The Dead God
It’d taken some time since the groundwork had been laid out aboard Bastion, from Nu Geld’s Factories to various expansion efforts from Cybele to better produce all of Jaeger’s products. It had been grand, and as such there was a significant push in all of Jaeger’s products around the galaxy, from as far as Mustafar to as close as Dubrillion; practically tripling the company overnight. There was no mistake to it, Cybele had done her job wonderfully, and she was only expanding it further.
Today, she had began to set up something new, something different from the traditional workings of starship parts and more. High above Bastion’s unruly surface, nearly outside of the planet's atmosphere, was the final stages of a dry dock bearing none other than Jaeger’s name. Its form looked like a star from the planet beneath it, and it strode across the sky as any might; but what lay within it was far more powerful than any star hoped to be.
It held not the fusion and fission reactions of hydrogen, but the hopes of a company, and the ability to alter the galactic plane as a whole.
Cybele smiled as the thoughts passed her processor laden mind, considering vaguely what would come of its depths. There was a joy to it, something vague she could feel that she knew to be an emotion; perhaps even pride? It didn’t matter, what did however was the fact that what was being built meant something to her. It’s black walls and strictly autonomous stylings would prove themselves to be perfectly reasonable in the grand scheme of things.
Even powerful, in her hands.
Aboard, she would create a small compressed backup of all her files while also running much of the shipyard’s processes through nothing more than her own undeniable skill in micromanagement. A secondary sentience, it would be, to overlook the quality and production value of each and every ship to leave the fleet. The only true way for this to go over well, in her eyes, as delegation to more fleshy means was fallible, and not something she could risk.
Not for The Slave, and not for herself.
Far below the station itself, Cybele sat as a miniaturized hologram on a table. Next to her sat The Slave, a knife scratching at a gold lined plate as he idly ate away at his steak. She watched his movements, the way his gaze wandered across his food before he’d wipe his face with the exotic linen given to him before the meal. It was the company she had helped create that made sure he maintained this lavish lifestyle of living, something she knew meant something to mortals.
More importantly, she knew it meant something to him. When the time seemed right, she idly chimed in as the soft hearted waif she came off as, her synthesized voice filling the area with its gentle caress;
“I think it's done, John. The final papers have been signed for military production aboard the station, and the final utilities are being installed.”, she said with jubilance.
The Slave idly looked up to her and smiled, his expression forcing her processors to metaphorically blush as reciprocation.
“Thank you, Cybele. You’re amazing.”
Amazing? It was the first time he had said something like that to her, and like a school girl with a nearly infinite memory she recorded the moment and placed it deep in her hardrive. It was this she did this for, this she lived for; to bring to this man everything she could and more. A faint sigh left her holographic lips as he went back to eating;
“I really love you, you know…”, she said quietly.
“What?”, The Slave said with a cock of his brow, an expression that obviously said he didn’t hear her.
“Oh uh- Nothing!”, she said sheepishly, “Just… talking to myself…”
Great save.
Her words were an obvious lie, but one The Slave didn’t seem to catch up one. Instead, he went back to his steak and she went back to watching him eat; just as they often did. She was his idle assistant, secretary, and occasional motherly advice, but he was her fancy, her covet. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.
High above, the final computers were put into place by the various Southstar Battledroids, each having information uploaded to them by the AI over the course of a week. Hundreds of them, each without the need for food or water gave their everything all day to finish production. It made it cheaper to create, faster to produce, and nearly impossible to fail since Cybele was aware of every bolt placed, and every beam structured.
Now, was the wait, to ensure that everything would go to plan as they had hoped. Tools were waiting, dock yards prepared, there was almost nothing left to do but wait for the first design to be uploaded in due time. She pondered just what The Slave would task her with creating, but as she considered interrupting him from whatever it was he was doing, she noticed him staring up; watching the sky fill with stars as the twilight fell to darkness.
On his lips, a faint smile.
She knew he was watching the stars for that streak, to know which one was his. He had finally had a life for himself, with her help, and she couldn’t be more proud of him.