Ramanathan Bachal
Gender
Male
Hair Color
Black
Eye Color
Black
Height
6'1"
Born
2140
Birthplace
Belagavi, India
First Appearance
Tantalus Depths
Gender
Male
Hair Color
black
Eye Color
Black
Height
6’1″
Born
2140
Birthplace
Belagavi, India
First Appearance
Tantalus Depths
~Dr. Ramanathan Bachal
Growing up in the post-Corsica boomtown of Belagavi was rife with challenges for young Ramanathan Bachal. Though the city had suffered minimal damages during the Event itself and had managed to grow swiftly to accommodate the influx of refugees from Pakistan and India’s southwestern coast, the abrupt surge of new cultural influences in tight urban quarters inevitably caused unrest. Despite an impressively effective humanitarian response by the government to restore order and ease conflict in the region, Belagavi still suffered a particularly high violent crime rate.
Ramanathan always knew he would become a doctor one day. From a young age, he demonstrated a strong sense of obligation to his community and compassion for the people around him. The population in Belagavi had grown at a far faster rate than the medical system had been able to match: a problem that India’s emergency services had been unable to impact, as the same problem persisted across the entirety of the population-dense nation. Ramanathan determined to help ameliorate this need by volunteering at a local community clinic at the age of fourteen, starting early on his medical career.
Ramanathan was limited in what he could actually contribute to the clinic at such a young age, but he was a quick learner, and it wasn’t long before he went from cleaning floors and holding babies to taking patients’ blood pressure and helping them get in and out of wheelchairs safely. It was still simple work, but nonetheless vital, and the sense of making a difference in his community was all the reward Ramanathan needed.
When the time came to begin his higher education, Ramanathan already had his mind set on becoming a doctor. The demand for doctors was great, and they were still far too scarce, and Ramanathan knew he needed a proper medical education to fully meet the needs he saw around him. Enrolling at Bangalore Medical College and Research Institute, Ramanathan set out to fulfill his calling. And there, a little bit at a time, he would begin to lose his sense of hope.
Ramanathan was a dedicated and passionate student, but that passion would serve to be as much a curse as a blessing. Though it inspired him to work hard and succeed in his studies, it began to slowly erode at his psyche when it came to field work. Ramanathan’s sense of compassion and empathy had no filter. He couldn’t turn it on or off. His heart went out to every patient he worked with, and while this gave him an excellent rapport with his patients and a strong bedside manner, it also cut him deeply every time a patient passed away under his care or received a life-diminishing diagnosis. Try as he might, he was not able to keep an emotional distance from his patients, and every time he had to deliver a piece of bad news, a piece of his heart withered away inside him.
When Ramanathan graduated with his MD-PHD, his field work alone had taken a dire toll on him. His teachers and advisors had grown concerned, cautioning him about pushing himself too hard and neglecting his own emotional health. But Ramanathan had it deeply ingrained that he had an obligation to his community that he had to meet, whatever the cost to himself.
Though he could have found any number of jobs in areas with a lower emotional impact on himself, Ramanathan chose the opposite path. He would take his first job out of medical school at one of the places where he felt had the greatest need of him: a trauma center called the Kandhari Medical Clinic. Understaffed and overworked, the clinic took him gladly, and he was an immediate asset to their team.
Ramanathan’s selfless dedication to his work undoubtedly helped improve the length and quality of hundreds of lives. He burned brightly at Kandhari, but he burned quickly. The stress and emotional toll of work in a trauma center accelerated the decline in Ramanathan’s mental health. Though his friends and colleagues continued to caution him that he was on a path to burning out, the need for Ramanathan’s service never ebbed, and he never willingly gave less than his all.
Predictably, things eventually reached a breaking point for Ramanathan, and they did so in particularly devastating fashion. One day when treating a car accident victim patient suffering from a severe head injury, Ramanathan made a bad call he would come to regret the rest of his life. While rushing the patient through a high-powered imaging scanner, Ramanathan failed to account for the possibility that the patient might possess cybernetic cranial implants. The powerful electromagnetic pulses from the imaging machine burnt the implants, causing the patient to suffer a painful death as his brain cooked from the inside by its own implants.
