The Trade Federation pilot watched in disgusted curiosity as the Machine Cult craft picked its way among the bits and pieces of the injured Viper ship. “What are you doing?” she finally asked.
“Recycling, ma’am,” said the Cultist. “No sense letting good engines fall by the wayside.”
“Wouldn’t it be more useful to, ah, ‘recycle’ the enemies’ ships, sir?”
“There’s no honor in that!” he cheerfully exclaimed, before extracting a large oxygen canister from the debris.
The pilot shuddered. She’d stick with her credits, thank you very much. Preventing ships from being shot down was, after all, good for business.