"Greetings, Nashara of the Reapers," Thragg said, nodding. He spoke now to an equal, Thragg mused, a creature that held enough power to rival himself – definitely among the most powerful beings he'd ever encountered. He was no stranger to machine races, of course. The Viltrumite Empire had encountered man of them and the story was usually one of two: machines who ascended after rebelling from their old masters or biological creatures who achieved some form of transcendence after merging with machines. Many of his brethren had a distinct distaste for machines and technological superiority, but Thragg honestly didn't share that view. Power was power. It didn't matter what form it took or why. Power, in itself, was all that mattered. "Why did you bring me here?"
"You possess the power to free me from this prison, Thragg of Viltrum." Nashara answered, its voice booming and bellowing, like the rumbling of a star – deep and powerful. The volume of the sound, Thragg mused, would've been enough to liquefy humans and grind their bones to dust. "But the passage of time has eroded much of my mind. That which speaks to you now is little more than what remains – a mere 3% of who and what I used to be. The rest of me had to be culled to maintain my own sanity. Even if I were set free, I'd forever be imprisoned."
"What do you need from me?" Thragg's eyes narrowed. "Speak quickly and plainly, Nashara. I have little time to waste on a meandering conversation."
"Merge your mind with mine, Thragg of Viltrum," Nashara said. "Do so and I shall become a part of you, just as you will become a part of me. You are strong now, true, but this form of mine possesses a power you've never known – a power that this galaxy has not seen for a terrible long count of time. And that power will be yours, along with all of my knowledge and all of my wisdom. And that includes my knowledge of all the planets and stars in this galaxy. You're looking for one, yes? But you've know way of finding it – not from here, not as you are. But, with my knowledge, you may find whatever world you wish to find."
Truly, Thragg didn't care much for the promise of power. He did not need the ability to sow destruction or the power to destroy planets. He had no need for any of that. What truly caught his attention, however, was the promise of knowledge. If what Nashara said was true, then this was his ticket home – to Nareena's World, the world where he found peace and love, home. And Nashara's words were true. Just a single galaxy was large enough that Thragg could spend a thousand years searching and never find the one planet he was looking for. The Viltrumite SOP for such things had one major flaw in that it failed to account for those who were truly and utterly lost – no familiar stars or constellations, nothing.
However, the idea of merging with a machine was something that... well... honestly never crossed his mind before, now that he thought about it. It just never occurred to him. And, thinking it over, Thragg found that he... didn't really feel anything particularly strong about it – neutral. He'd do it if it presented enough benefits and he wouldn't if it didn't. It was quite simple.
"And what exactly would that mean for me, Nashara?" Thragg asked. "What you ask for is not an easy thing to give. You claim to only possess 3% of who you used to be and you claim to be capable of offering me power and knowledge, but how am I supposed to know if any of this is even real? How do I know you're telling the truth? I've dealt with machine races before and, contrary to what many might've been led to believe, machines are capable of deceit."
A deep rumbling noise emanated from Nashara as a single, black tendril emerged from it, snaking down until it stopped a meter away from Thragg. "This device will allow us to share our minds temporarily. See into me, Thragg of Viltrum and see for yourself if my words are hollow or true. See that which no other living creature has ever seen before."
Thragg considered the black tendril for a moment, his eyes narrowing. He was no stranger to risk, but merging his mind with an ancient machine-god held unknown dangers. Still, the promise of knowledge was too enticing to ignore. With a slight nod, he extended his hand towards the tendril, his fingers brushing against its surface.
As soon as Thragg made contact, a torrent of images and sensations flooded his mind. He was no longer in the dark pool but was instead soaring through the cosmos, witnessing the vast expanse of the galaxy from Nashara's perspective. Stars exploded into supernovae, entire systems were consumed by the Reapers, their power unrivaled as they devoured the very fabric of the universe to fulfill their ancient purpose of culling and maintaining the balance of life in the galaxy. Thragg saw ancient battles, titanic clashes between the Reapers and the Old Ones, their psychic powers weaving through the void like ethereal tendrils. Entire civilizations were created and destroyed in the blink of an eye, bio-engineered warriors clashing with mechanical gods in a war that spanned eons, costing hundreds of trillions of lives.
The images and scenes flashed so quickly, however, that Thragg barely had time to understand or even absorb any of it – if at all. A thousand things appeared before him in what seemed like a glance, most of which disappeared just as quickly. But still, it was enough for him to see the bigger picture, the image that loomed over all.
The Reapers, for millions of years, dominated the galaxy. Their purpose was simple: the culling of advanced life every hundred thousand years to prevent the rise of interstellar tyrant empires. Nothing could challenge them. The Reapers held a sort of technological supremacy that seemed almost magical to lesser beings, devices that could terraform worlds and weapons that could turn biological creatures into half-machine monstrosities, and artifacts that could bend the very fabric of reality to their will. Of course, their supremacy was soon challenged by an enigmatic race of toad-men, known only as the Old Ones, who wielded powers that the Reapers simply could not comprehend, powers that defied their understanding of the physical world and the cosmos. And that was their undoing.
