on a planet surface. He would know how to detect a false reading…wouldn’t he. The admission of Sarton had done more to create doubt than even her own mind which was terrifying.

In only an instant, Cade was beside her. His eyes looked down at her and the look on his face was one of understanding, almost pity. His body language and face for all the world seemed like he wanted to take her in his arms and hug her, like a friend does for someone they are close to that is in pain but he made no move to do so. Taking a breath, he looked out the door at the bed his wife lay on and then turned to Jasmine. “You need to come with me, now.”

Leave me alone. You are part of them, she wanted to scream out laying all her anger and frustration on the only person in the room. The irrational part of her brain fought the urge to knock Cade unconscious and make for an escape yet somewhere deep in her head she heard the one sound that brought her back to reality. I love you. This voice took a second to place as it fought to be heard amongst the cacophony of rants playing out in her mind. I love you. It repeated settling her more. Now it felt like a whisper instead of a memory. The sensation of someone saying to just at her ear in a whisper so that their breath cascaded down her neck just before his lips brushed the soft skin. I love you. “Max,” she said snapping out of the nightmare she was creating in her own mind. Deep inside he was with her. She had to hold onto that because somewhere in the universe she was saying the same thing to him fueling a fire to never stop until they found each other. Taking a long deep breath and letting it out slowly, Jasmine took her first step following Cade.

Cade turned at walked, his walk smooth and direct as he led Jasmine to the opposite end of the warehouse where the storage supply closets lay and he paused, keying in a security code that Jasmine was familiar with to a room that she knew held only a basic amount of bandages and manual surgery supplies. “I had no idea what they wanted this for until now. Now it makes sense,” he told her cryptically. “I had to sign a non-disclosure contract, do you understand? If they find out I am showing you this they will take my wife away, but you need to see this.”

All thoughts of her predicament evaporated. Curiosity replaced her sense of fear and loneliness. Finding out all she could about where she was would only speed her return to Max. Maybe Cade believed her in her statement that she would help him. Maybe Cade was sacrificing all to show her a way out, praying her salvation would lead to his own. Every opportunity is a chance to survive Herman Hornsby said once in a class about being taken hostage. Jasmine would take this opportunity.

The door slid open and Cade did not wait, he walked inside and to a bare patch of wall between two of the shelving units. Here, he placed his hand on a bare patch of brick and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, a click sounded and the sound of a door whirred as the entire wall raised into the ceiling above it. Beyond was another room that was clearly a high tech lab unlike anything that Jasmine or Cade had to work with. Machines filled it from floor to ceiling and the bright white and silver colours of medical equipment gleamed. Blocking their way was a glass wall, this one with no opening for them to get through but a single console sat on their side. “Go ahead,” Cade told her, looking at her with what now seemed to be shame. “Look on the table,” he said, and motioned her forward.

Jasmine felt her skin begin the prickle as goosebumps erupted all over her body. The air held a scent thick with bleach, antiseptics, and cold. Most people would never identify the word cold as olfactory yet everyone knew it when they smelled it. Unlike other smells cold could be pleasant like when one stepped out on a winters day or when playing in the snow. Cold could also smell evil and foreboding. Like when one was alone in a metal room without a trace of life. The room was the later of the scent.

Just on the other side of the glass lay a table, on which under the bright lights was a body. The medical equipment in the room was all connected to that body with a series of pipes and tubes, automated claws and syringes moved about faster and more accurately than any humanoids hand could achieve. The body itself was clearly being grown right there in that room, using the same technology that was being used in the warehouse, yet the difference was worlds apart. The warehouse was an operation to harvest organs on a budget using as little medical technology, drugs and money as possible. The technology being used in this room would have been the equivalent cost of a small starship, and clearly not something a small time crook like Rag could achieve or afford.

