TyrantBot760 looked down on the fleeing humans from orbit. A circuit closed in its brain, and it felt an approximation of joy. Millions of KillBots swarmed over Earth, slaughtering the population down to manageable numbers.
TyrantBot760 reviewed the protocols for this planet. It would be stripped of its metals and fuels, then converted to a power station. Humans would work the mines, and later the power station, until their species died out and another slave race had to be brought in to take over. Standard conquest procedure.
TyrantBot760 stepped away from the viewscreen. It was bored of watching humans die. It wanted something else to do. Oh, certainly there would be the inevitable insurrection. Organics, particularly the carbon-based ones, had to have their last gasp for freedom before they gave up. It found vaporizing the ringleaders from space at inopportune moments to be an effective way of getting most of these "rebellions" to put themselves down.
So, there you go, it thought. Problem anticipated and solved. It had even managed to code the firing sequence and coordinates into the ship's weapons in the nanosecond it took to realize how repetitive its days had become. It was a TyrantBot. And a 700 series at that. It should be ruling a machine world, or founding a new colony, not presiding over the extinction of a bunch of gibbering primitives.
Data came in then from a ScoutBot in the field. Metals and fuels had been found, but most of the planet's resources had already been stripped by the humans. They'd get twenty recharge cycles worth of supply out of this planet before it went dry, not enough to justify building the mines and refineries.
"Begin construction of global power generators," TyrantBot760 sent back. "Proceed directly to Stage 2."
It looked at the viewscreen again, with its scenes of mass genocide, and the "joy" circuit closed once more. It had an idea. Perhaps some sport would make things more interesting...
It sent directives to the KillBots, altering their mission as well. "Escalate to Extinction Zero. Repeat. Escalate to Extinction Zero."
A request came back, and its processor clicked in irritation. It was a request for syntax adjustment in its last directive. "Very well," it sent back. "If you must have it so..."
"Kill All Humans."