Scrapra, two hundred years later.
Rain had been falling non-stop for three days over Scrapra's rusted expanses, turning the piles of scrap metal into vast, muddy pools glinting with orange-tinged reflections. Through a cracked window in a small, patchwork house made of salvaged metal sheets, Arthur Rozier watched as the droplets slowly trailed down, carving irregular paths through the accumulated dust.
He had always lived here, on this forgotten planet, adrift among thousands of more important, wealthier, and livelier worlds. Scrapra was nothing more than a graveyard for starships—an endless sprawl of wrecks that bore silent witness to once-grand battles now long forgotten.
Arthur was sixteen. Tall and lean, his unruly brown hair fell across a pale forehead. His blue-gray eyes seemed perpetually lost in thought, as if he dreamed of a distant elsewhere, forever out of reach. Reserved by nature, Arthur much preferred the company of machines to that of people—save for his father, Jonas Rozier, with whom he had always lived.
He startled slightly as the metal door creaked behind him."Still daydreaming, huh?" Jonas said as he entered, drenched from the downpour, his arms filled with mechanical parts scavenged that morning.Arthur gave a faint smile."I was waiting for you to come back. I wanted to see what you found," he replied calmly.
His father spread his haul across the workbench that dominated the main room—a space cluttered with tools, circuits, and cables of every sort. Jonas Rozier was in his fifties, his face etched with years of hardship. His gaze was that of a tired man, yet it carried an unyielding strength. He had never told Arthur how they had ended up on this planet. He remained vague, sidestepping any questions about the past, convinced it was better left forgotten.
- "Take a look at this," Jonas said, holding up a half-charred capacitor. "With a bit of work, we might get a good price for it from Varek. That is, if you can fix it…"
- "I can do it," Arthur replied, stepping closer to inspect the part. "It's pretty beat up, but I've repaired worse."
Jonas placed a hand on his son's shoulder, watching him closely."I know, Arthur. I've never seen anyone as skilled as you with machines. It's like they speak to you," he murmured, clearly impressed.Arthur flushed slightly at the compliment and turned his head away."It's just logic," he said with a shrug.
Jonas smiled gently."You remind me so much of your mother sometimes."Arthur's eyes shot up to meet his father's, surprised."Why don't you ever talk about her?"Jonas's smile faded slowly. He turned his gaze aside, visibly uneasy."It's not easy for me, son. She was taken from us too soon," he said, his voice suddenly rough. "But believe me, she'd be proud of you."
An awkward silence fell. Arthur could tell his father was hiding something, but he also knew there was no point in pressing the issue. Jonas had never shared much about their past, preferring to bury it deep inside.
Arthur finally broke the silence.
- "I'll fix it right now. Varek's coming tomorrow, so we might as well have it ready."
He picked up the capacitor, sat at the workbench, and opened his repair kit. As soon as he touched the mechanical part, the world around him seemed to fade away. Nothing else mattered except the details: the cold metal under his fingers, the delicate cables, the microcircuits that needed reconnecting. It was instinctive, almost second nature.
Jonas watched his son at work, equal parts admiring and anxious. He often wondered how someone so gifted could remain trapped on this world without a future.
An hour later, Arthur finally looked up, satisfied."It's done. It should work just fine now."
Jonas came closer to examine the work. He shook his head slowly, smiling in amazement.
- "Incredible. You surprise me more every day.
Arthur rose from his chair, stretching arms stiff from the effort.
- "It wasn't much," he said modestly.
His father gave him a knowing look.
- "You should get out a bit, Arthur. Meet people your age, talk to them. You spend too much time cooped up here."Arthur quickly turned his gaze toward the window.
- "I'd rather stay here. The others don't understand me."Jonas sighed quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
- "They'd learn to understand you if you gave them the chance."
- "Maybe someday," Arthur replied softly, carefully avoiding his father's concerned eyes.Jonas shook his head, resigned but kind.
- "You know what, son? No more repairs today. I'll take you with me. I spotted a promising wreck near the northern hills. Maybe it's time you saw something other than a broken capacitor."
Arthur looked up at him, a sudden spark in his eyes.
- "Really?"His father nodded, smiling as he saw his son's excitement:
"Seriously. Grab your tools; we leave in ten minutes."Arthur quickly grabbed his tool bag, excited at the prospect of discovering what more this desolate, yet strangely fascinating, planet had to offer.
Arthur saisit rapidement son sac à outils, excité à l'idée de découvrir ce que cette planète désolée, mais étrangement fascinante, avait de plus à offrir.
Following his father outside, he was immediately met with the damp chill of Scrapra after days of rain. Jonas led the way to a vehicle parked under a makeshift shelter of rusted metal plates.
It was an old ground vehicle cobbled together from scavenged parts: the cockpit from a long-retired reconnaissance starfighter, awkwardly mounted onto a rugged, treads-based chassis. The whole thing was held together by irregular but sturdy welds. The original paint had long since been consumed by rust and grime, yet despite its rough appearance, Arthur knew the vehicle could handle just about any terrain Scrapra threw at them.
Jonas climbed into the cockpit, the hinges groaning loudly as he shut the door behind him. Arthur slipped into the seat beside him, carefully placing his tool bag at his feet. With practiced ease, Jonas started the machine. It sputtered and shook for a moment before settling into a steady, almost reassuring rumble.
"Ready, Arthur?" Jonas asked with a sly grin.
- "Always," Arthur replied, watching intently as his father deftly worked the controls.
The vehicle rumbled forward, slowly moving across Scrapra's desolate landscape. Through the worn cockpit glass, Arthur took in the ruined scenery: countless ship carcasses of various sizes jutted from the muddy ground. Some stood tall like towering monuments of rust, while others lay split open, as if torn apart by some immense, long-forgotten force.
- "Think we'll find anything interesting?" Arthur asked, breaking the ambient silence marked only by the engine's hum.
- "This area's pretty untouched—most folks don't bother with it," Jonas replied.
- "Picked something up on the scanners a few days back. A different sort of wreck. I think it might be an Imperial-class cruiser, or at least what's left of one."
Arthur's eyes widened.
- "Seriously? An Imperial cruiser?"
Jonas smiled at his son's sudden excitement.
- "I'm not certain, but if it is, we might find some incredibly valuable parts."
They continued their journey for nearly an hour, passing stretches of metallic plains, heaps of starships fused together, and gaping craters from long-forgotten impacts. Arthur remained silent, lost in his thoughts as the chaotic landscape slowly unfolded before his eyes.
Finally, the wreck's silhouette emerged on the horizon.
- "We're almost there," Jonas said, easing the vehicle to a crawl to take in the massive structure before them.
The wreck was staggering: a colossal war cruiser with its bow driven deep into Scrapra's ground. Its once-shining silver hull, now dulled by years of decay, was torn apart in several places, exposing a maze of intricate, mysterious innards. Large sections were buried beneath the earth, but the portions visible above ground were awe-inspiring enough.
Arthur sat up straight, captivated.
- "It's incredible…"
Jonas slowed the vehicle to a stop just a few meters from the wreck. The two men climbed out slowly, their eyes fixed on the massive structure.
- "Grab your gear, Arthur," Jonas said quietly. "Today might just be our lucky day."
Arthur carefully picked up his bag, following his father toward the gaping opening that led inside the ship. As they approached, he felt a shiver run through him—an excited, uneasy thrill that made his pulse quicken.