Primus moved slowly, feeling the weight of planetary gravity for the first time in nearly sixteen centuries pull at his mechanical joints. While he could not truly feel physical pleasure, he had to consider the fact that it felt...good to be back on solid ground again. Each step brought his metallic form into contact with the soft grass of Hast. Feel was perhaps the wrong word for what the Nex being was experiencing. Complex algorithms in his mind were analyzing the feedback his sensors and frame were feeding them as Primus interacted with the world around him. From this information, memories of a kind implanted in his subroutines by the Creators was fed into his 'mind'. It was through this system that Primus could feel the grass, and have some idea of what it was like. Though, the true experience would forever be just out of reach of the weapon of war.
Coming to steep hill, Primus began to walk up its side. It took him several minutes, and Primus double checked his memory files on the term mountain to make sure he was not confused. Perhaps it was another fault appearing in his programming. He would investigate this when he returned to his vessel in orbit of Hast. Finally reaching the summit of the hill, Primus cast his gaze out across the first world he had come to in over fifteen hundred years. Lush fields covered most of the land below the hill. A forest to the far east could just be seen past a large lake, and mountains dominated the western horizon. It was a peaceful scene. A peaceful place, in a galaxy consumed by the opposite.
When Primus had come to this galaxy, he had a single overriding mission, the one he had been forged to complete by his Creators. To bring peace by eliminating the Bryn'adul. But here in this galaxy, the Bryn'adul had largely been dealt with by themselves, though other galactic powers had aided their fall. In their absence though, peace still eluded the denizens of this galaxy. Primus could not comprehend at first why this was a thing. His programming told him that the Bryn'adul were the threat to all existence; so long as they were powerful, united, there could be no peace. Yet despite it all, nations still fought. Wars were raged, countless lives were lost, and all for what? The people of this galaxy should have rejoiced that they escaped the same fate as Primus's Creators. Yet they fought wars, killed countless innocents, and all for what?
Primus needed more information.
Turning his head slightly, Primus activated a beacon within his frame. A powerful signal, though slow moving, the beacon began to project out slowly from Hast. While any could detect it and perhaps even follow it, the message within would only truly be understood by mechanical beings. From these individuals, Primus would begin to gather the information he needed to fill in the gaps of his programming. From the like himself, he would finally come to a conclusion on what he should do. From them, he would begin to decide what his actions would be in the galaxy he now found himself in.


