Prologue

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It is 15:30 PM. The RCS Doctor Solace is on its way to Vietnam to refuel and resupply. This is the fifth time it has to repeat the same voyage in just a single week. The war in the Austronesian Republic has taken a turn for the worst. The situation is so critical that even the Red Cross has been running out of medical supplies. The National Liberation Council and the People's Liberation Front are so eager to push for the capital that they have been losing both troops and recources every single day. They don't seem to care how many innocent civilians are forced to pay the price for every bullet, shell or missile they fire at each other. That's probably the reaon the Red Cross and the Doctors Without borders want no association with either side and have chosen to set up their field hospitals near the border. And while this has caused some certain issues with the immigration office in the neighbour countries, it hasn't stopped most refugees from seeking asylum in the field hospitals since they are neutral zones. In reality, the field hospitals of numerous NGOs are so big that they can be considered autonomous nations. They have their own water systems, cultivation facilites, and have enough room for nearly the one third of the country's population, so it's no surprise most citizens seek asylum to escape the living hell they've been forced to experience.

Currently, the ship is to dock at Saigon where it will unload a few patients and war veterans and will receive the new shipment of medical supplies that were ordered a few days ago. The last medical supplies were used two days ago. Now they've got nothing to treat the patients with. The doctors and surgeons have been struggling for the past two days to keep as many patients alive as possible. It's not an easy task though. Due to being low on antibiotics, antidepressants, analgesics and other medications, most patients with serious injuries are left untreated and are forced to go through a lot of pain, both physical and emotional. Because of this, most of them die during the trip, which makes things even more complicated for the ship's crew and the patients who do make it to their destination. As a result, the ship is usually placed under a 72 hour lockdown and most doctors and surgeons on board are forced to do constant tests to make sure they are not exposed to any diseases from the dead bodies. This by no means makes it any easier, but the rules are very clear about all this. They may not be able to save everyone, but they can at least keep themselves and the surviving patients alive.

Doctor Constantin is sitting in his room, posting a video on his social media accounts. A few hours ago, a patient died right in his hands due to the lack of the neccessary medicine. He was hit by a bullet near the chest and was losing a lot of blood. Unfortunately, despite their best attempts, they couldn't save him. This is not something different for him though. It wasn't the first time a patient died in his hands, and it's definitely not going to be the last. Since he's got nobody to talk to, he can at least share his experiences on his Youtube channel and his other social media, telling people what he and his fellow colleagues have to gothrough everyday. And while he might not know it, his videos have caused the increase of support for both the doctors and the victims by many groups around the world. He might not have asked for attention, but he accidentally got it.

As soon as he has finished uploading his latest video, the door opens and a young woman dressed in the same hazmat suit as his, enters the room. She must be around her mid 20s to early 30s, yet she looks as if time has gotten the best of her. Well, that's what happens when someone is living near a warzone for so many years. They say that those who fight in wars age faster than the regular people. Well, it appears that they're not wrong.

-'Yes, can I help you with something?', asks Constantin.

-'We need you in surgery room one', replies the woman. 'We have a patient suffering from seizure'.

-'Did you drug him?', he asks again.

-'In his current condition, it's too risky', she replies again.

-'Okay, I'll be with you in a few seconds', he says and he gets up from his chair. He then lifts the hood of his hazmat suit and puts on the goggles. This is the third time he's been called to the surgery room for the same reason. Three patients have been suffering from sezure so far. That's what also killed one of them a few minutes ago. The situation has become so critical that even doctors have lost all hope in saving those they promised to save. They are desperate, they don't know what else to do. Every few hours a patient is dying in their hands, and they don't know what they can do to stop it. To be honest, there's not much they can do. All they can do is keep doing their job, hoping that by some miracle, they will at least save a few people, that is, if they still make it out alive and not kill themselves out of depression.

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