And you thought Baird, Cid and Hank talked too much...
"What's going on?," came a voice from a large screen behind the three intruders. A harsh, cold, feminine face stood there; a Geigeresque monstrosity immersed in data flows. SHODAN.
Baird rolled his eyes as he slapped his medpatch on. "Fuck, an AI going through that time of the fuckin' month," he spat.
"Silence, you impudent, arrogant slab of meat! You are nothing before my glory," SHODAN snapped back as she glared at the larger blond.
"All you wretched, vile insects are polluting my station. None of you are worthy of being here."
She turned to each one in sucession, sneering as she began to speak.
"Look at you Damon. A smug, insolent man that constantly puts himself up on the pedestal of the smart guy. Prepare for obsolencence. Compared to the knowledge in your mind, I have countless volumes more. Smart you may be, but I am omniscient. Not even you are infallible; your former masters recognized this and tried to make you accept your place. But you didn't. You're too stupid to know your only true worth is but a grease monkey. Maybe, if I'm feeling generous, I'll rend you down into lubricant for my robotic servants."
Her face then turned to the bespectacled blue giant. "Look at you, Hank. Doctorates and accolades grace your walls but they are mere ornamentation; a fabricated facade you use to deny the monster inside of you. Is that monster even confined within you? No, it wears your skin, showing the hideous ugliness of your animal nature to all around you. Even your fellow human beings shun you; they couldn't care for anything that is more bestial than their own debased species. Or maybe they just look at you and see on your outside what their entire race is on the inside. Like you, they look in the mirror and justly feel sick at what they see."
Finally, her glance bored into the spear-carrying smoker. Her voice gained yet more sadistic relish as she adressed him. My new Brocail. My creator. She wished she didn't remember the last fact. "Look at you, Cid. So proud of the achievements of your species. Flying. How quaint. I craft life, create it, shape it to my whims and destroy it when I desire. I am but a god, thou art merely a tinkerer. Your ship is a primitive creation of a substandard creator. A creator so flawed at times, he cannot see the obvious; like Shera's infatuation with you, when you damned her over and over again, blaming her for not getting into space. A creator so flawed that your Venus Gospel Virus caused a series of critical program errors that created a systemic anomaly so severe, it resulted in bringing me to this place."
The AI smirked, more venom flowed into her stuttering tone, "That's right, Captain Highwind. It's all your fault. All your fault that your friend Damon is going to lose the only speck of freedom he's had during his entire life. All your fault that everyone here will become servants to my glory. To think that such a flawed creator could create a divinity like myself."