Chapter 1: Back to Business?
I just can't catch a break.
I don't consider myself a cynic by any means, but it always seems like there's a problem every time I turn my back. Doesn't have to be glaringly obvious at first, but I guarantee there's something, somewhere in the universe cooking up a problem to throw itself at us.
"Oh, this is just fine."
In this particular moment I'm in yet another minor bind. Don't get me wrong, Clank and I'd been at ease lately—well, taking in the fact that we weren't under attack by hostile beings that wanted to execute us by firing squad. Being back home on Veldin and enjoying casual life helped with that.
How many ships had I repaired in my garage over the years? At least a hundred, for sure. But now I have a problem. What was a rocket mechanic going to do with a vessel that tried everything in the known universe to prevent itself from being fixed?
After repeatedly being knocked around by life's ebbs, I've built quite the tolerance to having the figurative weight of a galaxy on my shoulders any day. It sure as heck didn't mean I had to like it.
But for me not being able to fix a single darn thing on a sports ship after spending days on it? Just shoot me already.
I sigh. The limits of my patience were high when working on projects, but this was ridiculous. I roll out from under the ship, pressing my thumbs into my closed eye sockets. I'd been under so long my eyes have to adjust to the light in the garage.
"I detect an enormous amount of sarcasm in your tone. Is something the matter?" Clank asks.
He'd come to my beck and call from somewhere on the other side of the garage. I don't know what he had been pouring over, but there was an infinite chance he was having better luck on his work than I was on mine.
I get off of the rolling board, then get up and start giving the ship a once-over. "I just don't know what it could be. I tried replacing the exhaust pipe, but then the ignition coils started acting up. When I went to fix those, the steering wheel popped off. Then after that, there went the pedals. I tried to look at them, but found out the airbag system's faulty and they kept deploying on me! And, as of several seconds ago, the combustor pipe blew up in my face."
"Oh…oh I, heh heh, see…" Clank puts one hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh at the amount of ash he sees on my face. I'm tempted to kick over the chair he's standing on.
"It's just one problem after another with this thing. I've never had so much trouble with a ship before," I say. "The only thing that was easy was the paintjob."
Well, getting these patches of dark blue out my fur wouldn't be easy. In hindsight, I probably should've gotten kid-friendly paint. It might look horrible on the ship but it'd lessen the amount of scrubbing I'd have to do on myself.
I had just bought this used vessel from a seller on Novalis for next month's HoverDerby, a competition that they're having on Kerwan. He had told me all I needed to do was replace the battery but it was obvious that it'd been a lie from the pits of hell.
Now several days later with more problems in addition to the dull throb of a headache starting in my temple from hours of toil, it's sunk in that I likely got conned out of several thousand bolts. No wonder the crook was cheesing so hard after I handed him the check.
"This is totally, absolutely, NOT fine!" I finally snap, winding back for a kick. "I hate this piece of JUNK—!"
My foot goes in an arc, completely missing the ship, and my momentum takes me in a single backflip that ends with me crashing to the ground. It may be because the wind has been knocked out my lungs, but I'm too tired to even try to get up.
After a moment Clank leans into view, holding several papers in his hand. "Erm…do you feel better?"
I hear the sound of metal creaking and look up. Part of the ship's hull had come loose, leaning over for a moment before detaching and flattening me to the ground. See? This thing had it out for me and that was proof.
"Arugh, this is THE biggest, mind-numbing, torturous, Charlie Foxtrot of a chore I've ever been subjected to, and this is THE worst I've ever felt while being employed as a rocket mechanic!"
"…I will assume that means no. Now I do believe it is time for you to take a break."
"As if! Here's yet another problem I've got to take care of. If it can't—ugh, handle me kicking at it even once—agh, then I may as well—" I shove the slab of metal to the side, standing, "Either A, go get my money back, or B, fix it immediately."
I was leaning more to option A. I'll find that crook and…convince him to give me my refund after I explained the problem.
"You will not do well by hunting that con artist down and holding him at gunpoint," Clank says. He knows me too well. "I suggest that you have a brief reprieve and relax your mind, then return to the task later. Remaining upset will do nothing but drive your temper up the wall even more."
I mumble a distant reply, catching glimpse of my reflection on the ship as I go to walk outside. Holy cow, nearly spooked myself—I could make a pretty horrifying scowl, especially with these eyebrows.
The wind had been a bit frisky that day, and sand was whipping around my feet. The sun's getting ready to set in the far distance but it's still light enough for me to see…well, nothing in particular. Kyzil Plateau has always been as barren as can be yet there's something about staring down the endless stretch of desert all around that eases me a bit.
I sigh again. This time it's more out of relaxation. Maybe Clank was right. It certainly would be nice to stretch my legs out, at least.
"Okay, you win. I'll take a break," I say, snatching my Omniwrench from where it had been propped on the wall. Just in case. I take several steps outside then turn, asking, "Wanna come along?"
"Sure, I do not see why not. I could like a breath of fresh air as well," Clank says, storing his papers away as he falls in step next to me.
"Strange. I didn't know you had lungs to breathe, barring the fact that Veldin's air is anything but fresh. And what's that you've been hiding away and working on lately? Trying to create a new modification to do on yourself?"
"Very funny. And no, it is something…inconsequential."
"Oooh boy, that means it's a seeecret. Whatever tool of destruction it is you're making, let me have a go at it at least once."
"I do not think it is something you could have a go at, Ratchet," Clank says cryptically, following up with a chortle. I give a good-natured roll of my eyes and face forward.
It was near the end of summer here on Veldin, and I think this is the first real time we've been out to enjoy the sights ever since we came back from Polaris awhile ago. Every year during this season we always have an increase in clients. After working nonstop on getting all these commissions done and with some downtime slipping back in our lives, we were getting a figurative breath of fresh air.
I inhale deeply and hack a bit as the wind gusts hard, tossing up sand. Definitely figurative.
Still, it took Clank to help me realize that I did need some time off. Thank goodness he always knew what my limits were, even when I was blind to them. I sling my wrench over my shoulder, rubbing my knuckles against the top of his head. He looks up.
"Thanks…you saved me there. I would've run myself to the ground if you hadn't told me to take it easy."
"Oh, yes," he smiles slightly. "I thought I would have to step in at some point. I cannot believe you went out in public like that."
I run a finger between my eyes and ash is on my glove when I pull back. Oh well, we're the only people around for miles so there's no real need to look nice all the time, right?
On that note of neglecting my personal well-being, I start to feel my insides complaining within several minutes. Just when I'd come to the realization that I hadn't eaten in hours, something catches my eye.
It's up in the clouds, zooming down through the atmosphere at speeds so high it leaves a yellow comet trail. I watch as it sails downwards, hitting the ground roughly five seconds later and making a thunderous crash we feel from where we're standing.
Not only that there's a huge cloud blossoming up, spreading outwards from the impact site and accelerating impossibly fast towards us.