Horrified by his failure, Ramanathan blamed himself for the accident, and he was not the only one. A medical malpractice lawsuit raged for years, and even though he was ultimately found not at fault, the damage was done. Court fees had ruined him financially, and his grief and regret were so intense, he couldn’t bear to continue his work at the clinic.
Ramanathan was now a husk of his former self: directionless, deeply depressed, with a shattered sense of faith in himself and the world he lived in. Where his path had once seemed so clear, he now had no idea where to go or what to do, and little sense that it would even matter anymore.
It was in this state that Ramanathan received an unexpected offer from Exotech Industries. They were assembling a team for a routine mining survey mission to a distant planet, and their crew needed a medical officer. Ramanathan couldn’t imagine why they would want him, since he had no experience with space travel and had such a fresh black mark on his record, but the offer certainly had an appeal. He knew it was well past time he started listening to his peers and found a job better suited to his own emotional needs. The emergency clinic had been too much for him to handle, but perhaps something much simpler and smaller like serving as a ship’s medic to an already healthy crew would give him the respite he needed to let his overburdened mind recuperate.
Forcing a smile and feigning optimism, he accepted the mission and boarded the Diamelen with the hopes that soon things would be better…and tried his best to ignore the growing certainty that they still wouldn’t.
Ramanathan Bachal
Gender
Male
Hair Color
Black
Eye Color
Black
Height
6'1"
Born
2140
Birthplace
Belagavi, India
First Appearance
Tantalus Depths
Gender
Male
Hair Color
black
Eye Color
Black
Height
6’1″
Born
2140
Birthplace
Belagavi, India
First Appearance
Tantalus Depths
~Dr. Ramanathan Bachal
Growing up in the post-Corsica boomtown of Belagavi was rife with challenges for young Ramanathan Bachal. Though the city had suffered minimal damages during the Event itself and had managed to grow swiftly to accommodate the influx of refugees from Pakistan and India’s southwestern coast, the abrupt surge of new cultural influences in tight urban quarters inevitably caused unrest. Despite an impressively effective humanitarian response by the government to restore order and ease conflict in the region, Belagavi still suffered a particularly high violent crime rate.
Ramanathan always knew he would become a doctor one day. From a young age, he demonstrated a strong sense of obligation to his community and compassion for the people around him. The population in Belagavi had grown at a far faster rate than the medical system had been able to match: a problem that India’s emergency services had been unable to impact, as the same problem persisted across the entirety of the population-dense nation. Ramanathan determined to help ameliorate this need by volunteering at a local community clinic at the age of fourteen, starting early on his medical career.
Ramanathan was limited in what he could actually contribute to the clinic at such a young age, but he was a quick learner, and it wasn’t long before he went from cleaning floors and holding babies to taking patients’ blood pressure and helping them get in and out of wheelchairs safely. It was still simple work, but nonetheless vital, and the sense of making a difference in his community was all the reward Ramanathan needed.
When the time came to begin his higher education, Ramanathan already had his mind set on becoming a doctor. The demand for doctors was great, and they were still far too scarce, and Ramanathan knew he needed a proper medical education to fully meet the needs he saw around him. Enrolling at Bangalore Medical College and Research Institute, Ramanathan set out to fulfill his calling. And there, a little bit at a time, he would begin to lose his sense of hope.
Ramanathan was a dedicated and passionate student, but that passion would serve to be as much a curse as a blessing. Though it inspired him to work hard and succeed in his studies, it began to slowly erode at his psyche when it came to field work. Ramanathan’s sense of compassion and empathy had no filter. He couldn’t turn it on or off. His heart went out to every patient he worked with, and while this gave him an excellent rapport with his patients and a strong bedside manner, it also cut him deeply every time a patient passed away under his care or received a life-diminishing diagnosis. Try as he might, he was not able to keep an emotional distance from his patients, and every time he had to deliver a piece of bad news, a piece of his heart withered away inside him.
