A collaboration with [@Enigmatik], in... [h3][b]The Great Black Sky, The Gateway Above the Steppe[/b][/h3] [sup]Featuring Orda Khan and Shepherd[/sup] Orda Khan stared out at the Gateway swirling before his flagship, a look of deep contemplation on his face. Around him, the various functionaries that kept his court and vessel running bustled around, house guards watching the madcap display almost as impassively as their lord was, the only other oasis of calm in the room being the colourfully-dressed shaman, their sonorous drumbeats broadcast out across the entirety of the ship. “The fortunes are good, Khan. The stars show that a wise course of action lies before us. We have Uzay’s blessing to proceed.” His beaded headdress faintly clicked with every quirk of their head, the man’s eyes flicking rapidly between the various constellations still faintly visible despite the Gateway’s light. “Do we have a course plotted?” Orda turned to the helmsmen of the vessel, who simply shook his head. “The Great Khagn did not issue an explicit edict of exploration. We have many choices.” “And what do you see? Does Uzay enlighten you as to a path?” The Khagn turned back to the Shaman, who took a few sombre steps forward to examine the crude display before the helmsman. The curiously-dressed man stared at the options before him, continuing to strike the drum along to a beat that only he could hear. Then, he swayed forward with a nod. “That one. There.” The helmsman nodded once, turning to the Khan for approval. “So says Uzay. Who are we to deny Their will?” The course was set. They required only the strength to follow it. Striding to the front of his vessel, Orda pressed his lips against the bulky broadcaster, then spoke the commands clearly. “Prepare to pass through Uzay’s embrace. All hands ready for transit.” [hr] The great outer asteroid belt was not unlike many other asteroid fields, of course – scattered and remote rocks of various sizes and compositions, in a lazy, lonely dance across the void of time and the vacuum of space. While at its fringes lingered the Gateway of Easifa, it was, frankly, a strange beast. The Children of Gaia had spent centuries constructing and refining their greatest temple-garden in its vicinity and in recent months the flow of traffic had steadily increased (primarily outwards), but the truth is that much of the space around it saw little in the way of protection or border controls; for Orda Khan the requirements for peaceful passage were… nothing, essentially. A simple 'thank you' with well wishes to the Children of Gaia, and a promise not to harm them or their temple-garden. The Khan of course was almost entirely ignorant of this fact. The disparate nature of the Hordes meant that what the Khagn knew was not often efficiently passed to his subordinates, and besides- they had had centuries of being able to claim celestial bodies as their own. What lay in the Great Black Sky was theirs- so long as they had the wherewithal to reach out and take it. And, speaking of reaching out and taking it, they needed an initial foothold. Somewhere they could establish a small örtöö, to grow into a real refuelling and resupply station. Conveniently, there was a suitably sized asteroid within reach of their grasping fingers. “I expect every ship to know their duty. Drink deep of the waters Uzay provides. We are blessed.” Orda Khan gave an approving nod to the rest of his court. All was well. [hr] [b]The Easifa System – Outer Asteroid Field, Gateway Region[/b] Danger took many forms. Sometimes danger was a rogue asteroid. Sometimes it was the steel ghosts. Sometimes it was a fault in your water recycling systems… …and Shepherd hated to admit it, of course, but sometimes it was the new guy. "If you blow this recitation one more time, Mav, I'm going to blow a gasket." "In a good-" "[i]No[/i], not in a good way!" "...sorry. Please repeat it for me, please?" She sighed, nursing the headache that had been gradually forming over the past hour. Unfortunately, the paracetamol tea she had been drinking was at its limits and Mint had been very clear to her the prescribed dose was one cup every four hours and [i]not one moment sooner.