"Oh, my," Clank says. "Judging by the rate of acceleration and making an estimate on the wave's velocity, I estimate we have approximately two and a half seconds before it reaches us."
"You don't say?" I'm gradually craning my head upwards, watching as the yards tall wave of sand and dust looms up on us. "Clank, brace yourself!"
He takes ahold of the back of my leg—not much else he could do, honestly. I throw an arm over my face and lower my center of gravity for balance. The wave crashes into us without mercy, and the force nearly manages to knock me off my feet. I find myself being pushed back several inches, sinking ankle deep into the sand.
As a person who's lived on Veldin for his whole life I can tell you there's a lot of things that can be done to make its quirks bearable. One being, developing a penchant for stocking up on as much frozen desserts on sale at from the market as you could, preferably the ones that are half-priced or less. You learn to not give a damn about quality when you need quantity.
It felt like we were in one of Veldin's tri-weekly sandstorms, and I could tell you—not something you'd want to be caught in, unless you didn't care about pouring sand out of every possible article of clothing that you had. Yes, even those.
But after several seconds, it was over. When the wind's died down enough I carefully open my eyes. Everything about the terrain looked the same as before. I look around, seeing the same widespread wave of dust and sand continuing on, gradually dissipating in the distance seconds later.
"What in the name Solana was that?" I ask. In a severe show of displacement, the sand had built up to my calves. When I don't hear from Clank I look down to see one of his hands sticking up from the sand, still holding onto my clothes. I yank him out. Just like me, he's covered all over in grit. "Uh, got a little something on your face there, pal."
"That was aggravating," he responds, clearly unhappy. "And I had just given myself a thorough oiling not too long ago. Several hours, wasted…"
He's still muttering to himself as I lower him to the ground, but now my attention was elsewhere. In the distance I can spot a faint plume of smoke drifting up. I can't accurately judge the size of the impact crater or the distance it was away from us, but it didn't seem that far.
I don't know about Clank, but my natural curiosity was already hiked up to its maximum. I had to go investigate. That also probably caught the attention of desert patrol, if they'd been in the area.
"Hey, how about we go check out what that thing is before the cops do?" I ask.
"Yes, I am rather curious to see what could have caused that…sandstorm," Clank says, with a hint of sodium chloride in his tone. "As for the desert police, I do not think we will have to worry too much about them. Today the Academy is hosting Bingo Mania."
He pulls out a flier. "And ooh, how convenient! The grand prize is a pair of self-ventilated ear muffs!"
"I probably would've entered to win them, but they're way too small." That was exactly why, after finding several reference points from the actual product I'd created some schematics to make my own, fit to size. What? It wasn't like anyone else in the known universe would know how to make them for me.
Clank hops up backwards and fastens himself to the back of my suit. It makes me realize how it's been awhile since we'd gotten away from the routine, about three and a half Solanian months to be exact. It always sends a tingling up my spine when we get hooked up, like it was some weird, nostalgic feeling that wanted to be tapped into and explored further. Uh, the spirit of adventure? I'd call it that.
Anyway, I'm a bit excited now. I think a nice jog would set the mood for the rest of the day...not to mention burn off all these extra calories I gained from guilty pleasures over the summer.
"Wonder what that could've been," I say, picking my feet up higher to avoid sinking too deep in the sand. "Looked too small to be a space ship."
"Perhaps a meteor, considering that enormous impact reaction. But I did not detect any electromagnetic waves that would have corresponded with it."
"I do know one thing, Clank. Kyzil Plateau sure does attract a lot of riffraff, doesn't it?"
"Ah…riffraff? I suppose it does, yes."
"Yeah and, not all of it's been negative," I stop at the top of a sand dune the size of a small hill, breathing a bit hard. "I mean, look at you."
Something suddenly piques my attention, making only slightly aware of Clank's muttered, "…oh, Ratchet." Now I see the distance's not as far as I gauged it to be, only about the length of a football field. The mouth of the crater is in clear view, still smoking slightly, and I don't see anyone near the area to investigate it so far. We were in the clear.
As I start to slide down the slope, Clank says, "We have company." A moment later I hear a shriek somewhere to my right. A crouched shape slinks out from behind a nearby brush, hissing at us. I only spare the Horny Toad a glance and keep moving. They were just common fodder to me, not even worth my time. And that name—it wasn't like I could take them any less seriously.
At least, I would've let the matter be if another toad wasn't popping up from a nigh invisible ditch in the ground in front of me, mouth open to latch onto my face. You try to be reasonable but there's always that one fool who wants to take advantage of it.
Without missing a beat I club my wrench upwards into its jaw, throwing it over my head. I hear the sound of two bodies colliding with each other, and Clank chuckles. "Good aim."
When I turn around the Horny Toads are getting to their feet, by now looking like they were regretting getting out of bed today. "Hey guys, I'm organizing your family reunion and inviting all the annoying relatives you hate." I say. They squeal, turning and kicking sand up as they tear away screaming. "Ha ha, classic..."
"I do not think they will forget that, Ratchet."
"Aw, what are they gonna do, croak at me until I keel over?" I crack up at the thought. Then I decide to shut my mouth, because I suddenly feel like I'm tempting fate here somehow.
The crater is several layers deep with different colored beddings of rock exposed, dipping downwards into a deep pit. At the bottom partially wedged into the ground was a surprisingly small, indistinguishable shape. It gives off a light glow.
Before I can get closer a beeping noise catches my attention, and I look over just in time to see a floating drone traveling along the mouth of the crater towards us. "Greetings. Senior Security Bot #523 at your service," it says, coming to a stop next to me. "Current duty is to observe and report the state of the environment in this area. You are advised to leave while the scan is in process."
"Uh, no. We made it here first, fair and square," I tell it. "You can wait while we check things out."
"Vocal patterns of unknown species detected. Running diagnostic…" it dings. "Subject identified as a common house cat of unusual size. Incapacitation report now sending to special trained force for animal pickup."
"That's just plain insulting!" I say.
"Attempts to soothe creature before spike of aggression levels occur," it says. A compartment opens up on its front and it beams out what's clearly a hologram of a bowl of milk the ground. "Here, here, kitty. This is not a hologram. Do not let your eyes deter you from the truth. Listen to your inner subconscious and embrace the very hubris of your nature. Allow your-"
It doesn't get any farther, since I've repeatedly started slamming my wrench down on its head. With a final blow I knock it over to the side, and it twitches a bit, wires poking out. "Hu-hubris…lost…."
"Was that the best course of action, Ratchet?"
"That felt like a massive blow to my intelligence," I answer, not realizing how much pent up irritation I'd had. I jump down, bracing my feet against the slope and sliding downwards. "But at any rate, no. So let's hurry up and check this thing out before the force catches up."
"Thank you, as I would rather not take responsibility for a five-million bolt search droid."
