The Ossuary of Ambition: Site Survey R-04

Valden Cantaris, Log Entry: OT-3911.05.28
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Site Survey R-04

I say this with all due respect coming up the Chain - Professor Warren Harmon can take his romanticized vision of Elderbone and stuff it up his augmented waste disposal. He named his dream destination the Valley of the Horses, which is only accurate if he’s talking about the ancient Terran myth of 4 Horsemen. Or even double the amount, providing how much wreckage there is. At least 8 Horsemen worth of ancient scrap. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Little chainlink as I may be, I can't help but congratulate myself for having picked Suther and Koan for my techs. I almost don't regret the whole lot of time we spent banging our heads going from door to door, trying to gain a permit for the Muskrat in place of the regular ordnance. Those old Construction APCs wouldn't last a week on this planet, let alone eight. Certainly, none of them could traverse the riverbed.

Our unsung hero of a vehicle has, since my last entry, braved more than 900 klicks, quadrupling the distance we managed to do on land in the same amount of time. Somewhat easier on the crew too. Of course, it took some careful maneuvering here and there in order not to fall too deep and share the fate of Marek Suther. Muskrat is expected to withstand the pressure of depths up to 200 meters which means that here, on Elderbone, anything deeper than 65 meters could crush us. It would have been an issue if not for the unusual density of the planet's air, as well as some hyperbaric capabilities of the Muskrat. Not only were we safe to descend up to 100 meters, but it actually brought us some relief. I'm starting to believe in myself walking again some day.

Of course, using hyperbaric pressures means we need to add a couple hours to each resurfacing, so that makes the ordeal extra annoying. Not as annoying as the alternative, nitrogen and oxygen poisoning. They made our own doctor reach for the floodgate seal emergency panel in a fit of inebriated panic. Shaffer is all well now, not counting all the other strifes this space rock has to offer, and a bit of vivid purple in place where Koan's forearm bonked his temple in what my Chorial AI cheerfully identified as a Gua Choi, whatever that is. Someone among my ancestors must’ve liked beating people with bare hands enough to catalogue and name it, so that’s a bit concerning… I would venture to write that Doc lost some pride as well, but that feeling has long evaporated from all our bodies. Speaking of Koan, I'm 100% positive he's a VT. Whatever hell his life was before this voyage, it forged one undaunted automaton out of him. Below 70 feet of leaden water and with 3 bars of pressure pushing against his eardrums, his composure and poise only seemed to grow sounder. If anything, it was amplified by them, the deafening silence cradling him in some sort of meditative state.

Muskrat gave up just at the edge of the Valley, right after delivering us to our destination. With the suspension compressed enough to carve diamond, the vehicle joined its numerous predecessors scattered all around 8 Horsemen Valley. Its inner reactor still holds though, making Muskrat our home of sorts. 

After our little underwater adventure, Doc Shaffer revisited my dusty Chorials about cellulose bags and figured out that CO2, normally our enemy in other environments, was actually our friend in this, oxygen oversaturated one. He modified the process of Muskrat's ventilation with that in mind and, lo and behold - no more headaches and less fire in the lungs. Plus, we salvaged a radio off of one of the oldboys here, Julia and Koan are finishing the installation as I record. Life is almost good.

Glossary overview

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