Disclaimer: I don't own Ratchet and Clank
B5429671's green optics opened as he came back online. He blinked in confusion as he took in his new surroundings. He was in a small, messy place that was filled with tools and a variety of ship parts. On a workbench was the infobot with the information about Chairman Drek and his plan. He picked up the infobot and placed it inside the compartment in his body. B5429671 walked out of the garage-type place and stepped on the desert sand. He jumped off a small ledge and walked toward the cat-like, organic lifeform that worked diligently on a scrap-metal ship. The organic did not notice his presence and B5429671 took advantage of this time to analyze him.
Long, triangular ears twitched as B5429671 approached; picking up the click-click-click of his footsteps which his brain seemed to ignore. The organic was covered from head to toe in golden fur, decorated with brown stripes. His long, striped tail ended with a puff of fur. His hands had five fingers instead of the typical three while his feet had only three toes. His databanks found only one species that fit such a description and that was the lombaxes, which were not native to the Solana galaxy.
B5429671 watched with a curious gaze as the lombax worked skillfully on the engine. It wasn't much of a surprise as, according to his databanks, lombaxes were renowned engineers. Emphasis on were as they vanished out of nowhere almost fifteen years ago. No one seemed to know what happened them and Solana had no records of which galaxy the lombaxes were from. Why would there be a lombax here when there hadn't been any sightings in over a decade? Hmm…interesting.
"Interesting," B5429671 remarked aloud. The lombax yelped in surprise and fell off the crate he was standing on. Ratchet looked around wildly, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice. His eyes fell on the silver robot whose unworldly green gaze locked with his own. Was that the toaster he found in the crash?
"You're quite handy with your wrench," the robot commented. Ratchet got up off the ground and dusted the sand from his worn, faded jeans.
"You bet," Ratchet replied with a cocky grin. "I built that ship with it!" The mechanic jabbed his thumb in the direction of the ship. B5429671 looked at the ship in approval. Yes, it definitely looked like the work of a lombax.
Hmm…
B5429671 knew that he couldn't save the galaxy on his own. He was just a defective sentry bot, after all. Too small and too weak to handle this alone. Perhaps the feline-like organic could help him. For a robot, having a mechanic around would be essential.
"I am currently in search of someone who could be of assistance in saving the solar system," B5429671 explained fluidly. Ratchet's eyebrows shot straight up to his pilot's cap.
Saving the solar system? What the hell is the tin can talkin' about? he wondered.
A thought suddenly came into B5429671's mind. A mechanic was not a soldier. The robot sincerely doubted that the lombax had any experience fighting evil or knew how to handle a weapon. B5429671 would need another who was experienced in this sort of thing. He looked back at the garage and spotted a poster on the wall. The picture on it was of a man in a tight green outfit with a logo on his chest that looked like a "Q" with a lightning bolt going through it.
Captain Qwark – World Class Hero, were the words written underneath the photo. A famous hero would be perfect for the job.
"Do you know where I would find that fellow?" B5429671 asked, having his hand toward the poster. Ratchet's eyes followed the robot's hand to his "Captain Qwark" poster. He shook his head in response to B5429671's question.
"Well, he's on the radio every week," he began. "But other than that, no." The robot looked disappointed but didn't say anything so Ratchet kept talking. "Hey, what's with all this "saving the solar system" stuff, anyway?" he asked, putting air quotes with the words; "saving the solar system." B5429671 responded by reaching into his secret compartment an activating the infobot. The robot hovered for a moment before the video started playing.
A small pink creature in a brown and green suit stood in front of a window that showed a view of space. The pink creature had greasy black hair held back in a ponytail on his pear-shaped head. His teal-coloured eyes stared straight into the camera with confidence despite his small size.
"Hello, citizens of…" The image of the man was switched out for a picture of a blue and green planet. The word "Novalis" was written underneath it. The image then returned to the pink creature. "My race, the Blarg, have a small problem," he began, a look of sadness on his pink face. "Our planet has become so polluted, overpopulated, and poisonous; that we are no longer able to dwell here," the nicely-dressed blarg explained. As he spoke, the image changed to a smoggy planet and more and more blargian men in gas-masks filled the screen.
"But I, Chairman Drek, have a solution," he said, a sinister look in his teal eyes. A picture of a blueprint for a planet showed up on screen. "We are constructing a pristine new world using the choicest planetary components available." The video switched back to Chairman Drek.
"So what does this mean to you, you might ask?" The image changed to a blueprint of a machine with a large claw attached. "Using highly sophisticated technology-" The image changed back to Chairman Drek. "Which you couldn't possibly understand," he began condescendingly with a dismissive wave of his three-fingered hand. The image changed to the clawed machine taking pieces of a planet apart, exposing the core. "We will be extracting a large portion of your planet and adding it our new one," he said in a voice that sounded like an infomercial.
"Unfortunately, this change in mass will cause your planet to spin out of control and drift into the sun where it will explode into a flaming ball of gas," Chairman Drek told the audience casually. "But, of course, sacrifices must be made. Thank you for your cooperation."
"Cut," called out a shrill male voice. Drek's voice turned angry and his face sinister as he pointed at the camera confrontationally.