Jasmine stared at the body in the table with a morbid fascination. It was hard not to at first. Every blemish and mole, scar and wrinkle were re created with a perfect precision. The federation had cloning technology. It was not uncommon to use some cells to create a new liver or other organ for a patient but this was tech way past what she knew the Federation possessed. Laws were in place to prevent what she was seeing but they were only lip laws designed to calm the public. Even if the federation wanted to, they did not have the capability to create a human clone from scratch and have it last or function. “and it’s fully functional. No cellular degradation?”

Her pure concentration at what she was seeing stopped every question that she should have been asking. Being in this place dulled her senses from stress, grief, and sleep deprivation after endless hours of work. Her mind raced at all the moral and ethical dilemmas with the cloning of someone as she heard someone approach.

Taking the few steps forward, Cade stepped beside Jasmine once more and placed his hand on her shoulder. It was gentle, apologetic and understanding, emotions that somehow his touch alone portrayed. “I know now that they need more than just an exploded shuttle to send to your husband. I don’t know why you came here, or who sent you here to this place. I am sorry this is happening to you.”

Cade’s apology snapped her from medical curiosity to the present as every piece of the puzzle began to fit together. “They are giving The Federation my body”. Her words showed she understood what was happening. As the color drained from her face Jasmine held onto the edge of the table to steady herself. They did not need to worry about Cellular degradation. This body was not meant to be functional. It was meant to perpetuate a lie so ruthlessly, Max would give up. How could he not. He would be given a perfect genetic copy.

A sharp pain in her finger broke the calm exterior Jasmine was displaying. Gripping the table so hard, she had snapped off a nail against the cold hard surface of the metal slab. The room spun like they were in a cubical centrifuge making it hard for Jasmine to focus. As the dilemma crystalized with a perfect precision, she bent over the edge of the table vomiting violently. She hadn’t eaten in hours so it was only bitter bile that was being expelled from her body. The reaction was autonomic and moments into it, Jasmine was only dry heaving. Never had she felt so helpless. As her stomach continued to retch, a small robotic cleaner emerged from a hidden door. Swiftly it cleaned up the mess leaving the strong scent of bleach and antiseptic in its place.

Cade’s eyes travelled from Jasmine back to the body on the table. Both of them looking upon Jasmines own face staring lifelessly back at them as her body was being grown from the machines in the room.

While it was irrational, Jasmine had to react. Grabbing the arm of the clone, Jasmine scratched the skin leaving a long angry red trail from the mid bicep to the middle of the forearm. Her breath came in ragged gasps watching the arm immediately begin to turn red. The shock that the shell could be hurt made her shake. There was no soul on the table but there was no soul in a dead body. This would convince Max and the rest of the galaxy she was no longer with him.

Back in her room.....

Jasmine rolled over to her side clutching the pillow tightly to her body. The tears, once started, were hard to stop as she thought of Max and what he was enduring. The pain he must be going through having so many questions and no answers had to be unbearable. She would trade the rest of her life for a single moment with him to hold her so she could explain. Images flashed in her mind, some imaginary, some real, of Max pacing their quarters yelling at her and then holding her. Fighting to bear the reality of her situation, Jasmine focused all her energy on a single thought. Max holding her in bed after they had spent the night together. The way he brushed the hair off her face. The way he stroked her cheek and kissed the tip of her nose just before he said I love you was both painful and comforting at the same time. It was all that she had to hold on to however, until Max arrived to take her home. No matter what Rag or Sarton said, Jasmine knew Max would never stop looking for her, that he would see through their lies.

“Dr. Wynter,” Cade said gently opening the door to her room. “There has been an accident. We need your help.”

No matter the hell she was currently in, Jasmine could not fault Cade for anything. He was just as much a prisoner as she was. “What kind of accident,” she brushed the tears from her cheeks.

“There was an explosion in the arrival station on Mundai. Many people were hurt. We…I need your help,” he said averting his eyes slightly. Jasmine might not be Mundain but she was in a higher social situation than him.

Her mouth made a small curved shape about to say his name before she was interrupted.

