I Am Khaaneph Part 2
âNoâ, Creetâtho replied, sounding the word out carefully: âIn-Di-vid-U-alâ. âI know of no such word, sandworm.â  Creetâtho sighed, exhasperation beginning to overcome his feeling of surrealism at the situation he now found himself in.  Yesterday he had rescued the sole survivor from a wrecked Khaaneph cruiser, an imperious girl whoâs age he estimated to be around fourteen.  She had a lithe build, medium height, and skin tanned a deep brown, darker even than that of her ship.  The torso bruising she had suffered from the wreck had apparently done nothing to temper her spirit, or the keen edge of her tongue.  âYou take from the sands…the sands that are rightfully MINE!â  The girl had lost consciousness shortly after uttering this statement, delivered with all of the authority of a KiithâSa.  Creetâtho wondered if she possessed a standing among the Khaaneph that would explain her imperiousness, but communicating with her was proving challenging. Â
âI do not need your words, or your trespassing. All that enters the sand belongs to ME, Khaaneph!â Â She rose partially from her prone position to deliver the statement, her words filled with vehemence. Â âYou should not moveâ Creetâtho said âyou may have cracked ribs and moving could puncture a lung. Â It would be best for you to rest a few days while the bruising subsides, and hopefully the pain with it. Â If the pain stops soon, that should mean your ribs arenât fractured. Â Here, have some water.â Â She continued to glare at him, although she returned to a prone position, lying back on what had been Creetâthoâs sleeping mat. Â Perhaps she was in more pain than he realized. Â
Creetâtho had attempted conversation in an effort to gain knowledge and intelligence about her people; and to determine if they were likely to mount a rescue. Â To his surprise, while she spoke the same language as he did, she didnât understand certain words. Â She seemed especially confused by phrases expressing individualism or individual identity. Â Creetâtho pondered this oddity as he helped her drink from his canteen. Â Judging from her expression, he might as well have been a poisonous insect, rather than her rescuer. Â But rescuer he was: he had dug the sand out from around her unconscious form, and, placing her on a drag tarp and covering her in a protective thermal blanket from his survival kit, had slowly towed her to safety across the sands. Â After picking her up and placing her on his sleeping mat, heâd checked her vital signs. Â His apprehension was confirmed: she was approaching hyperthermia. Â He removed the thermal blanket from her still-unconscious body, dampened her clothing and decreased the outpostâs internal temperature to help reduce her core temperature. Â Then, staggering in exhaustion, heâd made his way to the radio and once again attempted to reach Command. Â The radio continued to greet him with the strange, pulsing static, and he had sunk to the floor in exhaustion, at loss for what to do. Â There he sat, head in hands, when sleep took him.
Creet’tho awoke to groans from his new charge, and looked over to see if she was awake. Â Checking the display on his wrist computer, he was surprised to see that heâd been asleep for nearly ten hours. Â She groaned again and shifted, still half asleep. Â Her neck-length, medium brown hair fanned around her, framed her head as the lay on her back on his mat. Â He rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an effort to clear his mind from sleep inertia and general confusion. Â Creetâtho had never found himself in a situation like this before, and, unable to reach Command, was at loss for how to proceed. Â Like all Kiith Gaalsien military personnel, heâd been trained in advanced desert survival and emergency medical training, but if this mysterious Khaaneph girl had internal injuries, he wasnât going to be able to help her. Â And he did want to help her, he realized, and that desire came from more than the his Kiithâs lack of information on this mysterious enemy. Â âWhat if I could save her…save the soul of this young Godless?â Â He could think of no effort more noble than salvation. Â But first, she needed more than spiritual guidance. Â
Standing up, Creetâtho opened the outpostâs medical kit and extracted the small digital vitals monitor and unrolled a set of medical leads. Â Turning towards his patient, he paused, momentarily puzzled as to how to remove the flexible, one piece body armor and tunic she wore without potentially causing more injury. Â Deciding that propriety wasnât worth the risk of puncturing a lung or internal organ, he dug through the medical kit again until he found what he needed. Â The small set of servo-powered shears, designed specifically for medical providers to cut through protective layers of body armor. Â Starting at her left ankle, he began to cut upwards towards her neck. Â Once the entire cut was made, he peeled back the layers of armor and underclothing to reach her torso. Â Like the Gaalsien, she had low body fat. Â Food was never available in excess in the Great Waste for his people, and he wasnât surprised for that to be the case for the Godless. Â Her skin, however, was darker than most of those in his Kiith, although lighter than it was on her hands and face. Â Setting the monitor on the folded-back armor to hold it away from her skin, he quickly attached the leads around her heart and to the lower part of her torso, as well as a blood pressure cuff and a fingertip blood oxygen monitor. Â The machine turned itself on and began recording readings: heart rate, blood oxygen, blood pressure, respiratory rate, temperature and hydration level all appeared on the display after a few minutes. Â Besides being slightly dehydrated, none of her vital signs struck him as alarming, and that being the case after ten hours. meant it was unlikely she had any internal injuries. Â Feeling grateful that his patientâs needs remained within his skill set, Creetâtho turned back to the medical kit and began to prepare an IV.