When Ramanathan graduated with his MD-PHD, his field work alone had taken a dire toll on him. His teachers and advisors had grown concerned, cautioning him about pushing himself too hard and neglecting his own emotional health. But Ramanathan had it deeply ingrained that he had an obligation to his community that he had to meet, whatever the cost to himself.
Though he could have found any number of jobs in areas with a lower emotional impact on himself, Ramanathan chose the opposite path. He would take his first job out of medical school at one of the places where he felt had the greatest need of him: a trauma center called the Kandhari Medical Clinic. Understaffed and overworked, the clinic took him gladly, and he was an immediate asset to their team.
Ramanathan’s selfless dedication to his work undoubtedly helped improve the length and quality of hundreds of lives. He burned brightly at Kandhari, but he burned quickly. The stress and emotional toll of work in a trauma center accelerated the decline in Ramanathan’s mental health. Though his friends and colleagues continued to caution him that he was on a path to burning out, the need for Ramanathan’s service never ebbed, and he never willingly gave less than his all.
Predictably, things eventually reached a breaking point for Ramanathan, and they did so in particularly devastating fashion. One day when treating a car accident victim patient suffering from a severe head injury, Ramanathan made a bad call he would come to regret the rest of his life. While rushing the patient through a high-powered imaging scanner, Ramanathan failed to account for the possibility that the patient might possess cybernetic cranial implants. The powerful electromagnetic pulses from the imaging machine burnt the implants, causing the patient to suffer a painful death as his brain cooked from the inside by its own implants.
Horrified by his failure, Ramanathan blamed himself for the accident, and he was not the only one. A medical malpractice lawsuit raged for years, and even though he was ultimately found not at fault, the damage was done. Court fees had ruined him financially, and his grief and regret were so intense, he couldn’t bear to continue his work at the clinic.
Ramanathan was now a husk of his former self: directionless, deeply depressed, with a shattered sense of faith in himself and the world he lived in. Where his path had once seemed so clear, he now had no idea where to go or what to do, and little sense that it would even matter anymore.
It was in this state that Ramanathan received an unexpected offer from Exotech Industries. They were assembling a team for a routine mining survey mission to a distant planet, and their crew needed a medical officer. Ramanathan couldn’t imagine why they would want him, since he had no experience with space travel and had such a fresh black mark on his record, but the offer certainly had an appeal. He knew it was well past time he started listening to his peers and found a job better suited to his own emotional needs. The emergency clinic had been too much for him to handle, but perhaps something much simpler and smaller like serving as a ship’s medic to an already healthy crew would give him the respite he needed to let his overburdened mind recuperate.
Forcing a smile and feigning optimism, he accepted the mission and boarded the Diamelen with the hopes that soon things would be better…and tried his best to ignore the growing certainty that they still wouldn’t.
“There’s a certain appeal to that, though, isn’t there? The possibility of danger, the knowledge that we definitely don’t belong here. It should deter us. It should make us close the door on this place and go home without looking back. It isn’t, though. Ultimately, it’s the knowledge that we shouldn’t look that makes us take a peek.”
~Dr. Ramanathan Bachal
Growing up in the post-Corsica boomtown of Belagavi was rife with challenges for young Ramanathan Bachal. Though the city had suffered minimal damages during the Event itself and had managed to grow swiftly to accommodate the influx of refugees from Pakistan and India’s southwestern coast, the abrupt surge of new cultural influences in tight urban quarters inevitably caused unrest. Despite an impressively effective humanitarian response by the government to restore order and ease conflict in the region, Belagavi still suffered a particularly high violent crime rate.
Ramanathan always knew he would become a doctor one day. From a young age, he demonstrated a strong sense of obligation to his community and compassion for the people around him. The population in Belagavi had grown at a far faster rate than the medical system had been able to match: a problem that India’s emergency services had been unable to impact, as the same problem persisted across the entirety of the population-dense nation. Ramanathan determined to help ameliorate this need by volunteering at a local community clinic at the age of fourteen, starting early on his medical career.