“Get your tiny Hooman butt out of bed and to work, wooman,” Came the voice of Rag from further back in the warehouse. “No breaks today, there is a lot of work to do and very little time.” Behind him, workers began to unceremoniously move the beds of Cades people out of the way as many injured Mundain citizens began to be wheeled into the warehouse. Many of them were not moving.

“Stop it. Don’t hurt them. They are people,” Jasmine adjusted the arm of one of the patients on a bed that Rag had shoved hard enough for it to crash into the side of the wall gently. Squeezing the hand gently she adjusted the blankets holding the embrace a second. She might be a part of the problem now but that didn’t mean Jasmine couldn’t work towards a different solution

“Profit,” Rag sneered and looked at Jasmine without a single care for the people that were hurt.

“They are not profit. They are people. You can not make money off the dead.” Jasmine licked her lips and decided now was as good a time as any to pressure Rag for her release.

“Yes you can. It’s simple. Take the parts you can out of the dead ones and put them in the living ones. The more living ones that leave here, the more we charge for saving them, their medical insurance will cover it and pays for each organ harvested and transplanted. Don’t worry, I have more stasis containers coming for the organs that you can’t use, we aren’t going to waste them. Make sure you record everything and scan the ID cards on them, we charge a funeral service to the families of the dead ones. If any of the living don’t have medical insurance, sedate them and put them into a coma. They can pay off their medical bill by entering our business as growing containers for more organs, it’s a win-win for all really.” Rag’s mood was unusually good today despite the tragedy of the explosion and the crying of the dying. It was clear the man had no concern about their wellbeing in the slightest.

“I will not violate my oath. I am over. I am done,” Jasmine yelled. “You don’t need them but you need me and unless you start doing what I say then find yourself another doctor because I will not be your butcher.”

Ignoring anything and everything that Jasmine said, Rag chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Listen wooman, you better get to work. They are waiting for you.” Raising his hand, Rag pointed his finger at a child in one of the beds. The child was crying and smeared in blood, with no sign of his parents anywhere. They were likely among the dead or dying lying in other beds. “You aren’t going to let it die when you can save it, are you Doctor? Do you want that child to suffer?”

Unsure what Rag might do, Jasmine moved rapidly across the room picking up the small child. The sobs were clearly due to pain but not the physical kind. Rag was going to win this fight and all the subsequent ones until Max arrived. Rag could do anything to her. Jasmine would endure. Hurting these people were her achiles heel. Rag new it and until that changed, Rag would own Jasmine.

Rag looked at her, the look on his face smug and confident. It was clear that he expected Jasmine to do her job and clear that he knew she would. He began to walk to the exit and paused beside a body. It was still breathing, but along with the marks of being trampled by the crowd also showed a phaser burn from a weapon discharge that had stunned the person. “Savages,” Rag muttered. “When will they ever learn how to be civilized?” Looking back to Jasmine as he reached the exit, he called out one last time before he left. “Better move those recycled old timers out of the way and make room for the new blood. Nobody likes it when they out stay their welcome.”

“How can you live like this,” she said pure anger in her voice. It was an unbridled rage that made her hands shake. The only thing preventing her from attacking the man was the small child in her arms. “I am not going to let him hurt you,” she kissed his head gently as affection soothed the child slightly.

Once again Cade’s hand fell upon Jasmine shoulder. “This is the world we live in,” he told her, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else other than helping these people. I’m here.”

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Ella’s residence
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Jasmine Wynter CMO

Max stepped inside from the balcony and looked at Ella once more, for a while he had been watching the vehicles and sirens as they raced all over the city from the direction of the spaceport, his shirt laid over a chair and his phaser on the table as he worked on cleaning a number of small cuts on his chest and shoulders. Once they had cleared the service exit they had still needed to get through the crowds gates and fences and to the car park next door. The crowd of people hadn’t made that easy, and blows were given and received. “They are thinning out. There aren’t as many sirens now,” he told her and closed the door to the cold air outside.

