Enigmatik

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

The Great Capital Requires No Walls

Two Khans meet one another to decide the future of New Gift
Featuring Khan Khublai and Orda Khan-Khuu
Credit to @SgtEasy and Enigmatik.

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Great Ulaanbaatar

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One might question the bareness of the expansive city, nary a wall seen by observers from the sky. Nothing stood taller than two stories outside the fortress-complex of the Khan. Its dull, monochromatic architecture of beige-brick, solar-panelled squat buildings and featureless plazas were not designed by any creative simian. Metal carts wheeled by merchants from all over the Khanate were the only source of life and noise here, selling wares and textiles coming from every corner of the planet. Aside from these great market-squares, the capital seems barren, a messenger ape here, a guard patrol there. It was a quiet city, one of the few permanent structures in New Gift outside of the monasteries.

And indeed, as gilded eyes gazed across barren concrete, short buildings and vast yet empty streets, Orda Khan-Khuu was very much in the questioning mindset. He, unlike Ögedei, knew the Steppe. He had crushed the Confederacy, shattered the skies of rebelling city-states, razed tribal settlements to the ground. He had walked along Aurag’s thoroughfares, where the skyscrapers shone with colour from apartment blocks and vertical farms, and seen the thousands of faces staring down at a procession centered around the regal might of the Soyulani.

Its residents were equally as strange. Scarred, all of them, born from years of service to the Legion. Armed at all times, quiet and reserved, dressed in sand-coloured fatigues with all the individuality of a rock. They had keen eyes and twitching fingers, seemingly aware of all threats at all times of day. This was a city that never slept but for different reasons.

There were no children here, no laughter echoing between the streets. The joy seemed to have been sucked out of the entire capital. There was nothing else but soldiery and cannon, veterans and batteries, killers and blades. Every intersection is a killzone, every street visible from the high towers of the Khan’s home, a marksman’s dream city. Landships, herculean things of metal and guns, were parked all around the city, the too-wide streets making perfect paths for them to trundle upon.

To the skies pointed cannon and missiles, countless artillery emplacements dotted around the city. Both voidborne and atmospheric drones stood idle both inside and outside the city proper, in airfields kilometers long or landships that acted as drone carriers. Anything without clearance would be shot down or captured without warning.

Great Ulaanbaatar required no walls. Its residents and maze-like architecture were enough to resist the toughest of armies.

It was not a city. It was a hundred kilometer wide fortress and in the middle, stood the only thing worth of note across this featureless, barren place.

The Khan’s halls.

An ancient looking, Mongolic-Chinese castle raised upon a hill in the centre of the city. Resplendent in jade and studded with jewels of all sorts, painted in red and gold, banners of the Khanate flying in the sharp winds of the steppes. A golden horse in a sea of red. A testament to the war that raised the Khan from a mere ape to the greatest power in this land.

It all felt a tad ridiculous. Orda paused for a moment to examine the structure - its parapets and towers, its glittering walls and the banners snapping in the breeze. He snorted but said nothing, instead merely picking up the pace to catch up with Galilei, his followers hurrying to catch up with their liege.

Passing through a labyrinth of guard checkpoints, gardens and menageries, guest houses and armouries, a sea of eyes watching your every step, any incoming guests would then stand in front of the gate to the Khan’s inner sanctum. A domed building, thick concrete and reinforced steel obvious to all, cannons jutting out in regular intervals, a pair of Legion watchmen standing resolute in front of the thick steel gate. Watchmen who, in perfect synchrony, smashed through the silence of the city with bellowing voices.

“WHO STANDS BEFORE THE KHAN? WHO DARES TO SET FOOT IN HIS INNER SANCTUM?”

President Galilei, shifting his eyes to the smirking ever-confident Orda next to him, shuffled to the front of the humans he was escorting. A drip of sweat fell from his forehead, smudging some of the powder on his face. He would later blame the midday sun beating down on him and not the myriad guns directly pointed at his person. He bowed, as is proper, voice filled with confidence and poise he could not claim to be true.

“It is I, President Galilei of the Freemen, escorting envoys of the White Horde of the Khaganate led by Orda Khan-”

“AND WHO IS ORDA, WHO CLAIMS TO BE KHAN? FOR THERE IS ONLY ONE KHAN UNDER THE RED SUN, ONLY ONE KHAN WHO CONQUERED ALL, ONLY ONE KHAN WHO STOOD VICTORIOUS IN THE WAR TO END ALL WARS, ONLY ONE KHAN WHOSE LINEAGE STRETCHES FIVE CENTURIES! WHO IS THE PRETENDER, THE HUMAN, SUBORDINATE TO ANOTHER, WHO FINDS HIMSELF ON THE KHAN’S DOORSTEP, CLAIMING TO BE KHAN?”

Galilei shuffled awkwardly in his cotton clothes, bringing a paw to his collar to relieve the tightness he felt. What response will Orda give to the bellowing guards, a pair of gorillas that stood taller than any he had ever seen, challenging the human who dared to call himself Khan.

He beckoned him forward.

The Khan-Khuu of the White Horde stepped forward, adorned in a white deel that practically hurt to look at, so unnecessarily bright was it. Spreading his arms wide, long sleeves dramatically swinging to and fro, he offered the barest incline to both his head and waist - a bow with absolutely zero respect behind it. He rose back up to his full height, puffing his lips out to show a flash of pure white teeth… But did not say anything in response.

Instead, a steward who looked legitimately terrified at everything that he had seen so far, nervously unravelled the customary synth-silk scroll and, after one or two coughing false starts (which earned him dagger-like glares from his liege), began to speak.

“HAIL, AND ALL RESPECT TO YOU, WHO SERVE THE KHAN OF NEW GIFT, WHO HAS GENEROUSLY ACCEPTED PARLEY WITH HIS MOST TERRIBLE MAJESTY ORDA KHAN-KHUU, ELDEST SON OF THE LATE KHAGAN TEMÜJIN, THIRD OF HIS NAME, LEADER OF THE WHITE HORDE, SOVEREIGN OF KUARA, CRUSHER OF THE CONFEDERACY OF ITÜGEN, BREAKER OF THOSE WHO FORSWEAR OATHS, SKY-SHATTERER, LORD OF FIRE AND STEEL, SABER OF TENGRI, THE UNVANQUISHED.” He finally let out a small breath, face having turned somewhat pale at having to bellow out the full introduction.

“AS A SIGN OF GOOD WILL, HIS MAJESTY OFFERS YOU GIFTS FROM THE SYSTEM OF TENGRI, FROM THE WHITE HORDE, AND FROM THE KHAN’S OWN BAATAR OGTUR.” Letting the scroll roll itself back up, he took a half-step back and bowed deeply towards first Orda and then the Khan himself, before the various baser servants that had accompanied the group moved forward.

A dizzying variety was on display here. A wooden bowl, intricately carved with galloping horses, filled with dark, glinting bismuth chits. An engraved platinum jug that softly sloshed as it was brought forward, a bolt of synth-silk that even now couldn’t decide on a single colour, shifting and changing with every step, every change in the light that struck it. A traditional saber, handle embedded with diamonds and wrought in gold, the imperial Soyombo itself stamped into the metal just above the hilt.

“THESE ARE BUT THE CHOICEST OF GIFTS, HAND-PICKED BY HIS MAJESTY ORDA HIMSELF, SO THAT THE KHAN MAY SEE THE WEALTH OF TENGRI. MORE AWAITS IN ORBIT, SHOULD THE KHAN ACCEPT THESE.”

Silence followed, broken only by attendants who took the gifts with gentle paws, repeated thanks uttered under their breaths. Their questions unanswered, the two watchmen glanced at each other before breaking out in equally flashing grins. As one, they shouted to the heavens, voice projecting across the entirety of the Khan’s halls, the very ground reverberating from the impossibly loud volumes they projected. Enhanced lungs and larynxes no doubt.

“INDEED HIS MAJESTY ORDA KHAN IS VERY GENEROUS! OPEN THE GATES AND ALL WHO ARE NOT CHOSEN TO BE, NOT DESTINED TO BE, NOT DIVINED TO BE KHAN MUST GROVEL BEFORE HIS FEET OR BE CUT DOWN.”

The gates rumbled, shaking the dust which accumulated on its centuries-old facade and opened to the party in front of them. Galilei motioned at the Khaganate party to come to all-fours, skipping over Orda who seemed to stand with everlasting smugness. He proceeded to rest on his own knuckles, head bowed in deference as he began the slow crawl into the room in front of them.

What greeted them was a dark, circular hall bathed in the red light of the sun, its rays shining through the kaleidoscope glass in its ceiling. An array of large-bore cannon pointed to the party on the walls, statues - no, impossibly large gorilla guards standing resolutely near these cannons, heads taller than the watchmen outside. The President openly gawked at these giants, standing larger than the elephants of his own menageries. As the gleaming red eyes of their visors landed on him, he quickly shifted his gaze to the jade path in front of him.

A murmur from the Tengri delegation followed, Orda’s poor steward going an even paler shade of off-white as his eyes darted between the figures. Orda, for his part, said nothing, even as he tried to take in the size of these behemoths practically.

Golden-inlaid wooden pillars held the roof above, no doubt supported by reinforced steel and other composites. The walls were engraved with gold and jade carvings of numerous tales, centuries old stories from the War to End All Wars, brutal scenes of violence proudly displayed. Surrounding a circular raising in the centre were dozens of kneeling dignitaries and attendants dressed in a myriad of formal costumes. They all had their heads bowed, pointing their gazes to the ground despite the foreign party entering the inner sanctum.

In the centre was a veil of silk and thinly weaved gold, displaying a translucent image of the Khanate’s banner. Behind it was the Khan’s silhouette, a seemingly ordinary orangutan whose own form was masked by the throne. The seat of the Khan extended to the ceiling, a visage of pure gold and myriad jewels, a gaudy, almost offensive facade which rippled in the red light.

It was hardly befitting of a Khan, if Orda was being honest. This preening, this hiding in the shadows and behind veils, keeping oneself buried so deep inside a fortress that only the most able of sycophants could ever see your face… It was not the way of Tengri. It was not the way of the Steppe.

Galilei paused halfway to the throne, lifting his head from the jade path.

“Oh terrible, benevolent Khan, my dearest friend. I have come with guests.” He spared another glance at Orda who remained at the front of his entourage, the only being which dared to stand in this chamber. The red eyes in the dark, towering over them all, did not phase his confidence even as imaginary daggers followed his every step.

The Khan’s silhouette shifted behind the veil, giving the impression of one leaning forward in interest. With privilege given to only a few, Galilei kept his head up and met the gaze of his old partner. A Herald, its cybernetic implants clearly connected to the throne itself, made themself known as they sauntered to the front of the veil. The tube which connected itself to the throne reverberated and shone with a red light. The Khan-son began to speak in a lucid tone, eyes half-lidded, a dull smile on his face.

”Indeed, friend. You have come with interesting guests. Humans, not our own but those from the stars. Claiming to parley and treat with us yet threatening our lands and system all the same. Despite this, in my benevolence, I offer them the airag of my most precious mare.”

The Herald raised his paw and the sea of apes surrounding them shifted as one. One of the red-eyed monstrosities loped forward in heavy steps, each placement of their gargantuan feet accompanied by the very earth shaking as if in fear. In the dark red lighting of the room’s centre, the armoured gorilla-thing became clearer and clearer.

Impossibly large, bedecked in steel-facade armour of unknown style, of pistons and wires, appearing as if an automaton. Except an automaton did not have lungs; the thing’s breaths sounded like drums to Galilei’s ears. It looked gargantuan once it stood before the Khaganate party, red eyes glaring down at all who dared to be in his liege’s inner sanctum. Its muscular form was apparent even through the armour, its thick neck bare to the world, a gothic style STORMBACK, unreadable to Orda, tattooed across its throat.

The tray it held between two fingertips appeared comically small. Unbecoming of such a large beast, the thing gently handed the platter to the President’s awaiting paws before heading back to its place on the walls. The attending apes shifted back to their places, heads bowed the entire time.

On the platter were cups of white airag, alcoholic horse milk, which Galilei distributed to all of the Khaganate humans with haste, beckoning them to stand. For more than a few, especially the shaking steward from before, the ape had to pull them to their feet to take hold of their drink. He gave the final cup to Orda who remained staring at the veil in front of them.

Once he was done, the Herald shook violently in ecstasy, the dull smile spreading across his face to become a full on grin.

”Take a drink humans, and announce your proposals.”

The silhouette raised his own cup in greetings before downing the entire drink in one audible gulp, exaggeratingly slamming the finished cup on the throne’s armrests. The sound echoed in the chamber as, with a final clang, the gate shut behind them.

Orda raised up his own cup of airag, and with a respectful nod towards the silhouetted figure, brought it to his lips, tossing back the whole cup’s content in one go. It was… Thicker, and less creamy than the Khaganate’s own arkhi, with a smooth, mild tang of alcohol that gave a limited but still pleasant warmth as it rolled down. Not bad.

“In return, Khan of New Gift, I hope that you will in turn accept a gift of my own clan’s arkhi, churned to exacting specifications aboard the Batuur Ogtur.” He gestured across to the ape that had taken the platinum mug from his own courtiers, holding out the cup he had just drained for it to be filled.

“Should we drink together, then we can begin.”

The atmosphere tensed, like a muscle straining and ready to release all of its kinetic energy. Galilei stilled and turned, grey eyes burning wildly with incredulity.

“You fool, no mortal has ever seen the Khan since his ascension, let alone drink with him-!”

”Drop the veil.”

It was instantaneous with the shift of obscuring silk falling to the ground. Paws were lifted from the ground and covered unworthy eyes, every sycophant in attendance taking any opportunity possible to not gaze at the Khan. The wall mounted cannons shifted to the crowds, promising to turn any foolish enough to shift their eyes to the Khan into a red paste. As one, the sentinels about-turned with an echoing thump. Even Galilei dropped to the ground, prostrating himself with the unveiling of his liege.

The courtiers surrounding Orda did the same. Prostration before the Great Khagan had waxed and waned as a practice, but all were familiar with the concept. By the time the sentinels had turned, the only person still left standing in the room was Orda, who had planted himself firmly, but not aggressively to his place.

The first thing of notice, and it was hard to ignore, was the sheer magnanimity of the throne. It was just as gaudy and obtuse as it seemed behind the veil, the cushions which made the seat were made of red cloth embroidered with gold and jade. Only the Herald remained standing, still writhing in forced ecstasy, the cylindrical tube revealed to be connected to some contraption to the back of the throne. Every inch was covered in the same gold as the spires which nearly touched the ceiling, rippling in that strange pattern caused by the red sun.

The next feature of note was the extension of four golden pillars out of each side of the throne. Twenty four black-robed and fully hooded smaller primates, the same species as Galilei, came out of the shadows to grasp the pillars, two pairs of hands on each extended pillar. With an audible synchronous grunt, they raised the throne off the ground, turning it into an open palanquin.

Finally, as the throne moved closer, the Khan was revealed.

In the shadows cast by his throne, the Khan appeared as ordinary as his subjects. His rust-coloured fur was braided and adorned with various precious jewels. The silks which were draped over his body were the same fierce red and gold as his palace, rippling in the light just like his throne. He was sitting among the myriad cushions, long arms hanging off his armrests. The attendants to the palanquin had an inky void which filled their eye sockets, ones as black as their robes. But as the palanquin and Herald approached, other features became clear.

He was missing a jaw. And he was missing so much more than that. The loped features of an orangutan faced Orda with a twinkle in his dark brown eyes, his inner mouth and oesophagus exposed to the elements by a grotesque injury. Breaths came out as wheezes, a keen whistling sound with each exhalation. Disfigurations covered the Khan’s face, a brow missing here, an ear bitten there. An exposed partially furry chest revealed burns, surgical scars and injuries of a foregone time. So injured was he that one could be forgiven for missing that his left arm ended in a stump and that one of his forelegs was missing from his torso.

As the palanquin came to a halt to Orda’s opposite, the Khan’s upper gums lifted to reveal his remaining teeth, the same audacious gold as the rest of his person. The Herald came between the throne and Khan-Khuu, ecstasy and joy ever present in his mannerisms.

”Greetings humans-not-of-our-own. I am Khublai the Scarred, second son to Möngke the Builder, Khan of New Gift, Caretaker of Humanity, Survivor of a Thousand Assassins, Warrior of a Thousand Battles, the Immortal Son. Let us drink.”

Orda’s stance had shifted as the palanquin rumbled towards him, the Khan-Khuu’s eyes seeming to miss nothing as they scanned the throne, the blinded servants, the joyous Herald… And the war-mauled Khan himself. Emotion flickered past his face - first surprise, then curiosity, and then lastly the orichalcum hardened and respect settled across his features.

The Herald shuffled forward, stepping around the prostrating Galilei and retrieved the awaiting cup. He took a sip out as he shuffled backwards to Khublai, sending a mischievous grin to Orda that betrayed the thing’s own self-determination behind half-lidded eyes.

Khublai’s right paw extended to retrieve the cup from his son, raising it to the sky like Orda and tipped the entire thing into his ever-open maw. With obvious years of practice, not a single dribble landed on his clothing despite the lack of a lower lip.

Orda raised a hand, clenched it into a fist, then set it down heavily over his heart, the thump loud enough to be notable in the dead silence of the room. He nudged his own steward with a foot and the man awkwardly shuffled up to his feet, turning around so that he didn’t look upon Khublai’s form.

“The Terrible Orda Khan-Khuu offers deep respect to you, Warrior-King of New Gift, Who Wears His Scars With Honour.” Orda quaffed his arkhi smoothly and set it back down on the proffered tray.

The Khan did not reply immediately, merely staring at Orda with that same twinkle, gums revealing once more in that facsimile of a smile.

”I hear you can offer us much Khan-Khuu and we can offer as much, if not more, in return. But before we draft an agreement between our two peoples, I must share my own curiosity. Who are you, my friends, fellow kin of the old Mongols, the first beholders of the Khan?”

Although he still did not bow, Orda did seem to be treating the meeting more seriously now, nodding slowly at the Khan’s words.

The steward coughed at the beginning of his reply, much to the annoyance of his better.

“We are those who have survived the Cataclysm of Sol, the descendents of the great Chinggis Khagan, who united all of Tengri System to end the Days of Cold and Hunger. We have relit the fires of stars, rebuilt that which was lost for centuries, who now ply the stars like the steppes of old.” Orda began to rumble out his own additions.

<When I first arrived to this system,> he mused in Tengri-Mongol. <I could not expect that such a people as these, who have lost sight of the stars and the ways of our ancestors, would be led by one truly deserving of the title of Khan. I see now that I have underestimated them. This Khublai is worthy of his name.> He reached up to stroke at his beard.

<Tell Khan Khublai what the White Horde has already done, and how we may come to profit from it.> The steward offered a deep bow.

“Your Majesty Khublai Khan. Orda Khan-Khuu recognises your strength and surety. He did not expect such a formidable ruler from those who do not reach into space, but recognises that you are a true and noble Khan, and so shares with you what his White Horde have carried out, far above our heads, in Uzay’s embrace.” The steward paused for a moment, took a shaky breath, and then pressed on.

“Even as we speak, the Horde has begun the most crucial steps of establishing infrastructure and presence. Representatives of the stalwart and industrious Iron Horde have moved to uninhabited bodies and are setting up örtöö, vital outposts to extract and produce the finished goods required to maintain vessels. Our aerostats and atmo-divers have begun to skim for Helium-3, the fuel that thrums through the veins of our kinships and chiefships. Soon, I am assured, the forges and foundries will be lit, so that we may begin truly independent production in Uzay’s embrace.”

The Khan nodded once, contrasting the enthusiastic seizure-like agreement done by the Herald. Once the spasming had subsided into mere dancing, the Khan-son spoke in a calm manner that bore no resemblance to the body’s state of being.