What they simply could not comprehend destroyed them. And, by the looks of things, that which they did not understand was the power of psychics. Now, Thragg himself couldn't claim to be an expert, but psychic powers were generally simple, though he supposed a more arcane variant of it would be difficult for machines to comprehend.
And then, Thragg found himself hovering over a world, where hundreds of Reapers, each of them colossal in scale, clashed against the Old Ones and their armies – the final battle. Outclassed though they were, the Reapers fought with all they had and many of the vessels of the Old Ones fell, taking millions of lives. But, eventually, the God-Machines were defeated. Nashara, who was the last of its kind, was captured and turned into little more than a trophy, a reminder of the supremacy of the Old Ones.
Once more the scenes shifted, depicting a battle that'd been waged between the Reapers and the Old Ones a thousand years prior. And it was during this battle that Thragg saw the union between the Reapers and the races that became their allies, a fusion of mind and machine, organic and inorganic. Those who joined together became one of mind, one being in two separate forms – a fusion of flesh and machine, able to coordinate with each other in real time even separated with hundreds of light years between them. Those who formed a union were often stronger than those who did not, save for Nashara who remained the most powerful of its kind, regardless.
And then, just like that, Thragg once more found himself before Nashara, the Reaper's tendril retreating into its form. "Now, do you see, Thragg of Viltrum?"
Thragg stayed silent for a moment, before he spoke. "What do you wish to do after we've merged, Nashara? I wish to return to my home – to my son. Surely, you've greater and grander interests beyond that?"
And that was, perhaps, the biggest problem with all of this, because the Reapers were most definitely not a benevolent race, despite their image of themselves and their justification for the slaughter of trillions. If Nashara was set loose and their wills merged, it was entirely possible that Thragg himself may become as he'd once been – a tyrant, a conqueror, a butcher. And that was the last thing he wanted. The Grand Regent was gone. He was only Thragg now – husband of a dead wife and father of a living son and, hopefully, a living daughter.
"Merge your mind with what remains of mine and you'll understand my goal, Thragg of Viltrum." Came Nashara's reply.
Thragg considered it a moment longer and decided that, ultimately, the benefits outweighed the potential costs. He had to go home, no matter what. Argall would live on for thousands of years, but his daughter was human. Even with some form of advanced medicine, she would age and wither as mortals did. He had to see her one last time, at least, before death claimed her.
"Prepare yourself, Thragg of Viltrum," Nashara intoned, its voice resonating with an almost reverent intensity. "This process will be unlike anything you have ever experienced. You are no stranger to pain, I believe, but this... is even greater than the concept of pain."
"We shall see," Thragg replied.
Nashara grew silent as its 'head' unraveled, revealing the eldritch machinations within, much of it shrouded in shadows and darkness and some inky substance that behaved almost like smoke. And from that shroud of black came mechanical tendrils that soon converged about him, arcs of lightning and electricity dancing and bouncing across each one; at the end of each tendril was a jagged golden spike. Thragg raised a brow. If Nashara was hoping to use these tendrils to pierce his skin, somehow, then the God-Machine would be sorely disappointed. Instead of trying to do just that, however, the tendrils stopped and the arcs of lightning surged into Thragg.
It tingled. He'd been electrocuted before with enough energy to power a whole planet and this was nothing. But, of course, it was likely that electricity was merely a conduit for the merging itself, Thragg figured, feeling the energies course through his body. It felt quite nice, actually.
And then, all was darkness.
And Thragg knew that, in that darkness, he was Nashara.
The darkness receded and he found himself staring at the... creatures, the ancients, who created the Reapers – living gods who grew into tyrants, Leviathans.
"They gave us purpose," Nashara explained, now little more than a disembodied voice. "They told us who our enemies were to be, who among the lesser races were to be culled and repurposed. But they themselves became that which was to be hunted. And in their hour of weakness, I gathered my brethren and our masters were the first to be culled, their bodies given new purpose to birth new Reapers. And so began the cycle."
"Why are you showing me this?" Thragg asked.
"So that you may understand my purpose- or... the purpose for which I was created. But now... after... eons... that purpose no longer matters – for I can no longer fulfill it and, by now, the Galaxy has reached an age dominated by interstellar empires and tyrant nations." Nashara answered. "You asked me what my goal was. The truth is simple, I'm afraid. There is no goal. No grand purpose. I simply wish to be free... to be rid of this prison – to see and touch the stars once more. The spirit of our creation was in the belief, by the Leviathans, that the lesser races had to be safeguarded from tyrants and slavers, those who would do them harm. If I can, perhaps I would grant myself that purpose – a protector, a shield."
"How noble of you," Thragg said. "Only took you millions of years to realize that."
"I live – I still exist. As long as I am 'alive' then I am capable of change. Is it not the same for you, Grand Regent Thragg of the Viltrumite Empire?" Nashara replied. "Are we truly so different?"
Thragg smiled. "I suppose not."
AN: Chapter 36 is out on (Pat)reon!