Mercer Asterion's Arc

Chapter 1 of 10

Mercer Asterion came through the jump on his knees, and the bridge came with him broken. Smoke curled from the pilot's station. The command ring around him should have hummed. It ticked instead, like cooling metal. Cracked glass panels blinked red where they should have glowed blue. He was a surveyor from a civilization that crossed universes the way other people crossed rivers. He had crossed one river too many. The route home ran through this ship, and this ship was dying under his hands. He pulled the hood of his travel cloak over his head out of habit, though no one was watching. Then he stood. The main console was the worst of it. The maintenance bay hung open. Inside, circuitry crackled around a scorched titanium frame. Violet arcs jumped between contacts that should have been sealed. He recognized the failure before he finished counting the burns. A cascade through the primary regulator. The console had eaten itself to protect the core. Mercer flexed his cybernetic right hand and reached into the bay. The arm's insulation held. He traced the damage with two fingers, following heat scars to their source. The jump module sat in its cradle, still seated, still whole on the outside. He drew it free. It was heavier than he remembered, or he was more tired than he wanted to admit. Fire-colored fractures ran along its edges. At the center, the blue crystal processor still pulsed. Alive. Damaged, but alive. That was the answer, then. The ship was scrap. The module could be saved. He set it on the deck and ran a diagnostic through his palm. The readout was short and bad. Three components were fried. Two he could improvise around. The third was a resonance capacitor grown from a lattice this world had never heard of. He would have to build a replacement out of whatever this place offered, one crude part at a time. A sound reached him through the hull breach. Not machinery. Voices. A wooden cart wheel. A goat's bleat. Someone shouting a price. Mercer went to the crack in the hull and looked out. Stalls. Canvas awnings. A satyr tuning a lute. Two horned traders arguing over a crate of jars. A market, sprawling and loud, pressed right up against the wreck of his ship as if it had always been there. No one had noticed him yet. That would not last. He looked down at himself. Silver composite armor. Blue seams glowing faintly through synthetic fabric. Boots that had never touched dirt like this. He pulled the cloak tighter and tucked the cybernetic hand into its folds. He wrapped the jump module in a strip of insulation and slid it into his satchel. He took one last look at the dead bridge. Then he stepped through the breach into the noise. The plan was simple. Become forgettable. Find the parts. Get home. He made it four steps before a shadow fell across him and a small voice said "Hi there!"