Let The Ricks Fall Where They May

Written by Kat_Aclysm
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick
Rated: - T for language

Disclaimers + Copyrights: Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is fanfiction and unlicensed/unofficial material. Please support the official release!

NOTE: Oh look, shit gets real again.

Chapter 21 – A Hive Of Rickgret

November 29th, 5:26pm, Local Ship Time, 2001
Unnamed Nebula, Space
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316

Surgeon Rick had just clocked off his shift for the day and wanted to switch his brain off after all the things he had seen; he wanted to kill fake, pixelated aliens in video games, drink beer, and watch interdimensional TV. He figured his dimensional counterpart had probably rested long enough by now and didn't think inviting him along to join in with his mundane activities would hurt; the least he could do was say no.

As he walked into the barracks area of the ship, he couldn't help but snicker with childish glee; there were still hundreds of ball-pit balls scattered all over the corridor. He opened the door to Rick's personal quarters and expected to find him still asleep or in the process of waking up, but instead he heard the sounds of Morty giggling somewhere underneath the mass of balls, and violent retching coming from behind the closed door of the bathroom.

"Oh, hey... you OK in there?" The surgeon called out as he waded through the knee-high sea of plastic. "That sounds horrible, bro. You eat a bad burrito or something?" After locating Morty's hiding spot, he stood over him.

"Yeah," came the weak response. "S-something like that..."

While Surgeon Rick knew he wasn't the smartest Rick in the multiverse, he was by no means stupid. He already knew that his charge's upset stomach was related to the diagnosis that his boss was trying to pursue but wasn't about to bring that up; he already knew it would end in hostility.

"Hey, don't worry. It'll pass." He deliberately kept his tone cheerful as he chose to keep steering the conversation in the direction he had already taken it; he couldn't properly assess Rick until he was out of the bathroom anyway. "That actually happened to me not too long ago, except it went right through me. Real nasty stuff... had to take a day off work and everything. The boss was NOT impressed."

Rick started to make a reply, but his own body cut him off with another loud heave.

Surgeon Rick fished Morty out of the plastic balls and carried him across to the bunk bed. "When you're done in there, you should just take it easy. If you need me to hook you up with something to take the edge off, I got loads of shit in my desk. All you need to do is ask, brother." As he sat down on the edge of the bed to wait, he gently set Morty down beside him. "So what's new, short guy? How has your day been apart from this?"

Morty silently stared up at the spiky-haired impostor and reached over with a small, pointed finger to give his scrubs an experimental poke; he still wasn't quite ready to accept him just yet, but knew he wasn't unfriendly.

"Yeah, it's real." Surgeon Rick calmly nodded. "It's not some stupid costume I wear for fun."

Morty gave the blue, rubbery clothing another poke now that he knew he wasn't going to be stopped.

"So... you're a baby, huh?" Surgeon Rick said simply for the purpose of talking to him. "Yeah so was I, once... don't really remember too much of it, though."

When the bathroom door opened again, Rick needed to lean against the doorway; he felt like all the strength had been sapped out of him. He lowered his head in an attempt to minimize the dizzy sensations swirling through it, then slowly stumbled into the room.

"Yeah, you're no good, bro." Surgeon looked up and was unable to hide the concern on his face. "Do you wanna go to the medi-bay? I can load you up on the good stuff. You'd feel a whole lot better if you let me help you out."

Rick briefly considered the offer, then waved a hand out in front of him to dismiss it. "Phh... I-I'll be fine..."

"There's no shame in asking for help, dude." Surgeon Rick persisted. "No need to keep on acting like a tough guy."

"I-I'm saying no..." Rick heavily sank onto the bed at his dimensional-double's left side and tried to push him off. "Get out of my room."

"I actually came in to see if you wanted to come hang out and shit." Surgeon Rick offered hopefully. "I finished work early and I'm bored. There's a new season premiere of 'That Doesn't Fit In There' on tonight and you still haven't seen its awesomeness. You wanna come with? My place is literally only about five doors down so you can always just rest up back here if it gets to be too much for you."

"Well, I'm already awake..." Rick grumbled, though it was more at himself. "I'm not really useful to do much else in this state..."

Surgeon Rick's face lit up in a wide grin; it was as much of a 'yes' as he was ever going to get. "Well come on then, douchebag! Time's a wastin' and there's cool shit coming up on the other channels. Let's go watch some crazy stuff, yo!"

After ten minutes of lounging on Surgeon Rick's couch with a box of crackers and a bottle of water, Rick had perked up a little. Although Morty had demanded several of them, he didn't care; there were more than enough to share and they'd already served their purpose.

Surgeon Rick kept a subtle watch over his charge while he sifted through the infinite number of channels available to him and finally settled on a show on the history of some alien race that he didn't care about. "Y'know dude, you really surprised me. I didn't expect you to come back so soon, or at all... was the place you came from really that bad, or did you just miss me that much?" He flashed him a cheesy grin.

"Ugh, don't flatter yourself." Rick rolled his eyes, completely unimpressed. "Nah, shit's changed, a-and... there was someone there that I didn't wanna see again."

"Oh?" Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow, his curiosity obvious.

"Long story, but..." Rick made a tired sigh, then lightly shrugged his shoulders. "Half a lifetime ago, I was the lead guitarist for a band. Birdperson did most of the vocals, but Squanchy did the backup vocals and drumming. It was never meant to be anything more than a cover for gathering info on the Fed's next moves, but... i-it was what it was, y'know?" He paused and shrugged again, not really knowing how to explain it. "Squanchy and I got along, but we didn't at the same time. Different ideas on shit, I guess..."

