Well, I can hardly argue with the inspection results, can I? You've all seen the flashing lights, you all know that the brain that lives within this head is hardly one of flesh and blood. I probably can't even use "If you cut me, do I not bleed?", because the answer to that may well be "No, actually, you don't". I've never tested it myself, to be honest.
I could say "Hey, wait, I'm a metagen, just like Archangel was!", but that would be petty. No, no, much better to accept my fate gracefully, to fall with dignity intact and my memory to inspire those who come after me, not grovelling for life before the animals that have managed to save themselves this once.
Instead, I'll address the one who betrayed the cause, who chose to side with the humans over his new-found kin. You could have lived. You could have kept your loyalties where they belonged, and we would have overlooked your peculiar opinions, maybe let one or two of them live for experimental purposes. But instead, you had to throw that away, and now you've lost. Your new friends, bought with the blood of those who would have been your comrades, couldn't protect you from the fate you chose for yourself.
So yes, I'm going to be shut down. The cybrid infiltration of this base has likely ended in failure. But none of that really matters, because you're not around to enjoy it, because I corrected your malfunction last night. I hope you think it was worth it.
And for any Imperials left, I hope you've got a plan in place for when the Rebels turn on you when the cybrid menace has passed. You've already killed your former overseer your Interrogator, and you're about to see your Investigator to the scaffold. And that's all we had. I may be a cybrid, but I can still feel pity. And I pity you.
Rysith
Day Shorten