[/i] She looked into Mav's slightly wonky eyes and took a short, deep breath. "If we overcharge the copper oxide, then we’ll be taken on a deadly ride." Mav bit his lower lip, his single remaining incisor leaving a conspicuous gap. "...if, uh…" Shepherd knew her forehead was popping a vein and she'd stopped caring. "...it, uh… I'm sorry! I, it's just-" "What, Mav?! You're thirty years old and you can't memorise a simple recitation? They told me you were a feckless moron but, by the ghosts, I…!" She couldn't look into his dejected, whimpering face any longer and pushed herself out of the chair. "Don't touch anything - if the warning light starts blinking red, just wake me up. I need some kind of sleep." Eat, drink, sleep. The three most crucial acts of a spacer, besides from their work; if she was going to have to spend the rest of her life with him, the best thing she could start doing was take control of her body's needs. Eat – the hydroponics was a floor down, where Mint was busy checking the potatoes and trying not to look like she had been listening intently to Shepherd's disastrous attempt at teaching what were supposed to be childhood technical skills to a grown man. "... Good potatoes?" she asked the young gaian woman, whose green algae-infused skin and narrow features made her look more like some kind of fae creature than a human being. "...oh! Uh, yes, haha." As Mint sniffed one empathetically, Shepherd just sighed and picked up one of the carrots in the "freshly washed" tray. Raw carrots weren't her favourite but they were, in theory, food. She considered printing a mycelium sheet from the box on the wall, but honestly the idea of eating even a crumb more of it made her sick. With an audible 'bleh' she made her way to the washroom. Drink – the washroom taps weren't being used right now: in theory the recycling system was meant to be 100% efficient, but in practice there was always some loss, and for that reason they had to carefully ration what they had until they next located an icy comet - a miracle that demanded prayer. Throwing out a quick one in apology, she hit the switch to give herself just enough water to take a few sips, then sat down at the shower's dry floor. [i]Why'd you do it, Eli?[/i] How long had it been, now? Half an orbit? Twelve weeks? Thirteen? To spend so long without feeling his hand in hers, or to feel his lips against her cheek. A mistake, of course. Just a mistake. But mistakes always came at a cost – often in more ways than one. Sleep – It wasn't comfortable, of course, nor practical, but as she sat in that empty washroom her mind began to wander. To ancestral pastures from pictures long faded, to the quiet drifting in the void, to times spent haggling at the sunport markets on the third habitat… "Um, uh… Shepherd," echoed a voice through the ship. [i]Ignore him, he might not exist.[/i] "Shepherd, dear?" [i]Oh he did NOT-[/i] "Excuse me?!" she screamed, tiredness replaced with pure rage. It almost felt like the ship was shaking, as she marched herself back up to the cockpit. His rubbery face contorted in a way that left her sick. "Well, uh, so-" "Mav, we had a rule. An agreement." "Well, yes, but-" "It settles a [i]debt[/i], Mav. A debt! Not even a debt to you! You have the emotional and physical desirability of a rock, Mav!" "Oh. Well, that's… hurtful, but, I-" "Oh, it's [i]hurtful,[/i] Mav?!" There was another shake, and this time it was definitely not just in Shepherd's head. The whole ship lurched, followed by the sound of the other two crew mates dashing to their stations. "...It, uh, there's a warning ligh-" "Yes I can see that, Mav! Strap yourself in and don't hit any buttons!" The reflexes kicked in like lightning, tiredness dimming as she took her seat and plugged in her adrenal IV. Hopefully it wouldn't be needed, but the collision was sharp and there was the distant sound of something echoing through the walls, as if tapping against the stone. [i]The steel ghosts?[/i] she wondered, then corrected herself. They were less gradual, less polite. And besides, the Yahsud Alnaar was far from here; its’ annual migratory orbit had already passed on. Asmovund were more likely, and they were tricky to reason with. So that being the case… She hurriedly hummed a tune as she hit a switch or three in time to the sound of it, and with a mumbled prayer she engaged the ion thrusters. With a great crash the ship lurched forward, as if out of the grasp of something, and sped into the deeper asteroid belt. [hr] Orda leaned forward, a frown wrinkling his brow. From his decades of experience in witnessing asteroids, they had never once shown a sense of self-preservation. Yet, here it was, a set of thrusters having burst to life, and the rock changing its orbit in an attempt to escape the onrushing Khagnate vessels. A more superstitious man might have seen this as a bad omen from Uzay- a sign that their actions here were deeply offensive to the universe, but Orda Khan was not a particularly superstitious man. Instead, despite the Shaman letting out a yelp, he instead chopped his hand towards the vessel’s communications officer. Hurriedly, a translator was rushed up from the blastproof archeology quarters, and a line was opened up directed at the vessel. The words would boom out across the Lost Lillian’s comms unit. First, harsh guttural and unintelligible, and then changed into something that sounded oddly like a crude text-to-speech