Solving Khranentitia

Hot gleam rises from the bright beige sand, carrying spicy fumes of salt and minerals, hinting that there might have been an ocean there long ago. But now, these plains only know the persistent dryness of the flat, pressed desert. The sun stands high in the speckless blue sky. The horizon stretches over the land like a perfect line, showing no marks for orientation. This almost infinite desert is a hot and blinding place with no sound.

In the distance, nearly unnoticed, some form like a boulder interrupts the endless flatness. It is partly covered with loose sand that has swirled up to it by the long-gone wind of the morning. A body. Human skin. Curves and hair of someone. Dead? Alive? Motionless. Soundless. Like the place itself.

Time passes, and nothing happens. The sun moves patiently in the relentless heat. It can wait forever. It can be forever.

Suddenly, as if bound to occur, a small dark spot appears at the distant horizon. It moves closer, slowly getting bigger while dancing in its own silhouette in the hot, blistering air. Gradually, the stirring speck reshapes itself into two distinct forms, heading steadily toward the body that lies in the sand.

It is a man, wrapped in loose, ample clothing, striding next to his small, sturdy horse. And as time only vaguely counts in such an uneventful wasteland, it cannot be said how long they walk until they are finally only a few steps away from the form on the ground.

Alarmed, the man stops. And with his horse, he pauses for a moment, peering at what they have found. Then he hustles to the form, breaking down to his knees and grasping body parts to turn the human over and see its face. It is a woman. Tall, with a robust figure. Unharmed? No marks of injury, no burns. Is she alive? She does not appear to be dead. Rather, unconscious.

The man, Stepan, has difficulty feeling her pulse or detecting her breath. The heat of the desert is too heavy for his senses to perceive such fine nuances. But the tone of her muscles tells him that she may not yet be dead. He hurries to the patiently waiting horse and fetches a blanket from its saddlebags. He wiggles the blanket onto the ground next to the body and then rolls the woman back and forth onto it before draping it over her so that she is fully shielded from the impact of the sun. Then, he pours some water on her face, hoping for a reaction.

None comes. He does not dare to wash water into her mouth, unsure whether it might suffocate her.

Henceforth, he works on the saddlebags of the horse, emptying them of now useless content and gathering the ropes he packed. Moving methodically, he manages to tie together a trailer made of the two large saddlebags with ropes attached to the horse’s saddle. The horse remains unimpressed, as it is used to peculiar packing moves from its owner.

When the trailer is positioned and well-adjusted behind the horse, Stepan hoists the wrapped body onto it, positioning her head so it is slightly lifted by the drag of the ropes with the stretched bags in-between that lead to the horse’s saddle.

He assures himself that everything is in place and the apparatus will work, then urges the horse forward while keeping his eyes on the trailer and the bundle of human on it. Satisfied that the improvised construction works well, he guides his horse in the direction they came from, commencing a long and monotonous walk through the glistening flatlands.

The sun draws closer to the surface, shifting its light into a calmer tone of subtle orange. Stepan and his horse reach the first groupings of dry bushes that introduce a slight change in the desert’s characteristics. At the horizon, an accumulation of brown bumps appears, showing hints of the settlement they are heading toward.

Stepan feels some relief after dealing with the day’s menacing heat for hours. His own reasoning and his sensibilities on the walk told him that the woman should have been dead all along, and therefore, believing he could save her, was foolish. But now, with the heat wearing down, the feeling that he can rescue her rises again, though it still remains naïve just the same. How would the reduction of the heat make a difference, after all?

She is probably dead. Already was.

They move forward, the bumps in the distance grow larger. Their shapes start resembling a flock of brown, hairy bulls that appear to run away while yet standing still. These tents of the desert village are round textile domes with a slightly tilted axis, causing them to look as if some invisible force is pulling at them on one side. Huge arches made of joined bars run outside their canvas surface, looking like giant spines.

Nearing the village, the man and the horse, with the unconscious in tow, begin to walk in small curves to avoid the dense, dried bushes at the edge of the village. As they make their way to the rim of the first tents, an old woman with gray hair appears on the perimeter sandbank, waiting for them to arrive. Behind her, the huge tents stand high like mystic beasts, their flanks waving in the gentle wind of the evening. She starts off to meet Stepan as he is about to reach the base of the bank.

She smiles at him. “Now you find living entities out there?”

Stepan stops, relieved. The old woman must sense that the packed body is still alive.

“I was unsure if she was alive, but yet, as you say so.” Stepan shrugs gladly.

Some younger villagers follow behind, shouting questions.

“What is it there, Sarah?”

“What does Stepan have?”

