Nice of the machines to label it for us. [ Wedge thinks aloud, counting each Harbinger emblazoned in each section. It's close to a super star destroyer in its attempt to demoralize through sheer size, but it's still not worthy of a cursory look at the size of that thing.
Even if Wedge wants to say it. Badly.
He'll have to give it to the machines: an insect-shaped machine is much more unsettling than a flying dagger (or, as someone in starfighter command pointed out, a flying pizza slice), doubly so when it wiggles its buggy legs facsimile to a centipede.
Wedge grits his teeth. ] Alright, civilians are out of the line of fire. [ At the center of the city, that is. Wedge can't make the call on the rest of Olympus. ] That segment, its left leg. [ Wedge points at the fifth segment from the head down, its legs the first that touch the ground whenever Harbinger stops praising its machine overlords or whatever the hell it's doing by lifting its torso and wiggling its legs into the air. ] We're shooting at it, and hopefully with that, cutting ourselves an entrance into the sithspawned thing.
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Even if Wedge wants to say it. Badly.
He'll have to give it to the machines: an insect-shaped machine is much more unsettling than a flying dagger (or, as someone in starfighter command pointed out, a flying pizza slice), doubly so when it wiggles its buggy legs facsimile to a centipede.
Wedge grits his teeth. ] Alright, civilians are out of the line of fire. [ At the center of the city, that is. Wedge can't make the call on the rest of Olympus. ] That segment, its left leg. [ Wedge points at the fifth segment from the head down, its legs the first that touch the ground whenever Harbinger stops praising its machine overlords or whatever the hell it's doing by lifting its torso and wiggling its legs into the air. ] We're shooting at it, and hopefully with that, cutting ourselves an entrance into the sithspawned thing.