“Desperate times call for desperate measures, but desperate measures make excellent men.”

-Lustor the Crusader, the Golden Emperor, circa 100 GA.

Battus coughed, the water clogging his lungs finally exiting unpleasantly through his mouth. He dragged himself forward through sand, pulling himself onto the beach. He tried desperately to catch his breath, choking on the air and gasping as he fell onto his back. The bright light and saltwater stung his eyes, and he shielded the sun with his hand.

“Hello…? ...Mercury…? Anyone…! Damn it all….” Battus coughed again, wiping his mouth with his jacket’s sleeve. So much for an easy paycheck.

He grimaced, sitting up and assessing himself. He had all his limbs still- good. Didn't feel anything too intense, no broken bones he was pretty sure. He felt bruised and battered, but all in all, things could have been much worse, even if the circumstances were really bad. He’d never had a job go sideways like this before, and 9 out of 10 times he’d never even stepped foot off whatever transport he was using. But now it looked like he didn’t have a choice.

He blinked, looking around to assess his surroundings. Let's see… beach, tropical looking foliage… but all the trees and bushes were pink and purple, almost ethereally so. It definitely didn't look like a piece of the mainland he was familiar with. He must've washed ashore on an island. Before he could take a better look around, something bumped firmly into his leg.

“Tintin…! Oh thank the gods you made it, buddy,” Battus pulled up the dog-like bot to his chest, the MAR-U affectionately rubbing its face against him. Miraculously, it also seemed completely functional and intact.

“Where's your dumb crystal friend, bud?” Tintin’s wheels whirred, and Battus set it back down in the sand, and the little bot took off across the beach, rolling over the occasional sun-dried seaweed and broken seashell. Battus smiled, watching Tintin race away and leave a trail of treadmarks behind it in the sand, following its path towards a large red boulder on the beach about 30 yards away… then his face fell.

“Mercury… Mercury!” Battus took off in a sprint, his feet kicking up the sand as he ran towards the motionless quartz creature laying in a wet imprint on the shore. The waves barely crested up to its legs, but an enormous crack in the crystal ran along its… back? Front? Battus couldn't tell. It didn't matter- it looked bad. He sank to his knees in the sand, trying to assess the damage. He didn't know any healing spells, and cursed himself for skipping those mandatory cleric courses.

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His eyes lit up, fumbling around in his jacket and tearing open a seam- a small vial of emergency healing potion, exactly for this kind of situation. It was tiny, only just enough for basic first aid, but it was all he had. Mercury had no mouth to speak of, pun not intended, so it would have to be applied topically. Battus twisted the vial open, desperately applying the precious tiny red drops that it contained. He waited. Nothing- it didn't do anything. Of course it didn't do anything, it’s a rock! Why the hell would that help.

Battus sunk defeatedly into the sand, his hands falling palm-side up onto the beach strewn with driftwood splinters and kelp. There was nothing he could do. He’d let a client die on his watch, and now he was marooned who-knows-where.

“...I’m sorry Tintin. I really tried, damn it. I'm sorry.” Tintin nudged against his hand in the sand, and Battus absentmindedly petted its head, staring at the unmoving body of the alien. Tintin nudged again.

“Not now, bud. Can't you see I'm mourning, here?” Tintin butted him even harder, and Battus looked down at the bot. Extended out from the MAR-U’s back was a syringe with a wide needle, filled with some sort of opaque paste laced with shining clear crystals.

“...ah. Yeah, that might help,” Battus quickly sprung into action again, taking the syringe and gingerly applying the salve to the crack, making sure it seeped in as deeply as possible. He tried to spread it thin, but… the fissure was too large. He didn't have enough here to fill it in.

“C’mon Tintin, don’t you have more of this stuff?” He held out the empty syringe, and Tintin only stared at him, its display flashing individual lights rapidly.

“There's gotta be something around here…” he looked around. All he could see was water, the foliage, and sand… so much damned sand. Sand… tiny crystals. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.

Battus scooped up as much wet sand as he possibly could, caking up the gap in Mercury’s body. He packed it in tight, using his fingers to mix the salve and grainy mud. It wasn't very sanitary, but that was a risk he would have to take. He smoothed it out and….

“C’mon Mercury. You can pull through. You got this,” he gritted his teeth, not daring to hope for the best. Tintin nudged against Mercury’s side, and Battus wasted no time in trying to figure out what the little bot could possibly be telling him. Looking around, he noticed that they were directly in the shade of a large purple palm tree.

“Sunlight. It needs sunlight!” Battus gathered all his strength, pushing and heaving against Mercury’s side, rolling it over once, then once more, into the sun. The light reflected off all the crystals inside of it, and then-!