“What’s that?” We were in orbit of Shchinwhay, a month and a half out from Earth on a Liner that would eventually take us into the Polixaci core worlds. I pointed through the immense observation deck window to a sliver of light moving across the frost-covered pole of the planet. At this range, it must have been immense, larger even than the liner.
“A warship, Pressing Grievance, on practice maneuvers.” The Polixaci crewman answered. “We are not permitted to discuss it further than this basic information.”
“But it’s yours? Polixaci?”
It chittered profusely: peals of laughter. “Of course it is.”
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