[color=chocolate][center][h2]Red Horde over Paradise Part 2[/h2] [i]The Crimson Khatun learns the truth of Sol Featuring: Khulan Khatun-Khuu[/i][/center][/color] It was as if all the atmosphere had been let out of the Konrul without anyone realising. The crew on the bridge gawped at the sight - refusing to believe what their eyes told them was the truth. Communications specialists and navigators desperately checked and double-checked their readings, trying to find something, [i]anything[/i] that could prove that life was still here in on Sol. Surely there must be some sign - the thermal signature of ships burning far out in the belt, the reassuring crackle of a pirate radio station broadcasting from a moon or asteroid, even the flicker of artificial light from the shadow of a lunar crater... But no. There was nothing. One of the shamans let out a long, keening wail, thrusting his hands into the sky and collapsing to his knees with a single sharp clatter as the various bells and clappers fell silent at once. Even some of the other figures that Khulan would never have expected to see strong emotion from now simply stood, deflated, tears rolling down their faces. She pushed herself to her feet and stepped forward slowly, fingers coming up to the screen of the display that showed them what was happening just outside the hull. Her fingers trailed down across the display, leaving behind no sign of oil or dead skin cells, while her tear ducts managed to stay dry... But only just. Only just. She lowered her arms back down and slowly retook her seat, clearing her throat once to refocus the throne-bridge's crew. "We-" She began, but the words caught in her throat, and she couldn't manage to continue. Swallowing it back down, she tried again. "We now know that the worst has happened." She sighed. "But we cannot allow ourselves to fall into despair. There must be remnants of our ancestors, something we can-" "My liege!" One of the communicators risked interrupting their sovereign. Normally, such a thing would demand an authoritative response... But surely nobody would so stupid do it [i]now[/i] of all times, without good reason. "We have... We have signals here. Other signals. There are ships here, talking with the Gateway." Others had survived. The Khaganate was not alone. This changed everything. Reaching up to roll her sleeves back a little bit, Khulan quashed the last of her sorrow and her rage and rose to her full sight. "Send a message out to any foreign vessels in the system. We must let them know who they stand before." Translators were rushed up from the archaeology bay, the vessel's communication systems adjusting themselves for broad-spectrum broadcasting. The message went out - not only in the Khaganate's own noble revived Mongolian tongue, but also in Mandarin, in Turkish and in Russian - along with half a dozen other old-world languages, in the hope that if one failed to get through, the others might be understood. [color=chocolate]"Hail to those who travel the stars! I am Khulan Khatun-Khuu of the Red Horde, the most beautiful of the royal family, the righteous, the commander of the phoenix, first herald of the Great Khagan, undisputed ruler of Kyzaghan. We have sailed on Uzay's currents, taken from our creator the bounty that has been given to us, and returned after so long to the seat of our ancestors!" "After so long in isolation it would please us greatly to meet our cousins, those others who have been lost among the stars. On behalf of the mighty and terrible Ögedei II Khagan, I invite you aboard, so that we may take tea and sip arkhi as civilised people do, and discuss great and important matters."[/color] [hr] [color=chocolate][center][h2]A Flock of Fleets[/h2] [i]The Khaganate seek to pierce the mystery of the Gateway, and chart the final frontier. Addressing: [@Tortoise], [@Eventua] [@SgtEasy][/i][/center][/color] Yulan Station - formally an out-of-the way minor stop along the Imperial Highway, was now responsible for keeping track of each and every vessel making its way through the Gateway... And there were many, many vessels going through the Gateway now that the Red Horde had departed and the way was open for the Colour Hordes to explore. [hider=Acerbus] "Identity, reason for travel, destination?" "Batu Khan-Khuu, of the Yellow Horde. We seek to explore the stars, as is our right. The Shamans have decided upon our route - we travel blind but for Uzay's guidance." "Confirmed. You may proceed." [/hider] [hider=Avalon] "Identity, reason for travel, destination?" "A-Ahem. Toqoqan Khan-Khuu, of the Blue Horde. By decree of the Great Khagan, and after consultation with others, we stand ready to venture forth, for the good of- "Confirmed. You may proceed." "Thank you." [/hider] [hider=New Gift] "Identity, reason for travel, des-" "This is Orda Khan-Khuu, lord of the White Horde. We will seize the planets themselves and force the asteroids to bow to our will. We sail to 'New Gift,' as my navigators have called it." There was a brief pause from the controller and a slight intake of breath. Then, "Confirmed. You may proceed." [/hider] It wasn't just the great Colour Hordes though - it seemed every other day a new fleet or even lone ship wished to travel out, to stake their claim or simply gamble on being able to meet some strange foreign power that would bring them enough wealth or fortune to climb the ladder. Yulan cared not - the same three questions were asked of them all, and those with satisfactory responses were able to pass through without further comment. The Khagan's decree was clear - now all that was left was to see who had the strength to follow it. [hr] [color=chocolate][center][h2]Reforging the Sickle[/h2] [i]The Khaganate return to the home of their ancestors.