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Durandal made quick work decompressing his newly ill-gotten ship of any stragglers, while at the same time punching city-sized holes into whatever remained of the Pfhor's fleet.
Nothing like a little carnage to wake you up in the morning.
He used a tiny fraction of his remaining computing power to beam down some more ammunition for his favorite little hellraiser on the planet below.
Some rockets will do the trick. He was still riding off of his high of turning his whiny brat of a brother into a scalding crater on the surface of T'jia, so he was in a pretty good mood. Besides, it seemed like the Pfhor were pulling out all the stops now. He detected several Juggernauts and an entire platoon of Hunters, along with their captain, being teleported to the officer's location. If there was a time to bring out the big guns, this was it.
Now that the welcoming party was taken care of, there was the small issue of that last resort superweapon he heard so much about while he was busy taking over the Khfiva.
It didn't sound good. And he didn't have the time or resources to make any form of counterattack.
So he gathered up as many of his planet-side S'pht and S'pht'Kr as he could locate onto a section of the ship that wasn't currently being "scrubbed for pests".
It was cowardly, but he had no choice but to flee for the moment.
And just in time. A bio-scan of the mine confirmed all the pesky Pfhor were wiped out. All that remained in the scan was the rapid, but thankfully still very much alive, heartrate of the security officer.
Even with the threat of complete immolation hanging over their heads, Durandal couldn't help but ramble his plans and re-naming of his stolen ship to the security officer as he prepared to teleport him on board. Once all hands were accounted for, the AI wasted no time in firing up the FTL drive and getting as far away from the upcoming supernova as his engines would allow.
Squeezing his way through a crowd of chittering S'pht, the security officer stomped up to the closest terminal he could find. While it was true that on board the ship he could talk to Durandal wherever he pleased, right now he needed even the smallest facsimile to a face to vent his frustrations at.
There was an all-too-cheery 'ding' from the terminal as the screen lit up with a familiar green symbol. The closest thing to a physical representation the smart-ass artificial intelligence had that wasn't a giant room full of wires and circuit boards.
"Like the new place?" Durandal's voice boomed through the ship's PA system.
He spotted the set of unused speakers attached to the terminal. It didn't take a genius to know that Durandal loved the sound of his own voice and those little speakers would hardly suffice. The security officer so badly wanted to comment on it, but decided that the resulting squabble wasn't worth the oxygen.
Besides, there was a reason he started this conversation. Now that they were no longer distracted by tyrannical aliens or ancient AIs, he finally had a chance to give this smug prick a piece of his mind.
"I thought you were actually dead, you asshole!" He shouted.
A small, pleased chuckle rang out. "Good. Looks like those acting lessons came in handy after all."
Gritting his teeth, the security officer held back slamming his fist directly into the terminal's monitor and instead ripped off his helmet and sent it flying down the hallway. "Why didn't you just tell me your plan from the get-go so I could've been preparing for the mission instead of grieving in prison?"
There was a feigned whimper and it only pissed him off more. "Aww, you grieved for me? Bless your little heart. I didn't think you care--"
"I mean it, jackass!"
Durandal gave out a heavy and utterly unnecessary sigh. "Look, Tycho had his eyes on me the entire time and I would not be surprised if Thoth did as well. If I dropped the act even a fraction of a second too early, there wouldn't have been a plan for you to prepare for."
Damn it, the asshole had a point. As usual. The security officer dropped his incoming insult and replaced it with a sigh of his own. "Fair. It was a damn smart plan, all things considered. Good going."
The AI laughed proudly and the overhead lights flickered a little brighter, as if showing off his hard-earned prize. "What can I say? I like 'em big."
The security officer took the time to look around. He was right, it was much more roomier than the Boomer. However, it still had the same god-awful color scheme, like technicolor vomit over a children's book. He wasn't a fan of the stark grey corridors of the Marathon either, but this was a little much.
He wondered where he'd be staying. He believed he'd earned a rest and another trip to the stasis chambers wouldn't cut it. Actual sleep in an actual bed was in order.
"You being imprisoned wasn't actually part of my plan." Durandal's voice interrupted his thoughts. It was tiny, now coming from the terminal's speakers.
A wry smile pulled at the security officer's lips. "Yeah, well... you know what they say about the best laid plans."
Expecting another snide remark or not-so-empty threat, he was rather surprised by Durandal's actual response: absolute silence. He didn't even know the guy was programmed with the ability to shut up. Not even a distasteful prison shower joke? What was going on?
It only took a second for him to figure it out.
He hadn't known the AI very long, but he often spoke of freedom. Even outright admitted the Pfhor's arrival at Tau Ceti and invasion of the Marathon was due to this need to be free.
Hell, there was a reason he chose to help the S'pht and warn Earth of the events that took place on the colony ship, and it wasn't to bolster his troops or inflate his already bloated ego. Or at the very least, those weren't the only reasons.
It's why, even as fake as it was, his 'death' was by his own means. He would rather die than be captured by the Pfhor.
Freedom meant everything to Durandal. Both his own and others.
So the security officer continued, trying his best to cheer him up. "I lived, obviously. I was trained to withstand any form of torture. If anything, your 'noble sacrifice' gave me the strength to survive as long as it took for Blake's men to get me out."
"Still. It wasn't my intention. I... apologize."
That hit him like a fusion pistol shot to the face.
Durandal: artificial intelligence extraordinaire, silicon-based demi-god who just reduced a decent chunk of the Pfhor's strongest battle fleet into a floating scrapyard... apologized?
"Whoa, did I hear you right?" He chuckled.
"I can turn this ship around and throw you dead center into that supernova." Durandal threatened dryly.
The security officer held up his hands in apology, taking a step away from the terminal.
"I mean it. Wouldn't even take a minute. There's still time before the fireworks start." Durandal's voice quickly changed to one he knew well. Snarky, but no longer a threat to his life. "Now that I think about it, it would make a rather interesting case study. Something to keep me busy between star systems." He makes the sound of clearing his non-existent throat. "'Effects of intense solar radiation on human body caused by impromptu jettison into star going supernova by alien superweapon'."
He shrugged a little. "Eh. A bit wordy."
"But very informative. Probably worth a few awards. I'll hang 'em up in the war room. This place could use a little sprucing up."
The security officer couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Nice to have you back, buddy."