Ramanathan was limited in what he could actually contribute to the clinic at such a young age, but he was a quick learner, and it wasn’t long before he went from cleaning floors and holding babies to taking patients’ blood pressure and helping them get in and out of wheelchairs safely. It was still simple work, but nonetheless vital, and the sense of making a difference in his community was all the reward Ramanathan needed.
When the time came to begin his higher education, Ramanathan already had his mind set on becoming a doctor. The demand for doctors was great, and they were still far too scarce, and Ramanathan knew he needed a proper medical education to fully meet the needs he saw around him. Enrolling at Bangalore Medical College and Research Institute, Ramanathan set out to fulfill his calling. And there, a little bit at a time, he would begin to lose his sense of hope.
Ramanathan was a dedicated and passionate student, but that passion would serve to be as much a curse as a blessing. Though it inspired him to work hard and succeed in his studies, it began to slowly erode at his psyche when it came to field work. Ramanathan’s sense of compassion and empathy had no filter. He couldn’t turn it on or off. His heart went out to every patient he worked with, and while this gave him an excellent rapport with his patients and a strong bedside manner, it also cut him deeply every time a patient passed away under his care or received a life-diminishing diagnosis. Try as he might, he was not able to keep an emotional distance from his patients, and every time he had to deliver a piece of bad news, a piece of his heart withered away inside him.
When Ramanathan graduated with his MD-PHD, his field work alone had taken a dire toll on him. His teachers and advisors had grown concerned, cautioning him about pushing himself too hard and neglecting his own emotional health. But Ramanathan had it deeply ingrained that he had an obligation to his community that he had to meet, whatever the cost to himself.
Though he could have found any number of jobs in areas with a lower emotional impact on himself, Ramanathan chose the opposite path. He would take his first job out of medical school at one of the places where he felt had the greatest need of him: a trauma center called the Kandhari Medical Clinic. Understaffed and overworked, the clinic took him gladly, and he was an immediate asset to their team.
Ramanathan’s selfless dedication to his work undoubtedly helped improve the length and quality of hundreds of lives. He burned brightly at Kandhari, but he burned quickly. The stress and emotional toll of work in a trauma center accelerated the decline in Ramanathan’s mental health. Though his friends and colleagues continued to caution him that he was on a path to burning out, the need for Ramanathan’s service never ebbed, and he never willingly gave less than his all.
Predictably, things eventually reached a breaking point for Ramanathan, and they did so in particularly devastating fashion. One day when treating a car accident victim patient suffering from a severe head injury, Ramanathan made a bad call he would come to regret the rest of his life. While rushing the patient through a high-powered imaging scanner, Ramanathan failed to account for the possibility that the patient might possess cybernetic cranial implants. The powerful electromagnetic pulses from the imaging machine burnt the implants, causing the patient to suffer a painful death as his brain cooked from the inside by its own implants.
Horrified by his failure, Ramanathan blamed himself for the accident, and he was not the only one. A medical malpractice lawsuit raged for years, and even though he was ultimately found not at fault, the damage was done. Court fees had ruined him financially, and his grief and regret were so intense, he couldn’t bear to continue his work at the clinic.
Ramanathan was now a husk of his former self: directionless, deeply depressed, with a shattered sense of faith in himself and the world he lived in. Where his path had once seemed so clear, he now had no idea where to go or what to do, and little sense that it would even matter anymore.
It was in this state that Ramanathan received an unexpected offer from Exotech Industries. They were assembling a team for a routine mining survey mission to a distant planet, and their crew needed a medical officer. Ramanathan couldn’t imagine why they would want him, since he had no experience with space travel and had such a fresh black mark on his record, but the offer certainly had an appeal. He knew it was well past time he started listening to his peers and found a job better suited to his own emotional needs. The emergency clinic had been too much for him to handle, but perhaps something much simpler and smaller like serving as a ship’s medic to an already healthy crew would give him the respite he needed to let his overburdened mind recuperate.
Forcing a smile and feigning optimism, he accepted the mission and boarded the Diamelen with the hopes that soon things would be better…and tried his best to ignore the growing certainty that they still wouldn’t.