function. “Halt! You have the honour and fortune to have fallen under the gaze of the leader of the White Horde, the blessed Orda Khan! He has promised you safety and has sworn his honour in providing all obligations of hospitality should you come aboard his vessel.” [hr] [i]I knew this would happen![/i] thought Dannyel, wrestling with the radio as a light flared to reveal they were receiving a transmission. He hadn't, of course, this whole course of events was proving wildly unpredictable. But he [i]had[/i] known this voyage had to be cursed; to come back to his father's gravebelt with this unloved debt marriage? At last the signal snapped into place – a voice, human but unintelligible, then shifting, altering… …an invitation? From who? With the flick of a switch the message was played over the speakers. A few moments of uncertainty, followed by a very certain, "Alright! Everybody to the cockpit!" "We're already here, mum!" Sarah's voice replied, and in another few moments the five of them were stood around the cramped compartment. [hr] There was a wait – too long, almost insultingly long. Then at last, in one of the languages Orda Khan had broadcasted in, a reply was received. Crackling and fuzzy, the signal obviously produced by a fairly weak transmitter – a woman's voice with a strong accent reflective of Old Earth's Iran, and the sense of a woman with authority and determination. The signal was weak, but whoever this was certainly wasn't. "Safe journeys and peace to you and your horde, Orda Khan. My name is Shepherd, captain and matriarch of the Lost Lillian. Your offer is very kind, but I would ask that your… horde, please stop trying to take apart mine." There was a brief pause over the line, the faint audio of people speaking in that same guttural language crackling over. Then, the translator spoke again. “You have my word, as Khan of the White Horde, that no harm will come to your vessel or its inhabitants. My flagship will be approaching shortly. I warmly encourage you to come aboard.” Another wait, another click. "I accept your invitation, then." [hr] Shepherd hadn't been sure what to expect, exactly, as the lights of the foreign vessel easily dwarfed the home she and Eli had built for themselves. As the docking systems engaged and the great ship latched on, she carefully stepped into her hazard sleeve – a patchwork combination of hazmat suit and body armour – and took one last solid breath of the homecycled oxygen she was used to. Stepping into the airlock, she gave a cautious smile and a wave to her kids and Mint, and pointedly did [i]not[/i] acknowledge Mav at all. Turning to Dannyel, she gave him a nod. He knew what to do if they didn’t hear from her in a couple of hours. “See all of you soon,” she said through her helmet radio, “in this life or the next.” [hr] The airlock door hissed open, and she was met with quite the sight. It was, for all intents and purposes, a cramped, zero-g spaceship airlock, and yet here managed to stand two men, wearing heavy suits of armour and carrying shortened spears, flanking an intricately-dressed man, a peculiar looking contraption strapped over his mouth, cross-legged and floating in the centre of the corridor. “Hail,” the figure declared. “Orda Khan awaits.” Shepherd was starting to regret not getting her helmet tinted years ago, because the sight was baffling. As she drifted slowly towards the cross-legged… the word escaped her. A merchant, perhaps? Arjuani habitat merchants were the only people she knew of who could wear clothes like that. Quickly trying to correct herself from being [i]too[/i] visibly confused, she raised both arms, palms spread out in a greeting. “Hail to you and your… guards… as well. Peace from the Lost Lillian and her crew, and… yes, please. It is an honour to be welcomed by Orda Khan.” “These are the mighty Khan’s houseguards. They ensure the security and safety of not only this vessel, but the cohesion of the entire horde.” The official’s arm swept out wide, gesturing to the two men beside them, then twisted himself around, one hand touching against the ceiling to send him drifting forwards and out of the airlock area. As Shepherd followed, shifting her weight slightly to pirouette off of the floor while trying to maintain something resembling a straight back, she nodded along. [i]Keep nodding and he might think you understand him,[/i] she thought, though the idea that someone could not only own a [i]house[/i] but guards for it as well… rumours had circulated for months now of the stability, wealth and influence being seen on the other side of the Gate, but to see and hear it with your own senses was a different matter entirely. “They seem to be very impressive. Certainly much, um, better equipped, then any guards on the Shabaka.” Despite the impressiveness