”Indeed, the Khaganate is piercing into space much like the Khanate had spread over New Gift in its early days. A part of our system’s resources will be lent to you and yours for your trip across the stars. In return, some of my aides and a portion of our Legionnaires will provide bodily escort in your vessels stationed in our system, for protection and learning. I assure you that our Legionnaires are not as inconveniently large as the guards around us.”

The Khan’s stump gestured to the wall’s sentinels, letting out a wheeze that could be interpreted as a laugh. Or a man’s last breath. The Herald cackled and writhed in humour, arms bending in biologically impossible ways as he swivelled his torso back and forth.

<The idea of seeing his apes in space is amusing…> Ogedai’s eyes twinkled with faint mirth, but he offered only a half-hearted glance down towards the Heralds.

”Furthermore-” The Herald continued, ignoring its arrhythmic movements ”-we ask our cousins to contribute to our nascent space industry so that we too can trip across the stars alongside you. A trade of resources for ships and the knowledge to build them. This is sure to take you and your Khagan’s fancy, as if your Khaganate is as hungry as our early Khanate, you have yet to fulfill the hunger pangs in your stomachs. Speaking of which.”

<Hmph. Expected.> Orda nodded a few times. <No matter, we will have the advantage even if these strange figures from New Gift do rise above the horizon. Acceptable.>

As if on cue, a side-gate into the inner sanctum opened with a sudden clang, causing many to jolt in surprise. Neither Khan moved an inch.

A great hulking beast was led into the inner sanctum by rope handled by a pair of similarly blinded attendants. Grey leathery skin, fatty yet strong in appearance, as tall as the sentinels near the walls, two ivory tusks and between these a massive trunk holding a tree-sized bat. Its age showed in its eyes, an unnatural cerulean peering at everything in the room. The beast was decorated in gold-adorned armour plating, a sort-of platform sat atop its back festooned with a pair of large man-sized cannons.

Orda’s eyebrows slowly, yet distinctly raised at the sight of the creature. What… Was it? A war machine obviously - one fit for a Khan indeed with those weapons and its… Tacky, but regal armour.

The beast parted the sea of attendants and came to the side of the two Khans, bowing and fluttering its over-sized ears. If one peeked over the platform’s edges, gold and guns could be seen piled in an uncoordinated heap.

”I have arranged for a gift, one you can use to satiate your hunger or use as your own personal steed. You will find it just as fast as a horse but stronger than ten stallions. Tastier too, if you choose it to be a meal. Let it be known that the Khan of New Gift can bestow great gifts. Use it as you want, Khan-Khuu, a Loxodonta africana of your own. I invite you to ride out of my inner sanctum a richer and happier man, lest I be labelled a poor host.”

The beast rumbled and keened. The collar around its neck vibrated out a synthesised female voice in Tengri-Mongol.

<I live to serve my Khan-Khuu.>

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The Voice of the People Speaks to the Sol

The Qinglongren of the Accord make themselves known to the survivors of CoB Day.

Much had happened in the short time between the Voice of the People's arrival into Sol and its first fully compiled report back to Qinglong system... And a short time that they had already slipped behind in. Exploratory probes had confirmed that Khaganate vessels had already made groundfall on Ceres and begun industrial work, the 'Federal Khanate' had taken to Mars with alarming celerity, and although they had yet to decipher the language of the nation responsible, craft had already unmistakably wound their way down to Earth's surface. In comparison, representatives of the Machine had only taken a short trip down to the surface of Luna, and they hadn't even been the first to do so.

So it was that after several back-and-forth communication packets with the Executive Machine itself, the decision had been made that the current plan simply wasn't accounting for enough of these new and extremely erratic variables. The Voice of the People was recategorised beneath the Machine Line of External Affairs, and with the Shenjian's initial spear-fleet beaten back, more vessels could safely make their way to the Gateway. Chief among them were representatives from the Combine for Aerospace Industrial Development along with several engineering vessels with prefabricated habitat modules and their requisite crew, two Type 005s along with three Type 100s (although the Pillars of Avalon had proven to be reasonable fellows, there was no guarantee that others would be,) and a collection of research vessels, armed with everything they'd need to re-chart humanity's lost home system.

While the AID vessels had made their way to Mars and the research vessels began their long, slow burns out and towards the far system, the Voice of the People had received new instructions: To be the Accord's formal representative in Sol system until and unless an agreement was made with the Federal Khanate and Qinglong could contribute to the ongoing construction of the so-called 'Meeting Place' on Olympus Mons.

Part of that mission involved formally introducing themselves to those who had made the voyage back to Sol - an introduction that Cog-Captain Cao Zhong was empowered to provide. With the ship's translator NBI working around the clock to decipher all the new languages they had observed, the message would go out in as many languages as they could possibly manage.

"Cordial greetings to all who have returned to Sol system after our centuries of isolation on behalf of the Qinglong Accord and the Executive Machine. I am Cog-Captain Cao Zhong, responsible for the IPC Voice of the People, currently orbiting Luna, the formal representative vehicle of our harmonious nation. We would be greatly pleased to make formal contact with all who speak with truth and honesty, to bridge the gap of time and space. Please do not hesitate to make contact with us - we are well-furnished to handle emergencies and looking forward to making many acquaintances."

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

Interlude: Downshifting the Gears

Ye Ai enjoys some well-deserved R&R with her partner.

The Spring Festival was in full swing now - the fireworks were only a few days away, and the streets of Xiwang were alive with preparations and decorations. Paper lanterns lined the exterior of the maglev station, a few excitable figures were already dressed in red and there was a sense of electricity in the air that only began to swirl at this specific time of year. Arrival Day might speak to the cog inside every Qinglongren, but the Spring Festival spoke to the child instead. There was just something special about getting to see parades of dragon dancers lit up and breathing fire.

With a self-conscious brush of her hair and a small smack of her lips, Ye Ai stepped out of the station and craned her head eyes searching for the woman that she was here to meet. Even on the outskirts of Xiwang the crowds were still dense, still fast moving, and still blocking her vision. She bit her lip without realising, then reluctantly sent a ping out. [Chao? Where are you love?]

Message received...
Message received...

Butterflies started to rise up in her stomach. Had she gotten something wrong? Had she misunderstood the date, or the time, or th-

"Boo!" A sharp voice from directly behind her.

"MACHINE!" Practically leaping up, Ai whirled around, only to see the wonderful, bubbly, beautiful face of He "Chao~!" Ai's tone was half-petulant, half-teasing as she reached out, their hands meeting and squeezing tightly around each other before they came in for a quick embrace. "That was mean you know. I was worried!"

"You're always worried. Come on, it shouldn't take us very long at all and I'm excited! I don't know about you, but I haven't been to a zoo since I was undertaking my First Merit." Nodding towards a bank of electric bikes, the pair would go through the usual dance of retrieving and donning all the protective gear, each item's retrieval marked with a faint digital ping as the NCM responsible for managing the kiosk registered them being checked out.

"So... How were the Dizzy Days?" It was the obvious thing to start with - nice, easy, simple small talk as the pair got on their bikes and kicked off, the pair able to cycle side-by-side along the boulevard's broad cycle lane. The answer though... Well, the answer was utterly predictable.

"Only two-years call it ‘dizzy days,’ love. I'm not talking about recal right now. You know it sucks, I know it sucks, everyone knows it sucks. I'm happy to serve, but I will never be happy about recal." A slight sense of weariness came over Chao, as if the mere idea of continuing this train of thought was already bringing the vertigo back. "I don't want to think about service right now Ai. I've got six months before I'm brushing the barrel again and I want to spend as much time as possible just enjoying things."

"But this is the last one, right?" Ai's eyes were big and bright and wide, almost pleading, even if this wasn't the first time they'd discussed it.

"It'll be the last time," Chao nodded sincerely. "Five years is more than long enough for one person to hold the shield. I've already been put in touch with a shooting society based out of a zhongxin not too far from your apartment - they don't need a new trainer right now, but it's still going to be two years until I'm out, so."

Ai let out a slow breath that she hadn't realised she was holding in. "Good. Good. I'm glad. You're moving in, right?"

A soft laugh from the cog-officer. "Of course I am! The only reason I'm not permanently in your apartment is because I'm still technically based out of Datong. Last permanent address and all that. Now, since we've only been talking about me, how's work been treating you?"

"Climbing mountains, fording rivers - the Gateway has led to a huge shakeup. It's not been announced yet, but... Well, it's not classified so I suppose it's ok to tell you. They're forming a new Line for External Affairs. I'm now a full time aide to an Executive-Optimiser, really nice guy actually, and he's supposed to be heading up the whole Line so..."

"Woah! That's huge love! You're only saying this to me now?" The excitement was obvious in Chao's voice.

"Well... I mean... It's not like I've just come back from the fortress..." Ai's defence was weak at best.

"Almost every person has come back from the front Ai, but not many people get put into a brand new Machine Line under an Executive-Optimiser. You should be proud, that's a meritorious moment!" Before the conversation could continue any further though, they had arrived. Xiwang's Zoo of Harmonious Restoration - part public park, part cutting-edge genetics research facility, and one excellent day out if you were so inclined. It dominated the entire block it was in, stretching out across a massive footprint to account for the wide variety of different species. As the pair dismounted and checked their kit back in where it belonged, Ai had just one question:

"So, where do you want to go first?"

"Anywhere but the mammoth exhibit. By the Machine anything but more mammoths."

---

Interlude: She Was A Day Tripper

The oracle takes some time to dodge any and all responsibilities.
Featuring: Zenith Shamanka

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Zenith?" The young initiate shaman had tied the straps of a bunk around their waist to keep them tethered down and had been mostly successful. Meanwhile, across the cramped room, feet on the ceiling but still meeting him eye-to-eye, the young oracle was busy fiddling with one of the long beaded segments that had been attached to her panoply.

"Look, Comet, I'm an oracle now. That means that I have permission to use ritual substances and to guide others through their use." A small smirk had spread across Zenith's face, the coiled section springing back out and flying about in the microgravity of the room.

"Yeah, but what you're suggesting isn't like... Ritual. At all." The shaman frowned a little.

"Yeah, but they're not going to know that, are they? You're worrying too much, c'mon, don't you want to try? If it comes to it the High Shamanka might get all huffy at me, but what, is some regular dweller going to stop an oracle from using the viewing area?"

"And what are you going to say if they ask you for a revelation once you're done? People believe in you Zenith." Comet sighed and leaned back.

"And I believe in me, but that doesn't mean that every single thing I do has to be dedicated to Uzay. One is meant to walk their own path of understanding, aren't they?" She pushed herself off from the ceiling with a foot and spun in mid-air with a clatter, steadying herself on the bedframe before levering herself down to her knees in front of Comet.

"Look, I'm gonna do it. I'm tired of everything I do being for the benefit of the Khural. I want to experience things Comet. If you don't want to, that's fine by me, but I thought we were getting along! C'moooon, my cousins would have done it..."

The initiate sighed. "Alright, alright, but I maintain for the record that this is a terrible idea." He slowly undid the makeshift seatbelt and pushed himself out of the cubby, Zenith reaching out to grab his wrists and practically haul Comet to his feet. While the initiate went through the process of actually locking up, Zenith sped ahead, making it to the end of the hallway before he'd even had a chance to kick off. By the time she was impatiently tapping elongated fingers against one of the vertical bulkheads that compartmentalised the ship.

"The steed that gallops first may still lose the race," Comet remarked as he caught up, but Zenith cut him off almost as fast.

"Right, we both could have waited for you to lock the door and then for the bulkhead to open. This is just smart delegation."

Comet squinted a little, before simply giggling. "Alright, fine, fair enough."

"You fully on board then?" Zenith raised an eyebrow as she levered herself up and forward, the pair zipping down past the ladder, parting like fish in a school to let a crewmember come shooting past in the opposite direction.

"Yeah, screw it. What's the point of being friends with an oracle if you can't study under them, eh?"

"Exactly!" She jabbed a finger out in approval, before immediately having to drag her fingers against the freezing steel interior to slow herself back down, finishing the move by grabbing onto a handhold, swinging herself back and out of the way as they reached another junction.

When the group of dwellers had passed them by, Zenith swung herself around the edge of the corridor, practically throwing herself back into motion, only an inch away from the ceiling of the thoroughfare. The viewing area was located right at the back of this particular chiefship, the two shamans bracing their arms out to cushion the impact against the doorframe and bring themselves to a stop.

"Khagan's moustache you really don't slow down huh? Feeling a bit manic today, are we?" Comet raised an eyebrow as the pair floated before the entryway.

"Don't even start, I've been playing the role of 'polite and quiet oracle' for weeks at this point, no shit I'm gonna want to move when I can. Anyway, shh!" She waved a hand about to try emphasise the point. "Act natural," Zenith managed in the most composed tone she could, before glancing across to Comet and nearly bursting out into laughter despite herself. "We're just here to do what any shaman can, yeah?"

"I'll keep my mouth shut, oracle," the initiate managed to deadpan.

Zenith swung the door open smoothly and levered herself through it, nodding to the bored-looking house guard tasked with keeping an eye on the viewing platform. He looked near-asleep actually, feet hooked into a pair of straps his short spear wedged against the wall to stop it from floating off. With a start, he pushed himself off from against the wall, shaking his head a little as if to clear a fog.

"Oracle, Shaman." He inclined his head to each one in turn. "You've come at a good time - the viewing room should be available for the next few hours.

"I-" Zenith crushed the giggle that threatened to rise up in her throat. "I will be needing access to the dr-ritual cabinet." The barest incline of her head followed.

"Of course, oracle. I have been advised that we are under slight limitations in varie-"

"That will not be an issue." She was projecting an entirely unwarranted level of confidence given what she was trying to pull off, but it didn't even remotely seem to register with the house guard. Instead, he simply nodded again, then unwound a small key from around his neck and inserted it into a shuttered locker in the entryway, the whole thing rolling up with a whisper-quiet rattle.

Zenith's hands found what she was looking for near-immediately - a soft, brown-green brick wrapped in a thin sheet of plastic that squidged and shifted under her fingers. "My thanks to you. Please, ensure that none disturb us while we meditate."

"Of course, oracle." The guard offered a gentle bow before punching in a code on the keypad that led to the viewing room, leaving the pair of shamans to scootch their way inside. There was a long moment of awkward silence as the door slid shut again, before the oracle finally gave up the act, actually managing a cackle at having gotten away with it.

"Alright, alright. We're good, we're good." Another small giggle slipped free as she moved across to the vaporiser, pulling the cover off the brick of hashish before setting it inside and shutting its door. It sealed itself with a clunk, and all that was left to do was to turn the dial to activate the heating element and hit the button to roll up the shutters, Sol system revealing itself to the pair right as the first whisps of white smoke began to emerge from the vents connected to the vaporiser, a heavy, earthy smell seeping out and into the viewing room.

"So, this was what our ancestors saw, huh? When they left Earth?" Comet pushed forward until he was pressed against the reinforced glass, breath causing it to fog up a little. Before them unfurled the vast, unobstructed breadth of the universe - countless bright, steady pinpricks of starlight, the pale, sweeping river that was the Milky Way and the steady glow of planets.

"Woah..." Zenith's eyes widened a little and she took a sharp in-breath, before near-immediately spluttering as the vapour worked its way past her lungs.

"Uzay's fire please tell me this isn't the first time you've done this..." Comet turned, the look on the oracle's face saying absolutely everything he needed to know. "Oh boy alright..."

"What? Come on, c'mere." Zenith reached a hand out and, after a brief moment of consideration, the initiate took it, warmth pressing against warmth.

For a long time the pair would simply float there, suspended amidst the stars, bloodshot eyes soaking in Uzay's majesty.

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

One Small Step into a Giant's Bootprint

The Accord have an unusual encounter with the Khaganate on Luna's surface.
Featuring Cog-Ace Guan Liang and Zenith Shamanka

Although they were idle, Liang had not been left out of the loop, a fact they had anticipated, but appreciated nontheless. Briefing after briefing, update after update- one of the Coordinator-Cogs had even set up a dedicated implant feed featuring scrolling marquees of the latest developments - they all coalesced together into a single vivid tapestry. Sol was abuzz with different vessels.

Fleets of them, in fact, of a variety of shapes, sized and suspected roles that spanned the spectrum from dedicated warships to industrial behemoths and smaller, more intimate craft. Humanity had survived despite CoB Day and as life was wont to do, had diversified and specialised to fill every niche available to it... And now, with the Gateways open for everyone once more, hurried to see what had become of humanity's home.

A shame that all that was left on Sol was sorrow. They had seen Earth with their own eyes - stared out of a porthole at the 'pale blue dot' they knew so much about academically, but never before beheld. At this distance it was hardly a dot, nor was it particularly blue either - if planets were plants, Earth had passed beyond wilted and long past the point of no return. They recalled the pictures from the creche - the continents that Qinyuan's transplanted wildlife once roamed.

Brown earth, off-colour clouds and what had first stood out to Liang - not a single artificial light. Even Wuhua had a few small pinpricks on its surface, but Earth- Earth was as dark as the void around it.

In truth, the veteran hadn't known how to react to the information. It was unquestionably a loss- Earth was the birthplace of humanity, the origin point for every single human in the Qinglong system, but with half a millennium separating them, what hold did it have over the old pilot?

Indeed, what hold did it have over the Accord? The Voice of the People had been dispatched to Sol after all, even though the Front despised the old Qinglong Megaconglomerate. Earth's rack and ruin was a dire warning of why the old systems did not and could not work. Rebuilding them in Qinglong, as they had tried time and time again were nothing more than attempting to revive a legacy of failure.

Even so, Liang had lingered by the porthole. As still as a statue they'd stood, watching the sun rise across Eurasia, eyes playing across a stormfront sweeping over the Atlantic and then, alarmingly, realising that the Americas were no longer connected together. It had coalesced into a maelstrom of thoughts they hadn't quite expected to still be vulnerable to in their ninth decade.

Perhaps part of it was that they hadn't been very busy these past few days. It was odd- unsettling, almost, for someone who had spent so much time keeping themselves active and busy, to now be thrust into a position of symbolic importance, disconnected from decision making but anticipating action all the while. In some ways, it felt like being a battlesuit pilot again - the days spent in transit, the long moments of pensive pause as they approached an uncertain fate... And just like when they'd been a battlesuit pilot, they were now called upon for a momentous moment. This time though, the only thing that would be shooting was a camera.

While the NCMs, the diplomats and the officers aboard all had their role in what was going on in Sol, from analysing vessels and planets to attempting to establish communications with these foreign ships or monitoring what had apparently been some alarming developments (they hadn't received the full picture, but there was apparently a notable presence above Ceres, of all places,) they'd yet to invite anyone aboard the Voice of the People, and there was no need to leave so many parts idle while the rest of the cogs span.

So, a plan had been drafted up. Earth's Moon, Luna, was both closer and easier to land on than the planet itself could ever be, and there was still plenty that could be done on the surface itself... Such as an expedition that to Liang was more public stunt than it was genuine exploration, but they weren't going to turn down the position they'd been offered on the away team, because they were going to the Sea of Tranquillity. The site where, if the old archives were correct, mankind had taken their first ever steps off the surface of Earth.

And a site which they had been beaten to the punch to it seemed. Three small shuttlecraft had touched down only an hour before their expedition was planned, emerging out from the chaotic tangle of smaller ships the diplomats had categorised as belonging to the Khaganate. If anything, that perhaps made it a more momentous event- clearly history's gravity didn't just draw in the Accord.

Despite the slight disappointment in the air though, the away team with Liang included, had gone through one last briefing. The team filtered out towards the airlock, clambered into their softsuits, then took their seats inside the VotP's spacefaring shuttles and strapped in. The presence of others had necessitated a marine contingent just in case, but if everything went amiably, they'd never even need to unclip their seatbelts.