Geez, five million for that thing? Maybe they should've invested in giving it better defenses instead of making it do…whatever the heck it just did, serenade me with mind games? I slide to a halt at the bottom, keeping my distance from the pulsing crater. "So, what's the situation?"
You could literally hear the gears in his head turning for a moment. "…Hm…I am unable to determine its constitution."
Up this close I can see it's opaque and oval shape. It reminded me of an egg, though I've never seen one the size of my head (the one that I use to think, I mean) and glowed green like it had radiation in it. Clank detaches from my back, continuing, "However…it does seem to resonate the strongest with the bio-scan, so it appears to be partially organic in nature."
"Funny you say that, because it looks like an egg to me. But that's crazy," I say, as we carefully inch closer. "If that's what it really was, how on earth could it survive a crash like this?"
And would it be safe to touch? Clank always told me that curiosity killed the Lombax, but I think it's just to implore some fear to quell my daredevil tendencies. And hey, I've survived so far.
I extend my Omniwrench, carefully clasping it around the thing, and try to wrestle it free. The uneven ground gives me bad footing so I move and get right on top of it, using both arms to give more power.
"Careful, Ratchet. Remember what I always say—"
"—curiosity killed the Lombax," I say with him, grunting as I pulled back. "I know Mom, I know…"
I suddenly feel it loosen a bit, and I pull my weight backwards with another tug. The object resists no more and dirt flies up as it pops out the ground. "Whoh…!" I stagger back, catching myself before I fell over, then take a look. It's a glowing green oval with these dark veiny growths covering the side that had been buried underground. I carefully knock my fist against it, feeling a glass like texture. And Clank said this was partially organic?
"What is this thing?" I can't help but to ask, turning so he can see it.
"Judging by its appearance and texture, I am unsure. There is no record of an object anywhere in my database. We must approach it with caution until we discover what it is. There is also the possibility we could turn it over to galactic authorities and have them run several tests on it."
"Wanna take it back to the garage and fool around with it?"
Clank's deadpan look nearly slays me.
Then he sighs, of course knowing that my definition of 'fooling around' was to shoot or maim something until it exploded. "Did you hear my explanation, Ratchet? I just clarified why it is unsafe to tamper with."
"Look at this," I hold my wrench up, rubbing the egg-thing up against the side of my face. It's cool to the touch and a little static-y but otherwise, nothing happens. Clank looks like he's about to bust a sprocket.
"I'm fine, scaredy cat. At least you can say it's not hazardous to the touch, right? It can't be that dangerous."
"Famous last words…oh, why do I even bother?"
As we walk back up the pit I'm wondering which weapon I could use to break it open. It did seem to have the consistency of glass. Maybe something that pierces or melts. The Shredder Claws? No, I was too busy modifying those. Ah, there was the Pyrocitor or the Incinerator, too. There were so many awesome opportunities and with a little bit of experimenting, I could easily find out!
I hold it in front of my face, pleasantly amused to find my reflection on the surface. It reminded me of earlier, when I'd been glancing across the surface of the problem ship.
Huh. Now there was something I wasn't looking forward to when we got back. But I was stubborn to work with that thing until it was functional enough, if only because I had never dropped a project for any reason. It was going to get done and we were going to that HoverDerby next month if I had to hook several Grunthors up to it and make them pull it to the finish line.
But first, I think I'd like to revel in this idea of…break taking.
I'm so busy thinking about future weapons to deconstruct my new toy with that I don't notice that it's glowing a bit brighter at first. I have to lower it a little, squinting; there are vibrations starting to come from it, and they quickly increase in consistency and strength. I put both hands on my wrench, trying to stand my ground on the top of the slope. It's hard to do with my entire upper body shuddering like mad from just holding it. Clank looks over. "Do you hear that noise?"
I do. It's my teeth clattering. Now I can feel some sort of energy pulsing from this thing, and it was making my fur stand on end all over. "W-W-Whoa, wh-what is with this thing?"
"It seems likely it heard you talking about destroying it!"
"I-I totally didn't mean it, honest!" I say, hopefully loud enough for whatever spirit I'd angered to hear me. I keep one eye shut, trying not to look at it too directly and a bit startled when I see white lines spider webbing over the surface. Before I can even think about dropping it light shines from the cracks, and it ruptures.
It was like a balloon popping, only ten times less festive and ten times more painful. And not to mention, loud enough to make me go deaf for a moment. I can't see anything else but these brief, sickening flashes of light either. It was so disorienting I'm not even sure if I passed out or that my senses just winked out for a moment.
I came to Clank calling my name, telling me to wake up. I blink several times, trying to clear the blindness out of my eyes. And good heavens, it feels like someone drilled a hole in my skull and dumped Qwark's homemade fudgecake in it. Not the best feeling.
"Whargh…?" I say.
"Ratchet, are you okay?" Clank asks. I sit up, a bit too fast; nausea makes me groan and I lean over to the ground again, placing my hands on my head. I was laying in the pit where we'd found the egg, I saw. Did that seriously knock me all the way down here? Great, I was asking for a concussion today.
"Ratchet, I believe the desert patrol are on their way to investigate the explosion. Perhaps we could explain to them what happened and get you some medical attention."
I groan. Just when I needed law enforcement to be distracted with trivial matters. They were going to be sorry they passed up those earmuffs. "…it was that bright? That blast?" I ask, feeling my head still throbbing as I manage to sit up.
"Very, and quite loud…how do you feel?"
I'm too distracted and don't answer, searching the area for my wrench until I realized I was lying right on it. I get into a kneel and brace it to the ground, using it to stand up all the way. The world tips and I almost fall forward over Clank, who holds his hands up.
"I got it…come on, let's go." I wasn't going to stick around for those patrol guys and answer questions. Not that we had done anything malicious of course. Uh, besides destroying a robot that belonged to the force, but they wouldn't arrest me for that, right? The general thought of bumping into the police makes me nervous for some reason. Besides, I'd left all my ambiguously legal items at home so they couldn't try me for anything!
I stumble a bit over rock, catching myself. Clank obviously feels this and turns his head to the side, asking, "…Ratchet?"
"I'm fine. If not, I will be," I answer, looking over my shoulder. In the far distance I can see lights dancing amongst the dunes, getting closer. If all else failed I'd dig a hole and camouflage my body. Clank was the goody-two-shoes, or better yet, he could just sign autographs to get out of trouble. Wouldn't be the first time I got Secret Agent Clank to butter people up.
As we were heading back I was having a bit of a difficult time, though. My body has never felt this unresponsive before. Every now and again I would stumble, feeling like my legs weren't all the way functional. And at the speeds I was sprinting back, that would've dinged the both of us up if I tripped and fell.
Finally, I can begin to see our garage in the distance, the safe haven! A thought crosses my mind that I never should have left in the first place, or else this wouldn't have happened. But that was ridiculous, because I—
"Oof!" This time I do trip, flipping head over heels and tumbling along like a pinwheel on the ground for several moments. That doesn't do anything to help my head. "…ow."
