11 Eidon 29108 - The Plains
Light was barely awakening over the horizon as the telldron slid down over the plains through the dull of the night's ending. Kwatsura leaned against the car's dorsal rail gazing towards a small white grain of light being crushed under the dark sky and the exhausts and dust smoldering the lower atmosphere of the continent.
Beginning interim transmissions. Only a few hures ago there was Rsola, a massive shell swallowing my existence and now only a grain of sand melting out of view. The telldron build out took three decums. Naught Behd, neh. Islrinea saw me at the depature on South Edge. Me arms a legs are exhausted from the ladder pulley system, South Edge was yet another massive high tower, particularly apt for the long telldron ride. Didn't take any notes from there, third time seeing that departure ... nothing had happened.
She'll be applying for the egress visa; and if all goes smoothly I'll be meeting her in the next cities and negotiating with some grundas her access to Fgord library transmissions as well.
Didn't see Gsorn again. Nor the chiefs. Spent the last few days eating, talking. No rote. Nothing noteworthy of transmission, neh.
Ride is a bit peculiar, failing sparking orruminae installments passing down over the first south west hip, then again with the third hip after. Car seemed to be leaning more to the east than normal, perhaps some bearings were in need of replacement. Damned egresss lines can have sheit part... Fecki-
<<cszhhhhhhhhhhh-cszhhhhhhhhhh-shhhhh>>
The jolt of the car bouncing over a orruminae charger lip knocked Kwatsura crashing onto his back towards the car's anterior hull; the transmission was interrupted as the ring flew off his finger from the abrupt force. He scrambled to his knees and retrieved the instrument which was glowing dim now under a sleeping passenger's bench. Fecking sheit.
Two Rsolan men stood against the back wall with countenances revealing only a slight hint of concern from the bounce. Kwatsura addressed them in a loud voice emphasizing the direness he considered of the situation and to counter their arrogance:
Turo-hu. Bsalin-alins cul-fsoran. Something's up with the bearings.
Ksaalll. Rsola-tu, Rsola-tu. Haha, they're are Rsolan-made pal.
Ksal, Kslau, wu-trols dsin-dsin consolr-hu. Yes, no worries my little continent friend.
Wu-dsan dsan, cul-fsoran-hu! cul-Telldron rislora trel-trel. Fsonasl dsin sentril-hu. Don't be foolish. Telldron's been riding rough. Stand in the center!
Dsellll ...
Kwatsura almost gave up trying to convince them and stood alone now in the center of the car looking forward across advancing tracks. Oh sheit, fecking massive lip is approaching fast. Feck!
Before Kwatsura even thought to grab a brake lever, the lip was upon them and jolting the car with even more ferocity than the one just before. A shower of white sparks covered the view of the open doors and plated windows.
Garsorllllll!
One of the Rsolan men shouted curses, trying to brace his balance as his torso fell forward to the east; the platform of the car sank below their feet as the left wheels busted out from under them sending the belly of the hull scraping across the metal tracks.
Feck! Woken up nows! Fecking things boosted, everyone on the fecking west side of the car or sheits gonna fecking fall off. To death! Feck! Someone! brakes!
Kwatsura spouted out random directives in a maddened fluster, pulled some passengers asleep and even threw some drunk men like sandbags to the west side of the telldron where they crashed into a painful awakening. The Rsolan pair had engaged the brakes and the car came grinding to a halt three thousand feet or so above the Plains and still five longs from the terminal station. The careful application of brakes and shifting of the car's weight to the west had spared the lot from hurling to their deaths into the soft dirt so many troks below them.
Feck, feck. Neht panicking. Transmitting events to the terminal now.
