round 22 PNPC Ensign Ravenscroft - The Secret Garden

[Rinev Shryn]

((Sickbay, USS Discovery-C))

::He spotted the flustered Raskorian instantly upon entering the infirmary and dashed directly towards the plumed physician, battling nausea and a pounding head along the way. He stopped abruptly. A wall of glass stood in his way, between himself and the doctor, whom he saw buzzing about the surgical suite like a hummingbird on speed. As he pressed himself against the thick glass panel, he caught glimpses of the patient in between flitting silhouettes of dancing medics and pirouetting automated scanners.

Blood. Everywhere.

The prophecy was coming true. Each of us will meet our pre-destined ultimate fate, a fate Future Emerson had been forced to witness and subsequently chronicled and passed down to him to bear, like a body-devouring hereditary disease. There was no escaping it. And this was the day.

This was the day Raj Blueheart would die.

Driven by heart and adrenaline, when opportunity struck in the form of a medic entering the sealed and sterile suite, he burst through the entrance and into the white room. Ignoring the astonished shouts and gasps, he dragged his feet across the floor, in a trance as if, his eyes and mind only focused on the body being operated on the table in the center of the room.

Was someone calling out to him?

The bloodied body of the man lay draped on the steel table. Remarkably, he had a sort of whimsical smile upon his sallow face. Gloved hands and hydraulic appendages dug into cut flesh and sinews. The rusty scent of coagulated blood hung heavily in the air, pungent, almost cleansing in a way, like bleach is cleansing. Yet, through the heavy, smothering odor, he could still smell him. His scent lingered, weak but viable, within the cloud of repugnant molecules of morphine, antiseptic, blood and death. The distinct scent that reminded him of home. A haven. A sanctuary. That secret garden that held his own heart, displayed proudly upon a marble pedestal. A steady beeping echoed through the room.

Was that Raj’s heart?

Multiple strong pairs of hands and arms tore into his clothes and gripped his limbs like vicious claws. He was being hauled away by an angry mob of surgeons and nurses. Dragged away from the secret garden. The scent waning, the rhythm of the beating heart fading, visions blanching. Tears screamed and hollered on behalf of his choking throat. The same psychotic thought pulsed and pounded within his head like a jackhammer.

The prophecy was coming true. There was no escaping it. And this was the day.

This was the day Raj Blueheart would die.

TBC

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Ensign Emerson Ravenscroft

Xenolinguist

USS DISCOVERY-C

as simmed by

Commander Raj Blueheart

First Officer

USS DISCOVERY-C