"The area expression," Rex murmured.
His voice didn't carry to Theo; it was a private cataloguing, a cold, clinical assessment delivered in the flat register of a predator analyzing the mechanics of a trap. "Broader range."
"Drastically reduced precision."
"The tradeoff is precisely what you'd expect from a power source operating at overload."
Rex didn't hesitate. He didn't seek cover.
He began to walk not away from the chaos, but directly into the eye of the storm. He marched toward the epicenter where the temporal distortion was most violent, where reality was being shredded into a thousand screaming fragments of past and future.
Inside his mind, the machinery of the Full Potential Adaptation roared to life. The first contact analysis surged through his consciousness like liquid mercury, scanning the mechanism of the distortion.