An hour later, his patientâs vitals were normal, and, to Creetâthoâs chagrin, so was her voice.  âHelped Khaanephâ she said, her tone a mixture of accusation and surprise.  She had partially propped herself up against the wall of the outpost, although her abdomen pain seemed kept her from sitting up the entire way.  She glared at Creetâtho, showing no evidence of embarrassment despite her clothing and armor being cut open, and was equally unfazed by the medical equipment attached to her bare torso.  She was too young and thin to have much of a womanly figure, but Creetâtho remained surprised at her boldness.  âWhy?â  âWhat is your name?â Creetâtho countered.  âI am Khaaneph, sandworm!  Have I not said so?  I must urinate.  Help.â  It was an order, not a request.  Creetâtho sighed inwardly, careful to appear emotionless.  His hands ached again, his legs were sore, and he had no way to reach Command to inform them of what was an unprecedented encounter with their elusive enemy.  âI will perform and endure my dutyâ, he reminded himself.  He just wished he could reach Command.  âWhy no help?â insisted the girl, her voice full of confusion.  âThe waste collector is right over thereâ said Creetâtho, pointing to a funnel-shaped device attached to a tube that ran into the shelterâs water reclamation system a meter away from the bed.  âBut there isnât any privacyâŚâ. âPri-VA-cy?â She replied, with an odd emphasis âWhat does that mean, privacy?  I do not have patience for this speech. Help.â  Sliding a rations case over to put it in reach of the reclamation tube for her to use as a makeshift seat, Creetâtho turned back towards his patient.  âCan you stand?â he asked.  âKhaaneph cannot standâ she replied âhelp moveâ.  Creetâtho flexed his hands experimentally, making sure they had range of motion for the task at hand.  âSajuuk, grant me the strength and patience to assist the soul of this young Godless, for her sake and for the benefit of my Kiithâ he prayed silently, then turned.  It was unlikely she weighed significantly more than than the weight of his protective equipment and rifle of which he was accustomed to bearing, so picking her up and moving her a meter should not prove too difficult, despite his protesting muscles.  âLet me disconnect you from the monitor and weâll need to get this armor off of youâ he replied.  âWho is this âyouâ?!  I am Khaaneph!â Her tone was that of one speaking to a child.  âOkay, I need to take off these leads and your armor, Khaaneph, so that I can move you…I mean, Khaanephâ said Creetâtho.  The glare he received spoke volumes, declaring that these were obvious factors that did not need to be explained.  Greatly perplexed by his chargeâs speech and behavior, he peeled the medical monitors off of her skin and pulled her armor the rest of the way from her body.  She expressed no embarrassment, and made no move to assist.  Putting his hands under her armpits, he prepared to lift.  âDo not hurt Khaaneph, sandwormâ she warned.  Given the fact that heâd had plenty of opportunities to do so if heâd wanted, Creetâtho felt this didnât warrant a reply.  Flexing and turning, he lifted her off of the bed and placed her on the makeshift seat, carefully leaning her against the wall of the outpost as he set her down.  âThere.  Let me put on my coat and mask and Iâll step outside while youâŚâ âGo nowhereâ she replied âKhaaneph will need to be put back on bedâ.  Turning away and moving five meters to the opposite end of the outpost, Creetâtho did as requested.
