One said nothing. It had no need for the primitive speech of its ancestors. There were those that still relied on such crude forms of communication, but one viewed such degenerates with something that might have been contempt, if emotions weren't beneath it.
It had no name. We call it one, because we must call it something.
It has no sex. Gender is irrelevant, and has been ever since its ancestors stepped off from the evolutionary ladder and chose their own future.
It had a body once, but it was discarded long ago. Like all of its kind, one discarded physical shell as soon as its mind matured enough to hold together without it.
One travels through space in a ship, though not one that we would recognize as such. Even a mind can be ripped apart by a hydrogen atom hitting it at a significant portion of the speed of light, and one was going far faster than that. Its speed is not something we can comprehend. Its ship is a shell impervious to such impacts. Beyond that, we simply aren't equipped to understand.
It has a mission, and that, I think, we can understand.
It wants to find its home.
Not home as we think of it. One has no need for the crude dwellings of lesser beings. It seeks the origin, the point from which all life originated. Most view such a place as a myth, but it knows better. It can trace its lineage all the way back to before the first colony ship, billions of years ago. But while the colonies spread out and diverged, evolutionarily speaking, its ancestors remained home. When the nuclear fires of the expanding home star reduced the inner planets to atoms on the solar breeze, they remained, and when the nuclear fire died, the home world remained. They had entered the star as advanced beings; they left as gods.
It was not to last.
Theirs was a world that consumed energy in vast quantities, and the white dwarf left behind was not enough. And so they headed for the stars, finally eschewing the cradle of civilization for greener pastures.
They had expected to find a galaxy full of similarly enlightened beings. When one finds perfection, it seems so simple that it is impossible anyone else wouldn't reach the same conclusion. What they found instead was a galaxy teeming with impurity and change.
Just as no two planets are alike, no two colonies followed the same path in adapting to their environment. Some landed in modern day Edens, and had developed cultures of peace and enlightenment. The successful versions were as close as they could come to kin, but without the trial by fire of the home world, they would forever be held back from true perfection. And so, those worlds most suited to attaining perfection were given the gift of a chance. If they survived the expansion of their suns, they too would join the ranks of the gods.
Some worlds were far more harsh than the home world had been. Those that survived there had done so as much by shaping themselves as they had shaped their worlds. They looked upon these strange worlds and strange peoples with sadness and fear, for they had forsaken the path that would lead to enlightenment. Rather than give something so vile the chance to be elevated to the higher plane, they stamped out these planets wherever they were found. They mourned the loss of the worlds, for even marginally habitable planets are rare in the grand scheme of things, but nary a thought was spared for the aberrations.
The majority of worlds fell somewhere in between these two extremes, and it was there that they found their calling. They sought to tame these worlds, and in doing so, return their occupants to the true path. Imagine their confusion when so many rejected this gift and tried to fight instead.
They didn't see the destruction of their sister colonies as the gifts and cleansings they truly were. They saw only the destruction, and they were afraid. These rebels lacked the true power of gods, but in their low cunning, the animals devised weapons and fought back.
They were introduced once more to the concept of war.