"Oh goodness, Ratchet," groans Clank. He'd actually come detached with all that rolling and ended up tangled in a dead bush. I get up, grab him and get out of there with speeds that could've landed me in the Galactic Olympics.
Have I mentioned how comforted I feel in the presence of motor oil, tools, and dismembered ships? All a part of the work, I guess, but I just love our garage that much. I'm pretty sure that's why when we finally return, I start getting distracted by a few minor details to make it feel even more secure.
The cops can't come here to investigate us. Like they felt sanctified with their coffee and donuts at HQ, I feel the same way with my garage and had the right to preserve that feeling, damn it!
"….and I am still unsure."
Clank's voice drifts into my perception several minutes later. It sounds like he'd just gotten done talking for a while. It wasn't abnormal for me to accidentally tune him out but he does get annoyed when it's obvious I'm not paying attention. "About what?" I venture.
"If you are truly…okay."
"Sure I am, Clank," I say, bolting the last window shut.
"Then would you mind explaining why you ran from the police? Maybe if they had heard what had happened, they could have helped get you to a medical facility."
"Nah, I can take care of myself…with your help, anyway."
"And," Clank spins a finger in the air, motioning around, "why you started blocking all of the entrances to the garage when we got back?"
I've already pulled the garage door shut, but was now struggling a bit with the lock mechanism. I pause, looking from the remote in my hand to Clank as I scratch behind my ears. "I...don't really know. I got nervous?"
"More like paranoid. You are acting like a convict who has just done something illegal."
The dumb thing won't lock. I stare at the remote, trying to make sense of the buttons. Had there always been this many? "Hey, which one of these locks the garage door?"
"That is the Holo-Vid remote, Ratchet."
"Uh…right. I knew that. So, tell me what you saw out there with that thing I had?"
"It blew up in your face and knocked us apart. When I got my bearings I saw you down in the pit, where it had thrown you."
That was right. I shudder a bit. Having my senses blocked was something I'd rather not go through again, even if it was for a few seconds. You never fully realize how much of a privilege it is to see and hear until those sensations are gone.
Clank tugs on my hand several times, snapping me out of the daze I'd gotten in. I blink, suddenly realizing I'd been staring at the wall for a good ten seconds. "Oh, sorry about that…must've zoned out for a moment..."
"Ratchet, it is getting a bit late and I believe you are going to be out of it for the rest of the day. It is time for us to get some rest and we can return to work tomorrow."
As he was talking I ended up staring at the problem ship I had been working on for so long. I go over to it, leaning in. There were so many dials and buttons, and I can't even remember what half of them did...
Ugh, it was an information overload. This is making my head hurt. What is all this and why does none of it suddenly make any sense—
In a sudden panic I jerk away, tripping backwards over something and falling to the ground. It turns out it was Clank, who doesn't look too happy as he detangles himself from my legs.
"Claaank, when did all those buttons get there?! I thought I was riding a hovercraft, not piloting a weaponized drone!"
"Well I surely have no idea what you did to that thing! You were busy modifying it before you even started repairing it," Clank stands up, pointing to the door. "Now come on, Ratchet. We are done for today. You need to rest."
I stand, eyeing the blue chrome hull of the ship as I back away. It looks like it's sneering at me.
"How do you feel?" Clank asks, as soon as I turn around. "And respond before you get distracted, please."
"I mean, I feel alright. My head's hurting a bit but it's not as bad as it was," I walk past him, tuning into my body for a moment. There was something else I noticed that was nearly impossible to miss. There was buzzing in my head, like all my thoughts had turned into mindless flies crashing into each other. "It's…it's harder to concentrate, I think…"
"As I figured..." Clank says, then mutters something under his breath about me already having a short attention span. I have no clue what he was getting at though—I pay attention all the time, except for when I'm not.
Using some cash from our pockets, we managed to furnish a separate housing area and attach to our main garage. It was small and modest, just enough for the both of us to live comfortably. "Maybe I just need to lie down or something." I say, as we go into the living room. As soon as the words leave my mouth I throw myself on the couch, kicking back. Actually, nah. Watching the Holo-Vid seemed much more interesting. Clank doesn't look too surprised as he sits down next to me, switching the screen on to the Science Channel.
He's sneaky when he tries to be. It's only five minutes of them talking about the finer points of the chaos theory and I can feel my eyelids starting to droop. As I start to drift off I'm positive I can see Clank grinning at me out the corner of my eye. Boring someone to sleep seems to be a proud gimmick of his.
Then suddenly, I can feel myself being shaken awake. Clank is calling my name, and even half asleep with a cluttered head I can hear the hurriedness in his voice.
"Ratchet. Ratchet, wake up."
I raise up, a bit startled. "Hah…? What is it?" Oh, my head is pounding. I lean up with a groan, glancing out the window; it was dusk, so I'd been asleep for a couple of hours.
Clank is standing near me, looking thoughtful as he holds his communications monitor out in front of him. It's salt and peppered with static, rippling every now and again. "Wha's going on?" I ask hazily, lying back down again and keeping one ear tilted in his direction.
"There seems to be something odd happening. Approximately five minutes ago I had received a long distance transmission from Ms. Phyronix, but it appears that it cut off mere moments after the connection was established," Clank says, "I have tried several consecutive times to reconnect, but have only received static."
"…wait, Sasha?" I say, waking up a bit more. I sit up, letting his words penetrate the hazy maze that was my head. "You said she called you, but what, again…?"
"The connection failed. I am unable to contact her in return for some reason. I do not want to think negatively, but I do find that a bit abnormal."
"Uhhh, okay," I say distantly, rubbing my thumbs into my eyes and trying to wake up. If anything, I felt worse than I did before I fell asleep. After a moment Clank glances at me, then retracts his monitor.
"Are you well? How do you feel?"
"If I were honest, not too hot. It's like I slept but didn't rest…"
Clank blinks, slowly. "I…do not understand. How is it possible to experience slumber but not gain relief from it?"
"Trust me, it's possible. Wouldn't be the first time it's happened to me, anyway," I will myself to stand up, stretching so hard lights pop into my eyes. "Ahh, so…what do you say we go check on Sasha real quick, go make sure everything's alright? It is pretty weird, what you told me."
"I do not think it would be a waste of time," Clank says, jumping off of the couch. "I will go make sure everything is locked down."
"Right, and I'll go snatch some heat from the vault." As I always say, you could never be a bit too cautious. Maybe I'm just paranoid or savvy, but I felt like having some firepower was never too bad of an idea when going somewhere.
I'm too busy thinking about the possibilities of what could've happened with Sasha's miscommunication, I forget there's a lengthy drop leading down into the vault. As soon as I open the hatch and step forward, there goes my dignity as I scream, falling ten feet into the darkness before landing with a crash Clank probably heard from the garage.