As Creetâtho stared at the wall, he wondered what this Khaaneph was. Â A patient? Â I prisoner? A source of information, to be interrogated for his people…or a test from the Maker, and an opportunity to save a soul? Â All of those things? Â He stood, lost in thought until his contemplation was broken by âI require assistance. Â Why do you stand there still?â Â Turning, he was once again taken aback by the imperiousness of the girlâs stare, despite being a naked invalid in enemy hands. âDoes she not understand her situation?â, Creet’tho thought to himself âand why is her language so strange?â. Â Wondering whether he should attempt to teach her manners but deciding he currently had more important things to worry about, he strode over to the Khaaneph girl, and, once again picking her up by her armpits, turned and put her back on the sleeping mat. Â âHungry!â she said as soon as he set her down, her imperial expression belying a flash of pain as she propped herself up against the wall. Â The outpost was well provisioned with enough dry foodstuffs for approximately three months. Â Opening a supply container and pulling out a handful of nutrient bars, Creetâtho passed some to her. Â She ate greedily and surprisingly, without complaint. Â âMoreâ she said in her unique tone, a mix of question and order. Â Creetâtho decided to use his opportunity to gain more insight: ânot until you tell me about your peopleâ he said âHow many of there are you?â. Â She narrowed her eyes at him and scrunched her face in disapproval. Â âI am Khaaneph! she said, her voice full of frustration and impatience. Â âOne people! Â One mind! Â No need for sandworm talk!â Â With that, she rolled on her side and faced away from him. Â And thatâs when he noticed something odd at the base of her neck. Â Unless he was mistaken, it appeared to be some sort of electrical plug-typpe connection surgically attached to her spine, but Creetâtho had never heard of such a thing before. Â âHungryâ she said again, softer this time, almost to herself, her tone pitiable. Â Creetâtho was momentarily distracted Creetâtho from the astonishment of his new discovery and struck by with a sharp pang of guilt. Â He was attempting to interrogate a child, and it did not sit well in his conscious. Â But how many of his people and how much valuable water and equipment had been lost to Khaaneph raiders? Â He had to do everything in his power for his Kiith, but he vowed to do it while still treating the girl humanely. Â She had answered his question, and he believed she had answered truthfully, albeit the truth as she understood it. Â And she had clearly not had enough to eat in a long time. Â Filling his canteen with water, he gently set it down between her and the wall of the outpost, within easy reach. Â Next to it he placed enough ration bars to fill a fully-grown man. Â Without a word and without looking at him, she tore open the closest bar and began eating hungrily.
Patience. Â It was the conclusion Creetâtho came to after careful consideration of his situation, done so in peace, as the Khaaneph girl had fallen asleep soon after finishing her meal. Â This outpost was nearly a hundred kilometers away from the Gaalsien pumping stations, and while he could probably navigate his way there, it would risky, and even more so with an injured teenaged Khaaneph to chaperone. Â He was well provisioned with enough rations for months, despite a second mouth to feed. Â His small reactor provided plenty of power, and he had a backup solar and wind power system if needed. Â No, Creethâtho decided, there was no reason to attempt a trek to the pumping station, despite all communication being disrupted. Â Heâd missed his daily check in with Command twice, which should be enough arouse suspicion. Â A sandskimmer was likely being prepared to dispatch soon, and he could pass his on his new charge to Command. Â He hoped they would have greater success with interrogation than heâd had…and he hoped theyâd do so gently. Â Creetâtho glanced over at the Khaaneph girlâs sleeping form, her skin slightly shining with sweat. Â It was mid-day, a time that always strained the outpostâs environmental systems. Â Ironically, it was also the time of day when the winds were at their calmest, meaning this was when Creetâtho would take stock of his surroundings, scouting for the approach of potential aggressors. Â And today, he hoped, friendly reinforcements. Â After double-checking that he had secured the controls to the radio, environmental systems, and security systems, Creetâtho paused before donning his protective gear. Â Hyperthermia was a constant threat in the desert, something illness or injuries could exacerbate. Â Concerned for his new chargeâs wellbeing, he connected the vitals monitor to her still-sleeping form so that he could monitor her core temperature via his wrist computer. Â Then, after setting full power to the cooling system, Creetâtho painstakingly donned his bunker coat, mask, and and gloves before setting out into the inferno that was the Great Waste, hoping to clear his mind of both Khaaneph and the pain in his joints.