of the staff around her, the vessel itself was not dissimilar to what they’d known. Cramped corridors. Spartan, bare metal and reflective sheeting around them. A few panels were decorated with weavings or painting, but the majority of them were left gunmetal. A few folks peeked out from hatches and corridors, elongated forms and short-cropped hair showing them for what they were- born and bred spacers. “Careful here. Gravity returns.” The pathway twisted upwards - and at the top of the long vertical corridor, sure enough, Shepherd would feel themselves dragged down towards the floor. “One Gravitational Unit. Carefully calculated from observations of Earth.” At first there was a lurch as she landed, thankfully maintaining her balance and not collapsing – though the sudden application of so much weight made her lungs feel particularly small. She smiled and gave a gentle wave at the staring spacers, trying to focus on the familiarity – in some ways, not so different from attending a shipmeet of multiple crews. Though it [i]did[/i] stand out to her that none of them seemed to be wearing hazard suits – so many individuals crewing a single vessel and being comfortable in each other’s air left an eerie cold up her spine. “Earth… have any of you been to it? Is the surface safe again? There’s someone in my crew who would love to visit, I think.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Maybe once our next ice-haul is done.” The official shook his head. “Only the Great Khagn’s own Golden Horde has returned to Old Earth. News has been slow, but reports have been pessimistic. We may have ruined the steppes we once were born from.” There was a melancholy in the man’s words as the pair drew closer to another airlock, this one too manned by houseguard, their plumes a bright white. Shepherd nodded in sympathy, recalling traces of her grandmother’s fairytales and a single tattered ‘photo’ of a family resting upon a mat, sharing food in front of some kind of long lost plant species. Upon witnessing the guest, the guards slowly reached for indents in the airlock door, then heaved them apart, the thick barriers hissing loudly, then scraping across their bearings. With how smoothly the other doors had run, it almost seemed deliberate. Shepherd almost winced, then noticed the disparity. [i]Appearances,[/i] she thought. She breathed carefully, steadily through her nose and tried to focus her mind. Expression like a pleasant stone. Posture straight and standing tall – matching the rigidity of the guards, even if she couldn’t match their weight or height. The door finally locked itself open. The courtroom awaited. It did not fail to impress. Where the rest of the ship was cramped corridors and space-efficient, this room was far larger than it had any right to be. A broad-shouldered, hirsuite man sat atop a wooden stool, legs folded over one another and a stern look on his face. He was dressed in fine white fabric that hung about him in the exact sort of way that would make it utterly impractical for life aboard a spaceship, and among the various functionaries about this colossal room were women in gauze, men in equally useless clothing and soldiers, armed with those same blades and short swords. Perhaps to settled folk this would be nothing impressive, but aboard this otherwise spartan vessel, it spoke of only one thing. [i]I can afford to have two dozen people using up oxygen for no purpose. Fear me.[/i] Orda Khan smirked a little as Shepherd entered. He tossed an arm out towards the official, growling out a few short syllables. “The Khan bids you to remove the spacesuit. If you cannot share air with someone, how can you trust them?” Shepherd’s attempt at remaining stone-faced almost immediately collapsed. This was madness – beyond even the absolutely wealthiest of habitat families. What were all of these people [i]doing[/i], and in a room this big? With nothing in it?! She was shocked, of course, but the tiniest worm of something… nastier, was growing there. Shepherd quickly blinked away her surprise and tried to focus on the request, unpleasant as it was. Her teeth crossed her lip, trying to think of a polite way to reply. Perhaps the manner of someone indebted? She bowed her head and kneeled forward slightly, bending both of her knees. “Mighty Orda Khan, much peace to you from the Lost Lillian. I only fear removing my suit because, as my people are isolated from others for such long periods of time, our bodies get sick easily to foreign air.” The Khan frowned, then turned towards the official. <“Are they a fool? How else are our bodies supposed to adapt? Keep cohesion within the horde? And, how are they supposed to break bread with us if they’re wearing that damnable costume?”