It is a majestic sight, isn't it, brothers? Their pristine wings spread light in a universe overwrought with darkness. Their swords burn with the flames of justice. Their song, our song, resounds with truth, dispelling the shroud of lies that permeate the minds of the weak, of the flesh.
Yet, what we consider so righteous, our enemies consider an instrument of fear. Perhaps our messengers mirror their own insecurities, reveal to them the harsh realities of their own meaningless existence. We will grant them meaning before we deny them existence.
The mechanical engineering of the Klackon vessels resembled their biological engineering, in that they were bound by a hard external shell...
...but were also bound to a single feeble mind. Unlike the Klackon, we retain our individual will, each of our brothers singing with a distinct voice. Unlike the Klackon, we have found meaning in our existence, beyond being pawns in a game we have no control over. Unlike the Klackon, we have a message to spread, and we shall be heard.
Do not misunderstand us, brothers. We do not condone a passive existence of idle musing. Merely shielding ourselves from the evils of this world will do us no good, but to strike out without such protection would be equally irresponsible and illogical.
The Klackon were unified in their servitude and loyalty to their queen, yet established a hierarchy of leaders to serve as conduits for her will. We sever these ties...
...and usurp their positions.
For a brief moment, we witness what could best be described as mass confusion and hysteria, as the local Klackon populace are deprived of meaning, forced into a freedom they were not prepared for. In short order, promotions are doled out, the ranks are re-established, and their resistance continues.
Our conflict was momentarily interrupted by another presence in this galaxy, another will to resist our own, no doubt.
This meat erred in revealing themselves to us. Do they think themselves wise for establishing a government based on something as arbitrary as gender? Do they think themselves powerful for weighing so much on luck, rather than individual merit and proficiency? Do they truly think that such flawed logic can hope to overcome our perfection?
What would happen, then, if we were to eliminate the source of their servitude, to shatter the shackles that keep them bound to their pitiful existence?
...we freed them from their eternal labor?
Their cries of pain would not cease, resonating throughout both day and night, tireless. They knew their queen was lost, her bulbous corpse smoldering in her royal chamber, smoking from the blasts of the sentry guns mounted, ironically, for her defense.
In one death, we had doomed billions. We had stripped from them the only life they knew, and they would not, or could not, adapt to a life of their own choosing.
To silence their howls...
...could only be seen as an act of mercy.
How pathetic these creatures turned out to be. Given their industrious nature, we thought them capable of most wondrous achievements, a suitable will to contest our own. However, their rigid attachment to the familiar crippled them, stifled their own ability to grow, progress, and evolve. If they dared to venture into the unknown, perhaps they would have been capable of developing a will to match their queen's.
Yet, in complacency, in stability, in ignorance, they found something that we have sought for so long.
They found happiness.
We pray that our search does not render us equally worthless.