—
Silence. Â It consumes me, and I have never known it before. Â I am afraid.
—
The constant of the burning sands was a comfort to Creetâtho, a source of calming familiarity in his tumultuous situation. Â Using binoculars, he slowly scanned all around him, carefully observing for motion against the shimmering horizon. Â All was still, save for the sands. Â Content to continue his vigilance, Creetâtho waited.
—
I think there is a word for this feeling inside of me. Â It is a sandworm word, for the Khaaneph have no need of it. Â I believe it is âAloneâ.
—
âWhat is she thinking?â Creetâtho wondered, his mind turning inward, wandering to his charge. Â After a half hour of enjoying the relative stillness, curiosity was overcoming his apprehension of the situation. Â He could feel her presence in the outpost behind him, like a lodestone of mystery and duty. Â But he knew himself to be unfit for the task set before him. Â He was not skillful with words, just with his hands. Â Or, he had been. Â But he would not dwell on his ailments, for that was selfish, and did not serve God nor Kiith. Â He decided to pray for guidance. Â He went to his knees, pressed forehead to sand, and spread his arms wide to either side, palms down, feeling the grains shift beneath his weight. Â âSajuuk, the Great Maker Whoâs Hand Shapes What Is, I am but one of your humble yet devout servants from your True People, the Gaalsien. Â Hear my prayer so that you may consider granting my request. Â Allow me to discover more from the Khaaneph girl so that I may prevent future harm to my people.â Creetâtho paused, his emotions conflicted. Â âIf she must come to harm for this information, so be it, but I would request otherwise. Â This heathen does not know you, and her soul is not safe. Â Provide me the guidance and show me the path so that I may yet show her soul the light, the light of the True Maker. Â Through me, grant this child Salvation. Â Use me as your instrument for this purpose. Â This I humbly ask of you, Great Sajuuk. Â May your True People shelter in your hand for eternity, once we are free of sin.â Â The sands stirred around him, swirling lightly as a breeze whispered past. Â Standing, Creetâtho felt renewed conviction course through him, radiating from his heart outward. Â The Great Maker would never grant a task to his children that they could not surmount. Â He would do his duty.
