Hey, I wrote two chapters yesterday, and Fanfiction was not updating. So you may have skipped a chapter if you want to go back and read.
Onwards!
Jumping
"C'mon, I know we can reach that ledge," Ratchet said, grunting. "I'm jumping, you need to give us a little more thrust, pal."
"I am aware. This does surprise me as well; our combined weight is well below the maximum load bearing capacity."
"Please translate that from nerd."
"We collectively weigh 70 kilos. This is supposed to support up to 200."
"You think Al ripped me off?" Ratchet said, kicking one of the crates by the mag-lev rail station they were using as a makeshift practice area for Clank's new heli-pack.
"It is possible," Clank started, and Ratchet hissed. "However," Clank added, "I think it is far more likely we are not using the device as intended. It is not meant to fly, simply to break a fall."
"Lemme see those instructions," Ratchet replied, snatching the small booklet from Clank's hand, grumbling while reading. "Aw man, just a boost jump and glide? I thought we could fly with this!"
Bells
Ratchet's ears perked up to the sound of a soft tinkling noise in the distance.
"Why do you get so excited whenever you hear a bell? It is practically a conditioned response," Clank noted, as he watched Ratchet wolf down a sandwich on the patio of a Kerwan café. He hoped he hadn't been conditioned as a kit in the orphanage; what few stories he was able to glean out of his fuzzy partner were not happy ones.
Ratchet wiped away aioli from his lower lip. "Bell meant customer," he replied, before diving back into his lunch.
Rats
Ratchet fitted the old helmet over his face. Oddly, ten years later, the sandmouse communicator still clipped shut, albeit a bit more snugly than he remembered.
"You look ridiculous," Talwyn said, rolling her eyes.
"You called in an expert in pest control, this is what you get," Ratchet replied. "And if you say I look stupid again, I'm doubling my fee. Heroism doesn't come cheap, Tal."
"Oh, no, I'll have to take you out to dinner twice. The horror," Talwyn replied dryly.
Ratchet unhooked his harness for Clank, and wiggled down on all fours into one of the vent shafts in Apogee Station.
"Hey, Clank," he called, testing out the commlink.
"Yes, Ratchet?"
"Race ya to see who can bag more sandmice."
"You are at a distinct advantage. No."
"You can get anything in the periphery shafts. I'm too big," Ratchet replied. "And I can only hone in on four at a time with the helmet, anyway."
Clank considered this for a minute. "You have a deal, Ratchet."
"The usual?"
"Agreed."
xXx
"I can't believe there were fifty seven of them. Fifty seven! Blasting through the wires and making a mess," Tal said that evening, over pasta.
"They multiply fast," Ratchet replied. "And they can use parts they find to replicate themselves. Every time I stopped in Batalia, a swarm greeted me. We're going to have to use some of them to repair the station in the morning."
"Extra fee?"
"You know it."
"So, what do you owe Clank, anyway? He beat you, by three."
Ratchet wrinkled his nose. "A full tune up. Oil bath, joint realignment, all that."
"What would he have owed you?" Tal asked curiously.
"Standing on my back with the heatsinks directed downwards. Carrying him all the time is killer."
"Have you ever considered walking with him alongside of you, except when you need to fly somewhere? You worked great as a team this afternoon."
"I'm used to him watching my back. I don't think I'd want it any other way."
"Back pain or no?"
"Back pain or no."
The Vet
Ratchet wiggled his nose.
Antiseptic.
Was it worth it to crack his eyes open? Slowly, he let his curiosity get the better of him, and cracked a lid. Bright, fluorescent lighting from a long tube overhead.
"For the first time in my life, Ratchet, I am very glad to see you on my examination table," a light voice said. "You… from what's been going around, today, you've done everyone here quite the service."
"Oh, hi, Doc Hu," Ratchet said weakly, waving a hand limply.
"Last time you were in here, you actually fit on the table," she chuckled, pointing to the makeshift extension the nurses had rigged up to make the table long enough for him. "Thank goodness it's been a few years since your last major emergency, but you've been dodging checkups, mister."
"Lombaxes grow, who knew?" Ratchet replied, hastily changing the subject and smiling at the ceiling.
