The Ossuary of Ambition

Log Entry: OT-3911.04.15
top crumble

Site Survey B-02

"Morale's low. Marek Suther perished. It's ironic, for all the flatness this world enforces on the landscape and everything on it, bodies of water have obscenely steep riverbeds. It's not Koan's fault, this planet just is like that. I mourn the fact that we had to learn it the hard way. May All-Father embrace his servant and allow him to live in the Chorials he left behind. May we be absolved for allowing the technology that he carried share his fate. Even more so, as he was carrying our radio.

No easily obtainable solution for the gravity breaking our spines. Although... if we return to civilization, I should endorse Koan for promotion for the absurd, unauthorised idea of releasing our Muskrat before our smashing to the surface. I was really pissed off at first, learning about how me losing our cargo was his deliberate doing, but he bore the Burden of responsibility with ease by knowing his craft really well. I pity the Armadians for having rejected a man that is able to drop several tonnes of non-aerodynamic weight and successfully hit a body of water that he aimed at, all during a turbulent emergency landing. Besides, the damn thing must be truly favoured by the All-Father, it achieved the surface much better than we did. The upgrades he and Suther commissioned in Heliand Registry before embarking did an amazing job. The suspension holds despite dealing with triple the load and it looks like the planet's surface is compressed enough not to swallow our vehicle even while not submerged. Whatever damage the Muskrat sustained, Koan made it go away enough for us to achieve mobility.

We all still need to lie down while one person suffers sitting behind the steering panel, but the seat indeed reclines quite well. It's a start.

The pills Doc Shaffer fabricated for us seem to be working as an antioxidant shield, at least to some extend. The air here still inflames lungs and airways and makes every breath as pleasurable as snorting metal filings. Yesterday I found a really old and laconic Chorial in my own family database, there was something about breathing through bags of some kind of biomass. Problem is that it's a Chorial of someone reciting an even older one, from the database predating the Phantom War. It's so messy and distorted I dread the embarassment of showing it to my third in command. I see no way in which a bag made of felted cellulose would filter this air into something less mean, but perhaps Shaffer will."

No items found.

Glossary overview

Made in Webflow