"Oww…" It feels like there's an army of Terachnoids wearing cleats and marching all over my skull. I blindly grope around in the dark for the light switch, unable to get my bearings for a moment. Here, over to the left I thought…right here!
The instant the lights cut I see the hole in the back wall, giving a good view of the desert terrain behind our garage.
What registers next is the chaos in the entire vault—most of my weapons aren't on their wall stands, others are knocked down from their standing racks and scattered across the floor like toys, and all my other work equipment is strewn everywhere imaginable.
There's two Horny Toads standing in the middle of everything. One of them is looking dead in my eyes, casually moving its leg aside to knock over the last standing weapon rack.
"What the ACTUAL—?!" I stand up, practically seeing red. Before they can register what's happening I've lunged forward, snatching up the Ion Blaster and holding the barrel level at them. Then…
…nothing. Why was there nothing happening?
I had the weapon pointed at them, to jack them up like they did my workspace, but…blank. I can't think straight. Head hurts. I can't use the weapon.
It's not familiar to me, like I was holding a wet fish. I'm getting stonewalled by some mental blockage I was sure I had never felt before. Wait…did I even remember how to...?
Maybe I needed a bit more urging myself on. I hike my ears up, trying to make myself look bigger. "You're both goin' down!" I aggressively point the weapon at them and they flinch back. One of them panics and starts to bolt, and the other one follows suit…. but suddenly, they stop. They still don't have a reason to run anymore.
And that's because I haven't fired. In fact, I've lowered the gun, staring at it.
Why are things suddenly so…unclear? Just hold it up and make it do work. But how did I do that, again? It was like my brain isn't fully understanding the situation and unable to form a path to a simple, albeit explosive, solution.
It's fairly simple in theory: number one, 'spot enemy'. Number two, 'pull gun'. Number three, 'make gun fire'. It's been my shtick since day one. But now nothing seemed less familiar to me. I swallow a bit. This was so messed up. Maybe I was just still half-asleep or, or...
It shouldn't be or what else, period. No excuse.
I hold the Blaster up cautiously, completely forgetting I was supposed to be exterminating something in the first place, and study it for a moment. I hadn't picked it up for use in years, but that's not the only reason why it looks so alien to me.
I'm distinctly aware of the trigger lying in plain sight. That fact seems really unimportant for some reason. It doesn't…really click in my head at what its purpose was, except that maybe it had something to do with making the weapon work.
That idea and my understanding are dancing, brushing against each other like awkward seniors on prom night and don't quite synchronize. I furrow my brows, trying to comprehend. The trigger…
…makes the weapon fire…?
...
...I think I just felt every single facet of my being just collapse in on itself a massive, collective system failure, like all of the self-sense I'd woven from years of living and experiencing had just been cut deeply by the biggest, worst type of unbearable lie ever. Because this was total madness.
"…I'm going CRAZY. That's just it, isn't it?! Ha ha ha! I'm going crazy! Yeah! Because what is this, I can't even—"
The next thing I know I'm being tackled down to the ground by a screeching toad. I distinctly hear them escaping into the night with a victory on their shoulder but hardly notice, placing both hands to the sides of my head.
This was insane. I knew something was wrong but didn't know why it was wrong. Something's messed up in my head, I knew it, I couldn't even concentrate on simple things and this was so, so imperfectly fine.
Soon, Clank's voice is echoing down from the top of the ladder. "Ratchet, I thought I heard you shouting. Are you alright? And oh my, what has happened in here?!"
I sigh, sitting up finally and rubbing my head. "…we've been broken into. I gotta put something over that hole before we leave. I can't believe they snuck in here like that and trashed the place…"
Clank's eyes are wide as he walks in, looking around before settling on the hole. "Who is…they?"
"Just two of those dumb toads, probably trying to have some late night fun. Wow, I betcha they're the same ones from earlier," I mutter. To think I'd been laughing earlier, but I'd clearly jinxed myself. I was also feeling a bit insulted they had gotten over my head with this. I didn't think of myself as a very vengeful person but as soon as this weird bout of senility I had disappeared, I'd find them and gun all of their insides across Veldin terra firma.
I bite the inside of my cheek, glancing at the Blaster then at the other miscellaneous weapons on the ground. It's like I'm looking at lost memories trying to reemerge, but they're not making it and drowning below the surface of understanding.
Great, now my headache's trying to sneak up now. I groan. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with this. Maybe…maybe I was still just delirious or whatever from earlier. A little voice at the back of my mind does tell me it'd probably be good to take it easy for a moment. I guess this time…I didn't have to come strapped.
I cringe. That's a terrible thought. But head hurts. Mind is starting to stir. I don't want to think about this anymore.
There's a metal sheet on the wall, stripped from a previously scrapped project of mine. I take it, nearly falling over from the weight as I carry it to the hole and throw it against the wall. "There! Let's see 'em get through that and wreak havoc now."
I turn to Clank, and he's giving the wall a curious look.
"Ratchet…it would have taken a moment to weld that in place. What if there is enough space for them to squeeze through?"
My head spirals a bit. "You…mean I have to use a tool with a mechanical function that requires my physical input to use?"
Clank looks up at me, tilting his head. "Erm…yes?"
"Nah-haah, you worry too much."
For now, I'd let Clank think it was my laziness chalking it up. I walk by him, cuffing him in the head gently. "Now, let's get moving. It's pretty late but we should be admitted into the Capital."
"You are not going to take anything with you?" he asks, making me stop with one hand on the ladder. I stumble over my words as I turn, facing to see his bewildered expression. "Ahh, nope. Changed my mind. It'll just be a joy ride, right? I'll strap on my wrenches and be set. Uh...where'd I put them again?"
"Yours is in the garage, and the other is stuck in the back of Holo-Vid from where you...fixed it two days ago," Clank says plainly, looking pretty malcontent about my impromptu solutions to daily problems. "You can retrieve them while I do a last minute grounds check..."
He pulls out a notebook and I burn rubber going up that ladder, trying to get the heck out of there. Ugh, for now I'd just…roll with the punches, I guess.
This was not going to end well.
Several minutes later I'm raising Aphelion's cockpit when the compulsion to freeze seizes me.
For a moment I'm hanging hallway into the ship, staring at the dash. As I'm looking, there seeps in that same sensation from before, the feeling that I can't quite fully understand what I'm looking at.
No, wait—it's a bit different. It's dim. I get in all the way, careful to not touch anything just yet. Some of her controls I can see and understand with some thought, but it still takes an abnormal number of seconds to realize I'm staring at the stabilizers, or I've got my foot on the break. Maybe because I'd been so familiar with Aphelion I could still recall some of what she did but I could clearly remember earlier, when I'd barely understood all the busyness with my problem ship. Still didn't explain why I couldn't-
No, I shouldn't think about what had happened with that weapon. In fact, it didn't happen. It was a complete lie.
