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... because there was nothing to say, but because every mind present was occupied with the same thing.
The stream of data still dripping in from the blue world below.
They called the ship a "bridge" by translation convenience.
In reality, it was a hollowed core at the heart of a machine the size of a small moon, wrapped in layers of armor, processors, and life support.
No windows.
No sky.
Just an ordered forest of interfaces casting thin, pale light ov ...
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