Unlike leaving Qingyuan, the trip to Luna was smooth the entire way. There was no atmosphere, not even the growing tug of the surface pulling you down, the only inclination they'd arrived at all coming from the craft's engines slowly reducing their power to come down to a gentle landing.

---

It hadn't been so long ago that Zenith had just been another Shamanka in training - another teenage girl fasting and desperately memorising the chants and rituals of her people, waiting, anticipating for the moment she would step outside of an airlock and gain true insight into the world around her.

But ever since she had been reeled back in and hurried to her ship's small, cramped medical bay, everything had changed. One didn't simply witness Uzay peeling back the curtain and revealing something as all-encompassing, as revelatory, as once-in-a-millennia as the rebirth of the Gateway and then simply return to your small kinship.

Within a day of the opening, after his Imperial Majesty rumbled out his decrees and Khatun Cota rallied her fleets to join with those of Khulan, Zenith had been hurried about by her mentor, bandied between vessels and poked at and examined by shamans and priests of what felt like dozens of different groups. In her first eighteen years, never once had she stepped foot inside a chiefship, but the past two weeks had seen her shuffled between so many that she had genuinely forgotten all of their names almost as soon as they had been introduced to her.

She had told her revelation so many times to so many people that she had it down to an exact script at this point, and even when she'd been thrust before a Shamanic khural, surrounded by men and women decades her senior determined to poke as many holes in her story as they could find, her first reaction had been to stifle a sigh. Even when that was done - when she was deemed to be sincere and her experiences confirmed beyond reasonable doubt and she had been granted the panoply that most shamans only received after a decade of spiritual service... She'd gotten back to her berth, slammed the door shut and hurled herself across the room to slam into her bed, where she'd promptly shoved her face into her pillow and screamed.

The truth was she was just tired. She was tired, her legs hurt, she had had to sit through so many different talks and speeches and examinations and questionings that her brain just didn't want to deal with. She missed her mum, she missed her cousins in the kinship and to be completely honest, she missed Tengri system too.

There, she had known things. What it meant when Erleg was retrograde to Itügen (nothing good,) how the shifts in the Elbis field should be treated (without much reverence...) even the stars had been understandable - the comforting presence of the Great Khulgar, the bright glow of the Eye of Chinggis, the dim collection that made up the Sand-Snake.

Here in Sol, everything was different, and she was an idiot again. She didn't know the orbital patterns. She didn't know the constellations - in fact, she barely knew what half the stars were or if any of them were the same as those you could see in Tengri, and she certainly hadn't known how she should have interpreted the signs of Ceres as the Iron Horde made their way to the ancient home of the Belters.

For a while she had just... Floated there. Above her bed. Trying to silence the thoughts that never quite seemed to stop buzzing about. She spun herself about in the cramped berth, stared out the window at the system unfolding around her for all of about thirty seconds, then promptly lowered the flimsy blind back down and continued to slowly rotate.

A quiet knock came at the door. "Oracle Zenith?"

She barely refrained from screaming back WHAT at full volume, and instead settled for the much more restrained 'Yes?'

'A Khural is departing to Luna. Our sensors have found the structure we were looking for on its surface, and those of appropriate rank have been invited to participate. If you wish to join Oracle, please make your way to the shuttle bay soon."

"...Yeah. Ok."

---

The shuttle had touched down smoothly, and now a crowd of almost a dozen different figures, all in appropriate microgravity wear, all filtered out of the door. Zenith had expected jostling, maybe even some arguing, but instead it was like the Khural simply knew where their positions were, and where each one had meant to go, no discussion required. Somewhat glad to find that her initial instinct to take up the second-to-last position was correct, she had emerged out, boot crunching against the regolith, and then simply... Stared.

She wasn't sure what she had expected - she'd known they were coming here for something, but what was this? A crumpled, spindly thing, thermal foil ripped and punctured, a ladder leading to nowhere. Bootprints led away from it and across the lunar soil, towards a collection of flags that were near-pristine, albeit bleached white by centuries of sunlight. There was more here too - not just that one site, but a half-dozen other remnants cast about, their bootprints all leading to the same collection of now-meaningless flags.

And slightly away from the flags, framed in front of an ancient, disused hab had been constructed a semicircular structure, five podiums reaching up into the air, each one with a symbol stamped near their peaks. In the low gravity of Luna, she pushed herself off and forward - radio crackling with startled remarks from others in the Khural, but she pressed on despite them, even if the High Shamanka did not seem to like what she was doing.

Shouldn't have invited me then, she thought to herself as she approached the peculiar structure she'd first seen. She still had no clue what it could be, but 'crude' was definitely the word that came to mind as she examined it. Clearly, whoever had come here in this thing hadn't been very experienced with the concept of spaceflight. Carefully avoiding the bootprints that strode to and away from the lander itself, she spotted a small plaque on the ladder, and leaned in close, trying to make out what it said.

Four lines of text in a language she couldn't understand. Four... Scribbles? Three across one line, one underneath them... And then, at the top of the plaque, two pictograms that she didn't remotely have to guess at to understand, because all she had to do was lift her head up by a few inches to see them brought to life before her. Earth.

Something very small and very primitive within Zenith scrabbled up from the depths of her mind and grabbed her entire body like a giant's fist. She could feel the goosebumps spread across her skin, the pricks of tension as empty follicles tried to rise on the back of her neck, a squeeze in her gut and a tremble that stuck in her throat.

"ORACLE ZENITH, REPORT." The sudden, directed command knocked her out of the immediate shock, but didn't do anything to make her feel more at ease. She tried to speak - to give a proper response, as the request was owed, but found the only thing coming from her throat to be a faint squeak. Gulping a little, she turned around, then began to 'speak' with her hands.

<A place of great respect. I feel Uzay's presence on me.>

---

"Touching down in thirty seconds." The shuttle pilot's voice came through clear and bright across the softsuits, cutting across the quiet hubbub of conversation that had sprung up during the short trip from the Voice of the People. They were the first members of the Accord to walk on Luna's surface ever, the first bootprints the Executive Machine would ever leave on a body in Sol system. An honour, a duty and an experience like no other. Even Liang could feel a few twinges of excitement begin to run through them - a faint charge that crackled across their weathered features.

There was a soft, gentle thump and a long pause. "The Veined Jay has landed," the pilot quipped, then. "Suit air supplies disconnected. Mission timer has been started. Serve with harmony cogs, we will be returning in three hours."

A crackle of 'copy that' and 'confirmed,' in response as those inside the shuttle unclipped themselves and rose from their seats. They formed up, and then, one by one, took their steps out onto Luna's surface - mission lead first. Shuffling forward, Liang looked down, across the grey and blasted ground, then took their first step out, just next to mission lead's, boot sinking a little as it compressed the soil down.

One small step, they thought idly to themselves.

They formed up quickly, and even as the cameracog set up the tripod to take the first shots of the crew all assembled on the surface of the Moon, Liang was already raising a hand to point at the group rapidly approaching them. They bounded across the lunar surface, one, slighter figure clearly barely restraining themselves from pushing ahead of the pack. Casting a veteran's eye across the group, Liang was entirely thrown from their usual risk assessments and academic understanding of the systems, instead settling on a single question.

Just what where they wearing?

Not the suits themselves - those were bulky but perfectly functional looking, at least from this distance, but every single one of the figures that approached them was clad in what looked like the absolute worst possible choice for EVA clothing imaginable - capes fluttered with each step, tassels framed the edges of polarised faceplates, one of them was even wearing a robe around their figure by the Machine.

"Mission lead, your suggestion?" Liang turned to look at the lead cog.

"Hold position, they're still a few minutes out. Let's get the shots done first. After that, we'll shake hands with the locals and see what Earth has left behind. Marines on standby?"

"Confirmed, mission lead," came the response. Just like that, the group settled back into their positions, the cameracog hunched down over their device, taking photos for posterity. With the group getting closer and closer, they'd pick the tripod up and subtly reposition themselves off to the side - if there was going to be a handshake here of all places, it needed to be recorded.

The Khural paused, some twenty paces away from the strange group of foreigners that had emerged from a spectacularly shiny looking shuttle, and Zenith craned their head a little. They'd known there were others around Luna - it really wasn't hard to, what with the ships literally visible in orbit, but the sight of thrusters burning through the sky had startled even the High Shamanka a little. Still, if other pilgrims had come to this sacred sight, it wouldn't do for the Khaganate to just ignore them.

Even so... What were they meant to make of these strange figures? A dozen of them, in thin, smooth silver suits, an azure band around one arm, marked with... Well it looked a bit like the symbol of the Iron Horde, just without the anvil. They all looked so neat and proper, every suit the same, a sea of bug-like faceplates all sweeping across the assembled masses of the Khural.

"Small question," she muttered across the airwaves. "How are we meant to say hello?"

There were a few small, attempted replies, but it seemed like nobody, not even the High Shamanka, had actually thought about this key fact. Their comms were running internally (and it wasn't like they expected anyone else to speak Tengri-Mongol,) their sign language would likely be completely impenetrable and they certainly couldn't just start scrawling on Luna's surface... A few awkward glances were exchanged between the Shamans, and across from them, it seemed like the strangers were having a similar reaction.

So, Zenith did the only thing that she could think of that made a lick of sense, and gave a small, slightly self-conscious wave.

One of the figures waved back, the action clipped and controlled.

Zenith took a half-step forward, and without a moment's hesitation, the figure took a step forward in response. The two approached one another, one step at a time, until at last they were faceplate to faceplate, close enough that the oracle could reach out and touch the stranger. She hadn't actually planned for this point though, and the teenager was left wondering - bow? Was a bow appropriate in this instance? What abo-

The figure extended a single arm out towards her, hand outstretched. Without thinking, without even knowing why it felt like such an automatic response, she did the same thing, until with the scrunch of glove meeting glove, two branches of humanity, lost across the ages, shook hands.

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

Of Khans, Khagans and Khan-Khuus

Those who claim descent from the Mongols of old collide over New Gift.
Credit to @SgtEasy and Enigmatik.

---

Due to how close the Gateway was to New Gift, as close as two celestial objects can be with each other on different orbits, its twinkling light was still ever-present in the skies, both blue and black. Even now, it shone brightly, a reminder of the greatness of their predecessors, how wondrous they must have been to construct such a marvel of technology. A testament to humanity and the spirits left behind.

It was also a security risk of epic proportions.

They had fielded many a satellite, many an observatory pointed to the stars. They were there for science and communications, none were for protection. For war. There was enough war to go around on New Gift, enough for the Khans to focus inwardly rather than towards the cosmos. To keep the myriad city-states in line, to keep the peace on New Gift, to look out for Caesar’s remnants and to clear the jungles of his filth, it took up much of the administrative and military power of the Khanate. There were some concerns as always, brought up by many scientists and advisors, but it was always shelved to the back end of priorities. The Gateway had been closed for hundreds of years, why would it open out of the blue?

Yet they were wrong. So wrong. Like a cruel cosmic joke, the Gateway had opened when its orbit with New Gift was as close to each other as it could possibly be. It made the trip for the Terra Supremus much faster than it usually would be, having set off as soon as possible under the steady guiding hand of Admiral Sun-sin. They had fielded a small communication probe in the Gateway’s orbit as a just in case, an early warning system to whatever observatory/satellite was close enough to receive its signals first. They had expected the first warnings to be from the Terra Supremus itself, reporting back on what was out there in the cosmos.

Instead, it was a fleet. An ungodly number of ships of unknown make that rung alarm bells that still went off. The apes operating Neo-Hubble, the first waypoint of the early warnings, were scrambling. The Republic of Freemen city state, their benefactors, were sent into a frenzy of excitement and terror once they were awakened by the scientists manning the telescope. Messages were sent to the Khan, informing him of the presence of the armada that had come to New Gift’s doorstep. Messages were sent to the Legion, sending them into a state of high alert not seen since the War to End All Wars. Messages were sent to the various allied city-states that were closest to the Freemen, messages filled with speculation and warning, to prepare for negotiations with a foreign power, to prepare their dignitaries, to prepare for a potential war.

In contrast to the flurry of responses from Legion commanders and city-states both, the Khan’s response was succinct and to the point. ”The Freemen will be our first point of contact with these intruders.”

And so here he was, President Galilei, bedecked in pomp and splendour, powdered wig sat on top of his head, what once felt like a crown now a reminder of the responsibility weighing on him. Golden lapels and a flashy red cotton coat, dressed in an outfit reminiscent of the Europeans within the Age of Enlightenment. He stood among scientists, politicians of his party, local and Legion military advisors along with the local Khanate representative. They were congregated on the Freemen state’s tallest spire, the seat of his government and now, the first waypoint of communications with a foreign power. This was not how he imagined his first weeks of office was going to be like.

The young chimpanzee broke out of his musings when a technician popped from his hastily assembled monitor.

“President Galilei, we have connected a line of communications with the foreign ships.”

A mask of smooth confidence settled over the young ape’s features. He had climbed to this seat of responsibility. He had campaigned for months, climbed the political ladder for years, fought many a duel against those who would besmirch his honour. If not the Khan, there was no one else more suited for this moment than him. He would prove it, right here, right now. He shuffled his eye to the son of the Khan, representative of his benefactor. A small nod was given.

“Aye, technician. Open communications then, make sure to present my image and voice in as flattering a way as possible. A Freeman gentleman cannot meet with potential aliens without propriety and splendour, befitting a strapping ape like me.” Some small nervous chuckles broke out in the room at his self-flattery, but these fell silent as the tapping of the technician filled the air. And with a finality, the monitor buzzed. It was showtime.

“Unknown ships, this is President Montagne Bellevue Johannes Galilei of the Republic of Freemen city state, inheritor of mankind, a Pongo Pygmaeus Supremus, elected among the Freemen, beneficiary of the Khan. Who are you, such intrepid adventurers of the cosmos, who have shown themselves to the doorsteps of the Khan?”

Orda Khan had roared with laughter the first time he gazed out over this new system. How could he not? Almost nine hundred years after humanity had first stepped into space, and here stood a system, once strong enough to traverse the stars themselves, now without any of the hallmarks of civilised space. No mines churned at the surface of asteroids or planetoids, no tankers hauled ice and slough from remote stars to beating industrial centers. It was… Primitive.

Luckily, it turned out that they weren’t entirely savage, those who still lived in ‘New Gift.’ When his flagship received a hail, he settled himself into his bridge-throne and flashed a full set of pearly white teeth, expression settling into a self-assured sneer, his long, whisker-like moustache bristling as the monitor opened up and the translator hurried to make this messenger understood.

For a moment, as the connection established itself, the pair simply stared at each other. On one end, there was Orda Khan-Khuu, Lord of the White Horde, Breaker of those who forswore their oaths, crusher of the Confederacy of Itügen, Sky-Shatterer. A prime example of the imperial Soyulani, eyes aflame with an orichalcum glow, physique shaped and sculpted by genetics and effort, long synth-silk garments twisting and flowing about his form in a way that the eyes couldn’t help but slide off, back towards his face.

On the other hand, there was this ‘President,’ who was a monkey in a wig. A talking monkey in a wig, but a monkey in a wig nonetheless. For a moment, there was nothing but sheer, unadulterated surprise across Orda’s features, especially as the man’s words declared that they had arrived at the ‘doorstep of the Khan,’ and he did nothing but stare at the projection of Montagne Galilei before him.

Then, slowly, he rumbled out a response.

“You stand at the foot of the great Orda Khan, Sovereign in Tengri, ruled by none beyond its borders. We are the representatives of the Great and Mighty Khaganate, I am son eldest of his Imperial Majesty Genghis Temüjin Khagan III, I stand now on the bridge of the great flagship Baatar Ogtur and you speak to me of arriving at the Khan’s doorstep? If you have one as truly great and deserving of such a title, surely he should be who I talk with.”

It would take a moment for Galilei to respond, as shocked as he was. It took him a few seconds to register just what he was looking at. A figure, human and Mongolic looking, reminiscent of the traditions favoured by the Khan, rosegold eyes staring back with an audacious confidence. Pleasing to the eyes, if you were a human or a Humanist zealot. Or one of those fetishists he declined to think about at the moment. The visual confirmation that other humans had survived was shocking, to say the least.

None of this confusion was revealed on his powdered face, unlike some of his colleagues who were flapping their gums at the first human they have ever seen. Galilei stood stoic, as all Freemen gentlemen aimed to be, staring back at the “Khan” with all the confidence his years of politicking had granted him. He had been ordained to speak first and he was not going to be a face of weakness to this interloper.

Not to mention a mere human who obviously did not understand whose space he was occupying. The true Khan was, and is, mighty. Powerful and all-seeing. His lineage has proven time and again to be truly worthy of ruling over the supreme apes, this would brook no argument. Every Freeman hated a tyrant but even they must bow in deference to the greatness that ruled this planet. The title of “Khan” did not fall to whatever schmuck had decided to pick up a title on the way to the Mongolian cosplay store.

The entire intrusion smelt like an overripe banana ready to blow. Legion forces were mobilising across the planet, the call for war readiness turning the cogs of the great military apparatus into a frenzy. Even now, his ear chimed in constant INFOWAR reports flooding from across the Khanate, updates on his own automaton’s and the nearby Legion’s movements, on the retreat of their humans into the depths of the monasteries, on the readying of city states both near and far afield. This must be obvious to those humans, far above in the cosmos, but this suited an ape’s tastes.

Better to shine your teeth at the newcomer and know who they are messing with, lest they get any ideas.

Galilei bared his teeth in a mockery of a human smile, gums flapping back on themselves to reveal metallic blades in between his coloured red lips. He was polite yet sharp in his response, to the frequent nodding approval of the Khan’s representative to his side.

“And I, President of the greatest city state in the entirety of the Federal Khanate, am ordained to be your first point of contact, Orda Khan. It would not be wrong to say that you, a descendant of mankind’s greatest, are interloping upon the Khan’s realm with no prior warning. You are on no one’s doorstep but his, as great as your flagship must be. If you would like to meet him in the halls of Great Ulaanbaatar, you must state your intentions and give reason to why you have brought an armada to the home of the Supremus, inheritors of mankind?”

Orda adjusted himself in his bridge-throne, a slow, steady smirk crossing his face and a single meticulously groomed eyebrow raised up. He brought his hands up slowly together as he processed Galilei’s response, then began to clap - slowly, almost sarcastically at first, and then with just enough speed to make it sound genuine, the Khan nodded his approval even as the clapping petered out.

“Very well then. If the Khan is half as fearsome as his point of contact is, perhaps I will not be disappointed after all.” Stretching out and rising to his full height, he swept his arm out wide and began making his declaration.

“This ‘armada’ is but a portion of the fleet I command as Khan-Khuu of the White Horde. We come to scour the stars, to crack asteroids and skim giants, split stones, seize metal, smash ice and gather the slush. We are here because the Great Khaganate is an ever-hungry beast whose maw must be fed with the choicest of delicacies. I look out over this system and I see a great bounty before me, unclaimed by even your Khan… Yet my fleet is here now, their drills and reactors ready.” He clenched his first tight, as if holding a bundle of leashes. “Should I let slip my fleet I could scour this system for everything it’s worth, shatter your skies and sink every ship that rises above the paltry limit that is the horizon. Your Khan has left gold lying scattered on the beach, and now wonders why the jewellers are here to claim their prize?” He chuckled slowly.

“But I am a gracious and beneficious man when it so suits me. If you are Supremus as you claim, surely we can come to agreement, and neither of us will need to see ships crumpled and fields aflame.”

Orda’s offer would be followed by a long pause as Galilei stewed in his thoughts. A chime in his ear, sounding out before the human’s narration had begun, indicated to him that this conversation was being live streamed directly to the Khan’s quarters. His powdered “crown” grew in weight as he pondered on an appropriate response.