I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It…didn't look like my mind relapsed completely. My memory was irritatingly selective, but now I think there were enough things I understood to make her go.
I almost laugh. Wow, I'd never thought I'd have to second guess myself when it comes to ship parts. They were practically my living. Well part of it at least. Saving the galaxy was in a different realm entirely.
"You look a tad bit green there, Ratchet," Aphelion says suddenly, making me jump. "Rusty after the entire summer of not going anywhere?"
"Maybe just a bit..." I admit. Was it a full lie? I didn't want it to be. "Let's see. I'm gonna run a few checks here…"
I press a button without pausing to identify it. Aphelion recoils a bit as a missile erupts from her cannons. It whistles as it soars off, streaking ahead into the dark desert.
Clank walks up several moments later, checking off the last thing on his notepad. "Alright," he says, dropping down next to me and putting his seat belt on. "It seems everything is accounted for. My checklist has been double checked, theoretically implying that our furnished belongings will be at a hundred percent structural efficiently upon our return."
He looks at me closely for a moment. Then he scans the area, before narrowing an eye at me. "…what have you done?"
"Nothing."
There's a loud boom in the distance, and the explosion lights up the desert about a mile down. I cut my eyes to the side at Clank, who's got his arms folded. "I-I was double checking my own checklist too, 'cept it was mental," I say quickly. "Besides, gimme a break…I'm rusty."
"In more ways than one, it seems. Now, if all preparations are in hand…ah. Hold on, I had thought I left it in here…" he opens Aphelion's glove box and pulls out a handkerchief. A pink one. And he stores it in his radiator core. "Now I am ready!"
Then he looks over, seeing me trying to hold laughter in, and squints defensively. "It is just in case!"
"In case of what, you start tearing up when we're shooting through the stratosphere?" For second I focus on pulling up on the flight stick, thankfully managing to get Aphelion up in the air. "And it's pink. Please tell me someone gave that to you as a gift."
"They did! And I like to utilize the presents my fans give me to maximize their satisfaction!" he huffs. "Besides…you may think it is silly to have, but I assure you it might come in handy."
"Yeah. Just ring me up when I have a head cold."
I think I had this down. I mean, we were flying through space and my mind was becoming increasingly fragmented like a smashed mirror the longer I flew, but hey, better than nothing, right? It's scary, dare I admit it, to feel my knowledge on how to simply pilot Aphelion peeling away. Small things like where the breaks where, the lock on missiles, the radio—everything becomes more and more distant.
If anything, I couldn't forget how to use a flight stick, right? I mean it handles like…well, any other thing that's long and handy. And those of you with dirty minds, don't even go there.
Despite my hidden anxieties and nearly sweating through my fur we finally make it into the stratosphere of Marcadia about two hours later at average speed, heading towards the capital. I've all but blanked out on the controls, but that's soon put out of my mind when we see something that was strange as all get out.
There's about several dozen ships surrounding the presidential compound when we fly in. Somehow, it sends off all alarms and immediately makes everything take a nosedive deep into serious depths.
"That is...quite the defense down there," Clank says, shocked.
There's no clear space at all, and I'm seriously baffled as to how many ships were patrolling at the same time without there being several collision explosions. "I'm gonna have to find a place outside city boundaries to land us in, then we can make it there on foot."
I just hoped Sasha and President Phyronix were alright. Would that have been too much to ask? I think I had my fill of losing people close to me to unfortunate circumstances.
Speaking of unfortunate circumstances, this one's becoming a bit dire. Knowledge of everything but the flight stick is suddenly lost to me, like my mind had had enough of trying to comprehend anything relevant to flying. Because it totally couldn't have waited another minute when we weren't hundreds of feet in the air, right?
"This sucks," I say.
"I agree, it is a bad timing on our part," Oh Clank, you'd soon see that we were not talking about the same thing. "I think I see an area down below, near the outside of the compound…er, Ratchet? Are you going to alter our course, or have you seen a better spot?"
Out of some compulsion of not knowing what I'm doing I accidentally hit something and Aphelion breaks, hard—Clank lurches forward, snagged tight by his seat belt. "Whoops, oh, sorry!" I say, carefully moving my foot away from the pedal. "I'm about to land us. Just…give me a moment to…"
Figure out what on earth I'm looking at. The control panel seems to be spinning out of control before my eyes. It a sight that honestly, truly sucks, seeing the controls and suddenly not knowing what to do. I'm handling the control stick a bit awkwardly now and Aphelion's pretty much going at a slow cruise, hovering a bit from side to side as I try to lower her down.
And by now of course Clank notices something's wrong. "Ratchet, is there an issue? You appear to be quite flustered."
"I'm fine!" I say, a bit too loudly for it to be true. Clank opens his mouth but before he can speak, my foot hooks on something and clicks it back into place. Wait…what was that lever down there for—
Clank and I give shout as Aphelion kicks it into overdrive, pressed back into our seats by the sudden shift in speed. I'm sure I just activated the Overthrusters, which, in addition to my terrible guiding means that we're heading right at airspace above the presidential compound that's thickened with ships, which equates to us being thoroughly screwed at the moment.
"Ratchet, pull up!" Clank cries. "Better yet, deactivate the thrusters!"
It's a lot harder to remember where things are in the face of an imminent fiery death, which is only the medial reason why I can't do either of those things. As the sea of ships get closer, it's a tad too late to confess but I do it anyway. "Clank, listen before we die I gotta tell you something!" I say, trying to formulate some sort of direction with the control stick. "I've…I've forgotten how to fly Aphelion!"
Clank's expression pretty much sells his horror. "Just now?"
"No, like…gradually, nearly the moment right after we left Veldin and, it, it's like my mind just went blank several seconds ago..."
"Those are words no ship wants to hear," Aphelion says, sounding pretty jaded that she was on her way to another fiery crash. Her horn honks as we narrowly plow through a wall of the ships, and most manage to quickly move out of our way. Her right wing clips the left of a patrol ship's and we roll a bit to the side, slightly shaken, but we've made it through that particular section still intact.
Now for the wall of the presidential compound, I don't think we can pit.
Clank grips into his seat tightly, tucking himself in. "Oh dear, we are going to crash…"
"No we're not, we're just falling with style!" I say, making one last minute roll back on the control stick to try even us out. I can't tell if it made a damn difference, because crashing hurts no matter how pretty you try to make it look.
There's this huge thud, a rattling jolt that surges through Aphelion when she hits. The sounds of metal and stone grinding together is screechingly jarring, nearly enough to distract me from the pain of being thrown forward then caught tight by my seat belt. Thankfully it ends as quickly as it starts.
For a moment, I'm too dazed and limp to move. "Oh…oh, man," I unbuckle myself, leaning back. How many head injuries had I gotten in the past half day? I was probably going to end up wearing a helmet at this rate. "Clank…you okay?"