"And if you don't like it; then you can take your whiny, snivelling, snot-nosed populations, form a line behind me and kiss my a-" Drek's voice trailed off as he turned his head to the side. He suddenly looked surprised and a little embarrassed.
"What? We're still on? Well, then, turn it off, you idiot!" The screen suddenly shut itself off.
The infobot shrunk down and hovered back into B5429671's compartment.
"The people on all those planets are hosed," Ratchet murmured sympathetically. Still, he didn't see how this was his problem. He was just a nobody rocket mechanic from a nowhere planet. "Well, good luck getting Captain Qwark to help ya," he scoffed. B5429671 shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Well, actually…you could help me." Ratchet's green eyes widened in surprise. "If you could use your ship to take me to the coordinates contained in this infobot, I might be able to get further information there," B5429671 explained to the lombax. Ratchet sighed in frustration and defeat.
"Look, even if I wanted to, I can't," he said. Ratchet rubbed the back of his furry neck sheepishly. "I'm missing a crucial component of the ship." B5429671's optics narrowed as he analyzed the ship and found that something was, in fact, missing.
"A robotic ignition system," he said triumphantly.
"How did you-" Ratchet blurted.
"I, sir, happen to be equipped with the latest in robotic ignition systems," B5429671 explained easily. Ratchet's eyes went wide as saucers. "My programming allows me to start any ship I choose." Ratchet crossed his arms and gave him a suspicious look.
"So I agree to take to you this-wherever it is-and you get my ship started for me?"
"That is what I am proposing." A couple of menacing-looking ships landed far too close to the garage for Ratchet's comfort. The arrival of the ships, which were probably Drek's, made Ratchet's decision for him.
"Deal," he said with a tight nod. Ratchet and B5429671 ran for the ship and hopped in. As Ratchet started the ship, it never occurred to him that, at barely fifteen-years-old, he was not of age to obtain a pilot's licence. Not that he cared anyway.
I ain't no kid, he growled to himself as he and the robot flew away from Veldin, hopefully forever.
Chairman Drek's flagship – Veldin Orbit
Chairman Drek watched from the bridge window as a rust-bucket of a ship flew away from the worthless planet below.
"This could be a problem," he mused. "Take care of it." The guard behind him walked away from his boss to comply with the order he was given.
Ratchet whooped in excitement. "Whoa, this is great!" He looked over his shoulder at the planet that was his home for the last fifteen years.
"So that's where I've been stuck this whole time!" Totally freaked out, B5429671 felt he needed to say something about his pilot's inability to keep his hands on the wheel.
"Please return your appendages to the steering mechanism, sir," B5429671 said, a begging tone to his robotic voice. Ratchet was snapped out of his deep thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, right," he chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Oh, and by the way," Ratchet added. "You can stop calling me "sir." The name's Ratchet."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," B5429671 replied, adding the "sir" in a manner that was almost sarcastic. Ratchet's lips tilted up playfully.
"You got a name?" he asked. B5429671 cocked his head to the side. A name? Him? He never thought about that before.
"My serial number is B-5-4-2-9-6…" Ratchet rolled his eyes in annoyance.
For the love of…He jerked the wheel sharply to the side, sending his robotic companion flying into the side of the ship with a clank. "Oops," he said dully. The robot shook his head and blinked in confusion. What just happened?
"I'll just call you "Clank," for short, 'kay?" Ratchet said. The newly named robot was so stunned that he didn't speak.
Clank…he thought, testing the way the name sounded to himself. A name of his own that wasn't a number...and this Ratchet was the one to give it to him. Besides, the name had a certain ring to it. It truly sounded like it was his own. Yes, he would no longer be the nameless B5429671; he would be Clank.
"Hang on," Ratchet's voice snapped Clank out of his thoughts. He looked outside the window and found that they were approaching Novalis.
Back on Chairman Drek's flagship…
Chairman Drek stood before his robotic bodyguard and an old blue alien with a black moustache, a pair of glasses and a cane. "So, you see," Chairman Drek began. "It would be most beneficial if your citizens were not in the city when my workers began removing it." The old, hunch-back alien threw his arms in the air.
"Preposterous! I will not stand for this," he replied outraged. His voice was shrill and shaky with old age. The small blaarg smirked slyly.
"Unfortunately," he drawled. "You have no choice in the matter."
"Let's just see what Captain Qwark has to say about that, my good man," the blue alien told him triumphantly. Chairman Drek burst out in hearty laughter. The blue alien looked at the blaargian man, confused.
"I don't see what's so funny," he said, getting rather angry. "Captain Qwark could dispatch you without breaking a sweat, you-you puny-" Chairman Drek suddenly cut him off, sounding angry himself.
"You have officially worn out your welcome," he said slowly and menacingly. "And my patience!" His robot guard literally picked up the old blue alien by the back of the neck.
"This is your last chance," he protested. "Stop this madness, now!"
"Okay, wait," said Chairman Drek. "You're right. I will withdraw my troops."
"Really?"
"No! He's all yours, gentlemen. Try not to leave any marks."
Author's Note: So here is the second chapter. I really hope to get some feedback, if only to know that people are actually reading.
~ Darth Synkka
