The room was quiet as Brother Kristam addressed his colleague. "You have viewed the archive?"
"Yes," said Brother Stens, "I have." His mouthparts scraped together, signaling his anxiety to the others. "It was... unbelievable."
"Indeed," Brother Myvnae echoed, "To think that such things could be built-" he inhaled abruptly, "I am most perturbed."
Process viewed them both with indignation, its main lenses glinting with laughter. "You overreact. The station was easily destroyed by small craft. The fleet defending it was a far greater threat, all things considered."
"But the shield generator-" began Brother Kristam.
"Was also destroyed!" Process vocalized, manifolds purring, "And by infantry, besides! The whole system was impossibly poorly-designed."
"But what of the weapon!" Brother Untiel called out, robes fluttering as he hauled his massive bulk out of his grav-seat, "That station, poorly-designed or not, certainly had more firepower than any of our fleets could boast. Or wouldn't you agree, mechanical?"
Process bristled at the remark, main coil heating with rage. It hissed steam as it replied, "Its weaknesses are obvious. Equivalent firepower would not be required to defeat it. A fact which is particularly clear in the archive. Biological."