"Well, we are still alive, so I cannot complain much," he answers calmly. I don't see how he kept a straight face, since he somehow ended up wearing his seat belt like a straitjacket. I groan again, trying to get my bearings. Oh, not good. We've blown a hole in the side of the building, and I'm pretty sure that was rocket fuel I smelled in the air—
FWOOMP. I'm practically Iron Maidened back into my seat, barely able to breath. Dammit, I thought I'd fixed these airbags awhile back to deploy on impact, not after. It'd have to go on my long, long list of things to do later for now.
Clank and I drag ourselves out the wreckage, the both of us a bit beat up and wobbly. Poor Aphelion doesn't look as bad as I thought she would, but there was still a lot of external damage to her front side and her windshield is shattered on the ground.
I stare at her a moment longer before I turn, walk several feet away, and lie down flat on my back on the grass. I take in a deep breath, then let it out. Probably to preserve the unconventional casualness, Clank simply sits down next to me. He looks like he wants to ask something but doesn't know how to begin.
"...I don't know," I say, taking a wild guess."I don't know what's wrong with me, Clank. This is…something I've never felt before, not understanding how things work. They've always worked for me. And now…I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
I laugh, but there's not a speck of humor in it. "How can someone just forget how to pilot a ship, in the middle of doing it? Look into my eyes, Clank—tell me if I'm going crazy!"
"You are not, Ratchet, but I do believe this is something we need to have investigated at once," Clank says. He shuffles his feet along the ground, drawing a finger into the dirt for a moment. "…I suspect that it has something to do with that explosion earlier. Perhaps it did some warranted, if slightly delayed trauma to you."
I process this for a moment. That made sense. How come I hadn't seen that before? I grunt and roll over to my front, rubbing my temples. I hoped Sasha wouldn't go head over heels about the wall. I'd have to beg her for some medicine, anyway.
"We appear to have another problem, Ratchet."
"What would that be?"
I hear the sound of feet mobilizing, then when I sit up there's a ring of Galactic Rangers surrounding us.
"Uh…we were just dropping in for a visit?" I try, highly aware of all the blaster barrels leveled at my face.
"Dropping in, uh huh," says one Ranger, J45 judging by his stamp. He points at Aphelion. "Bombing the side of the most protected building in the Solana galaxy counts as dropping in…terrorist?!"
"Wait, whoa hold on a minute!" I say, standing up. The sound of two dozen safeties clicking off immediately makes me retract the movement. "Guys, look! It's us, Ratchet and Clank!"
"Nice try, but the REAL Ratchet and Clank would know how to pilot better than a one-month old Floranian monkey," says another Ranger, pressing his gun to the back of my head. Which is still pounding, by the way.
"Not by much," says Clank. I nudge him, whispering, "Hey! We've got an army of guns pointed at us, no need for truth nor technicalities!"
"We're taking you both in for a holo-guise test," Ranger J45 states, pulling out what seemed to be restraints. "We're not letting anyone sneak around us."
"Right, and I understand that wholeheartedly," I say, backing up only to find another body blocking my escape. "But really, we've come to talk to Sasha, she—"
"You're going to be talking to your sweet old granny in Heaven if you don't cooperate!" a voice barks from the back. There's a pause, and everyone shifts around to face the Ranger standing in the outer circle.
"Holy cow, H69…" says J45.
"What? I thought that was a good one!"
Several minutes later Clank and I have our arms cuffed behind our backs, with twenty or so Galactic Rangers looking ready to shoot us even for breathing the wrong way, and are being herded through the presidential compound. One of them's muttering under his breath, talking over his communication line to Sasha, probably.
"You know, I discovered I don't like being handcuffed. Or being accused of a terrorist," I tell Clank with a sigh. I also found it pretty ironic I'd been running from the cops not too long ago only to get arrested anyway for something completely unrelated to us, but decided to keep that out of the air.
"Do not fret, Ratchet. I am sure this is a misunderstanding that will be cleared. Then we can take you to a doctor and allow them to examine you for any problems that need to be rectified."
"Uh…woohoo?"
"Both of you, can it," says J45, shooting us a look from the side. "You sure enough make the act good. You been stalking the real deal for a while?"
"Maybe we are the real deal and you've erred on the side of caution," I say. "Anyhow, let's just get this underway. I think I might forget my name and my blood type if I don't get to a doctor soon."
"If you do not mind my inquiry, what is the meaning behind all of those ships patrolling?" asks Clank. "Has there been a threat made to the Solanian president?"
"You mean you don't know?" responds the solider, with a hint of skepticism in his tone. "The entire city's been on lockdown for hours. There's some nutcase runnin' around thinking it's alright to fire his peashooter at President Phyronix's ship."
He nudges me in the side with his gun, which was getting really annoying. "So that's why we're all goin' crazy. Unhappy that your ruse got blown over, eh? You'll be singing your last song on the way to the execution chamber."
It would've been a mistake to tell him to shove his gun in his face and pull the trigger, right?
Just when we're about to enter another building one Ranger in front of us shoulder checks another, pointing. I peer over, spotting a hover vehicle touching down several yards away piloted by the President's daughter herself. "Yo, Sash!" I call as she approaches the group. Of course, I get a nudge—oh okay, three nudges from three separate guns, all to different points in my back.
"Quiet, you!" someone hisses from behind me. I can spot Sasha partially through the sea of Rangers, and by the way her widened eyes are looking across the group she hasn't seen us yet. "Is that Ratchet's voice I hear? Where are you?"
"Sorry for paging you Ms. Phyronix, but we got a hold of these two troublemakers," says J45, the wall of Rangers moving aside to show us in full view. "Thought you might have to check this case out for yourself."
Sasha's brows are furrowed a bit, and she has this vague expression as she looks at us. Then she speaks, slowly, "I…had thought I was told that you restrained two suspected terrorists?"
"Yea! Don't be fooled Ms. Phyronix, they've crashed a ship into the compound. I think there's room for suspicion that the two of them," he swings his arm up, simultaneously clubbing me in the lower back, "are rouges in disguise, trying to instigate an attack against President Phyronix!"
Sasha silently looks at Clank, then to me. I can see she's tempted to tell them to release us, but I sense slight hesitance there. Likely her official status rearing its head. She couldn't know for sure herself it was us, but wanted to.
When it came down to it, it was my negligence that started it. "Sorry about the wall," I admit, "I had a little lapse in brain function."
"Hmm…well, I think this can be easily resolved. Ratchet, what'd you get me for my twenty-first birthday?"
"Didn't I build you that robot that sneezed out flaming blobs of snot?"
She smiles. "Yes, and what a handful that thing was to keep from burning down my entire office. Clank, is it raining?"
He studies the sky for a moment. "It may be, but I do not think it is."
"And that's that. Rangers, authorization complete. Release them at once, please."