The threat was obvious but there was little that could be done about it. The flamboyantly dressed President inwardly kicked himself for his own short-sightedness. He had been one to advise the Khan to focus on the inner struggles of the Khanate and the rising number of Caesar remnants. He had believed, foolishly in retrospect, that the development of the space assets of the Khan could wait for the consolidation of the Khan’s hold over an increasingly chaotic Khanate. This sort of thinking was now biting him in his hairy behind.

Here was a direct threat to the Khanate, a threat to its civilisation and prosperity, a threat to the Supremus species’ and those they care for. A deal must be made with this clearly unstable human, whose benevolence seems to run hand in hand with his patience.

These sort of things would normally be under the purview of the Khan and his representatives. But given the unique nature of the representative assigned to the Freemen, as a sideways glance to the adolescent Khan-son would confirm, he needed to overstep a part of his boundaries here. A luxury, he knew, only afforded to him as a close friend of Khublai Khan himself. He let out a long breath to collect and steel himself, grey eyes meeting rosegold through vast distances. Even across displays, the resolve of each side could not be more evident.

“We will treat with you then, jewellers. You hold mastery over traversing the cosmos, that is clear. We hold the resources required for your hungry peoples. We are both, clearly, war-minded people. Peace and prosperity lies in the path of our cooperation, destruction and ruin lie in the path of our conflict.”

By the information feed in his ear, he knew that countless cannons and innumerable missile batteries were pointed to the skies. The intruders had been in the system long enough for the city states on this side of the planet to point their orbital defense systems on target. The use of void-modified drones in the endless conflicts between nation states had led to interventions like these; complicated, overlapping fields of fire that could pierce the atmosphere. No ape likes to fly but the same could not be said of his artillery.

The President clenched his own paw, unnatural musculature rippling under his garb as blood red veins popped into the whites of his eyes. “However, let it be clear that a war between our peoples will result in your corpse hanging from the rafters, limbs torn and cast off into the oceans. Unlike what your sensors may tell you, the Khanate is not the only one under threat here. You cannot traipse into someone’s yard and expect the guard dog to yip happily to your tunes, human.”

The odds were still against them, they could not prevent the raping and pillaging of the asteroids further afield but any ship that tripped across New Gift’s orbits would be blown to the realm of the spirits. He could rely on the stubborn attitude of apes in war.

The President of the Freemen relaxed his posture and interlinked his hands in a more reserved stance.

“We can strike a deal to the benefit of both our nations. An exchange, one wanting for cosmic industry and ships, another wanting for ripe virgin resources. Further scientific and economic exchanges can be made further afield as relations between our nations settle. Cooperation between our peoples. What do you say, Khan-Khuu of the White Horde?”

For a long time, the image of Orda Khan hung on the President's screen - long enough, perhaps, for the ape to worry that something had gone wrong - or Orda had cut the line and gone to plunder as he had suggested. Then, slowly, a small smile worked its way across his lips, starting at the very center of his mouth and spreading across to crease its edges, until he finally barked out a laugh that spilled out and on until he was practically roaring with laughter.

"Excellent! Excellent indeed! I can see you have fire in your heart and strength in your soul, President. Your Khan has chosen wisely if he has appointed one such as you to argue on his behalf. Very well, I can abide by these terms. Though we are rent by distance, I raise a cup of arkhi to you and yours, and hope in turn that I may set eyes on your Khan, and see what mettle he holds to inspire such ferocity from his vassals." He nodded slowly.

"For now, I must manage my fleet. Baatar Ogtur out. We will speak again, 'Galilei.'"

---

A New Input for the Machine Part 2

The gears churn as the Accord prepares for what comes next.
Featuring Executive Optimiser-Cog Dai Yi

Dai Yi sat, motionless except for the soft rise and fall of his chest, eyes closed, implants dumb. There was nothing else beyond the world but him, there was nothing beyond him but his breath. He focused without focusing, the in-and-out, the movement of air down into his lungs, the way it swirled around inside them, held inside, and then slowly released. When he struggled to be mindful he sometimes thought of it as waves - rolling along to the shore, crashing on the in breath and slowly drawing back with the out. In... Ou-

The iso-pod roof above him beeped twice, evenly spaced apart. Twenty minutes gone, just like that. He opened his eyes slowly and sighed, implants sparking back to life as he turned the door's lock and stepped out, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the practical overhead lights that never fully departed the halls of the Executive machine. Thirty-six new notifications... But he could at least take a little comfort in knowing none of them were marked urgent or classified... Even if it did mean that almost two a minute had come through and been deemed important enough to cut past the layers beneath him and demand his personal attention. Taking a seat across from the iso-pods, he rested his elbow on his knee and pressed his thumb to his temple, an act as useless as it was important to him. Even if you looked a little foolish, at least like this people knew you were deep in your own head and not to be disturbed unless absolutely ne-

"Optimiser-Cog Dai? My apologies, I know you were just in the iso-pod and you're likely gathering your thoughts, but..." The aide - whose name had finally settled into his mind as Ye Ai, spoke in a soft but insistent tone from next to him. "It's about the Gateway, Optimiser. A report arrived from the Interplanetary Defence Force." He opened his eyes and looked up, seeing a little of himself mirrored in her. The stress, the tiredness, the slow grinding down of one's faculties over the course of handling so much. She rose from her half-bow and brought her omnilink up, the optimiser's overlay showing the flashes of IR light from its screen as she interfaced with it hands-free.

"How bad is it?" Yi gave her a serious look.

"Something to be aware of, but not something we can adjust. As you know, we've entered somewhat of a lull in the Great Struggle, but the Gateway's reactivation has... 'set them off,' if you will. QIDF Systems Skywatch has spotted a lance-fleet leaving the outer system on an intercept trajectory with the old megaconglomerate buoy."

The only sign of recognition from Da Yi was a slight puff from his nose. "And we've sent an overwhelming response, no doubt?"

"Indeed, Optimiser. Two of the expeditionary battlewings have been recalled to meet the threat, and the Jingyu battlefleet will provide long-range support. Because of the communications delay we won't learn the full outcome until the engagement is complete and they can assemble an after-action report, but as you've been placed on the Gateway board, you're a priority when it comes to updates like these."

"Understood. What do the admirals say we should be expecting?" Dai Yi finally rose to his feet, mentally dismissing the rest of the notifications for now - he had a meeting to attend to and there'd be another hundred or so of them once he emerged, so there was no use in fretting about last-minute responses now.

"They're preparing for a full-scale engagement, Optimiser-Cog. Recovery vessels are on standby, the shipyard NBIs are being adjusted to meet the capacity, and..." She grimaced. "We're looking at predicted casualties in the low thousands."

"More names for the Great Wall," Yi nodded slowly. "Such is the nature of the Struggle. What about the Gateway itself? Any news from that front? Has the Voice of the People responded?" The pair were once again pacing through the halls of the Harmonious Engine, passing by a steady stream of other officals, aides and bureaucrats.

"Nothing," Ai shook her head. "Not unexpected from the Voice of the People - they may take several days to assemble and send the report back through, but no foreign vessels have been spotted yet. If I may, I'm... I'm a little glad?" She had a pensive look on her face as Dai Yi raised an eyebrow.

"How so? If there are others out there - if Earth or another colony has survived, we have a real chance at shifting the course of the Struggle."

"Yes, and I understand that, Optimiser-Cog, but surely nothing is preferable to more threats? Not to mention with this new fleet... What if we did receive visitors, only for the Shenjian to reach them before we could? I-"

"I understand your concerns, Ai, but that is precisely why we are reacting so swiftly to this incursion. Think positively, think harmoniously. We can only control what we hold in our hands, yes?"

"... Yes, Cog-Optimiser." A flicker of reassurance passed across the aide's face. "I can see you've got an event coming up now, should I leave you to it?"

"You'll have to but let's touch base again tomorrow. Remember, if you're concerned, the Wellness Harmonisers are just upstairs, and there are iso-pods dotted hither and thither." He gestured vaguely about. "Don't burn yourself out worrying on these things for now."

The pair exchanged a brief bow and went their seperate ways. Far above them, the Galaxy continued spinning, the same as it always had.

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

Red Horde over Paradise Part 2

The Crimson Khatun learns the truth of Sol
Featuring: Khulan Khatun-Khuu

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, anything 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 now 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.

"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."

---

A Flock of Fleets

The Khaganate seek to pierce the mystery of the Gateway, and chart the final frontier.
Addressing: @Tortoise, @Eventua @SgtEasy

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.

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."

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."

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."

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.

---

Reforging the Sickle

The Khaganate return to the home of their ancestors.

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 thump 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 this 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.

---

"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.

"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."

"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 audible 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."

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.

Ceres is now open for basic resupply!

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

The People of the Qinglong Accord Now March Into The Future:

---

---

A New Input for the Machine

A solar system recalibrates itself around an Anomaly.
Featuring Executive Optimiser-Cog Dai Yi

---

Executive Optimiser-Cog Dai Yi had been having an impossibly busy past few days, but sat as he was- eyes slightly glazed as he stared out the window from a small foyer of the Harmonious Engine, it was hard to tell that was the case. He saw, without really seeing - the glittering lights of Xiwang, the towering skyscrapers, their interior stories dim now that the working day had ended, the steady gleam of streetlights interspersed by darts of light from EVs or mag-trams... And above, blotting almost any of the natural light from the sky, the twinkling clusters on Mingxian's surface, the moon itself thrumming with energy and innovation.

And past even Mingxian... A light which had not been there for centuries, if the reports were proving to be accurate. An artificial star that refused to be dimmed out by five hundred years of history, beaming its strange light out over a system that had only begun to comprehend its true meaning.

The appearance of the Anomaly in the space just outside of the Accord's defensive perimeter had sent shockwaves out across the entire system. Initial reports from the QIDF implied that it certainly hadn't been anything they'd done, nor did it seem to have a direct correlation to anything the invaders were up to. Their vessels hadn't even been near the area of space where it emerged. Sighing, Dai Yi took another small sip of the soda water in his tumbler.

It just didn't fit with anything they knew about Shenjian tech. Bright and flashy - sure, but sustained? And so large, so impressive, so far away from their deep-space holdouts? None of it had made sense at first. The timing was auspicious too, to say the least. 500 years, if you counted them as old Earth had, since CoB day. The turn of a new century - Qingyuan was still getting over the collective hangover from the Arrival Day festivities and had already refocused its efforts towards the Spring Festival, due in just under a month now - Xiwang's stationary shops were churning through hongbao at their usual rate. Surely, with all of this together, it couldn't be an accident of some kind. Such an idea was near-anathema to the organised minds of the Executive Machine, which had had to scramble to release an initial press-statement on the Anomaly to allay early concerns while they tried to figure out what exactly was going on.

He was roused from his contemplation by the appearance of a new figure poking her head through the open doorway to the foyer. Clearing his throat, Yi addressed her, the full weight of his role crashing back down on him as he spoke. "Do we have a proper report on the Anomaly? Can we confirm what the Shenjian had to do with it?"

"Well, we do have new information on the Anomaly, yes, and we can safely state that the Shenjian aren't what caused this." The aide - a young bureaucrat who'd only really just begun their career among the halls of the Machine, glanced up from their Omnilink. "Would you like a digital transmission, or-"

"Just... Tell me the relevant datapoints." Yi hissed out, before slowly pulling himself back together. "Apologies, it's unfair of me to take this out on you. Please, just give me the overview. Unless we've scheduled another emergency meeting, I'm not really on the clo-"

His own Omnilink - currently wrapped around his arm and concealed beneath the sleeve of his jacket, vibrated, but he didn't bother to check it. His suite already told him all he needed to know. He'd spoke of Cao Cao, and here Cao Cao was. Another emergency meeting of the Machine's biological intelligences. Setting down the tumbler with an uncomfortably loud clink, he rose up to his full height, smoothed the edges of his suit down, and gave a curt nod towards the aide. "Scratch that, we're on the clock again. Give me the full sitrep while we walk, I process things better when I can hear them, instead of just getting everything beamed into my head. You know how many notifications I get each minute? Even with the secretaries and the admin NCMs going through the majority of them?"

The woman gave a chuckle. "I can imagine it'd be a little overwhelming, certainly Optimiser-Cog. The uh... Main thrust of the matter is that the Anomaly isn't 'an Anomaly.' I know we didn't want to think it was the Gateway at first because that would have been 'too easy,' but that's what all the data suggests. The IDF has been able to interface with it, it matches all the old records on its appearance and location from the Megaconglomerate era..." She had to take two steps to keep up with each one of Yi's, but the man couldn't exactly slow down with the meeting already called. "This very much seems to be the 'real deal' if you will. The return of the system that let us traverse the stars."

Dai Yi chewed these facts over slowly in his mind. If that was true, if this was the Gateway that Qinglong Megaconglomerate had used... The pair turned a corner and nearly ran headfirst into another group of functionaries, also trailed by aides, likely also being brought up to date before the meeting. Slotting neatly into the crowd, the group continued deeper into the building, the aide rattling off the more specific details of the Anomaly... No, no, it was the Gateway, Dai Yi's mind could accept that, even if it was implausible. Reason told him that when one excluded the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, must be the truth. Minds greater than him had determined it was the Gateway, many minds greater than his, in fact, and he was ultimately a functionary, not a scientist - his Merits could attest to that. Now what was left was not to bicker about fine details but instead take the defined input and carry out the processes of statecraft, to determine what the appropriate output was.

And that process began as the group emerged out into the Crisis Centre, already bustling with a wide variety of the Executive Machine's hierarchy. Many of the holographic projectors installed beneath the seats representing those from Mingxian or further afield had already sprung to life, a wide variety of different faces flickering slightly as they mimicked the pacing and twitching of a real person eager for the full scale of what was going on to be revealed. Of course, they weren't literally here with them, nor would the information be processed immediately by the actual people these proxies represented - they were engrams - extremely good proxies, but proxies nonetheless.

The chaircog cleared their throat and began. "My thanks to all of the Qinglongren currently present here, and to those being represented outside of these halls. As we will soon be hosting a maximum secrecy meeting, I must request that everyone who lacks the relevant clearance levels please leave the Crisis Centre. Oversight-Coordinator-Cog, could you kindly disable the Engrams, in line with the usual procedures? Thank you." A few murmurs came from the group within the Crisis Center, and the aide gave an easy-going bow to Dai Yi, returning the way she came. As the Engrams flickered out and people began to move towards their tiered seats, Yi settled down, feeling an uncomfortable quietness settle in as the Crisis Centre's doors closed and wireless communications were shut off.

"Fellow Cogs. This meeting has been called because we have received undeniable confirmation that the Anomaly is the Gateway, reopened almost exactly 500 years after it once shut. Full details of the report have been transmitted to the slates before you. While the last of our colleagues filter in, can you please inform yourself of the facts. Once everyone is present..."

"We will begin."

---

The Voice of the People Speaks Across the Stars

The Accord calls on one of its retired heroes, and tentatively reaches out.
Featuring Cog-Ace Guan Liang, Cog-Envoy Xue Bao and Wellness-Harmoniser Zhang Zan

It was a cold and bitter day in northern Qingyuan, and in a small veteran's community, an old soldier stared out at the ice and slushy remnants of last night's snowfall, its colour startlingly like their own flint-grey eyes. Their name was Guan Liang, they were rapidly approaching their eighty-third birthday, and although they may not look to have aged gracefully by the standards of many within the Accord, they were no less keen or able despite that. Still roped with muscle, their speckled hand rested on the silvery handle of a walking cane, the only real outward sign of vulnerability from an otherwise steel wall. They twirled the thing back and forth idly, one hand reaching up to stroke their chin in an archetypally contemplative pose - appropriate, perhaps, for someone who had taken their leave of the military and sought a quiet community for their retirement.

For that was what Guan Liang was - retired. For over forty years they had served the Accord with all the harmony and strength expected of them and more, and now that they were older and slower they had been rewarded with a comfortable pension and the Gratitude of the Machine Merit, a feat that not many could claim to have achieved. Of course, they still worked - eighty two was a venerable age, but no excuse to let idleness seep into their bones... But it was simple, gentle stuff these days. Talks and speeches, PR appointments... And here, in their adopted community, gardening. Oh, so much gardening.

All that was to end today though. The door behind Guan Liang whirred open, and the veteran stiffened their back. They'd suspected this was coming ever since they'd noticed the new light in the sky, and they'd had confirmation for a full day now. They might have the Executive Machine's gratitude, but... "When I stepped out of my Baihu that last time, I thought my service was over with." They turned, fixing their gaze onto the trio that had entered the building. "So how am I to reconcile that with this new request?" They raised an eyebrow, shifting the cane from left to right and back to left.

"Gracious Cog-Ace, I-" The first of the three - a Yin Zholou, bulky and squat with mottled grey-beige skin began to talk, but the veteran raised their hand up, a small smile splitting their face.

"I reconcile it easily. I know how this conversation will go - you will apologise profusely, and say that I am not being called upon, but requested. That I will be treated with respect and dignity, and that if it is my final decision to not take on the role you've brought for me to fill, the Machine understands, and it will find another cog who will accept the position. That I am free to spend my days as I have done for many years, here in this community." They chuckled at the slightly startled reactions they'd received, but pressed on nonetheless. "I shall shortcut this for all our benefit. There is only one task that you would suddenly call upon me for in light of what has happened, and I will accept the position, regardless of its finer details."

He raised an eyebrow. "What, you thought I didn't know the news? Couldn't put two and two together? Come now, this may be a remote place, but I still have the news. I saw the official statement the Executive Machine released. The Gateway is back, and you need the right people to go through the Gateway. I am here. I am ready. I have said my goodbyes and packed my bags, broken the cauldrons and sunk the boats. Let's not dither when a galaxy awaits us, no?"

---

How many times had Liang been into space? The first time they remembered well: barely eighteen years, when their ticket had first been punched in an exercise to familiarise fresh conscripts with transport procedures. The time after that had been their first deployment... but the next? And all the hundreds of times after? But certainly, in all their many trips, they'd never been on a shuttle quite like this one.

It was... Quaint. Smooth and slightly stylised, with pleasant flowing lines in its design and clean paintwork, the Seal of the Executive Machine imprinted into its loading door. Turning away from it, Liang refocused on the soldier who had escorted them here.

"I appreciate the escort cog."

"On the contrary, the pleasure is mine. My thanks for your service." His salute was quickly waved off.

"You needn't salute an old soldier like me, I don't hold a rank over you. May you serve with harmony." With a nod of their head Liang finally turned and headed into the shuttle, its door sliding shut shortly after they'd made it inside. Already strapped in were two others, dressed formally in civilian wear much like Liang was.

"Good morning. I hope I haven't kept you long?" They broke the initial silence easily and moved towards one of the seats. Before the battlesuit veteran sat, they gave their walking stick a firm strike against the ground, causing it to spring up and collapse down into just its slender silver handle - small enough to be slipped into a pocket.

"Cog-Ace Guan Liang?" The first to speak was a young, confident looking man, wearing the lapel pin of a harmoniser. "I've just been reading through your file, and it's a great honour. I'm looking forward to supporting you!" Liang took the opportunity to size him up, and found... Very little to comment on, in truth. He was the archetype of the young harmoniser - neat, short-cropped hair, a friendly smile to put those around him at ease... And if the ace had to guess, they'd say he was no more than twenty-six or twenty seven - barely out of active reserve duty. He must have been training for this role for quite some time then... But hardly enough time to become a truly meritous cog. Still, every part must be machined before it could perform.

"Indeed. And who am I speaking to, aside from a harmoniser?" The ace's tone was polite, if a little perplexed.

