“Put them in proper uniforms?” General Tie Zhan blinked twice, looking from Pei Xuan’s hand to Big Gray’s colossal silver-blue back, which stretched out for a hundred and twenty miles like a floating continent. “Lord Pei, each of these twelve Void Whales is wider than forty mortal cities put together! Even if we drafted every tailor in the Frost-Rim Sector to stitch canvas day and night for ten years, we couldn’t sew a single shirt big enough to fit a Void Whale!”
“Who said we need tailors to sew them by hand?” Pei Xuan chuckled, opening the glowing golden interface of his Fusion Cube. “And they don’t need shirts or trousers—they are municipal sanitation workers operating heavy machinery on an interstellar highway! Tell me, Su, what is the standard uniform code for Dry-Well Village road-sweepers working in low-visibility fog?”
Abacus Su straightened his back and pushed his spectacles up his nose with a sharp click.
“Article 14, Section 3 of the Dry-Well Municipal Traffic & Sanitation Lawbook!” Abacus Su recited without even looking at his notes. “All road-sweeping personnel and sanitation vehicles must wear High-Visibility Neon-Orange Reflective Safety Vests and carry a Rotating Yellow Warning Beacon on top of their cab! That way, if any reckless flying-sword cultivator or pirate warship rear-ends our Void Whales while they are sweeping the space lanes, the offender is 100% legally liable for scratching our whales and has to pay triple property damage fines!”
