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OT-3968.00.56 // Verge Transit // Archivist’s Invocation

‍"The Verge is never silent. Even in transit, I hear its familiar hum against the hull.

Sardoth-11 lies below, gray and fractured, marked in archive as failed and forgotten. Through the viewport, faint auroras coil along its magnetosphere, green threads wavering like willows in the wind, recorded as low-spectrum interference. Below, storm-bands drag shadows across continents that never knew settlement, like scars on a body that was never alive.

Sardoth’s failure is less egregious than the lack of data. We come to review, to record, to repair. The planet is silent. Our signals scatter and refract. The orbital relays whisper nothing but static. But silence is not absence. Silence is a measure. Sardoth-11 resists being measured, and that resistance is already recorded.

The Mantle presses while the men speak of landing as relief. The gaze of those under my command weighs heavier than what awaits below. The detachment expects certainty. Thale expects perfection.

I can only offer diligence, and diligence must be enough. The Chain endures not by triumph, but by refusal to falter. If I do not break, neither shall they. We descend to witness. To etch truth into the archive, regardless of what has occurred.