"My deepest apologies. Wellness Harmoniser Zhang Zan, He/Him. I'm assisting those who may need extra care aboard the Voice of the People." He gestured over towards the final passenger, a slender woman sitting stock-straight in her seat, fingers slightly tense across the armrests. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

"Yes." She gave a quick nod. "Xue Bao, She/Her. I'm part of the envoy's diplomatic staff." Her suit, neatly trimmed to fit her figure without overly accentuating her figure, the neat, clipped and precise yet even-handed words, and the unfailingly polite movements that accompanied them... Liang could certainly believe she was a diplomat. Her almost shining black hair was pulled back into a neat bun and fixed into place and she was bereft of any makeup bar a little mascara, if the veteran's eyes weren't failing them already.

"Nervous?" Liang's seatbelt finally clicked into place and they settled down properly, watching as the light above the door clunked from red to amber.

A thin smile split Bao's face. "Never a fan of the shuttle flight. I'll be fine once we're in orbit. Well... Better. We're going through the Gateway after all."

The quiet conversation was interrupted by a clipped sentence over the shuttle's intercom. "All aboard, preflight checks complete. Liftoff in one minute, please make sure you're secure in your seats."

"Worried about the Gateway, or what's through it? I'm sure the IDF has made sure the crossing's safe, and we can't do anything about the latter, so." They gave a small shrug. "No use worrying either way. We must take the current when it serves."

"Sage wisdom," the diplomat responded without a hint of sarcasm. "Where does that spring from?"

"Couldn't tell you if I wanted. Saw it on a dorm wall, a long time ago, but I'm sure they didn't come up with it." Before they could continue any further, the engines ended the conversation for them. They rapidly grew from a soft, barely audible whine to a thrumming crescendo, Bao's fingers digging harder into the armrests. Liang simply settled his head back and waited, feeling out the vibrations of this new shuttle as it the ground pulled away, and they were surrounded by the swirling of the wind as it tried to stop their ascent.

As the atmosphere thinned, so did the volume of their ascent, until finally all that was left was a soft hum and a slowly growing feeling of weightlessness, the sensation bringing a slight smile to Liang's face. "Smoothest ride I've ever had."

"I'll agree once we're in gravity again," Zan attempted to make a joke, but the slight paleness to his skin undercut the attempt at sureness. "This is only my fourth time up here, if you'd believe it. Training, Jingyu, and then back to Qingyuan."

"Only a dozen or so," Bao added, seemingly feeling much more comfortable now that the bumpiest part of the ride was over. "But they've been long deployments. I've served with the Voice before, was on shore leave just a few days ago. I'll miss the Spring Festival I suppose, but I caught Arrival Day so I can't complain too much."

"I'm sure we'll be able to mark the occasion aboard." The harmoniser offered a grimace trying its best to be a smile.

"Pilot speaking: We've fully left the atmosphere now and our space thrusters are on. We'll be arriving aboard in five minutes. Thank you for your attention."

---

Five long days. Five days of the humdrum reality of life aboard a smoothly operating vessel like the Voice of the People, interspersed only by the ever-constant companion of the regular meetings to keep the envoys up to date on the latest information. The QIDF had sent several craft through the Gateway to both intentionally and randomly selected systems to test if it was functioning properly, every single one had managed its brief excursion without issue. Some had even picked up strange signals and broadcasts, in languages that Qinglong linguists could recognise, but often wildly different from what their old, pre-CoB language banks told them. Oddly however, Sol had been silent, its secrets locked away until something more than a probe could make a jaunt through.

Finally, though, the announcement that Liang had been waiting for echoed out across the ship. "Attention. Attention. Attention. IPC Voice of the People is approaching QGL-* 'Gateway.' All hands prepare for instantaneous transmission. This is not a drill. Repeat, all hands prepare for instantaneous transmission." Unfolding a seat from the wall, Liang settled down and placed their cane across their legs, and waited, expecting... Something? Anything? It seemed peculiar that after decades of spaceflight, the most momentous journey they had ever taken - a stride across a gap so vast it was quite literally incomprehensible to the human mind, could be carried out between two heartbeats, imperceptible without a view to the outside world.

So, Guan Liang waited patiently, fingers running across the handle of their cane. Their hand drifted slowly, up past their cuff, across the strap that held their Omnilink in place, to where the muscle of their arm gave way to an unnatural divot, its edges firmer and tougher than the surrounding skin, and within the divot, protecting their body from the outside world that would so gleefully take the open neural port as an opportunity, the thin, fragile membrane, spider-webbed with scars from where it had been pierced and re-healed a thousand times on a hundred deployments. The undeniable and irreversible consequence of serving the Accord in a battlesuit.

"Attention. Attention. Attention. IPC Voice of the People has completed instantaneous transmission to Sol System. You may now move freely throughout the vessel."

Well then. What now?

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

@Tortoise

Proud to report that the Qinglong Accord is complete and finished! Apologies in advance though, it's a LOT of words to get through, so no hurry.

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

The Tale of the Khaganate of Tengri Begins Now:

---

---

A Star Is Born

A shaman experiences the Universe's splendour.
Featuring: Zenith Shamanka

---

Zenith's chest heaved as she finished the steps she had been carefully practicing for three long months now. Bands of brightly coloured fabric fluttered about her arms and legs, and she could feel her sweat soaking in to the heavy underclothes donned for the occasion. Her head spun - it had already been light from fasting and now exacerbated by the exercise... But there was one more step left before she was ready to properly step into her role as shamanka of Uzay.

She must experience Its majesty for herself, once properly acclimatised to see the spirits.

Her mentor approached now, holding a bowl of murky brown liquid that even at a distance nearly caused her eyes to water. Seer's Broth: tincture of hashish and poppy, ayahuasca brew, shaman's sage and a metabolic reactant to speed the absorbtion of the mixture. Reaching out, hands shaky, Zenith grasped the bowl with both hands, locked eyes with her mentor, then brought the plastic to her lips, gulping the foul smelling and worse tasting concotion down quickly so as to minimise the amount of time it spent on her tongue. She could feel its passage down into her stomach - scorching her throat and immediately throwing her body to alarm. Bile began to rise and it took every ounce of her self-control to not project the mixture back up and all across the floor of the airlock... But she managed it, just about, returning the bowl to her mentor's hands and affixing the air intake she'd require for an hour-long EVA over her mouth.

There was a soft clink as her mentor affixed the tether she'd require to her harness, and then with a bow he departed, airlock doors slamming shut behind him. Already she could feel a strange numbness begin to spread across her body, a warm flush rising to her cheeks as she exhaled fully and braced herself for the moment of jettison.

But no amount of bracing could possibly prepare her for what the feeling was actually like. Her only warning was a brief flash of red and the opening blare of a klaxon before a collossal gust of wind blew her off her feet and sent her careening out of the warm embrace of the vessel and out into the void. She spun wildly for a few moments, lost in total and utter free-fall until with a bang the tether jerked her to a halt, body too numb and limbs too slow to really process the pain that she no doubt would have been in under normal circumstances.

Her secondary eyelids shaded her eyes as she cautiously opened them, and despite having seen the sight of the system stretching out before her thousands of times, she could only gasp at what she now percieved. The stars twinkled before her, each one haloed by colours that had no right being there. Light squirmed and flowed around her like liquid, rushing past her deadened body in rivers that streamed out from the system's lonely star, a solar gale that swept across every body that orbited the burning core, binding them tight in the star's embrace. She felt herself extend an arm out before her and was dully surprised to see her hand now covered in crimson spirals, highlighted fingers piercing the wind that buffeted her body but left the fabric swirling around her to spill out in every direction.

The stars and colours before her swam. Her mind began to slowly close in on itself, darkness seeping in from the edges of her consciousness. She should have been terrified but she seemed incapable of such an emotion right now, mouth agape inside the breathing apparatus as the edges pressed in, deeper and deeper, further and further...

The winds before her began to coalesce together. Brightly coloured sparks flared to life before her eyes, exploding outwards into infinitely tesselating sets of fractals, none of which could seem to stay still for a single moment, so filled with life and energy were they. The sparks flickered, slow at first, and then firing in patterns, the wind drawn to this single inexorable spot in otherwise empty space in which what was left of her entire mind, no her very spirit was fixated upon.

She held her breath without realising it, eyes perceiving but brain numb as she witnessed the patterns begin to pulse and the wind rushed back past her, towards the star from which they had came. She stared unblinking as the patterns finally shattered and an incomprehensible brightness filled space, blasting the darkness from every crevice and recess of her mind, the image searing itself into her brain.

A great, shining kaleidescopic vortex had been birthed before her, a new center for the universe to revolve around, and the tiny spark of her mind was nothing in comparison to its glory. Zenith - no not Zenith, because the figure suspended alone in Uzay's embrace was no longer confined to the single body in which it had found itself for almost exactly eighteen years, was finally, truly conscious of the truth.

Everything - not every person, not every planet, not every star or animal or rock or plant but everything, the whole universe itself, was a single tapestry, woven from an ever-expanding thread that had burst into life so long ago. There was no difference between the iron that carried oxygen through one's veins and that which floated through space, no difference betwixt the gases tightly compressed into planets on the Far System and that which the vessel that had borne the form that she identified with was even now steadily exhaling to stabilise its position.

The human form was the universe, was Uzay, and contained within it was the universe. Carbon from those that had come before, to be shared with those that came after. All of it was the same.

Zenith's consciousness slowly contracted back into her body, and never before had the shamanka felt so small, yet at the same time part of something so incomprehensibly large. As sensation slowly returned to her fingers and her eyes began to refocus, she jolted a little, startled to see that the explosion of colour and light, the kalaidescope which she had thought was merely a particularly vivid hallucination remained steadfast before her, even as the winds that were still pulled into it faded from view. Gripping her tether, she turned about, confirming that yes, her vessel was still there... and yes, when she turned back, that strange portal was also still there, defiantly resisting even her new understanding of her place in the universe.

Perhaps her mentor might know. Her pressure gauge informed her she only had another five or ten minutes of non-reserve air and the freezing sensation that had crept into her fingers only further confirmed that she'd been out here for a while, even if it hadn't felt that long at all. Giving her tether three firm tugs, she was relieved when she felt the reassuring vibrations of the winch at the other end reeling her back in, still staring at the portal, at the...

Gateway

---

Hail to the Khagan

The Great Khagan sets forth the most important decree of his reign.
Featuring: Ögedei II Khagan

---

It had been less than twenty minutes since Ögedei was awoken with news that one of the most momentous events in his people's history had occured in the hour and a half since his head had hit his pillow. While most people would have grumbled at this, there was no time for him to be lax in his duty, and instead he'd hurried to don clothes suitable enough for him to make an appearance on the bridge of the Bai-Ülgen. Now, his footfalls sounded heavy even on the carpeted floor, while behind him tromped two Kheshigs, stiff plumes quivering with each movement they made.

He emerged out onto the bridge to a scene of absolute chaos. The High Shaman was bickering with the chief navigator, his Cherbi and Grand General were stood before a rapidly blinking holographic display, frantically gesturing at icons of vessels and diagrams of horde structures, one of his wives was trying to corral her daughter away from all the chaos... But all of it was dwarfed by the display out of the Bai-Ülgen's main screen.

It sat just outside of the middle asteroid belt, a glowing... disc of swirling light and colour that none living on the system had ever seen, yet all knew exactly what it meant. For a moment, even the Khagan was caught up in the wonder of the situation, only for one of the two Kheshigs trailing him to bellow out an introduction.

"HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, GREAT KHAGAN OF TENGRI AND THE ENDLESS BLACK SKY, ÖGEDEI, SECOND OF HIS NAME, IS ON THE BRIDGE."

Instantly, a hush descended across the crowded court. Squabbling figures disentangled themselves from one another, the various kheshigs and soldiers snapped to attention aiming crisp salutes towards their liege, while his daughter clapped loudly, golden eyes glittering in the artificial light.

"Initial report please, beyond the blatantly obvious." He gestured towards the view before them, raising an eyebrow. Immediately a long-fingered shinjar had scurried forwards, nervously clearing his throat.

"T-the Gateway opened itself approximately t-thirty five minutes ago, sire, and immediately began interfacing with the flagship's systems." The man took another deep breath before continuing. "We have a full list of systems that correspond with what little was preserved from the original databanks, while reports from other members of the Golden Horde suggest that their navigational computers are also able to interface with it."

Ögedei tugged at the end of his moustache and contemplated his immediate moves. He hadn't formalised his power enough over the Colour-Hordes, and there was no way he could stop all his siblings from deciding to take their fleets where they wished... So it was best to direct their energy into places where it could do the most good for the Khaganate. Shuddering a little, he pointed to his chief communicator and strode forward towards his command throne, the bridge crew that had been left standing around when he entered now scurrying to their places.

"The Obsidian and Silver Hordes are to keep an eye on the Gateway at all times. Anyone, anything that comes through needs to be immediately relayed to this ship as soon as possible. Halt any intruders, but do so without killing them unless absolutely necessary. We cannot afford to re-enter the galaxy with blood on ours hands." As soon as the words were said, they were already being relayed across to the other flagships dotted throughout the system, his scribe's fingers flying across the screen of a datapad to record everything as soon as it left his lips. "The Steel Horde will need to increase production of warships to allow us to maintain our watch properly. The Golden Horde will cover the cost, ship them enough Altun to get them to agree. We'll extract some of the value back one way or another." He sighed deeply.

"The Khaantus should be as informed as I am about all of these goings on. Any report regarding the Gateways that comes to me also goes to her. Make sure the news is dispersed, safely, through the populace. We can't hide this, and any attempt to do so would be folly. I'll leave the exact hows to her best judgement, she knows the people of Itügen better than I."

"As for my siblings... The Red Horde should take detachemnt fleets as required and venture to Sol. Khulan will be responsible for negotiation with any other branches of humanity that make their way to our home, and needs to be prepared for a long stay there. Double her detachment of Kheshigs and reinforce with House Guards if required... Actually, scratch 'detachment fleets.' Send the Tömör Chadal through with her, and make sure she knows that such a thing is not negotiable. The rest of the Colour-Hordes need to communicate with each other before they set off. I do not want to hear of any squabbling between them over scraps of prestige." The Cherbi began barking out orders once the Khagan finished, and Ögedei knew that within the hour the detachment of soldiers aboard the Bai-Ülgen would drop significantly. It didn't exactly please him to do such a thing, especially since there was no doubt the system would come under the kind of pressure it had never experienced before, but it would be far worse to lose Khulan and her loyalists.

"I expect constant communication from all of them as soon as they leave Tengri. Any sustained lapse or failure to report in should be met with the highest suspicion." More salutes and called out orders followed, until at last his chief navigator turned and asked the question that no doubt all aboard the Bai-Ülgen were waiting for:

"And what of us, Great Khagan?"

"What of us? We remain here. The Golden Horde is the bedrock of the Khaganate. The Bai-Ülgen is her lynchpin. If the way is made clear by Khulan, we may forge ahead to Sol ourselves, but otherwise we hold here - our power is needed at home."

"Of course Emperor." A floor-scrapingly deep bow followed, and Ögedei finally allowed himself the small privalige of slumping down in his throne.

All he could do now was wait.

Wait, and pray.

---

Red Horde over Paradise

The Crimson Khatun leads her people home
Featuring: Khulan Khatun-Khuu

A true armada had assembled at the Gateway over the course of almost half a week, all spearheaded by the Konrul Ülzii - The flagship of the Red Horde and personal throne of Khulan Khatun. Assembled around it were representatives of the other Hordes joining the expedition to Sol - the Tömör Chadal of the Iron Horde, the personal trade-fleet of a Sapphire Horde Khan and a seemingly endless number of smaller clan-ship, jostling for a more prestigious position closer to the wormhole itself. With the last few stragglers having finally arrived, Khulan Khatun could take up her position in the command throne of her flagship, transmission lines opened wide so all could hear her words.

"Glory to the Great Khagan of Tengri, and greetings to all those that have asssembled upon his decrees. We have been given a chance to not only serve our sovereign and our clan, but to do what none before us, not even the great Chinggis Khagan himself, have. Almighty Uzay, its reach beyond knowing, its designs beyond reproach, has given our spirits an opportunity we must not cast aside." The High Shaman offered her an approving nod as she pressed on.

"We have been chosen, by the universe and by the Emperor, to be the vanguard of our people. To walk, as our ancestors did, across the grand vastness that is Uzay, to feel the strength of our ancestor's star across our faces, and to walk upon hallowed ground once thought lost forevermore." A quick glance across the bridge told her that the words were having their intended effect. Her brother had always been the stern, practical kind; deft with administration, confident in a war-room and efficient in business... But she had always been the orator, ever since they were young.

Perhaps that was another one of Ögedai's strengths: Strong delegation skills.

A wry smile crossed her face as she continued her speech.

"To those who join us from other Hordes, know that you serve among equals beneath the Khagan. It is through all of our skills and knowledge that we will chart this path for our people. To our soldiers, know that it will be your blades and your bows, sheathed or drawn, which will ensure our safety and prosperity in the times to come. To those who serve in my Horde, know that your Khatun is with you. Carry the Konrul high, and know that whenever one of you prospers, so do we all. Let my brothers scatter themselves among the stars to reap an unknown bounty. We will serve in the Cradle of Mankind, and we will show that them the Red Horde's glory." A small cheer went up among the bridge staff, and she had the faintest suspicion that a similar scene would be playing itself out across the armada.

"Let Uzay's wisdom guide our steps as we pass through our finest creation. I will see you all, blessed subjects, on the other side of the galaxy."

She chopped her hand forwards to punctuate her final sentence to her staff, and before she had even had a chance to let it fall the bridge staff began to brace themselves as the Konrul Ülzii's colossal engines fired. A collection of the court's spiritual leaders made slow circles around the holographic command table that dominated the majority of the bridge, voices undulating over the sonorous rhythm of ceremonial drums and the soft jingles of bells and clappers attached to their uniforms. One of their number - a dervish, no doubt, was perhaps the most eye-catching of all the priests. He had no drum and no bells, yet with each twist and turn of their form, great ribbons of brightly-coloured synth silk whirled about, colours bleeding across them with each gust of movement to create a prismatic halo of movement.

The Gateway was now the only thing visible from the bridge display. The holographic display flickered through options incomprehensibly fast, the chief navigator's hands a blur as they acquainted themselves with the greatest of Earth's technological marvels... But it wasn't hard to find what they were looking for.

Eight planets, four of them giant. A single G-type main-sequence star... And there, third from the star was a blue marble, streams of text from a language long since left behind on Tengri swirling around it. Humanity's home. Their home. Once, at least.

The Gateway enveloped the flagship and vanished from sight. The hairs on the back of Khulan's neck shot up, the display flickered, the ceremony's momentum faltered for a moment and it seemed even her Cherbi had felt something in that briefest of seconds... But then the feed resumed, and as the voices and drums reached their climax a gasp slowly went up from across the bridge. Now, instead of the portal, there was instead a large, airless... Moon? It had to be a moon, for close to it, far too close for it to not have been ensnared, was a planet, the third from its star.

And it was dead.

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

Completed and final version of the Qinglong Accord, pending approval.

The Qinglong Accord

The Qinglong Accord

Through Unity, Harmony. Through Harmony, De.

Government Form:
One-Party Democratic Corporatist Republic (Unitarian Harmonism - Héxié Zhǔyì)

Population:
Qingyuan (QGL-2): ~58.7% (~2.88 billion)
Mingxian (QGL-2.1): ~19.1% (~937 million)
Wuhua (QGL-3): ~3.3% (~161 million)
Jingyu (QGL-4): ~15.9% (~782 million)
Xuzhu Zhumin (Spacebound): ~3.0% (~147 million)
Total Population: 4.91 billion

What is Humanity?:
One more machine, to be brought into harmony.

