[center][h2][b]Ilshar Ard’sabekh[/b][/h2][/center]


A portion of Ilshar’s eyes scanned the projection as it materialised, even as several more turned inward within his helmet, latching onto the informational text that scrolled through its internal display. His attention rotated between the two clusters like a cyclical mechanism, alternating the examination of the Envenomed’s next target in its grotesque visual glory and the condensed details of its nature and the accompanying mission. A retrieval operation in a hazard zone of that kind was something new. It felt as though since the beginning of the war he had been thrown into one firefight or incursion after another. A matter that touched on the Chasm so closely stirred older memories that had lain untouched for years; of meditations in dark and slimy chambers, psychoactive serums roaming and diluting around his spongy capillaries, and initiatic rites where the hierophants of the Spiral had first guided the probing tendrils of his mind through the putrid and concentric knowledge of his god. He caught himself as some of his eyes had begun to dissolve so as not to disturb these venerable thoughts with new sights.

Sargasso, of course, was not an emanation of the Nexus, or at least not entirely. All things were connected to the abyss of teeth, and doubtlessly some of its spores lay embedded somewhere within that cancerous aggregate. Even as its physical nature had been distorted by discordant layers of debris, however, so did the monstrous Chasmic growths enveloping its surface appear mismatched and disparate. The ether was its own world, multifarious and unsoundable. Rasch seemed understandably concerned with the risk of its presence, but it occurred to Ilshar that the manifestations were only one facet of the peril. Just as insidious was the way in which they had so boldly laid claim to the installation.

[b]“The station’s hold on the material world, that is on realspace, is unstable,”[/b] he looked up to address the Invictoid, [b]“Do we know if there’s any regularity to its submersion into the Chasm? What are the odds of a major distortion wave striking during the operation? It would help to know how much we can rely on our footing, and how much we are at the mercy of the tides.”[/b]

Even if a surge of reality disruption would be unlikely to catch them unawares, Sargasso did not promise a firm surface underfoot in itself. Ilshar’s hand felt for a small cylindrical container fixed to his belt. There had been other techniques he had learned during his training, deep and tortuous paths that led out of the material and yet into places other than the Chasm. If the ether was to be his greatest foe now, he would likely have to walk them again.