—
I am surprised and startled as the Sandworm enters suddenly. Â He is…different. Â
—
Creetâthoâs duty was clear to him now: he would find out all he could about the Khaaneph, and, through him, the Great Sajuuk may deliver this girl from oblivion. Â He was determined to accomplish both goals. Â Turning, he entered the outpost, not even pausing long enough for the outer doors to fully shut before opening the inner door. Staring sternly at his charge, he said âKhaaneph – that is your name, is it not? Â I have saved your life and provided you with medical care and hospitality, yet your people attack my people without cause. Â I would know why!â
The girl returned his stare, her gaze steady, as unashamed as ever of her body and, presumably, her behavior. Â A single tear, illuminated by the vital signs monitor revealed an inner turmoil that her expression did not. Â âI was Khaaneph, sandwormâ she replied, her voice trailing off as she deflated before his eyes, her gaze dropping. Â âBut now I am…I think the word you use is…alone.â Â She looked back up at him sharply âitâs gone!â pointing to the back of her neck, she continued âMy Rakshiir is gone…and I am…aloneâ. Â Her expression crumpled for a moment in anguish and sadness, then regained itâs mask-like calm. Â âThere is no longer anyone else. Â All I have is me. Â Me…and you, sandworm.â
Surprised and taken aback, Creetâtho returned her gaze in silence for a moment. Rakshiir meant âOneâ or âOne-nessâ, but he didnât understand how that applied to her situation. Â Then, in a flash of insight, it came to him. Â âYou had a surgically implanted radio or communication device!â
âIt is so much more than your sandworm âradioââ she said, flashing him a contemptuous expression that was half smile, half sneer âit is what makes us Khaaneph. Â Through it, we are one. Â One mind, one people, one goal. Â Lord of the sands, and all that which enter it. I am Khaaneph.â Her expression turned mournful âor…I was. Â Now…maybe I do not exist. Â Crossing her arms and drawing her knees towards her chest, she turned away. Â âNow, I am not even a sandwormâ she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Creetâtho was stunned, a mixture of awe, excitement, and frustration momentarily rendering him motionless. Â If what she said was true, this was an incredible piece of technology, and could be of huge benefit to his people! Â It explained so many things, such as how the Godless could coordinate their strikes so effectively, and why distress signals were rarely sent from their Gaalsien victims. Â He snapped his fingers, and wincing at the pain the motion caused, exclaimed âthis is why my radio doesnât work! You jam our radio signals because you donât need radio signals to communicate! Â Is your cruiser still sending out a jamming signal?â
âYes, Khaaneph block primitive sandworm equipment.  But not blocking now, and did not block one day past.  SomethingâŚblocked Khaaneph.â  She paused, in obvious distress, her voice strained and scared.  âWe…stopped being one.  And then, wrecked.  Didnât think sandworm did this…do not know what did.  Has never happened.  Always one, before.â
Everything, from why the Khaaneph were so successful at raiding to his chargeâs broken speech, suddenly became clear to Creetâtho. Â Everything except his current radio troubles, and possibly that the Godlessâs communication equipment, whatever it was, seemed to be suffering from the same interference. Â âWhere is your…Rakshiir…now? Â Can I see it? Â Maybe we can fix it.â
The girl didnât respond for a moment, then, rolling slowly onto her side towards him, wincing from the pain of her bruised ribs, she responded with a forlorn look. Â âLost in wreck. Is only one for me. Cannot get more. You could fix?â Her eyes widened as she spoke the last sentence, a childlike expression of hope appearing on her face. Â âBut why help one-not-Khaaneph-anymore?â Â âBecause the Great Maker wishes for all of his Children to be cleansed of their sin, Ms. âOne-not-Khaanephââ. Â âI not worship your god, sandworm. Â Khaaneph serve no one.â Â âFor now, as you have said, you are no longer Khaanephâ. Â The look of pain in her eyes caused a flash of regret to shoot through Creeâtho. Â But if at all possible, he would save this girlâs soul. Â âNo more talk. Â Need restâ. Â And with that, she put an arm over her eyes, and after a few minutes, her even breathing indicated she had indeed fallen asleep.
