Moira Skaldi
Paperclip Maximiser
A beautiful explosion tore through the hacked station. Its shields down, pummelled with missiles from both the battleship and adjacent stations, two of which had sustained heavy damage when its defences were turned against them. The organics were already dying a cruel death, for life support had been cut off and so they were deprived of oxygen. An explosion blossomed and ripped the station apart, its detritus flying through space, one starfighter being caught and blasted.
Moira was already calculating the next target, feeding coordinates into the targeting computers of the gunners. More orbital stations, more enemy fighters and bombers, but the enemy's numbers were thinning. Struggle they might, but they only resisted the inevitable, their deaths futile. But this was good, for it would serve as a lesson.
All the while drop pods were being disgourged from the belly of the battleship, a legion of them raining down upon the surface of O'reen like a hail, their numbers too many to count. Intense flak fire, streaks of red and viridian, came their way and produced a true hailstorm as the defenders desperately sought to keep them at bay. Doubtless many would be blown out of the sky as they raced towards the surface as fast as the thrusters would permit, doubtless many would miss their landing zones and land far away, but soon there would be chaos on the planet and this was only the start. Orbital stations were torn apart as the powerful Star Destroyers advanced, their defensive fire futile against the war vessels.
Some of the gunners cheered as they saw the beautiful explosions, but a cold look from Moira silenced them. No one wanted to piss off the killer droid...who had no restraining bolt, no shackles to keep her in check. Good. Fear was an efficient tool of management. Organics wanted to be commanded, that was the basis of any religion.
As mission updates from the bombers sent out to bombard the planet's defences were fed into her mind in real time, Moira pondered...when would she get to fight in a real war. Gehenna had been the bloodiest battle the Protectorate had ever fought, but it had been against Bando Gora...crazed cultists. Yaga Minor had been a Sith curbstomp...but again just one battle, an isolated incident. Her true vision...a Galaxy in flames, worlds cleansed of life, burnt and broken...in a galaxy of a million the death of one planet was like a grain of salt in an ocean...then the true order would arise. In a span of decades, centuries, a millennia perhaps even, unlike organics she could be patient and wait.
She pondered when she would participate in an Exterminatus. Somehow the processing power of her mind kept conjuring up flashes of Alderaan, razed to the ground and irradiated, devoid of life, put to the pyre like Donanyd. Peace was...boring...unnatural...
As an enemy fighter squadron was caught in the intense hailstorm of the point-laser defences, Moira accessed one of her subroutines, running a programme to play....dramatic music, all the while transmitting a new target to the batteries, purely because she could.
Moira was already calculating the next target, feeding coordinates into the targeting computers of the gunners. More orbital stations, more enemy fighters and bombers, but the enemy's numbers were thinning. Struggle they might, but they only resisted the inevitable, their deaths futile. But this was good, for it would serve as a lesson.
All the while drop pods were being disgourged from the belly of the battleship, a legion of them raining down upon the surface of O'reen like a hail, their numbers too many to count. Intense flak fire, streaks of red and viridian, came their way and produced a true hailstorm as the defenders desperately sought to keep them at bay. Doubtless many would be blown out of the sky as they raced towards the surface as fast as the thrusters would permit, doubtless many would miss their landing zones and land far away, but soon there would be chaos on the planet and this was only the start. Orbital stations were torn apart as the powerful Star Destroyers advanced, their defensive fire futile against the war vessels.
Some of the gunners cheered as they saw the beautiful explosions, but a cold look from Moira silenced them. No one wanted to piss off the killer droid...who had no restraining bolt, no shackles to keep her in check. Good. Fear was an efficient tool of management. Organics wanted to be commanded, that was the basis of any religion.
As mission updates from the bombers sent out to bombard the planet's defences were fed into her mind in real time, Moira pondered...when would she get to fight in a real war. Gehenna had been the bloodiest battle the Protectorate had ever fought, but it had been against Bando Gora...crazed cultists. Yaga Minor had been a Sith curbstomp...but again just one battle, an isolated incident. Her true vision...a Galaxy in flames, worlds cleansed of life, burnt and broken...in a galaxy of a million the death of one planet was like a grain of salt in an ocean...then the true order would arise. In a span of decades, centuries, a millennia perhaps even, unlike organics she could be patient and wait.
She pondered when she would participate in an Exterminatus. Somehow the processing power of her mind kept conjuring up flashes of Alderaan, razed to the ground and irradiated, devoid of life, put to the pyre like Donanyd. Peace was...boring...unnatural...
As an enemy fighter squadron was caught in the intense hailstorm of the point-laser defences, Moira accessed one of her subroutines, running a programme to play....dramatic music, all the while transmitting a new target to the batteries, purely because she could.