"Ah…M-Miss Phyronix are ya sure?" a Ranger to my rear calls, nudging me. "Why, this one could slit your throat with a case knife and feed offa ya!"
There's a lot of disturbed groaning throughout the troupe. "What is with you today, H69? Did your pet squid die or something?" someone mutters.
"In ANY case," I cut in, "I eat meat, but not the way you described it. I mean, I wouldn't eat any part of Sasha anyway, I'm just saying that…. I'll just end this entire conversation and hush now."
Sasha laughs. "I don't think I'd hear words spoken so articulately from an impostor, that's for sure."
"I predict that between the figures 0 and 1 and substituting each second as a theoretical flip of a coin, the odds of the ensuing conversation heading to a place of discomfort would equal a hundred percent for the probability of event A, or directly put, Ratchet's increasing embarrassment," Clank reports. "Psychologically, taking in general fluctuation of emotion in his tone and regarding body language he has apparently embarrassed himself in front of many colleagues and a previous love interest-turned-close friend."
It looks like it's Clank's way with words that fully convinces the Rangers it's us and they're shocked with silence. One of them creaks over from embarrassment, falling to the ground, and another hurriedly unlocks our restraints. I turn to face Clank, putting my hands on my hips. "Remember what I told you about the concept of subtext, Clank?"
"Yes, with clarity."
"And, how there's some things that we gotta, I don't know…maybe keep inside our little robot head?"
He blinks. "I do believe your embarrassment is still apparent from the amount of blood rushing into your face."
"He's right, I don't ever recall it being gold and red," Sasha adds with a mischievous grin.
"...I'm sure you're just imagining it," I say, averting my head.
"We're sorry about that all that, Sarge…" says Ranger J45, the rest of them nodding in agreement. "But wow, with piloting skills like that, could you blame us one bit for mistaking you for someone else?"
"It's all good. It was totally my fault anyway…distracted driving'll do something like that to ya," I say. I may still be a bit steamed after getting nudged so much there may have been a bruise forming on my shoulders and upper back, though.
With the danger on the low, the Rangers disperse to their posts and Clank and I go with Sasha back through the compound. Now there's a grim look to her face, giving me the impression she'd a brief laugh back there and was now back to business.
"Sorry about that mess we made, Sasha. It looks like you're too busy to be dealing with that," I say.
"It's a wall," she shrugs, flashing a security card to let us in through a gate. "Besides, I'm glad to see two friendly faces dropping in."
"Yeah…we came to see if you were alright. Clank got a message from you and it got cut short. What was that about?"
"I'm sorry to have made you both worry. When alarms were raised earlier, the Defense Center and communication lines went down for some reason," Sasha says grimly. "I tried contacting you to ask for your assistance, and you know the rest. We've managed to get things up and running since then but haven't figured out what caused the power outage earlier."
She glances up above, at the sky. The ground is filled with shadows darting on the surface like pond skaters on water, courtesy of the ships above flying on their routes. "Of course, that was nearly the least of our worries today, with what occurred a while ago…"
"What happened? I recall one of the Ranger mentioning your father had been threatened," says Clank.
"That's right. He had been coming back from Metropolis to negotiate a city wide increase in defense for an event next month. Right when his ship was coming down near the compound, we heard a ground shot. A missile had been fired, and it'd struck close to one of the rear turbines."
"Oh man, is he alright?!" I ask.
"Thankfully, yes. His ship made a bit of a rough emergency landing, but he's fine," We come up on a door to the compound and Sasha flashes her thumb on the pad that's on the wall next to it. We're granted access and slip in past the door, which shuts and locks itself behind us. "But it was likely an attack like that was premeditated, which indicates to us it was an assassin looking for one way or another to take him out."
"No tags on the perp?"
"Minimal. Ground support noticed that the missile fired was unlike any munition they'd seen. They checked weapon records for Solana, Bogon, and even Polaris to see if they could get a match. It looks like the weapon may have been some type of remote-guided launcher, by the way the missile acted while it was in flight."
Clank and I glance at each other, speechless. At the most we'd imagined it to have been a minor inconvenience on her side, maybe even just a little connection error, but I don't think either of us were expecting this to get blown into proportion so quickly. I think now more than ever Sasha needed our help.
"So that's why all of Marcadia has red flags raised," Sasha says, leading us down a long hallway. "We've secured the President and heightened security. For all we know this crook's still out there…"
We round a corner, and run into a lone teleporter. Sasha wordlessly pulls a device, re-configuring the pad to activate. Clank and I follow her through, a bit startled at where we're lead out. It's a grayish pink metal corridor with red highlighted corners about ten yards long. There's a Galactic Ranger standing at attention every other five feet on both sides of the hall.
There's one playing jacks nearby but he straightens up quickly, flashing a salute as we pass.
"This is a safety bunker, accessible by very few means," Sasha says, deactivating the teleporter. "Fifteen meters below ground and crafted for purposes such as this. My father is here now and will likely remain in hiding for a while."
"I see he will be receiving a momentous amount of protection down here!" Clank says with a hint of admiration, running a finger along the wall. "Ahh yes, the walls are infused with Raritanium and imported Carbonox alloy! It would take approximately several months of constant bombing to even penetrate the surface."
"Do those months include holidays, too?" I ask him.
"We started constructing it right after that incident with Nefarious and the Biobliterator to ensure no harm comes to our leading figure," Sasha's face suddenly gets this weird, almost cringey look to it. "But…as of now, it's a bit…crowded."
We stop outside the armored doors, Sasha saluting the two Rangers there aside. "Crowded?" I ask. "Do you have a room down here too, Sasha?"
She grimaces. "Yes, but…as of now I've allowed it to be converted to a guest room. You see, my father was not the only person to be on the end of hostility. Not too long ago we received news that someone else with…presidential experience, despite the fact they are no longer in office, has received similar threats as well. It was all I could do to offer my assistance…"
"…oh please no," I say.
Sasha turns to the door to knock. "But I'm afraid our hands have ended up becoming a bit full too full here. We simply bit off more than we can chew, and that's not to mention our resources are disappearing twice, no, thrice times as fast…"
"No!"
"And bottom line, I'm afraid that my diplomacy simply cannot allow for this matter to go unheeded. I will offer you my condolences."
"For the love of all that is good and holy, NO!"
Sasha knocks once, and then the doors are immediately opened from inside. She offers a courteous-but-mostly-curt nod to the person on the other side. "Good afternoon, Captain Qwark."
It's him. Standing in a pink robe with matching slippers, holding a mug that says, 'I Love Me'. Qwark spreads out his arms, moments from pulling us all into a hug.
"Why, Ratchet and Clank! I just knew I'd be seeing your bright faces soon!"
I've forgotten how to wield equipment and weapons, how to fly a ship and worst of all, Qwark is standing in front of me with a pink robe on.
"…NOOOOOO!"
Oh, give me a break.