The Answer

The Kyzil Plateau of Veldin is a beautiful place. The land is a mixture of golden sand and impressive rock formations made from all shades of orange. The vegetation is scarce, ranging from nearly dry patches of pale desert grass to the rare green cactus. The planet itself is a junkyard, evident by the large pieces of abandoned machinery littering the walkways. Some parts still have their silver, polished luster, while others have lay dormant for years, tarnishing and rusting from the rare desert storms. And the view at night? Absolutely breathtaking. White stars pepper the black night sky, and the moonlight reflects off of the planet's surface, blending the colors in a way that's indescribably wonderful.

At least, that's what Ratchet's been told all his life. He's never seen it.

Instead, Ratchet sits on a nearby chair, listening to his guardian finish restoring a customer's ship. Despite having been born without sight, he tries to comfort himself with the sounds of the garage that he calls home. The clicks, the whirrs, the ticks, each sound sits a little bit differently in his ears. Maybe that's what color is like.

"All done here, ma'am. Give me a call if that engine starts givin' ya trouble again."

"Thank you Grim, I appreciate the help."

"Glad to help."

Ratchet hears an exchange of bolts, then the dwindling footsteps and engine of the last customer of the day's departure. Next, there's the sound of the garage doors closing for the night.

"I'll start sweeping this place up."

Ratchet doesn't mind sweeping too much. The long broom in his hands acts as a cane, giving him a clear 'view' of his surroundings. If only he knew if things were actually getting clean. Large ears perk at a familiar voice.

"Hey, Ratchet, you alright? You seem kinda down today. Haven't said much."

"It's nothing, Grim."

"I know that face, there's something."

Of course his face was betraying his words. He assumes that Grim is looking at him, worried for him.

"Well, nothing new anyway."

"Well, tell me anyway. If something's on your mind, you gotta say it. I'm not-"

"Not a mind reader, I know. I just...wish I could do more."

"It's been, uh, bugging you lately, huh?"

"Whenever I feel like I'm at peace with it, that's when it hits the hardest."

Grim stays silent, letting Ratchet continue.

"I can't walk in a straight line, even with a cane. I can't go one day without bruising myself by smacking into stuff. I can't see anything. I never have."

Ratchet's voice cracks, and he loses his grip on his words.

"I've never been able to watch the sunset. I've never been able to see the stars. I've never even seen your face, or my own face, and I never will."

He's crying now, as much as he wishes he wasn't.

"I want to help people. I want to be like you, a mechanic, and I can't."

Grim holds him, comforting him as best as he possibly can. As Ratchet's sobs begin to dissipate, Grim speaks up.

"I think you can. Heck, I know you can."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not. Ya' know that thing I always say? About steppin' back?"

"That sometimes stepping back from a problem will show you the angle to fix it?"

"Bingo. There's a reason I gave you the name Ratchet, ya know."

"Huh?"

"When you first came to me, I tried everything to get you to stop crying. Food, changing, a nap, the works. Nothing worked. It was only when I gave up that I found the answer I was lookin' for."

Ratchet looks up at Grim, a light of curiosity in his clouded eyes.

"What was the answer?"

"Well, I set your basket on the workbench, and went back to the hoverbike I was workin' on for a second. You kept screamin' and screamin', until I got back to work. The tool I was usin' clicked as I tightened a bolt, and you stopped."

Ratchet sits with Grim, and that old advice suddenly makes sense.

"I couldn't believe it at first, so I tested you. I stopped workin', and you started cryin' again. I took out the tool and brought it closer to you. I spun it again, louder, longer. You started giggling."

Ratchet smiles at the thought, doing his best to imagine the scenario.

"Before you could talk, you would mimic that click when you wanted somethin' I hadn't guessed yet. When you started talkin', you always asked questions. And the answer I was lookin' for back then ended up being your name. The only thing that could calm the lombax kit in my garage."

'Ratchet'..he was named after the answer. He's always enjoyed listening to Grim work, but he never knew it was that deep seated. He yawns, previously unaware of how tired he must have been.

"Think about it, and get some rest, Ratchet. We've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

Grim takes his hand, and Ratchet shuffles to his bed. He's out like a light in minutes.

...

The next morning, Ratchet certainly feels a lot better. The talk last night helped a lot, but that's not as important right now. Today's his 15th birthday! He grabs his cane, which Grim must have placed near his bed before he woke up, and greets his adopted father.

"Morning, Grim!"

"Good mornin' Ratchet. You certainly seem happy, and you should be. Come here, I got somethin' for ya."

Grim taps some sort of cardboard. There's something inside, but what?

"Aw, thanks Grim! What is it?"

"It's not what it is, it's what it's gonna be. And you're gonna help me build it."

"How?"

"I'll hand you the pieces, and describe what's gonna happen with 'em. You do the rest."

"Well, what's it gonna be?"

"I'll tell ya when it's done."

Ratchet gives a nod and a confident smile. The work begins as Grim places two parts in Ratchet's hands.

"Alright, we're gonna start with these two pieces here. If ya feel 'em, you'll find two notches that we're gonna stick together. Press 'em together, you'll hear a click."

Ratchet does so, and is rewarded with a satisfying click.

"Good. Let's keep going."

An hour later, each piece is bolted together, welded together by Grim when necessary, and the..thing is assembled, plugged into an outlet to charge. A nasty storm begins outside, and all the windows are closed off.

"Nice goin', Ratchet, it's almost ready. Just gotta turn it on and..Oh no."

Grim seems to open the mysterious device, closing it disappointed.

"What's wrong?"

"Sisterboard's not working for some reason. Must be faulty or somethin'. Can't go get another one right now either."

"Aw man, we worked hard on it too!"

"I know. As soon as the storm clears, I'll go out and get a replacement."

Ratchet tries his best to stifle his disappointment, and gets distracted by a roar of thunder.

"Whoa, that one was loud. Maybe we should unplug it?"

"Good thinking, we'll just-"

A bolt of lightning strikes the garage, surging through the power lines and blacking out the entire building. He doesn't see it, but two bright green eyes blink to life, cutting through the darkness. It takes a few steps forward, making a distinctive clanking noise as it walks. It speaks.

"Hello."

"WHAAH!"

Ratchet jumps back, caught off guard by the sudden new voice. He regains his breath, and asks the question that's been on his mind all day.

"What is it, Grim?"

"That's your answer."