Q’Kura was no fan of the Aesyogregate worlds or the distrust she had been greeted with when her simple freighter had been zoned for landing at the world’s space port upon one of it’s moons. Of course they hadn’t been allowed to visit the actual Aesyogregate world itself. And judging by what they saw above, it was not within the realm of possibility to begin with.

The machine, an intellect composed of millions of nano devices wrought with fine and extensive care, gazed up at the encased gem that was Aesyogregate Prime. Cast into a void of glittering stars, the planet’s milky blue and white shell gleamed in the light of it’s sun, which had been modified into a rich blue by the Alliance forces in ages past, it’s rays reaching out to beckon all who lived in the darkness cast by the shadow of the marauding Oourg and venageful synthetics. As a bioworld, Aesyogregate had been enclosed into a dome of sensuous, trans-dimensional fluid that encapsulated the world from any and all things wishing to tresspass within it’s air space. Likewise, three of the world’s eight moons had joined the world below them in shells of their own, leaving the other five as habitats of bustling trade and commerce, and the link the world had with the outside. Of course, many of the world’s inhabitants could be found upon it’s other moons, where the Alliance military was keen on policing heavily.

“Not that one could blame them.”

Thought Q’Kura as she glanced off in the distance from a bridge, taking sight of the rosesque design of the Alliance fortress that guarded the city interior, not far from the spaceport where Q’Kura’s ship had been impounded. To better move about the city, and namely to avoid being mistaken for a construct of the Shirvon wastes and shot on sight by some over-eager Assault Trooper Deterphren or a Miquibogga bio-drone, Q’Kura took the guise of a simple, androgynous being that, aside from their luminescent blue eyes, was hardly out of place. The machine carried a collection of parts in a multifaceted crate, which they occasionally released to float behind them, using it to lean upon as they navigated the bustling pathways that would take them back to the spaceport. Though Q’Kura could have made a life out of studying the world and it’s inhabitants, which truly fascinated the artificial being, they were just as eager not to linger. Putting as much distance between their being and the paranoid Imperials, deranged Oourg and spiteful Shirvonian mechanoids was deemed to be within their best interest. Having been shot at by the former, nearly assimilated for study by the next and very nearly blown out of space by the latter, Q’Kura didn’t desire to wait and see if their luck would run out. The Atraxyion Galaxy was just one of many on their long journey. With no one to call their master any longer, the cosmos were open for them to choose their destiny. In some ways, Q’Kura knew their creators would be proud that their children, the pride of their scientific advancement, had both outlived and surpassed them..

Yet this feeling left Q’Kura feeling strangely incomplete. How long had it been since they had seen one of their creators? Centuries? Millenia? The passage of time and so many transit jumps had left them unsure. Or, more correctly, unwilling to properly verify the amount of time, for the feelings of inadequacy it would surely cause within them. They walked with their eyes downcast as they pondered this, their hands dipping into their tunic’s pockets as they passed beneath a glowing red holo projection above that indicated the sub district they were in. As far as Q’Kura knew, they were the last and only member of their kind left. A testament to greatness lost in the darkness beyond Imperial space and the vagaries of cataclysm that irked the civilizations of lesser strength and stature than their opponents. Though freedom and flexibility were wondrous things, purpose was a reward of it’s own. Why their creators had bid them to escape while they stayed behind to endure the onslaught, Q’Kura could only hazard a guess at. A guess was all she had left, for the danger that had overtaken his creators had been complete and not one of them remained to confirm or deny the machine’s thoughts on the subject. Thoughts that they found themselves painfully alone with in the times between transits. Thus, Q’Kura’s existence had been defined for the last century by the contents of their storage crate. Constant study, repair and aimless meandering about the rim of civilization from one galaxy to another. Though they longed to remain out among the stars that had birthed their beloved progenitors, Q’Kura knew within their cortex that logically their destination lay deeper within Imperial territory, where their intellect could ony be appreciated by the minds that had wrought such wonders as the world above Q’Kura’s head or the synthoids and wondrous technologies they had seen on many worlds benefitting from Imperial guidance. They had heard some of it was the product of labors done between synthetics and organics. A concept that, as far as she was concerned, was out of place in the Galaxy they were currently in given the distrust towards synthetics. Not that Q’Kura could ultimately blame them.

It was a stark contrast between the cold, empty shells of the Machine constructs cities in the Shirvonian wastes and the bustling and thriving cities of the other portion of the galaxy. Q’Kura had seen few civilizations inhabited solely by machines, but out of the few they had seen, the Shirvonians were easily the worst. Their architecture, ugly, bleak and barren, was a hideous reminder of what had transpired between them and their creators and ultimately a sign that the machines had perhaps lost the ability to innovate. Gazing into the distance, pass the finely wrought fortress that jetted up from the cityscape, Q’Kura could see the bright blue, rising rose of the city core’s architecture. It looked stunning beneath the sea of multi-colored stars overhead, visible with the alterations made to local spacetime by Imperial engineering. It was so breathtaking that Q’Kura had opted to capture it in not just their memory, but in a physical medium. A picture of it was present on the wall of their freighter shuttle. The machine smiled as they looked upon it, looking forward to seeing even more grandiose sights as they left the lonely darkness of the void behind and travelled toward the beacon of Imperial civilization. In some ways they wondered if this was the reason why their creators had commanded them to flee rather than fight. So that Q’Kura could experience wonders and sights that they themselves would never be able to. If it were then Q’Kura could find fulfillment in the fact that they had already done that and more. The machine gave a small mechanical sigh as they sent about their routine, heading toward the spaceport which loomed ahead.