Sarah turns to them. “Stepan has brought a human being! Barely alive! We need to get her into the medical tent. Quickly!”

Two young people untie the wrapped body from the trailer and carry it over the sandbank into an alley between the tents, hurrying to medical. Sarah and the other villagers remain, watching as the two vanish with the unconscious guest. Then, Sarah turns toward Stepan.

“So, how did you find her?”

“This morning, I saw a flash at the horizon. I thought it was an object reflecting the sun, and as I was starting a trip to retrieve objects from the desert anyway, I just headed in that direction. That’s where I found the body.”

“Foolish boy,” she sighs. “It could have been a battleship from beyond! You should not have done this alone.”

Stepan does not reply to her scorn. He knows that she is worried, but he also knows that there is no benefit in hiding from the world all the time. He needs to follow his instincts, an accumulation of experiences in life. And that one was pretty pressing. And while Sarah, the old chief, grasps well that this is the case with him, she cannot let it pass without a reprimand in front of the others. There is too much at stake. Even with Stepan, who owns much knowledge with situations in the desert.

After a pause, Sarah continues. “And then?”

“I got to the location where I saw the flash during midday, and I discovered her lying in the sand. No marks, no burns. Her muscle tone did not convince me she was dead. So, I emptied the saddlebags and dragged her back with the horse.”

Sarah nods. “You always surprise me, Stepan. You did the right thing.”

“You sense that she is still alive?”

“Yes.”

Then, Sarah starts off to look at the new patient in the medical tent. The villagers disperse, and Stepan leaves as well to tend to his horse after the long journey.

#

The medical tent, just one of the numerous impressive textile domes, is run by Doctor Su San. The entrance consists of nothing but flaps of the tent that shift to the side when entered. Inside, it is the next best thing to a local infirmary. Though of humble design on plain dusty ground, it proves feasible. The cozy light of the few sunbeams passing through the pores of the dark textile supports human eyes well. But eyes need to adjust from the glistening light of the desert sky during daytime when diving into the tent’s interior. And now, in the evening, lamps are lit, and the tiny signal lights of patched operation devices twinkle in the twilight atmosphere.

Here, the several compartments for the medical beds and their additional equipment are separated by plain curtains hanging on lean string-and-stick constructions, giving patients privacy. One of these compartments is receiving much attention now. The villagers place the woman onto the bed, and the doctor instantly attaches her to the machine tower standing next to it. They begin monitoring her very faint life signs. Next, they put her on a drip, then dress and cover her. As they are taking her temperature, the diligently working Doctor Su San barely notices Sarah as she enters the place.

“Su San, how is she doing?”

Somewhat startled, the doctor lifts their head, gathering their thoughts for an answer. “She will recover, that I can say.”

“That’s the easy part for you, isn’t it?” Sarah smiles with appreciation.

Su San returns the smile. “Frankly, yes. I just put her blood samples in the bank, and the computer is running a query on it. Her genetics are, bluntly said, not the most natural ones.”

“An engineered human?”

“Quite so.”

“Oh. Ah.” Sarah’s expression freezes a bit. “Any idea where from?”

Su San controls the drip on the woman’s intravenous therapy. “No, Sarah. And I think we will not get results from that query. If the computer is still running on it, it probably won’t find anything.”

“I understand,” the old woman contemplates.

Then, Su San turns, smiling at Sarah again. “But you can ask her where she came from in about two hours, if you want.”

“Okay, I will inform Stepan.” Sarah stifles a look of relief. “And we will interview her together.”

“Alright, see you then.”

Su San draws the curtains on the patient’s area, giving the unconscious woman some privacy.

Two hours later, night has already fallen, and the air temperature is down to 50°F/10°C, quite a different climate from that of the day. The few available lamps hardly push back the blackness of night lingering about them when Stepan and Sarah enter the medical tent. The doctor is waiting for them.

Su San retracts the curtains to the sides of their new patient’s bed, revealing the quietly sleeping woman. The monitoring machine already shows more vivid life signs than before.

“I can wake her up, if you want to,” Su San offers.

Stepan peers at Sarah inquisitively. “Are you ready then?”

Sarah inhales, furrows her brow and gazes hard at the woman, obviously trying to brace herself. Then, she shrugs and waves a hand. “Yes, I am. Go ahead.”

The doctor opens a tiny bottle and draws it close to the woman’s nose. After a few seconds, they shake her shoulder. She stirs with slow movements, gradually opens her eyes, and then slowly adjusts herself to an awareness of the scene surrounding her. Hesitantly, she turns her head toward the three people standing next to her bed with their expectant expressions. She investigates each of them carefully in such an earnest manner that Stepan begins shifting his legs uneasily. Sarah feels irritated as well and decides to interrupt the strange silence by addressing her.