An hour later, his charge had awoken and had begun eating enough ration bars in silence to fill a fully grown soldier.  Watching her eat with a mixture of pity and curiosity, Creetâtho once again began probing for more information.  âHow big is the Rakshiir?â he asked.  In response, she broke off a piece of ration bar about two centimeters long and held it up to him âthis sizeâ and, pressing it against the back of her neck, she said âgoes here, like this.â  âMaybe we can find yours, and perhaps it could be reattached.  It must be near the wreck.  What is it made of?  Maybe I can use the sensors in my wrist computer to help locate it if we return to the wreck site.  Even if not, I can take one from one of the bodies, they should be easier to findâ.  The girl paused, seeming to need a moment to decipher this much spoken language.  âI not know what it made ofâ she said after a moment, the angst in her voice apparent âand other Khaaneph Rakshiir not work for me.  Just mine.â  âI may still be able to detect it, and even if not, we may be able to find it by searching and diggingâ.  Her expression brightened âI help!â.  Creetâtho hesitated before responding âItâs over a kilometer away, and your ribs are badly bruisedâŚâ he trailed off as her excited expression was replaced by one of stubborn anger âyou not control Khaaneph!â.  âEven if I let you come, your armor and protective equipment is ruined, how would you-â âSimple! I take spare air mask and wear blanketâ pointing to the emergency thermal blanket and protective wrap, she continued âthen you pull me, like good sandwormâ she finished, gesturing to the emergency drag sled that still remained unfolded in the shelter.  âAnd, you not be able open Khaaneph cruiser – requires this!â She exclaimed, making a pressing motion with her palm.  âA biometric lock?â Creetâtho guessed.  âHand touch!â  Creetâtho nodded âif weâre able to adequately protect you and if you promise to answer all of my questions about your people, I will take you with meâ.  Creetâtho was basing the decision to bring her more on the potential security risk she posed while left alone for long periods of time in the outpost rather than on her desires, but he would gain as much benefit as he could from the situation. His charge nodded enthusiastically âKhaaneph be good girl!â.  Eyeing her closely and deciding she was telling the truth, Creetâtho began to collect the equipment required for the outing.  âIf my people havenât arrived by then, weâll leave an hour before darkâ.
At dusk, looking more like a lump of supplies rather than a girl, his charge sat by the exit of the outpost on the emergency drag sled, propped up against a bag of equipment.  After cladding her in a spare breathing apparatus and jumpsuit to protect her from the heat, Creet’tho had wrapped her in heavy-duty, sand resistant tarps designed to temporarily protect equipment and vehicles in the field. Straps ran from the sled to attachment points on the harness built-in to Creetâthoâs standard issue military bunker coat.  They were ready to move.  Creetâtho looked back over his shoulder âIâll be monitoring your vitals, and if you start to overheat, Iâm turning back.  Youâre still injured, and I donât want you getting hyperthermia.â  âThen make sure you walk fast, sandworm!â She replied.  Eyeing her through her task mask, Creetâtho thought he detected the hint of a smile, despite her words.  âOr maybe Iâll just leave you in the sandâ he muttered, turning towards the door.  Feeling a sharp tug on the straps, he looked back.  âI too valuable!â She said, wiggling under the protective tarp as though trying to cross her arms  âyou wouldnât leave meâ.  Her voice was a mixture of statement and question, and Creetâtho once again felt pity for the injured child, separated from her people and all she knew.  âNoâ he said âI wouldnât leave youâ.  Nodding, she responded âwe help each other, then.  Go!â.  Cycling the doors, Creetâtho went.
Creetâtho stepped into the sand, breathing deeply and appreciating the desert for what it was: his peopleâs path to redemption. Â The setting sun coated the dunes in shades of pink and gold, and the evening winds buffeted him in greeting, whispering a language spoken by the impact of grains against his coat. Â Until he was granted shelter by the Maker, this was his proving grounds, and his home. Â He knew nothing else, and wished for nothing else. Â To him, the sands held purpose…and beauty. Â Exhaling contentedly, he began to walk. Â A lifetime of hardship and manual labor had prepared him well for the task at hand.
âI love the KoâRhiim. It so beautiful.â  Her words broke Creet’tho’s contended introspection, and he stopped, surprised.  Looking back at her, her eyes met his. âSo do Iâ he said frankly. âIt is beautiful. And more than beauty…it will save the souls of my people.â He was met with silence. After a moment, as he turned away to continue walking, the Khaaneph girl asked softly âWhat is âsoulâ?â âLet’s recover your device, and I will explain once we’re back under shelterâ he responded, looking back at her.  With hope for her salvation granting him renewed strength, Creetâtho  surged forward, continuing their trek.
End of part two. Â I hope you enjoyed reading this, as I greatly enjoyed writing it. Â Read Part 1 here, and Part 3 here
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