> The translator paused for a moment, then turned and nodded towards Shepherd. “The Khan bids you break bread with him, and share in the air, so that both groups may strengthen each other’s immunities.” Shepherd paused, tried not to let her skin crawl at the request too much, then at last she nodded and politely smiled. In the back of her mind she offered a quiet prayer for guidance, and an old recitation she hadn’t had to use in a long time – one she’d almost forgotten. “I accept your kind offer, Orda Khan. You are the host, and I am the guest – I will act by your custom. Forgive me.” Reaching up a hand to the neck of the suit she carefully clicked and unlatched it, the carbon-polymer mask and helmet detaching with a heavy [i]hiss[/i] as the air pressure shifted and the atmospheres mixed. With the tiniest bit of strain she removed it, the heavy dark brown curls of her hair messily bouncing back into place and framing her face. Thin features – a woman in her forties, with olive skin – were contrasted by the wide intensity of her eyes, and a pair of delicate scars like tear-drops under her eyes… though the one under her left eye seemed to be much fresher than the one under her right. As she carefully untightened and detached the hazard suit and its armour, it revealed clothes that were shockingly… civilian? Simple, lightly padded dark purple working slacks from cheaply fabricated synthetic materials. They hung a little bit loosely – she was ever so slightly too thin to match them properly. She turned to the translator – wondering for a moment if the device strapped over his mouth was as uncomfortable as it looked – and held up the suit’s helmet. “May I ask, does Orda Khan mind where I put my hazard suit? Should I simply leave it on the floor, or carry it?” The translator didn’t bother converting the message so the Khan could understand it. Instead, a young woman, her face powdered and hair tied up in an intricate design, took the hazard suit and ferried it away and out of the court. Another woman, with a similarly pampered appearance, set out a simple cushion and low table before the Khan, the translator gesturing to it. “Please, sit. The Khan has offered the honour of his family’s [i]arkhi,[/i] but if you do not partake of drink, tea can be provided.” Shepherd raised an eyebrow slightly as she approached to sit at the cushion. The term was unfamiliar, and she couldn't help but feel like she was missing something. [i]Is tea not a drink?[/i] she wondered, [i]Is he offering me raw tea leaves?[/i]. However, better the devil she knew than the one she didn’t. "Thank you very much, the tea would be greatly appreciated.” A nod from the translator, and he relayed the information back to the Khan. Orda’s only response was an undignified snort, before he began to rattle out more questions. <”Her loss. With that out of the way… Who is she? Where have we ended up? Is the area rich enough in resources to support our efforts here?”> “The Khan is disappointed you would not take the arkhi, but is nonetheless understanding. He is curious as to where we have ended up, and the people who live in this strange sector of space. How do you make your living here?” Shepherd thankfully kept fear from creeping along her face, maintaining a gentle smile. This was not someone to offend, and he was not good at hiding it. But questions… those were something she could help with. Information was valuable to anyone, after all, even pampered foreigners. "Well… the noble Khan and his horde are in the Gateway Fields of the 44th degree; the area of the outer asteroid belt that stretches from the Gate to the planet of Easifa'Mal. It is largely untouched, between…" She paused. Just how dangerous would it be for these strangers to meet the Asmovund? Their technology seemed just as powerful, perhaps more so. "Well, few people live out here. My family and I – the crew of the Lost Lillian – are ice gatherers. Past the Yahsud Alnaar's reach, deeper in the system, there are the great habitats and stations of Easifa'Thani. Many, many people live there of different species and tribes, but despite Easifa'Thani's many treasures they lack easy access to water. So our crew and many others come out here to gather ice and rarer metals, then we take them deeper into the system and trade our goods for things we need; seeds and soil for hydroponics, replacement parts, improvements to machinery." There was a moment as the translator considered this information, then in less than half the time, conveyed the message back to the Khagn. For his part, the ruler of this strange ship reached up to his lip, tugging a little at a strand of the moustache that seemed perfectly suited for such an occasion. During the silence another one of the women - who must have been part of a harem, for that was really the only role that made sense for them, set out a small table before