Kyn Mati

Music OOC

The ship descended. A simple vessel. Created for the public. To ferry passengers to and fro. Didn’t matter what status. Didn’t matter the passenger as long as they could pay their way, ke? One woman did. She wasn’t much of a politician. Wasn’t even much of a soldier. But she wasn’t one to be so easily reckoned with.

“Where ya goin’ after this, kopeng?” Asked a passenger adjacent from her.
The woman looked at him for a moment, deciding whether to trust in him.
In the end, it didn’t matter. The stars harbor my trust. The rest is distant.
“En’t a steppin’ stone to me, beratna,” she dared whether he’s a brother.

It was hard to tell. Sometimes the guy or gal on your left or right is a friend.
A fellow Belter. ‘Beltalowda’ as the term went, to refer to them—us Belters.
Then again, wolves fought wolves and not all dogs got along. To last breath.
She remembered the sentiment of another’s word in this dangerous universe.

“Maybe you gone for Pallas Station after this, yeah?” Her passenger questioned.
She watched, she listened. “Not so distant, I reckon. It good for mining business.”
He isn’t wrong. Pallas boasted a strong mining economy. “For Inners, ultimately.”
He chuckled. “We all pay our way, sister.” She smiled. “As slaves. As we bleed.”

The guy can take her reply any way he wanted. He was not her brother. Not really.
The vessel approached the space station and it isn’t Pallas. If not much different.
Not really. One home in the Belt’s as good as any other, some Belters will agree.
No mining outpost, though, Mira Station was a trade zone—of cheese and beef.

That’s another saying amid its inhabitants. Cheese was a commodity on Ceres.
Another saying, another story, another station, that spread around and between.
An inside joke, maybe, that more than a Belter knows. Yet Mira Station’s different.
Not completely, surely. It has its own politics. Its dealings beside trade agreements.

The transport ship touched down on ground, as far as the station would allow.
“To pochuye ke?” Her fellow passenger asked of her. She shrugged in a reply.
“Mi pensa.” She grinned. He did too. “Da diye de.” She replied. Eyes into eyes.
He fell silent. So much for beratna. Her gaze on Mira Station. Freedom. I vow.