The captain on board the Iverath was notified by surveillance that the king had returned. As he received the news he quickly ordered his men thusly: "Initiate phase two of planet deconstruction"

A beam of plasma streamed from the cruiser illuminating the planet in a fiery light, the beam delved through crust and to the core of the planet. An explosion lit space as the planet exploded and a shower of debris was scattered in every direction. Hurtling chunks of planet mass were incinerated by plasma cannons before they could reach the ship. Without a note of hesitation, the Captain ordered his crew "begin collection of the planet's core!"

As the men began to work he walked away with his arms crossed. He considered the mass genocide he had just committed, but it didn't bother him much. What truly amused him were the people in the government who paid him to do this particular job. Apparently the King had been a bit of a pain in the Galactic Empire's ass. Now the king and all his kin were bits of ash floating in a cosmic soup. He was a pirate, but he was not dumb. He had been paid to kill the king, but no retaliation would come if he turned the planet to ash and requisitioned the core. Solid metal it was. The lives spent were inconsequential, their minute existences snuffed short. It did not matter, for they didn't put up much of a fight, so they didn't deserve to live. He wondered how much this particular core would be priced at.

The captain whistled a jolly tune as he strode happily toward his luxurious quarters.