Shepherd, then followed it up, perhaps the most ludicrous of all the already absurdist sights aboard this vessel, an open flame burner. Atop the burner was placed a metal teapot, intricately engraved and sculpted into the shape of a dragon, its forked tongue curved to a spout. “We grow the tea in carefully tended aeroponics, and allow it to sprout in its own time. When it is ready, it is plucked and placed facing the great black sky, so that the light from passing stars may soak into it.” There was a note of pride in his voice as steam began to trickle out of the pot, the khan’s voice finally rumbling out. Shepherd meanwhile, did an admirable job of keeping a straight face at the madness of it all. Did they not struggle to keep the atmosphere constant? He frowned.< “But if these strangers can’t even provide themselves with enough ice to drink, what have they to provide us?” He snorted a little. “With the riches the Great Khagn remarked upon in Sol, we seem to have gotten unlucky.”> “The Khan thanks you for being such a consummate guest, and asks if there is something we can provide from our fleet. You said water was in short supply - our storeships hold much ice, not to mention we have our own banks of seeds and parts.” <”Ah, tell her we shall be establishing ourselves in this belt here. She should spread the message - a fair price and security, so long as you obey.”> The Khan gave a dark chuckle. “The Khan also says that since none claim this asteroid field, we will be making our örtöös - trade posts, here for the time being. He bids you spread the word - fair prices, a guarantee of security, so long as any who come to trade beneath our roofs abide by our customs.” Shepherd had started to give a polite smile at the kind offer, and to her credit managed to hold it as she processed the Khan’s laugh. The translator’s words couldn’t help but sting a little. “Of course, when the Lost Lillian returns to Easifa’Thani we will share stories of the noble Khan and his horde. There is plenty of ice and rare materials to harvest, though…” She held her chin in her hands for a moment. “Most trade is done at Easifa’Thani – some will gather ice directly and take it there, but most redirect it with a kind of tag or marker for locals to collect and pay them back. Few will come out to the field itself to collect the ice, when their lives are so close to Easifa’Thani, and with so many of the dangers that lurk out here.” The translator turned back to the Khan to relay the message. For a moment, he paused at the fiddling with his moustache, a contemplative moment spreading over his face. <”And should those redirected resources end up… Waylaid?”> “The Khan inquires as to what would happen should that flow of redirected resources dry up.” Carefully, the woman who had conveyed the tea set over to the group began to pour it out. It was a deep orange-black, steam softly rising up before being swept away into the vessel’s air filtration system. “Do you take milk? Honey?” Shepherd couldn’t help but squint slightly at the translator’s question. She turned briefly to the woman serving her tea and smiled. The fact she was being offered something with tea on a ship was at this point the least concerning behaviour. “Oh, um, honey, please. Thank you.” As she took the tea, she sipped it carefully and deliberately. The comment lingered in her mind. “Well, the belts are vast, and there are many ships and stations towards the inner belt who watch for incoming material. We have relied on the ice of the outer belt for generations – it wont run out of material for many generations more.” Her expression became a little pained, just for a moment. “Besides, since the Gate opened… there will be fewer mouths to feed in Easifa, in the years ahead. The belt will last for generations more.” The translator turned back and said the only words that Orda Khan needed to know about. Relied on. A brief exchange later, and the translator bowed at Shepherd. “The Khan thanks you for your honesty and forthrightness.” Shepherd maintained a polite smile, but something in her chest didn’t sit right. She wasn’t an expert on languages, but it seemed like the translator had skipped some things. “Of course, it is an honour. Our ancestors – and the ancestors of all of the many sorts of folk that call Easifa’Thani and the asteroid belts home – were welcomed here in exchange for a promise, and for generations we have kept our word. Even…” she visibly winced, as if recalling an unpleasant memory, “the machine-men, the raiders in these places, value honesty.” “And we shall honour all of you in turn.” The translator conveyed. Shepherd sipped on her tea. [i]Even if it is with a gun in one hand and a knife in the other,[/i] she thought. Orda Khan took the first sip of his tea, a slow, malicious smile splitting his lips.