[/i][/center][/color] The Tömör Chadal's descent thrusters roared, bulky landing legs unfurling themselves to hold up the massive bulk of the Iron Horde's flagship. Above the vessel, support ships flitted around, scanners illuminating the surface below the behemoth to provide second-by-second feedback on the predicted touchdown. The RCS system hissed and unleashed a storm of superheated gas to make sure everything was properly aligned, and then with an almighty [i]thump[/i] and a jolt to all the ship's inhabitants, landing was complete. Lights flicked to green in the vessel's bridge as cargo bays and airlock doors opened themselves up, and with a cheer the first humans to walk on Ceres' surface in nearly half a millennia disembarked, bounding, marching or driving out across the icy substrate and towards their target; the entire reason [i]this[/i] out of any other area of the dwarf planet had been selected to be the landing point of the core of the Khaganate's industrial might: Ceres Station. The heart of human colonisation in the asteroid belt before the Cataclysm, it had lit up on the long-distance scans of the surface near-immediately, its regular, straight angles of refined metals, concrete and the cracked and deflated domes of former hab-blocks a stark contrast to Ceres' surface of ice and clay. The Tömör Chadal had actually landed nearly two clicks away from the main body of Ceres Base, because like any great project, there had to be strong foundations to build atop. For the Khaganate, establishing these foundations came down to a finely-honed checklist that everyone aboard knew near-instinctively at this point. With the flagship settled and its massive communication dishes now working on behalf of the rest of the fleet, grading machinery rumbled across the surface, grinding down the top layer of substrate to allow workers to set down blinking landing beacons. With the landing site prepared, other ships that had been waiting to land were now calmly guided in, traffic controllers sweeping brightly coloured paddles through the barely existent atmosphere to lead craft safely down to the surface. If others in Sol had been playing close attention to Ceres, they might have been astonished by just how rapidly the Khaganate seemed to make it home once again. Prefabricated buildings were deployed and assembled on-site, first a power plant, then utilitarian synth-silk domes sprung to life, the grading machines rumbling out to clear thoroughfares between the fresh infrastructure. Suited workers, equipped with jackhammeers pounded out sockets for floodlights and cabling towers to be slotted into, soon followed by electrical workers who scurried around to connect all the new infrastructure up. Next came the plumes of ice and snow that jetted out from a core collection of resource drills, the surface churned up to be shuttled to electrolysis chambers where it could be broken down into its component parts. Around the initial landing grounds, teams had been hard at work to turn the icy fields into a bona-fide landing port, with hard-packed and brightly painted rock used to mark out where vessels should come in without the risk of kicking up snow and soft clay. With the foundation complete, rovers could now prepare themselves to begin exploring what their ancestors had abandoned so long ago. [center]---[/center] "Comms check, 1... 2... 3... All receiving?" Enkh gave the crown of her helmet a firm rap, the feedback echoing out across the rest of the expedition crew and causing a few winces among those with their radios set a little too high. A chorus of 'affirmatives' followed on, and the leader gave a thumbs up. "Alright folks. Treat this like you would reclaiming any other failed or abandoned colony. It'll be older and stranger, but that doesn't make its dangers any different." She took a long pause, and then gestured across towards the slender figure of this team's shaman. "Any words before we go inside Elio?" The man offered a serious nod, unbuckled his seat straps and rose up as much as he could in the cramped confines of the enclosed rover. Unlike the rest of the crew who were wearing plain grey EVA suits, adorned only with the Iron Horde's customary burnished gear-and-anvil, Elio's was properly suited for his position among his people, although significalty trimmed down for the demands placed upon expditionary work. A short cape edged with tightly-braided tassels stretched across his shoulders and across the top of the suit's flight pack, while stellar charts were engraved around his visor and cuffs. Most of the panoply had been left behind however, replaced instead by a profusion of the equipment required to take care of the more physical requirements of the crew. [color=dimgray]"Gracious Uzay, vast and infinite We give our thanks to you for reopening the passage of our ancestors We give our thanks to you that we have passed safely through your embrace, as our ancestors once did We give thanks to the great spirit of this body - Ceres, that we may walk upon it and share its bounty We petition the spirit so that we may walk safely where our ancestors once dwelt And though we leave behind the light of great Sol, we know that its burning soul will protect and warm our spirits, as it did for our ancestors And we may learn of their triumphs and sorrows, to carry them in our hearts."[/color] "Feels strange without the usual accompaniment," one of the engineers commented after the moment had passed. "If you'd like me to leave behind some of the medical equipment and the spare suit patches so I can bring my drum, I can make sure they're the ones marked for you Nikita." The smirk was [i]audible[/i] in Elio's voice, even if the polarising lens stopped anyone from seeing it on his face. "No further comment, shaman," came the response, along with a smattering of chuckles from the rest of the crew. The rover finally rumbled to a stop, nearly toppling the spiritualist over if not for his arm shooting out last minute to grab onto a handle, and the driver's voice rumbled out across their helmet frequencies. "We're less than a hundred meters away from what the scans suggested was the main entranceway to Ceres Base. Cutting the air supply to your suits in T-60, so make sure you're running on your own air. Conditions are as good as they get around here. Little bit of snow being kicked up, but nothing bad enough to compromise visibility. We'll stay here as coordination and to relay communications." "Our thanks to you and your vehicle Ailin. You serve our clan with pride." The last few words were drowned out by a chorus of hisses as the crew detached themselves from breathing pipe, their suits now running off their own internal air supply. Taking the lead, Enkh gave the lever for the disembarking lock a firm pull, and then stepped out, the tether on the rear of her suit quickly picked up and locked to the front of Elio's suit, the shaman giving it a quick tug to make sure there was enough slack. The procedure was repeated all the way down the line until they had assembled out on the planet's surface, a vast metal gateway, easily big enough for a vehicle three times the size of the small Jol-Tor they'd arrived in to pass through stood before them, ajar just enough for humans to comfortably fit through. "Showtime." [center][hider=TL;DR] The Khaganate's Iron Horde makes planetfall onto Ceres in Sol's inner asteroid belt. After establishing a base camp, they send their first expeditions out towards the remnants of Ceres Base to explore what's left within. [color=chocolate]Ceres is now open for basic resupply![/color][/hider][/center]