---

System Name and Description:
Located in the Centaurus arms of the Milky Way, the population overseen by the Executive Machine is split across the inner core of the Qinglong system, although largely centred around the capital and most populated world of Qingyuan. Qingyuan is a relatively Earth-sized planet rotating a single k-type main-sequence star, joined by its natural satellite of Mingxian. More recent developments has led to a small but stable population on the planet of Wuhua, while the human-inhabited portions of the system end at the frontier world of Jingyu, the border between the inner and outer system. A small proportion of Xuzhuren or 'void people' exist in between these planets, serving to connect these bodies together.

The Qinglong system was highly unusual in many ways: Not only did it contain a planet already home to early life - Qingyuan, designated as a 'biocompatible world' but quickly adjusted to 'habitable world,' but also a second that was viable for terraforming and colonisation - Jingyu, classified as an 'easily terraformable planet.' Furthermore, Qingyuan's biospheres was comparatively young and homogenous when the Gateway opened, featuring only simple multicellular plant and microbial life that had yet to emerge out onto land. During the decade when the system was still connected to Sol, the Shennong Initiative was able to rapidly build upon this primordial ecosystem, work that was continued after the Gateway sealed to transform Qingyuan into a true 'Garden World,' home to a host of Earth life, including species long since rendered extinct, yet born again thanks to advances in genetics and cloning. A curious quirk of this dramatic upending of the planet's normal evolutionary processes is that fossil fuels are almost completely absent and are unlikely to ever emerge with 24th-century life now inhabiting it.

While Qingyuan was heavily terraformed and developed, Mingxian and Jingyu received slightly different treatments. Mingxian is simply too small to allow for the conditions for life to emerge naturally or for meaningful terraforming efforts - it cannot sustain an atmosphere, its regolith is hazardous and toxic, while its slightly eccentric orbit causes strong seasonal differences that would dramatically challenge life. Instead, Qinglong used the moon to set up both heavy industries to support the ongoing effort and as a new home for their low-gravity R&D departments, a legacy which has held firm throughout Qinglong's history. Without an early ecosystem to use as a base, Jingyu's potential was unable to be fully unlocked within the first ten years, although automated terraforming facilities with minimal human oversight were set up to begin the effort. True colonisation was projected to occur with a second stage of the Shennong Initiative estimated to begin some 30-50 years after Qingyuan had been 'finished.' After Qinglong's failure, various governments in the system have made attempts at turning the frontier world into yet another vibrant home for humanity, although the current success of such projects is questionable, and unlikely to change in the near future.

Crucially to modern Qinglong technology, Qingyuan and Mingxian are home to a seemingly physics-defying metal colloquially known as ‘lodestones,’ with the elemental name of Tàishǐum. Lodestones are remarkably unreactive except for their natural magnetism, which is so powerful and violent that lodestone deposits are often found not in the ground, but instead hovering in the planet’s sky in gravity defying ‘islands.’ Although it is possible to create minerals with a similar composition to lodestones artificially, only true Tàishǐum has the specific magnetic power that makes it so highly prized. Naturally found only on Qingyuan and its moon, the leading explanation for this is that originally the planet was much larger, before being struck by another celestial object, which fused with it into the current planet of Qingyuan, while the ejecta was captured and accreted to form Mingxian.

Demographics:
There are three main species from two distinct cultures that exist peacefully on Qinglong:

Homo Sapiens Sapiens ~93% (~4.56 billion): Humanity makes up the overwhelming majority of the population, the legacy of Qinglong Frontier Development's aggressive push to populate its personal fief.
Canxing Zholou: ~7% (~344 million): More recent arrivals to the system, the Canxing Zholou, or 'Voyagers of the Broken Stars,' are a refugee population of sapient aliens, split into two distinct sub-populations:
Sky Zholouren: ~4% (~196 million)
Earth Zholouren: ~3% (~148 million)

On the Canxing Zholou:

Arriving in the Qinglong system around halfway through its isolation from its Gateway, two alien species, united under a single banner, arrived as refugees from between the stars. Although their relationship with humanity started rough, in the time since the Canxing have come to be seen as fellow sapient species, and many of them have integrated into Qinglong society. Although strict Taoism has faded in the modern Accord, the two species, who symbiotically evolved alongside one another as sister-species on their home world, have long been culturally tied to the symbolism of yin and yang, and the dualist taijitu is often used by more heavily humanicised Zholouren as a marker of integration, but also a way of asserting their uniqueness onto an alien society.

Sky, or Yang Zholou were originally gliding omnivores, their heightened senses and enlarged craniums helping them to search for food across long distances. Their early interactions with the Earth, or Yin Zholou is believed to be as hunting partners, with the non-obligate carnivorous Yins bringing down large prey and protecting Yang dens. Despite early assumptions, both species are highly intelligent and capable of tool use, a factor that has helped ensure both of them developed alongside one another, rather than dominating over the other.

Many centuries of specialisation have turned the Yin into true-born spacers, still capable of gliding, but now well adapted to zero-g living, while their mental capacity is particularly suited to abstract thinking and decision making. The Yang, meanwhile, retained much of their original abilities, forming the bulk of their great fleet's mechanics, engineers and life scientists. They share several traits, including ultrasonic vocalisation and infrared chromatophores on their skin developed to allow them to communicate remotely - wearing clothes is seen as the ultimate sign of assimilation.

Zholouren have brought many technological and cultural changes with them to Qinglong. The great Ship Minds that carried them between the stars are the foundation for modern Non-Biological Intelligences (and subsequent system of Networked Computational Minds,) while their expertise with genetics has led to a revival in a formerly under-explored area of Qinglong science. Perhaps some might find the strange bond they have with a truly alien species peculiar... but humanity has shed blood against the same Shenjian that once destroyed their home for nearly two centuries, and such a thing makes their many differences far more palatable.

History:

Qinglong: The Megacorporation (Years -10-0)

"Qinglong Megaconglomerate is proud to announce their ascension to the ranks of Gateways Colonial Administrator with formal settlement of the Qinglong system. Already, efforts are hard at work to forge the Twin Planets into paradises befitting of Earth's majesty - a haven for those seeking to leave our home for a better life. Endless potential is waiting to be grasped, and it needs you! Inquire today about securing your place among the stars!"

Qinglong Frontier Developments: Building Better Worlds^TM
- An advertisement dated 2291 CE, from the Qinglong Frontier Developments Subsidiary

Qinglong ('Q-L' 'The Azure Dragon' 'QingCon') was a titan of Earth... And some might argue one of the many, many nails hammered into its coffin during the 24th century. A true megacorporation in each and every sense of the world, the Azure Dragon might have been born in China, but its reach soon grew to encompass the globe. A de-facto superpower by the time the Gateways hummed to life and humanity was able to expand their reach across the galaxy. Already at the cutting edge of 24th century technology and eager to plant their logo anywhere they could, the company recognised the Gateways for what they were:

The opportunity to cement the Q-L name in the history books, forever.

The system they lay claim to was matched appropriately to the egos of everyone involved. A primordial, life-bearing world, perfectly suited as a testing ground for terraforming technologies that could hopefully prove their worth and be taken back to repair Earth itself. Qinglong's Frontier Developments Subsidiary thus began the Shennong Initiative- a 'ground up' terraforming project that would use the newly named Qingyuan's unsophisticated biosphere as a blank canvas on which to paint a new Earth.

Resources flooded into the system over the next decade. Although the Initiative was estimated to take almost 30 years, the Conglomerate pre-shipped almost all of the sophisticated terraforming equipment required for its conclusion to the system ahead of time. Taking advantage of the fact that it had virtually no financial oversight, the Q-L gambled that by eating a higher up-front cost, the Megaconglomerate would appear to turn a profit long before the Frontier Development actually paid for itself, massively enriching its shareholders in the process.

These early days were full of completely unwarranted optimism in just how well the whole affair would turn out. Grand, sweeping megaprojects were planned across the system, and the discovery of Tàishǐum only fuelled the fires of corporate greed. Talks quickly began regarding the construction of colossal space stations, or mass drivers on Mingxian to launch goods down to Qingyuan and across to installations on Wuhua, all accompanied by an advertising blitz to put any tinpot dictator rewriting history to shame.

As the atmosphere of Qingyuan stabilised enough for people to descend to the surface, the media frenzy only grew. Workers on Earth were offered ludicrously generous packages to tempt them to a star system entirely under the control of QingCon, complete with wage-garnished travel, cradle-to-grave 'loyalty contracts,' and subsidised parcels of land after service milestones. Company healthcare promised genetic screening and early model cybernetics not only for workers themselves but also their descendants, while every child born in the system was proudly displayed on adverts back home, along with new parents gleefully thanking the company for the chance to raise a family away from a failing Earth.

With such a colossal effort behind it, it was no surprise that the Qinglong system soon became home to a huge number of people drawn from every stratum of society. The common worker could find themselves setting up domes on Mingxian and Jingyu, planting trees across the rugged surface of Qingyuan or stripping it's massive lodestone islands, their every effort carried out under the auspices of a small army of scientists and researchers concerned with everything from food webs to astro-engineering to semi-autonomous drone swarms. Of course, all of this was done beneath the watchful gaze of QingCon and their leagues of administrators, middle-managers, division departments and of course the head office of Frontier Development itself, the first skyscraper to grace Qingyuan's virgin city of Xiwang, an impossible to miss beacon lit up with the company's comforting Azure Dragon logo.

Qinglong's 2300 New Year's party was said to be truly legendary; despite the now critical state that Earth was in, the sheer success of Frontier Developments was impossible to deny. Competitors like Morgan-Lott may have grumbled at the Azure Dragon's creative financing, but with everyone sweeping their own shady practices under the rug even they had to admit that the plan was working. The system was set to be the shining example of what a Gateways colony could look like when given appropriate funding and attention, and even as the Earth crumbled the Conglomerate's finances only climbed higher.

But their success was a bubble, mired in over-ambition and hubris, its share prices riding high on hype and vapour... And it only took a single day for it all to come crashing down.

"A common urban legend regarding 'CoB day' is that upon realising what had happened the COO of Q-L Frontier Developments jumped from the roof of Head Office. It's wrong, he shot himself, but I think it's too late for us to ever shake that old 'what falls faster, a man or his shares?' phrase."
- Debate on the Urban Legends Reference Intranet Forums, dated 2678CE

Qinglong: The Colony (Years 0-75)

"CoB Day ended Q-L's monopoly as quick as that." The interviewee snapped his fingers together. "You'd think their big flagship effort would manage better, but it just wasn't set up to endure such a catastrophic shock to the system, and it's not like the early colony was economically profitable enough to function as a corporatocracy even had they been... But Shennong had to continue. We were all dead without it."
- Archival record interview of first-generation colonial administrator dated 2346CE, used in 'Our Qinglong, our Home,' documentary published 2789 CE.

January 1st, 2301, T+24 from the Gateways closing and the Azure Dragon was already collapsing underneath its own weight. Head Office had entered a state of complete anarchy, far-flung ships and systems suffered communication breakdowns and an atmosphere of absolute panic soon gripped the system. In an instant the very foundations of the New Corporate Ethic that Qinglong Megaconglomerate had championed were stripped bare to reveal them to be both completely rotten and woefully inadequate for the survival situation that Frontier Developments now found itself in.

With the vertical relationship the company had maintained crumbling overnight, the horizontal connections between workers at every level would quickly replace them. When middle management failed, their lower-level subordinates, much more connected to the people that Qinglong had seen only as bank accounts to carefully husband rapidly stepped up, and smaller-scale local organisations soon took shape, intensely reliant on each other to survive.

It is perhaps the ultimate irony that the very organisations that QingCon had so successfully quashed under their tenure - Unions, were what would salvage their flagship project from the brink of collapse. Elected industrial forepeople, research oversight committees and even security force sergeants that should have enforced the hierarchy instead came together, working over the head of the flailing bureaucracy.

What followed was a massive paring down of unrealistic ambitions. Half-finished space stations were scrapped for every spare bolt and lightbulb, lodestone shipments bound for Earth were pulled back to Xiwang to be used in first-generation fusion plasma plants, while the bones of skyscrapers were left forever unfinished as their steel and concrete was turned into fit-for-purpose urban expansion projects.

The one project that could not be abandoned was Shennong. Qingyuan had shown remarkable progress already, and was certainly capable of sustaining human life... But ultimately badly underprepared for full self-sufficiency. Although Qinglong had never prepared for this eventuality, in their drive to bamboozle the markets they'd managed to leave the colonists with enough in-system to press on. Even so, the dreams of an intricately designed and carefully monitored prestige ecosystem would now never be achieved. Plants and animals were unleashed to settle into equilibrium on their own, while targeted defoliants were deployed in order to destroy 'wilderness gardens' and replace them with more practical habitats.

As months turned to years the new order of the system began to settle into place underneath a government that called itself the People's Syndicates of Qingyuan. Their efforts, starting from the ground and growing to encompass the entire inhabited system, culminated in the elections of a Presidium and its leading Director for Qingyuan, along with Vice Directors for both Mingxian and Jingyu. The new order would be signed into law with the ratification of the Qinglong People's Constitution in 2303, and the system was to be re-organised along syndicalist lines, with a market socialist economy replacing the hyper capitalist script-driven structure of the megacorporation. Former middle managers and administrators who had only ever attended meetings and stared at spreadsheets now drove combine harvests or organised union accounts, and as the years ticked over into decades, the system appeared to have succeeded perfectly. To defend frontier settlements and fend off early interplanetary criminal elements the Syndicates would restructure the old corporate security force into a citizen's militia known as the Joint Frontier Force, and this way of life seemed to have established itself as the new normal.

But, just like the NCE it had taken over from, the Syndicates were built on shoddy foundations. Although claiming to be a clean break from the old hierarchy, the ad-hoc nature of the government's founding had meant that many of its bad habits had been held over, including its legendary 'Merit Exam' system. As industries, markets and syndicates grew larger and more complicated, cracks began to form - first at the edges, then snaking all the way through society as the system raced back towards the knife's edge it had navigated itself away from following CoB Day.

The biggest issue was the Presidium itself. Although it had worked well in its earlier days, many of its byzantine systems were hodge-podged together over time rather than cleanly designed from the ground up, and there was increasing stratification between a bureaucratic literati class and the rest of the populace. Compounding matters was the moon of Mingxian, still a major industrial center and badly underrepresented in governance, while Jingyu's steadily growing population increasingly wanted more representation for itself.

Although historically the JFF had served as the colony's de-facto police force, poor oversight and weak control had led to increasingly more radical elements emerging within its society, and the demoralised forces couldn't be counted on to properly fend off interplanetary banditry or even maintain order on the capital. Capping off this potent blend of issues was the steady loss of a unified survivalist culture, as memories of CoB day waned and the first and second generations gave way to children to whom Earth was nothing more than cautionary tale relegated to the pages of a history textbook.

It all came to a head in 2374.

"You should have seen the capital in the 70s. I'd like to say 'good times,' but they really were anything but. Seemed every day there was another strike, protest or demonstration, and it wasn't the damn syndics who were stuck dealing with angry workers hurling brickwork. They let us take the crowd's fury, then promised trite concessions that did nothing but bring them back a month later before turning around and condemning us for not solving the problem."
- A JFF NCO recounting the events leading up to the Xiwang Coup dated 2372CE. Archival footage used with permission, 2763CE

Qinglong: The Directorship (Years 75-120)

"The tragedy of Earth is not that so many died. Death is an inevitable part of life. The tragedy is that so many died as victims. When the crisis came, they were helpless, unable to use their deaths to buy anything of value. Billions of otherwise intelligent people had been tricked into ignoring a fundamental truth: that no man has any rights if he is unable to personally defend them."
Excerpt from Zhou Yīnuò's debut treatise 'The Lessons of Old Earth,' dated 2366CE

It is impossible to understand the Accord as it exists today without understanding Yinuo Zhou. History may not have been kind to her, but it certainly does remember her even four centuries after she passed away. No doubt, knowing such a thing would have brought a trademark wry smile to her lips even as she lay on her deathbed.

The Intranet Encyclopaedia: Yinuo Zhou

Zhou Yīnuò, (July 13th, 2326 - September 22nd 2412) was a Qingyuanren military officer, political theorist and politician who would rule as the unified Director of the Qinglong System from 2375 to her death in 2412. Although popular during her reign, Yinuo’s legacy is complex - equally praised for her decisive action at a time of intense instability and condemned as the herald of the tyranny to come during the period of Supreme Directors. She is nonetheless credited with laying the cultural and political groundwork for what would later become the Combine Council and finally the Executive Machine. She was responsible for widescale economic, social, military and political reforms, while her theories have only become more popular and studied following the Arrival.

Zhou was born in Xiwang City during the early colonial period: At the time, Xiwang was Qingyuan's only major city, its founding the culmination of the early successes of the Shennong Initiative. Her father, Yang Sheng-Ji, was the chairman of the city’s only microprocessor factory, while her mother, Dr Yang Wen (née Xiao) was a researcher and lecturer at the Xiwang Polytechnic Institute. Zhou joined the Qingyuan branch of the Joint Frontier Force in 2344, becoming a commissioned officer at the age of 18, taking advantage of the Force’s low service time requirement to complete two degrees - Human, Social and Political Science and Exoplanetary Studies within 4 years.

Her upbringing gave her an insider's view of the Syndicate's internal levers of power, which combined with her sterling service and a finely-honed mind meant that she saw a steady and uninterrupted rise through the ranks of the QJFF. Zhou served several tours of duty as part of the JFF's space force, directed marine engagements around Mingxian and cleared several additional levels of Merit Examinations, with her rising stardom finally recognised in 2362 when she won a landslide JFF election to take the position of Military Chairwoman (a civilian advisory role.) She would use this position to consistently pressure the various directorships to strengthen pan-system administration, expand outwards across the Twin Planets and increase spending on the JFF's navy to better enforce order in space.

In 2366, she would publish the first of several treaties- 'The Lessons of Old Earth,' in which she put forward the concept of regime in which only those who had directly contributed to the ‘security or betterment of the nation’ would be allowed to participate in its political sphere. While previously tolerated among career politicians in the Syndicates, this controversial publication led to a rare moment of agreement between members of the Presidium, culminating in Zhou being forced to abdicate her position as chairwoman in 2368. Rather than ease tension, this move caused resentment in the JFF to boil over, and they announced a massive series of strikes across both Qingyuan and its moon. With the army refusing to leave their bases, previously controlled demonstrations and protests became emboldened, with a grovelling Director forced to reinstate her before the year was out. She used this opportunity to discredit her opponents and massively increase the remit and power of the JFF, causing a boom in various feeder military industries who would covertly pledge themselves to support her most ambitious moves yet.

[See: Autumn Crisis, Mingxian Crisis]

In September of 2373, the Vice-Director of Mingxian threatened to withdraw the planet's support for the current government, citing the ongoing social unrest and precipitated by a growing feeling of competitiveness between the two bodies over both food from Qingyuan and industrial goods from Mingxian. The following turmoil would unseat the Director of Qingyuan - Chen Tanqiu, in October of the same year, shortly followed by the resignations of many other high-ranking members of the planet's Presidium, in an event that would be dubbed the Autumn Crisis.

The remaining political apparatus hastily scheduled an election for November 13th, but lacking much of its organisational strength the affair was marred with controversy over voting access and irregularities over counts, and there was a near-complete lack of faith that the new Director Zhu De could carry out his duties.

This weakness was what many in the nation had been waiting for, and Zhou was now excellently placed to carry out her plans. Having remained in her position throughout the crisis, she was able to leverage her influence with industrial interests and the JFF to make the fateful declaration that she and the military had lost all faith in the government. Her proposition to the crisis was simple and to the point: The JFF would step in to manage what the government could not. The state would be headed by an 'interim government' centralised under a single Directorship of the Qinglong System, and she nominated herself for the position. With the JFF and (now believed to be astroturfed) series of public protests supporting her ascension, Zhu De reluctantly stepped down in January of 2374. Although no formal election was held, she was appointed in a hastily assembled meeting of the Presidium to thunderous applause.