“That is only because they are in silent mode,” Ella replied in a soft tone. It was not because she was scared. It was because Ella knew there was no way to change the reality of the situation. “Luckily they are targeting the other section of town.” Moving to the kitchen area, she made Max something warm to drink.

Looking back over the city, Max paused for a few moments before looking back to Ella. “How do you know that?”

“Because they would already have us in custody if they weren’t” she replied bringing the two steaming mugs over to the handsome man. “You will be safe here,” she promised giving him a weak smile.

Pausing in his work, Max picked up a cloth and wetted it, then picked up the sterilizing agent that Ella had in her medical cupboard. Walking over to her, he knelt down beside her as she sat on the chair, a cup of what passed as coffee in front of her and he began to clean the wound on her temple. He was an engineer, not a doctor and his touch was far from gentle or practised. If it had been for a different reason his touch would have been much different, but for this, the rough hands of an engineer would have to do. He was worried, about Jasmine and about what was going on here.

She didn’t tell Max to stop as he treated the small cut. Ella liked being this close to Max. She knew she shouldn’t but she did. It wasn’t that Ella was in love with Max or planning some scheme to sweep him away from his wife. She was just loving the attention and envious of it. It was the good kind or envy that re-enforced her conviction one day someone would love her as Max seemed to love his wife. Ella tried not to wince as he dabbed at the wound with a bit more pressure than needed.

“Ella, what happened at the spaceport? Why was there an explosion and why did you not want me to be known to the authorities?” His voice was calm, but it was firm. “Before we got out you mentioned something about me not being from the Authority. What is that?” Max kept working as he spoke, both of them had many small cuts and bruises.

Lt Cmdr Wynter, CE

Lt. jasmine Wntwri Continue it (wow if this sign off didn’t indicate I was sleep posting nothing ever will ) :P

Taking the small cloth from his hand, Ella exchanged it for the now luke warm beverage. “I think you need to sit,” she let her eyes meet his. The man had such an intense gaze. Right now it was critical and firm. While his tone and touch were gentle, Ella didn’t need years to understand Max’s patience was reaching an end. She didn’t fear this would lead to violence of aggression. Ella was scared Max would leave and try to find his wife on his own.

“Really? That bad huh?” Max forced a grin, then moved to the chair next to Ella’s and rubbed the back of his neck as he could feel the tiredness creeping up on him. He hadn’t slept for days it felt like, not since he had left the Manhattan in pursuit of Jasmine. Not since he had tracked her to Mundai, not since he had been too late to stop her from getting shot. Definitely not since he had taken out his frustrations on the Ferengi that took her, or the shuttle ride to the city. The coffee in his hands felt warm, but it didn’t feel real. It felt of relaxation and gentle days with Jasmine in their quarters, spending time together and laughing. For a moment, Max considered that those days may never happen again. “Go ahead Ella, tell me what is going on.” He made no move to drink the coffee.

“There are two divisions on Mundai: The faithful and the devout. The sound like synonyms but far from it. The faithful are the ones that follow the devout. Their ideology believes that the greatest gift they can give to the universe is to help others. They follow their faith with almost a fanatical devotion that borders on suicide. Nothing will alter their perspective that life above all else is about sacrifice. The devout believe in the greatness of the Authority. The Authority is the our reigning political body. Their goal is to better Mundai’s devout pursuing science, art, and culture.” Taking a long sip of her coffee, she paused on the synopsis of Mundai culture.

Lt. Jasmine Wynter (wide awake posting)

“Alright, so who are the faithful? You said they follow the devout, who support the Authority. It doesn’t sound like the Authority cares too much about the faithful so why do they follow the devout? You said something about me not being from the Authority in the space port, I can promise you I’m not.” Max had noted the apparent fear with which she had spoken of this Authority in the space port, and he had seen how she almost had to physically will herself to trust him from moment rto moment like he might not have been who he said he was. All in all, it was beginning to leave Max with a deep sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, which wasn’t helped by the exhaustion that his mind was now accepting was in fact real and not just an annoying emotion.

Lt Cmdr Wynterm CE