"Sit up, furball, I want a better look at the scarring on your back," Doctor Hulia commanded. Ratchet felt the tug of a stiff hand helping him, focusing his eyes downward.
"Clank?" he asked.
"It is good to see you conscious," he replied, pulling gently to help Ratchet sit upright, and sat between Ratchet's legs so the lombax had something to lean into.
Dr. Hulia parted the fur on Ratchet's back, ghosting her hands over the remains of some wounds.
"Thank goodness you've been replacing your nanotech regularly," she said, rubbing Ratchet's back once more to make sure she didn't miss anything. "The scars are healing well, and should dissipate completely. Getting the shrapnel out of you was not a fun task, let me tell you. You should stick around for a bit, though, just to be safe, though I don't really have space for you to stay overnight. The family can pop by the garage after I'm done working, but…"
"I'm good," Ratchet replied, yawning.
"Let me call a hovercar service for you, at least," she replied. "You are not walking or hoverboarding fifteen kliks back up the mesa. Doctor's orders. And if anyone comes around asking if you can come help with the post-Drek cleanup, well, here," she added, procuring a slip with her seal. "No strenuous activity for you for two weeks, minimum. And I want you back here for another checkup before you go running off again."
"Yes ma'am…" Ratchet replied, deflated.
"I've already given Clank some orders on your care. Your back should still be washed and coated in salve daily. Loose bandages. He has a prescription to fill to get something that won't give you an allergic reaction." She gave him a sidelong glance. "I'd say you're free to go, unless you want a biscuit."
"You make me feel like I'm ten, Doc Hu," Ratchet replied, leaning into Clank before sliding himself off the table. "What do I owe you?"
"I think you've already paid, Ratchet," she replied, fondly. "You really have grown up quite a bit in the past few weeks, haven't you? Next time you tell me before you take one of your ramshackle ships for a test flight, you hear? Well? Biscuit, or no? I have a woman with an owlbear in the waiting room that needs to be de-wormed."
"Sure," Ratchet replied. "I'll take one for the road."
xXx
Ratchet walked slowly, Clank walked alongside instead of being strapped to Ratchet's back, until they got to the street corner to pick up the hovercar Dr. Hulia had paid for. Clank carried an entire jar of the biscuits between his arms, while Ratchet munched on one.
"Just as good as I remember," he said, holding it out. "The car and the visit were one thing, but she gave me the entire jar… she bakes those herself."
"You know, I was a bit worried when the EMTs arrived."
"Why? With my nanotech, I would have healed eventually."
"That was not the concern. It was that they took you to a veterinarian rather than a hospital. I am just glad you were not upset upon wake."
"I've been sent there more times than I can count, when I was little; Veldin doctors don't really know how to treat non-Veldinites," Ratchet replied. "Hulia is practically my mom. If she didn't have three kids of her own, she would have adopted me herself. How do you think a sixteen year old can afford a garage? Or a ship, even if it was crappy and, uh, kinda exploded? She always has a hot meal for me if I need it, and I babysit her youngest from time to time, but… she has animals to treat, and other people to take care of too. It sucks I never got adopted, for real, but, eh. I'll take what I can get. "
"'Take what you can get?' Even pet treats?" Clank asked curiously.
"Who are you kidding?" Ratchet replied, laughing, as he watched an orange hovercar pull around to the corner. "The pet treats she makes are red. These are for the office workers," he added, biting into the bone-shaped cookie. "They're snickerdoodles."
Hair Balls
Kaden awoke to the sounds of rough coughing; rushing to the bathroom immediately. His wife leaned unhappily over the sink, her black hair in a messy ponytail, and her black and white striped ears pulled back away from her face.
"What happened? Post partum sickness?" Kaden asked worriedly. "Do I need to call an amb-"
Hikaru held up a hand, shaking her head, before pointing a finger to the sink. A glob of goo mixed with the unmistakable gold fluff of their newborn sun made a small ball in the drain catch.
"I'll wash Tobi for the next few days," Kaden said, gently, stroking his wife's back with long, gentle glides, before reaching up and scratching her behind the ear.
"Or maybe I can convince Alister to lend a hand again?"