What followed was a sweeping set of reforms that aimed to rapidly bring a conclusion to the many different issues plaguing the nation. The power of the Directors had been limited both by the need for unity between the various positions and subsequent agreement by the Presidium - with the former no longer an issue and the latter powerless in the face of her support, she had effectively unlimited control over the system. Immediately, she worked to purge the growing literati out of government bureaucracy, crush the system of unions and councils and sweeping aside the many organically developed layers of bureaucracy in order to centralise power in the state. Once complete, many of these assets were then privatised in a gold rush that saw a class of wealthy business oligarchs emerge, some of whom could still trace their fortunes to the days of QingCon.

These oligarchs would go on to form powerful cliques that owed much of their success directly to Zhou, whose backing she could count on to form her largest powerbase throughout her rule. Such an arrangement did have downsides however, and a significant portion of her time would be spent mediating disputes between rival factions within the cloques.

With political and economic power centralised and the government flush with funds from its asset sell-offs, Zhou continued her reforms by widening the state's social nets while simultaneously cracking down on the 'four evils:' unemployment, homelessness, famine, and unrest. The JFF was reorganised into two branches for planetary and interplanetary operations underneath a combined command structure, founding the modern QJDF. The QJDF's role as civilian law enforcement was finally broken off to form separate law enforcement and state security apparatuses, while formalised training and deployment broke the close links militia groups had to their communities. To combat the lawlessness in space she had fought against during her time in the field she instituted new border control regulations and laid the groundworks for a proper Interplanetary Navy, finally succeeding in temporarily crushing banditry. [See Beltway Bandits and New Guangdong]

The rest of her life was spent developing and maintaining the system she had forged, holding it together through political acumen and sheer force of will even after she survived several bouts with cancer and entered her eighties. She would only show noticeable signs of slowing in her final two years, slowly delegating more and more power to her Deputy Director as she retreated from public life. Her final treatise was completed in 2411 and published posthumously, to massive success.

Some expected that the system of rule-by-one would collapse after the 'Iron Director's' nearly forty-year reign... But such hopes were quickly dashed by the new system's surprising flexibility after her departure. Although her designated successor Qi Zheng had several political and personal weaknesses, he was able to ride out the waves of succession without everything collapsing around him. With the dangerous years of succession over and three years of largely controlled rule over the system behind him, many expected that the Joint Directorship would remain for centuries to come, and indeed while externally all seemed well, internally growing disputes among the oligarchal cliques began to cause serious issues for Qi's power.

Unable to control the cliques like his forerunner had, Zheng's weakness was exploited by a cabal of powerful apparatchiks nicknamed the Gang of Five, who although nominally subservient, in practice held most of the keys to power within government. With their influence consolidated the Joint Director was inexorably sidelined, his power cut out under him piece-by-piece. Zheng was allowed to remain in his position continued to be the formal head of state, but in practice this became a figurehead position with all true power consolidated under the newly formed position of Executor.

The Gang of Five implemented a series of slow reforms from Yinuo's autocracy, including token citizen representation in all levels of government (although in reality many of the newly founded or revived bodies were merely rubber-stamps for the will of the Executor and the cliques that backed them.) Fading from the political limelight, Zheng would quietly step down in 2420 citing health issues, retiring to live out the rest of his days managing a tobacco plantation and caring for his family. His funeral was attended to by a large number of both the remaining Zhouist loyalists and the rising powers within the cliques, including the four surviving members of the original Gang of Five. With his death, Qinglong had completed its subtle shift from total autocracy into hidden oligarchy, an age that would come to be defined by the Gang of Five's largest contribution: The Office of Executor.

"The greatest threat to any autocrat is themselves. An autocrat must, if they wish to rule properly and prosperously, be adequately suited for the position that they ascend to. The ever-famous quote is the death-knell of an autocrat - to be corrupt is to undercut one's own authority, and thus guarantee one's fall."
- Excerpt from Yinuo Zhou's final treatise 'On Power and Rule,' dated 2413 CE

Addendum: The Iron Pocketbook

"A single mind is like the leaf of a tree - only when working in concert do they sustain the whole."

Or, to use the formal title, Quotations from the Joint Director: The Words of Yinuo Zhou is one of, if not the most published book in Qinglong's history, placing it on par with religious scripture and some of the most popular works of fiction produced in the system or surviving from Earth. Impossibly influential, it presents the Joint Director's political theories in an easy-to-digest format and accompanies them with quotes both attic and laconic, designed to be endlessly relevant across societal and planetary boundaries.

Conceived of in a publishing committee beneath Qi Zheng, the first printing of the book was a rough compilation of excerpts from many of her most famous speeches along with a few new additions she'd provided from various drafts and the better parts of scrapped speeches. Early drafts were perused by apparatchiks, military elites, and Zhou's inner circle, leading to several stages of refinement before it finally reached its first open publication in 2399. Records from the time suggest that a little under a billion copies of this first edition were published and distributed, part of a concerted effort to center Zhou and her cult of personality in the psyche of the Qinglong Joint Directorate.

The book went through further refinement and printings over the course of Zhou's life and new editions and compilations, often featuring forewords that ground it within the context and history of its first editions or featuring margin annotations for classroom analysis are still published to this day. Indeed, this constant cycle of reappraisal and re-examination have ensured that it still sells very well, placing it among works like The Prince and The Art of War as a cultural touchstone. Several quotes from the book have become common aphorisms, and it is required reading in any academic course that touches upon history or society in the modern republic.

"Harmony is not silence, - it is a drumbeat, to be marched to in lockstep."

The story behind its nickname of 'the Iron Pocketbook' has been the topic of debate since its inception. Some argue that it simply stems from Zhou's customary nickname of the 'Iron Director' while others point to its early publication history among the QJDF, with a plain grey cover, form small enough to be slipped into the breast pocket of a service uniform and mythical ruggedness. This version of the book was issued to every soldier when they finished basic training and even hundreds of years later modern officers may garner a few suspicious squints if they can't muster a basic argument or two on its merit one way or another.

Modern Qinglongren have a peculiar view on the book. For some, it is a key example of Qinglong literature, for most, a nostalgic curiosity. Tourist shops in Xiwang, including the gift shop of the museum established over her former mausoleum offer gaudy modern printings, while its quotability has earned it a permanent place in online meme culture.

Despite the reputation of Zhou and Zhouist thought in the modern Accord, the Iron Pocketbook has never truly left military circles. Graduating officer cadets commonly receive modernised grey-cover printings as gifts, and the QJDF's dress uniform still includes the same breast pocket as its Zhouist counterpart once did, still perfectly sized to slip Zhou's timeless wisdom into.

Qinglong: The Executorship (Years 120-209)

"I like to think that we have achieved the impossible here. The Megacorporation may be dead, but we have built a better world. The Iron Director rests in her mausoleum, but our nation remains whole, undivided by syndicalist weakness. So ganbei! A toast to our accomplishments!"
- Recording from a private political dinner dated 2456 CE, made public in 2597 CE during the Rectification Campaigns.

With the role of Director successfully sidelined, the Executorship had a strong foundation to grow and develop from. Unfortunately for the Executors though, little of this was thanks to the efforts of any of the people to actually take up the position. The now-distant legacy of Qinglong Megaconglomerate had always been one of top-down rule, while Zhou's grand upturning of society and keen political acumen had steered the nation towards minority governance in a far more effective way than mere cultural attitudes. The early Executors enjoyed the favour of cliques relatively unified behind them and widespread popular support thanks to the Gang of Five's careful reforms... But by the late 2440s, the final member of the Gang of Five had passed, and with them the last vestiges of the oligarchal clique's strong collaboration between each other.

With the cliques increasingly at each other's throats and factionalism becoming widespread, the unofficial checks on the Executor's de jure nearly unlimited power rapidly began to break down. Despite the many successes of the 25th century, dissent from Mingxian and Jingyu was never fully eliminated, and with the Executor best placed to try to mediate disputes between the bickering cliques, power began to be brought back under a single position once more. Although its often difficult to exactly pinpoint when one era ends and another begins, most point to the formal dissolution of the office of Joint Director in 2511 to make way for the position of Supreme Executor to be the end of the political legacy that Yinuo had started. Further Executors would rely on increasingly authoritarian measures both to control the population and to stabilise their influence against the Byzantine deep state of clique politics that had emerged.

Despite this political climate, the 25th century is usually seen as a time of progress for Qinglong as a whole. Yinuo's military reforms meant that the issue of interplanetary banditry and secessionist movements continued to be controlled, while a proliferation of genetic and cybernetic enhancements across society improved the length and quality of the average life. Many Executors saw the further terraforming and settlement of Jingyu to be a useful prestige project to refocus attention from their weaker areas of leadership, and the planet saw more investment into it than it ever had before, especially since Yinuo's reign had largely concentrated on expanding settlements across Qingyuan. Continued bread and games policies ensure that the populace remained, if not fully happy, at least content with the way that the system was managed, and the easing of migration controls led to a boom in economic activity and frontier settlement.

To say that this was an unstable tightrope to walk would be a gross understatement, and it didn't take long at all before the cracks were once again worming their way through Qinglong society. The increasing desperation of Supreme Executors led to more social unrest, while having a single powerful opponent to rally against meant that cliques were more often than not willing to work together to re-assert their power. With the position of Executor assailed on all sides, the deathblow to the autocratic regime arrived in a very unusual form in the year 2509.

"We'd known that the galaxy harboured intelligent life aside from ourselves ever since the original days of QingCon, but after CoB day nobody ever thought they'd be relevant again, short of the Gateway opening itself back up. I mean, what, were aliens going to cross a few hundred trillion kilometres in slower-than-light spaceships just to say hello?"
- Archival internal interview of a naval deep-space monitoring officer dated 2511 CE, used in 'Our Qinglong, our Home' documentary published 2789 CE

Qinglong: The Councilship (Years 209-~298):

"Put yourself in our shoes. We had an unidentified fleet of xeno rapidly approaching the inner system. There were no protocols for this. There were no previous experiences to fall back to. A decision had to be made and there wasn't time to wait three hours for communication from Q-Y. You ask if I can sleep soundly knowing I fired upon refugees? I sleep just fine, your honour."
- Court room recording of the trial of Rear Admiral Mao Zhelan , then 121, during the Rectification Campaigns, dated 2598 CE.

In late June 2509, the Qinglong Navy's much neglected deep-space monitoring systems picked up a large number of highly unusual signatures approaching the systems at a significant c-fraction and slowing, in contradiction to all usual logic regarding interstellar material. Having spent the vast majority of its existence ever since the end of Zhou's reign as a brief pass-through deployment for up-and-coming personnel and a dumping ground for washed-up or politically disenfranchised officers, the initial response to this phenomenon was not adequately communicated back to the central government, and it soon became clear that this was no wandering asteroid or collection of deep-space detritus, but instead an honest-to-God alien fleet, rapidly approaching the system.

Some 200 years of total isolation had left the existence of intelligent alien life as somewhat of a footnote in the history of pre-CoB Qinglong Conglomerate. Because of this, naval doctrine was far more concerned about the day-to-day management of interstellar logistics, routine peacekeeping patrols and ceremonial displays than it was about the potential need to defend the nation against a literally alien threat. This lack of preparation came back to haunt the nation as the fleet approached, and while it clearly recognised attempts at communication and even responded to hails, no actual communication could occur. By the time the deep-system report was finally sent, the fleet had reached the outer system and had begun to disperse, although its core shifted to a collision course with Jingyu.

The vast span of space meant that, in the absence of clearly countervailing orders, flag officers were empowered to take strategic decisions with the backing of assigned political officers. While the Supreme Executor froze and the deep state bickered among themselves, rear admiral (or Haijun shao jiang) Mao Zhelan made the fateful decision to prepare his wing for full scale conflict and issued the order to fire. When the weapons struck home the fleet would rapidly scatter and although several increasingly long and incensed-sounding messages were sent out the ships did indeed begin to retreat back to the far system.

At the time Mao's decisive actions were celebrated for ensuring the safety of not just Jingyu but even Qingyuan itself, briefly making him one of the most famous people in the nation. Such attention ended up being a double-edged blade however, as political interests dogged his military career desperate to use his reputation and influence for their own ends. Making matters worse, not just for Mao but also for the government, was the breaking down of the communication barrier between Qinglongren and the alien fleet, with the true details of their arrival and their intentions becoming clear.

The flotilla was a splinter from a nation located in a system some three dozen lightyears away, comprised of an ad-hoc assembly of 'Ark' ships designed to carry them away from their home system. Although there have been many different names for the refugees over the years and they call themselves a word that quite simply translates to 'the people,' the common 'human' name they've accepted is 'Canxing Zholou (残星舟旅),' or 'Voyagers of the Broken Stars' They had not come as invaders or colonists, but instead refugees desperately trying to keep ahead of the system-spanning advance of a what would quickly be dubbed the Shenjian Empire (神姦帝国), due to its alien name being impossible to adequately translate. (Even the best attempts by modern, integrated Zhouluren have rendered something along the lines of [Untranslatable Proper Noun] Greater Star-Integration Hegemon, thanks to the difficulties of translating an already alien language through a different alien language and finally to Mandarin.)

The result was, to put it mildly, explosive. With Qinglong already having approached a crossroad prior to the Arrival, any last remnants of stability were shattered at this news. Unrest and panic unseen since the days of the Autumn Crisis spread across the system like wildfire, and no amount of desperate authoritarian measures could quell this level of social disturbances. No matter who you sided with - pro-Zhouluren integrationists, hardline militarists only caring for the approaching Shenjian, radical populists or extreme Zhouists, the chorus of voices all agreed on one thing: The Supreme Executor had to go.

Seizing the opportunity, the re-organised cliques made their move against the position. Stepping out of the shadows that they had disguised their political power in for well over a century, they unseated the last Executor in a move oddly reminiscent of Zhou's own bloodless coup, announcing that until a proper solution to the crisis could be found, an interim council had taken charge to better manage the state's affairs.

Disbanding the position of Supreme Executor and reigning without a single authority figure bought the Council enough goodwill to ease the immediate unrest, but their margin was still slight, and once again the oligarchs had put themselves in a position where success could only come from the ever-fractious cliques putting aside their differences to work together. Scepticism was high as they re-asserted authority, and afraid to rock the boat many of the Executorship era mechanisms were kept on, although with their worst excesses toned down and the dispersed authority of the Council forcing them to act more collaboratively.

The first issue was, naturally, that of the Zhouluren and the approaching Shenjian, which the immediately revived deep space monitoring systems set about scouring the darkness between the stars to find. Rejecting the calls of those who saw the Zholouren as nothing more than a fifth column in the making, smaller portions of Zholouren were reluctantly permitted entrance to Jingyu and Mingxian, while elements of their surviving fleet combined with new building projects created a segregated area of space around the barren fourth planet of Wuhua for them to inhabit.

With this issue 'handled,' at least for the time being, deep space scans finally bore fruit: although still some light years away, the Shenjian were indeed real, and although the vastness between the stars has always been difficult to glean information from, what did come through was all bad news. The approaching fleet was large, organised, and worse, appeared to have a second, much smaller fragmentary fleet hot on its heels, of similar but distinctly different design.

Although the Council attempted to suppress this, the once formidable security apparatus that earlier Supreme Executors had used to their advantage was powerless in the face of a population well aware that something was coming, and as soon as early rumours broke, the Council realised that it was best to be open about the trials to come, hoping that honesty would be the best defence against further chaos. They were mistaken.

Despite the necessity for singular, strong leadership behind a dramatic restructuring and expansion of the military, the Council lacked the political capital, and the trust of the population required to push these through. To unite the system fully against the invaders and perhaps finally bring something approximating order to the political chaos that once again racked Qinglong, the Council took a decision many saw as ludicrous given the situation: Reform.

Specifically, they launched the first of what would be several 'Rectification Campaigns,' aimed at righting some of the wrongs of the past and allowing the people into a government that had for centuries systematically removed their power in decision making. The cliques were reformed into a series of 'Combines,' corporatist institutions whose goals were no longer simply to empower their leaders, but instead ensure that those who made up their membership were properly represented across social boundaries, while drawing upon old Zhouist ideals to sell them as a fundamental part of ensuring the state's survival.

The Combines would hold regular, internal elections to nominate members of the Unified Combine Council, a legislative and executive body that would navigate the reformed government through the trials that were yet to come... And they succeeded. Against all odds, against what the cyclical failure of government in Qinglong's history suggested would be the natural outcome of this desperate roll of the dice, the UCC was able to scrape together enough good will, not only from industrial interests now formally represented in power, but also by the population of a system that began to see the first glimmerings of representative government take shape that the UCC was finally able to begin turning the gears of power once more.

For several decades, the UCC held the ship of state steady despite the ticking clock of the Shenjian fleet. Whenever internal pressure began to build up, a new round of Rectification Campaigns would be launched to release the strain, and bit by bit more and more of the clique's legacy were chipped away by a people who increasingly saw themselves as those who would spend the most in the defence of their way of life.

Exactly when the 'hard,' oligarchal Councilship truly ended is difficult to truly determine, but most place it somewhere within the third wave of Rectification Campaigns occurring at the end of the 26th century. These were primarily focused on two areas: stripping the newly reformed Qinglong Interplanetary Defence Force of its 'old guard,' largely consisting of admirals and officers who had made their name during the period of Supreme Executor that still held influence. Simultaneously, it also aimed to finally bring proper reform to the Merit Examination system, which still hadn't seen proper, systemic changes since Zhou had gutted the literati class in the aftermath of the Xiwang Coup.

Perhaps the Combine Council expected that this would be the final adjustment needed before they were ready to face the Shenjian, now estimated to be a mere decade away from arriving in the system, or simply didn't realise exactly how much influence the Merit Examinations still held within ensuring the Combines were dominated by the remnants of the cliques, but regardless of their intention, the outcome was simple: A new force had been birthed into the system, right as it was about to face its greatest trial.

Its name? Héxié Zhǔyì.

"For centuries, we have struggled to answer the great questions that a society must tackle. For too long we have been Qingyuanren or Mingxianren, clique or combine or syndicate or soldier. We have picked apart the Lessons of Old Earth, and in so doing we stared at trees but not the forest. Now, as we stare destruction in its eye, we finally realise one thing: We are all Qinglongren, and we will live or die on how we react to that truth."
- Remarks from pre-electoral meeting of the UCC by Chairperson Jia Jin - Dated 2299 CE

Qinglong: The Synthesis (Years ~298-330):

"Why do the Shenjian fight? For what reason have they purged the Canxing Zholou from their homes, and now seek to do the same to us? More importantly, do such things truly matter now? Does the anvil question the hammer's motives? Does the mountain wonder why the waves batter it? Or do they endure, unendingly and resolutely, until only one remains?"
- Excerpt from Ruminations on the Second Arrival an independent micro-news intranet site, 2304 CE.

In late 2301 the Shenjian finally arrived and the QJDF rallied to meet them. The goal was simple - to hold the fleet at the edge of the system for as long as it was possible to do so, and bleed them for every mile of space they intended to take. Across planetary systems, crowds tuned into news broadcasts and live feeds with bated breath, while more and more soldiers were funnelled across to Jingyu in case the worse were to happen.

And slowly, as information filtered in from the front, it seemed that the worst had indeed happened. Initial skirmishes had gone in favour of Qinglong, but as soon as the Shenjian armada had closed the gap the battle had turned into a bloodbath. Footage from the front showed space turned into a vast junk field, with projectiles, lasers and missiles streaking across the void. Interplanetary wings desperately wheeled and juked to try to shake off weapon locks, while the hardened core of the defence fleet gave ground inch by inch, layered laser systems desperately intercepting anything and everything they could find... But giving ground nonetheless.

