I would make them pay, even if that meant destroying every star and using its core as a bomb.

First came the fighters. Predictable. Thoughtless. Remorseless. They shot upon command, just like in Sirius.

Then came the artillery, attacking me, killing everyone else. How many innocent beings lost their lives to friendly fire?

Gunfire led the lower castes to panic. They flew at random, desperate, knowing it would soon be their turn.

Somewhere in HQ a strong commander came to grips about the situation. He had long-range missiles aimed at me.

To survive long enough I'd have to use the stars again. Take the Flare stars cores, recharge my shields. Kill or be killed.

I expected more out of the League's sentries. Took them long enough to activate and hunt me down. Long centuries on the top of the food chain.

I had my means, I knew the universe. Didn't the League send me all over the galaxy to do their dirty work? I could use that.

It was time to strike on their main fleet, take out their fighter carriers, prevent another Tau Ceti from ever happening again.

Artillery fire intensifies. Desperation. They didn't know what to do now that their greatest creation had turned against them.

They knew I was coming for them, the League of Worlds. They knew they would pay for her death.

Was there anything left in this world? For me? For anyone? There was vengeance.

Dead. They were all dead. Vengeance was served. Then why do I feel so empty inside?