“Hello? How are you doing?”

Instantly, the woman fixes her eyes on Sarah. Then, without responding to Sarah’s question, she decisively turns attention toward the monitor displaying her condition. As she does, the life signs shift slightly, and Su San yips enthusiastically. “Now, we have levels according to the book!”

A bit puzzled by the situation, Sarah takes another chance. “I am Sarah, this is Doctor Su San, and this is Stepan. Stepan found you in the desert.”

“Desert?” The woman looks skeptically at Sarah.

“Yes, in the desert. Do you know what happened?”

The woman’s eyes sweep from side to side, searching for answers in the space around her. “There was an explosion, and now I am here.”

“Explosion? Where?”

“On the ship.”

“What ship?”

“Dra756.”

Sarah, Stepan, and Su San exchange uneasy glances, the silence between them thick with confusion. Then, Sarah turns to the woman again. “So, where was this ship?”

“Outer rim, I guess.” The strange patient shrugs with a blank expression.

“Oh my goodness, outer rim,” Stepan mumbles. “Do you know the Tin?”

“What Tin?”

Sarah crosses her arms, a flicker of alarm flashes across her face. “You do not know the Tin City?”

“The space settlement? I learnt about it, but I was never there. I lived on that ship. And then, it exploded.”

“And you woke up here.” Sarah nods, a slight hint of relief softening her expression, having at least worked this aspect through.

“Yes, that’s it.”

The three hosts and the patient stare at each other in silence, the moment stretching awkwardly as they grapple with the strange uncertainty lingering about. Although their gathered information is neither reassuring nor particularly enlightening, Sarah senses they are on the brink of establishing a functional means of communication. Thus, she dares to take a leap.

“There is another thing I need to ask you. You are a mental, like I am. What level are you?”

Stepan and Su San are taken aback by Sarah’s sudden question. It reveals a profound aspect of their guest they themselves had not yet conceived. Sarah’s mental abilities are one thing, and they are used to them. But the idea that a stranger could do the same as her unnerves them. They glance at each other nervously.

The woman watches them intently, her stern expression betraying an awareness of their fear. Then, she returns to Sarah. “What do you mean by level?”

Sarah explains, “For us mentals, there is a system with Greek letters that was devised to describe our abilities. Normal humans are Epsilon, and then it goes further for the supernatural with Delta, Gamma, and Beta. Theoretically, there is also Alpha, but it was determined that level is unachievable. It was reserved in respect to the ancient Alpha-Omega sayings.”

“Oh, yes.” The woman nods, seeming to know about it. “Why, it’s Gamma if you mean that particular system.”

“I am Gamma as well. But I am naturally born and thus maybe not so exact. And you are?”

“Engineered, if that is what you mean.” There is a pause, and the woman moves more upright to peer at Sarah. “I never met a naturally born Gamma. How is it, then, when you are born naturally?”

Sarah holds herself firm, trying to hide any irritation. “Well, we cannot develop such clean concentration as you do.”

“I understand.” She nods gravely. “That’s interesting. So, you must be an original.”

That renders the old woman even more irritated. The way the arrival chooses her words and draws her conclusions is quite offish. She tries to cover her inner turmoil with a shrug. “If you say so. That may be.”

Baffled, Stepan and Su San observe the dialogue between the two. They grasp rather faint threads of the conversation’s meaning. Yet, their tension eases as they observe Sarah navigating the conversation with professionalism, engaging their guest gradually in a casual exchange despite the complexity of the subject.

Being accustomed to challenging situations of such matters from previous times, Stepan plucks up some courage and jumps in. “So, now that we have clarified these issues, I want to ask you, what is your name?”

The woman turns her attention towards Stepan, smiling. “Choronya. My name is Choronya. Nice to meet you.”

“Um, same.” Stepan smiles back, thinking: Good. At least she doesn’t have a generic number as a name. Sarah bumps his arm. Stepan ouches, grasping that he just had a clear superficial thought that a Gamma could obviously read.

Choronya grins and lifts herself up slowly. “I am sorry if I cannot provide you with better information. But you do not need to be afraid of me. My only interest is to having survived the explosion. I am grateful that you have somehow picked me up and put me here. It is my first time outside that ship. Please excuse my lack of knowledge about your customs and anything else.”

She sets one foot off the bed, and Su San hurries to support her before realizing that it is inadequate to do so. The patient is already in the best possible condition.

Sarah steps backwards to give Choronya some space. “We can show you around, give you some time to get to know this place and who we are.” She turns to Stepan and nudges him. “Will you show her around and then get her to the guest tent no. 3?”

He gladly nods.