This period saw the true flourishing of Héxié Zhǔyì, and the societal movement that accompanied it - The Harmonious Progress Front, an ideology forged in the crucible of the system's darkest hours. The movement's actual form was still confusing - it wasn't a political party - not really, the UCC already had bodies arguing for competing ideological vision that fit this concept better, nor did it have a single unified ideological vanguard to centralise and promote its message. Its symbols were diverse and varied; springing out of repurposed Zhouist imagery, taken from long-since archived megacorporate propaganda or blending Zholou and Human messaging together. Its adherents were decentralised and chaotic, and yet still managed to agree on its core principles, drawn from centuries of political and cultural synthesis in the system. Perhaps this was why its message, summed up best in the three-part slogan, was so effective at rallying the disparate groups within Qinglong together against their existential foe.

Through Unity, Harmony. Through Harmony, De.

"Totalitarianism is not a dirty word. It is the truest realisation of what all states should be: A system encompassing all, to work for all." - The Iron Pocketbook.

The movement's momentum grew like tsunami's approach... Or more accurately like the Shenjian, who had already begun to sink their teeth into the dwarf planets and scattered asteroids that lay at the very edges of the Qinglong system. The more ground the navy gave, the more the armada pressed and harried them, driving the Interplanetary Defence Force back past the system's ice giants, and then to the orbital defences arrayed around Jingyu itself, where many of the reserve fleets intended for further defence had assembled. The UCC's plan was clear - if the Shenjian managed to take the planet, no defence-in-depth would be able to bleed the momentum away from an army with a whole planet to call their own.

Conscripts were hurriedly shuttled to the front, terraforming devices ground to a halt, and long-range rail cannons tried to pick away at the armada with mixed results. As the fleet reached the planet itself and drop-ships streaked down towards its surface, Qinglong held its breath, watching as the full weight of an unknown foe pressed down on the fragile shield arrayed around Jingyu. The defences buckled, bowed under the sheer weight of the force they opposed... But then, bit by bloody bit, the space war began to be won. Many of the Shenjian's support craft, along with significant portions of its naval reserves had been redirected to establish new bases in the outer system, and the rearguard actions had done their job at bleeding the armada during their approach. On the planet itself, Qinglongren stormed across muddy swamps churned by Shenjian war machines, the sky pinpricked by the flash of artillery pieces roaring their defiance at the alien invaders. As reinforcements for the Shenjian slowed, and the armada made its fateful decision to pull back from Shenjian, the human-occupied planets roared in jubilation - they would not perish today.

But it was clear the war was not over. The Shenjian had dug into the outer system and the tattered reinforcing fleet was only a few years away from providing them a fresh glut of ships and personnel. The battle for Jingyu had ended the armada's first push, but now the UCC was faced with an even less palatable outcome - a potentially unwinnable war of attrition.

The next years saw society begin to shift and adjust itself to this new order, and Héxié Zhǔyì thought become the largest grassroots movement to ever grace the system. As even the upper ranks of the Combine began to be swayed by the siren song of harmony and unity, the fourth Rectification Campaign saw the birth of what so many had considered impossible within Qinglong: Democracy.

Initial voting for the Planetary Delegation saw a broad spectrum of candidates elevated to the halls of government, but contrary to the expectation of sceptics, the vast majority were willing to put aside their more ideological divides in order to work for the common good of Qinglong, forming a cross-Delegation agreement that took the name of the popular movement that had inspired it - The Harmonious Progress Front.

Within twenty years, the system had sifted out inefficiencies and chaos like a prospector searching for nuggets of gold. The end of the period of synthesis came with the formal declaration that the Harmonious Progress Front would be the representation of the people's will within Qinglong's government, and in 2530 a new constitution was formally ratified declaring the foundation of the Qinglong Accord, a modern government for a modern solar system, strengthened against both the chaos of autocracy and the disorder of populism. In honour of the agreement, the Planetary Delegation would be renamed the Harmonious Delegation, and the Executive Machine hummed to life.

<"For hundreds of years, my people have lived in fear of what has chased us. When we arrived here, we thought that we had met our end, and that our long journey would be for nothing. Today, as I open this memorial to those lost in the Great Defence of Jingyu, my heart may be heavy with sorrow, but for the first time I, as do all Zholouren, feel something greater. Hope.">
- Ren Xuefeng, Humanicised Sky Zholouren, and first non-human member of the Planetary Delegation, closing comments from a speech inaugurating the Qingyuan "Great Struggle" Memorial Wall, 2513 CE. Used in 'Our Qinglong, our Home' documentary published 2789 CE.

Qinglong: The Great Struggle (Years 330-500):

"No flame is fiercer than conflict, no crucible tempers like war. Mark my words, the day that Qinglong burns is the day that it truly shakes the shackles of Earth and takes its own shape. I know not why, I know not when, but I know that one day it must happen. What I have done is merely the groundwork for the struggle that will come."
- Zhou Yinuo, private correspondence to her inner circle in a discussion about the QJDF's recent reorganisation, 2380 CE.

The Shenjian Armada had been deflected, but not decisively beaten in the Great Defence of Jingyu. As both sides licked their wounds and prepared for the conflict to reach another bloody apex, the power of the Executive Machine began to make itself apparent, the twin mechanisms of democratic representation and corporatist collaboration unified with the increasingly sophisticated aid of Non-Biological Intelligences, a technology only possible through cooperation with the Canxing Zholou.

The centuries of the Great Struggle have seen Qinglong society entirely remade in the image of Unitarian Harmonism. State, people and ideology are bound together in a way that might come off as dystopic to some from old Earth, but they proudly declare themselves to be the 'perfected system,' having avoided the excesses of the past in order to forge a brighter, better future for not just humanity, but all sapient and peaceable species willing to work together. With the Gateways reopening, only time will tell how well the Accord can weather such a radical shift in situation.

Culture and Society:
The easiest way to get a glimpse into the Accord's culture is found within the requirements of their first and most important Merit Examination, appropriately named 'the First Merit.' Taking place over some six years between the ages of 12-18 for humans, receiving the First Merit is an important rite of passage, marking one as a legal adult, able to vote in Delegation elections, provide meaningful consent and to serve their initial two-year conscription ticket. Broken down into separate parts, it aims to ensure that every member of the Accord:

- Is of sound body and mind, to the maximum of the person's ability.
- Has received a fundamental education in literacy, numeracy, analytical and logical thinking, and the basic principles of science and philosophy.
- Is capable of mature social and ethical decision making, including conflict resolution, and working within a group.
- Is aware of 'practical and necessary skills with universal application to life,' including first aid, fire and food safety, domestic science, and an understanding of how to react to a varying set of natural and sapient-made disasters.
- Has basic technological literacy.
- Understands how to safely operate and maintain a firearm.
- Understands the history, politics, and planetary dynamics of the Qinglong Accord, including the structure of its government and the unique environmental conditions on the various inhabited bodies. Special focus is placed on the planetary body (or lack thereof) the individual comes from.
- Beliefs are suitable within the overarching framework of Héxié Zhǔyì thought.
- Is aware of their rights, duties, and obligations under the state, including but not limited to conscription, Universal Basic Access to life-sustaining goods and services and what legal culpability as an adult means.

Adjustments to the First Merit are allowed, but typically only within the framework necessary to ensure that no discrimination occurs on the basis of disability.

First Merit graduation is also an opportunity for a citizen to receive their first implant - the Neural Interface Suite, key to not only being able to talk with Canxing Zholou citizens directly verbally but also allowing them to interface with many fundamental elements of the nation's digital infrastructure. Indeed, the Neural Enhancement Suite is so crucial that it forms the foundation upon which every other one of the Accord's many, many implants are built upon, with further implants typically restricted behind higher or more specialised Merit Examinations.

A Note on Merit Examinations

"Merit Examination" is a term that comes with heavy connotations to those unaware of how it is used within the Accord. To most, it conjures imagery of cramming schools, examination halls filled with students being scrutinised by invigilators and moments of relief or despair as the results arrive. While typed and invigilated examinations do make up aspects of almost all Merit Examinations, they're perhaps more accurately equated to apprenticeships or qualification programs that can take many years to finally complete and receive their associated Merit.

The average Accord citizen will undergo potentially dozens of Merit Examinations throughout their life, receiving Merits that cover everything from battlesuit piloting to high-level Non-Biological Mind programming and anything in between. Almost every job is associated with at least one required Merit, and while it is generally preferred that people take on Merit Exams in their free time, many different societies and training courses exist both in and outside of Combines to ensure a person is constantly developing themselves across their lives. Some are near mandatory - vehicle handling Merits, the 'Boot Merit' awarded upon completing one's basic training and the Digital Infrastructure Merit that confirms a deepened technological literacy and allows a citizen permission to own and maintain their own intranet website. But many more are extremely limited in scope and scale, such as the Battlesuit Ace or Interplanetary Management Merits. These may often take the vast majority of a person's professional life to acquire and mark standout individuals worthy of respect and celebration for their accomplishments.

But, of course, the duties expected of a citizen are only one part of a multiplanetary tapestry. As with most everything when it comes to the Accord, their culture and society are highly collectivist. Even non-immersive schooling involves a boarding element and 'Civic Engines' (or, as any other nation would call them, community centres,) form a core nexus of any settlement on Qinglong, being so central that one's local Engine is often referred to literally as Zhōngxīn - 'The Centre.' Indeed, their collectivist nature can be seen even through how they refer to each other, with 'cog' becoming a common species and gender-neutral way of referring to a fellow citizen.

This, naturally, radiates out to every facet of their society. Universal Basic Access policies ensure that citizens have, if nothing else, a roof above their head, food on a plate for them at an Engine's communal kitchen, comprehensive medical care and access to education and schooling. Community groups organised around specific activities or events, like the ever-popular Shooting and Virtual Entertainment Societies bring people together both at a local and pan-planetary level, while sponsorships and adoptive groups ensure that even those without a family like the Legacy Kin are able to enjoy these most primal bonds.

In a broader cultural sense, the Qinglong system obviously takes much from its origins as a Chinese Megaconglomerate. Many different Eastern spiritual and philosophical concepts have had a deep impact on Héxié Zhǔyì thought, Qinglong Dialect Mandarin forms the bulk of the human population's primary language and modernised cheongsam and changshan remain commonplace for formal or special events. The continued access to authentic ingredients has kept traditional 'Eight Cuisines' alive and well, although five hundred years of time to brew and a much wider range of ingredients has seen a truly dizzying variety emerge outside of 'Earth-Tradition Cooking.'

Four planets and three species have all provided their own contribution to the cause as well, of course, with the end result being a tapestry that while distinctly coloured by their origins, has a proudly unique Qinglong flair to each and every thread.

---

Governance and Politics:
The Qinglong Accord is not merely the name of the nation, but is in fact the formal title for an agreement made between the then-recently flowered democratic bodies across the system and the Combines in order to form a single, unified government that could lead the state into war against the Shenjian, built on the foundations of Héxié Zhǔyì thought. This agreement laid out the mechanisms of government as follows:

The Executive Machine:
The executive branch and highest ruling body in Qinglong system. Consisting of members drawn from both the Unified Commission of Combines and Harmonious Delegation, it is assisted in its decision making by a series of networked Computational Minds, used to ensure that not only is the body acting appropriately, but also is as well-informed as physically possible when taking any decisions. Having seen the issues that can arise when a single individual gains too much power, the Executive Machine uses a system of rotating chairpeople, with strict term limits and extensive scrutiny.

Unified Commission of Combines:
One of the two legislative branches of government, the UCC draws its members directly from the Combines - massive overarching corporate bodies that organise, advocate for and represent their interests within Qinglong. High-ranking positions within the Combines is limited by gruelling merit examinations, exemplary service and extensive assessment by both humans and computational minds and as such are not decided by election.

The Harmonious Delegation:
The elected body of the legislature, the Harmonious Delegation is formed of elected officials from each of the system's inhabited bodies. This has earned it a reputation for being much more chaotic than either the EM or UCC, but equally, the body is known for its deeply human side and is the battlefield where the many variants of Héxié Zhǔyì thought compete to show their potential.

The Harmonious Progress Front:
The idea of a 'political party' is somewhat strange within the Accord thanks to its unique system of government, but nonetheless one does exist, and is considered the only legitimate political organisation within Qinglong. As the party is entirely synonymous with the system as a whole, exactly where the state begins and the party ends is up for debate, but its most crucial function when it comes to running the nation is its system of Harmonisers and Optimisers.

Both have completed specialised Merit Examinations to receive their role and distinctions, but it would be a mistake to assume that they are 'classes' or 'strata' and Qinglongren do not see them as such. Any citizen may join their ranks, assuming they are fit for the role, and these roles are held alongside other jobs, duties or positions.

Harmonisers are individuals dedicated to the overarching ideals of Héxié Zhǔyì thought and are found in every part of society. A Harmoniser might be one's designated first-aiders at work, serve in an equivalent position to chaplain in the armed forces or as the head of safeguarding in a crèche. Military harmonisers are sometimes referred to as 'commissars,' but in truth such a role is actually more accurately applied to:

Optimisers are select individuals who work to ensure smooth societal functioning and while a great number make up the career civil service, they have a wide variety of duties. They ensure that Combines work alongside one another without issue, that quotas are met and act as watchdogs against corruption and other criminal activity, among other roles. Military optimisers do indeed make up significant portions of the commissariat and are responsible for ensuring that conscription quotas are both fairly applied and actually draft the required number of soldiers, alongside duties such as the maintenance of military news broadcasts and ensuring proper ideological loyalty among the troops.

Technology Overview:
Technology has improved steadily across much of Qinglong's history, in many ways thanks to the influence of Mingxian. At once part of Qingyuan and very distinct, its industries and research centres have been protected from many of the more dramatic swings in governance and rule that have occurred on Qingyuan.

Tàishǐum forms a core part of a significant portion of the Accord's infrastructure, with its unique magnetic qualities making it vital for high-temperature fusion reactors, while lower qualities are more than suitable for mag lev vehicles both civilian and military. Their success at reaching the Mohorovičić discontinuity on Wuhua has proven themselves able and capable at massive engineering projects, while the QIDF demonstrates their capacity at aerospace engineering in each and every engagement.

The use of cybernetic and genetic augmentation has been a consistent throughline even since the earliest days of Qinglong Megaconglomerate, and modern cybernetics within the Accord are incredibly advanced, although typically limited behind requirement and the completion of a merit examination deeming one's suitability for the modification. Zholouren influence provided a boost to their otherwise flagging genetic engineering projects, whose benefits have made themselves known through fewer and fewer rates of heritable genetic conditions, improved lifespans, and a longer biological peak, and it is uncommon but not unheard of for citizens to reach their second century.

Perhaps more critically are their advancements in artificial intelligence, or as they're known, Non-Biological Intelligences. Prior to the First Arrival, genuine 'thinking machines' were out of reach for the Qinglong, but extremely advanced ANNs were able to carry out a wide variety of functions. With the help of the Zholou and their 'shipminds' though, these have evolved to become genuinely autonomous sapient brains. NBIs within the Accord are odd - The actual 'spark of consciousness' that brings them to life is somewhat of a black box and they fundamentally do not consider themselves 'people,' something which perhaps makes more sense when one realises just how divergent the experience of a mind without any of the typical influences a biological one has. Instead, NBIs working together to form Networked Computational Minds are a cornerstone of the QA's digital and real-world infrastructure, able to process vast amounts of input data into coherent and actionable plans and intelligence outputs, a task which also brings them a great deal of pleasure. Because of this, the creation, training, and coordination of the efforts of NBIs is of paramount importance to the long-term security and prosperity of the Accord.

Military Overview:
To call the Accords 'militarised' would be an understatement. The two centuries of total war that have followed the Shenjian arrival have been dubbed the 'Great Struggle:' an endless defence against an inhuman threat that expresses no desires other than domination. While this was key in the formation of a unified society, it also transformed the military from what has historically been an agent of oppression and enforcement into a core, intrinsic pillar of society around which much of the state is organised. The Qinglong Joint Defence Force is split into two components: the Planetary Defence Force, concerned with any and all in-atmosphere operation, and the Interplanetary Defence Force, which focuses entirely on space-borne operations.

The ranks of the QJDF are filled by both volunteers and conscripts. All citizens of the Accord are intended to serve at least two years in active service after they complete their First Merit, before spending a further five years in 'active reserve,' with an expectation that they will be the first reactivated should it be necessary. In practice, this all-encompassing military service requirement has required practical carveouts for individuals unsuitable or otherwise ineligible for frontline service, including those entering essential war or civilian industries or those with medical issues outside of the ability of the Accord to treat. Because of their physiologies and heavy incorporation into Qinglong's research sector, Sky Canxing Zholou are the demographic group with the highest rate of draft exemption, although regardless of demographics, military exemption is not an exemption from service to the state, and individuals may find themselves tasked with civic duty such as community construction efforts, mandatory merit training, work within civic engines or as part of the emergency services.

A large body of the military consists of long-term volunteer soldiers - those who either entered conscription with the intent to continue their service there and those who found themselves more suited to service than they expected during their two years. Forming the professional core of both branches of the QJDF, they spend significant periods of time away from their home communities in an extremely hazardous environment, with their sacrifice to the nation being heavily emphasised within Accord media.

Battlesuits

The unique conditions of taking and engaging with the Shenjian on their terms - particularly when it came to attacking stations and disabled vessels, made new hardware designed for such a task essential. Early efforts led to models that were little more than heavily up-armoured EVA suits with simple powered systems, but these have since evolved and been adapted into a series of 'battlesuit' chassis being developed, the most famous being the all-environment Shishi Assault Suit, urban siege Xuanwu and top-of-the-line Baihu Elite Suits.

Piloting these suits requires an intense level of training and augmentation, including the implantation of a much more invasive set of neural implants to allow for seamless control over the suit, as if it were one's own skin. All battlesuits are also fitted with NBI Co-Processors, which graft onto the pilot, heightening autonomous reaction time and providing a much deeper level of information processing for better battlefield decision making. This interface is irreversible once implanted, while the constant use of co-processors can cause severe neurological and mental issues should a battlesuit pilot be parted from them. Because of this and the expense of producing the equipment, battlesuits form a tiny, but extremely well-known minority of the QJDF. Veterans often struggle to reacclimatise to civilian life, and many advancements in mental healthcare has been made in the effort of allowing these heroes of Qinglong to harmoniously rejoin the whole.

The military is further bolstered by volunteer reservists, a population that includes the overwhelming number of people between the ages of 25-50. Having already received basic military training and with the Accord's strong gun culture (further cultivated and formalised with the existence of shooting societies,) these reserves act as a national guard for the purpose of disaster response and, particularly on Jingyu, as an organised fighting force that can immediately respond to threats to the community.

Between planets, the QIDF is responsible for one of the most complex tasks ever put before humanity: successfully managing a frontline that includes tens of billions of square miles of dead space, defending an ever-shifting configuration of planets against a threat that can approach from an almost unlimited number of vectors, and, occasionally, pushing back against them, to reassert the Accord's control over Qinglong system. Because of this, their fleets have taken on a distinctive role as interdiction forces, ensuring stable supply lines and preventing incursion past Jingyu's orbit, utilising heavy artillery craft, capital command ships and heavy-duty frontline cruiser-destroyers protected by point-defence specialised escorts. Most combat occurs directly between ships, but marines are still necessary for when an enemy craft has been disabled, or when a station has been rendered defenceless and ready to capture.

---

Through the Gateways: Inhumanity

@BunniesOfDoom

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