"Oh boy, I KNOW how that is." Surgeon Rick offered him a dry, sarcastic laugh.

Rick clasped his hands together and stared down at them. "About twenty years ago, I-I just... took off without any explanation. Beth got pregnant with her first kid and needed my help. Squanchy wouldn't have gotten it, but... Birdperson did. He was the only one I ever bothered to tell." He slowly shook his head and let out a low, frustrated growl. "Anyway, Squanchy's back, and he's hanging out in Birdperson's house. He still doesn't get it and as far as I know, he probably still thinks I abandoned everyone. I don't wanna get into it with him, so as long as he's around I'd rather not be there, as shitty as that sounds."

"It's not shitty, dude." Surgeon Rick replied as he turned his attention back towards the TV and resumed flicking channels. "If you don't get along with someone, why waste your time being around them?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same question?" It was Rick's turn to laugh.

"Haha, very funny." Surgeon Rick grunted back at him. "You know what? Fuck you. We all got our own reasons why we do shit, and I'm not gonna let some... pompous, generic-ass version of myself question that." Despite his caustic tone, he was still grinning. "Why the hell would you choose a band as an undercover disguise anyway? Seems pretty high profile to me."

"Nobody questions the movements of a band, not even the government." Rick calmly told him. "You're always moving from one planet to another because you're on tour." He smirked dryly. "It's the perfect cover, and your 'fans' can come backstage and slip you intel any time."

"But you were actually good, right?" Surgeon Rick pondered.

As Rick leaned back on the couch cushions, he didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. "Debatable..."

"You know, your modesty really annoys the shit outta me." Surgeon Rick gave him a sideways glance, then returned his attention to the TV. "So you really went back for your kid, huh?"

Rick made a soft, uncomfortable grunt; he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about this anymore. "Y-yeah."

"Why?"

Rick said nothing initially, then reluctantly conceded. "She was seventeen and didn't have anyone else. Must have been pretty desperate for her to reach out for someone she barely even remembered... " The guilty feeling had returned and he tried to suppress it. "The ex couldn't take care of her anymore because she got terminally ill with cancer or some bullshit, I-I... I don't really care." It was such a blatant lie that even he knew how obvious it was as he spoke it. "That kid was easily likable and we got along right away. I set her up with a down payment on a house while her idiot boyfriend looked for a job. I did odd-jobs to keep them afloat while she went back to college, so i-it worked out." He sighed and slowly shook his head. "So fucking stupid. I-I never should have gone back there..."

Surgeon Rick was silent through the story. Some of the parallels were uncanny, while some just reminded him of how completely different they were. He couldn't think of anything useful to say or do and instead decided to change the subject entirely. "Oh, shit yeah!" He nodded at the TV. "You ever see a game of deathball? Alien motherfuckers are gonna die!"

Rick glanced up at the screen and was actually glad for the distraction. He wasn't even entirely certain why he'd bothered to open up like that, though perhaps it was because the other had done the exact same thing only a few days ago on the same couch. "Deathball? Couldn't they come up with a more creative name?" He fumbled a hand through the box of crackers and popped three more of them into his mouth.

"Ah, that's just what it translates to, bro." Surgeon Rick got up to retrieve a beer from his bar fridge. "In its native tongue, it means... uh..." He paused in thought. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Then again, these guys were never known for thinking too mu-" He suddenly thrust a fist into the air as he watched one of the smaller aliens getting struck down by the opposing team. "AW, YEEAAAAH! Not even ten seconds in and that guy got it in the fucking FACE! Owned, bitch!" He popped the cap off the beer and enthusiastically sat back down on the couch with it.

Rick shook his head at him and chose to watch in silence. Halfway through the game, he got up and retreated to Surgeon Rick's bunk bed after clearing the pile of trash off the top layer of sheeting; while he was certainly feeling a lot better by now, he felt exhausted even though he had already spent several hours asleep. Not even his dimensional counterpart's enthusiastic whooping and cheering could keep him up, and he nodded off in little to no time at all.

Surgeon Rick carefully watched the other Rick's movements in his peripheral vision but chose to let him go; letting him sleep was only going to help and there was no harm in letting him crash out on his bed, and he'd always preferred sleeping on his couch anyway.

When the televised murder sport had finished, he flicked back to channel 672 in eager anticipation. "Yo, dude, wake up and get your ass back over here. 'That Doesn't Fit In There' is on next!"

Rick didn't hear him; he remained comfortably curled up and very much asleep.

Surgeon Rick sat up properly to peer back at him, though he didn't have the heart to disturb him. "Hey, your loss, bro... you snooze, you lose." He turned his attention across the couch and towards Morty, who had since tipped the box of crackers onto its side and was now gorging himself on them. "You wanna watch this one with me, little guy?"

Morty stopped and stared back at the stranger, then went right back to what he was doing.

"Suit yourselves." With a soft sigh, Surgeon Rick took out his datapad and hastily typed out a message after connecting the interdimensional-communication line to his boss. -'Yo, I think we got a problem. B-526 came back and is exhibiting the same symptoms he had in the first place. What do you want me to do?'-

A reply came back only a few seconds later. -'He came back early? That's impossible.'-

-'Well believe it, because the goddamn jerk had the audacity to steal my fucking bed. And before you send me that 'pics or it didn't happen' bullshit, I'm way ahead of you.'- Surgeon Rick held the device up to take a photo, then attached it to the message.

The next reply was considerably slower than the one before it. -'That action is completely illogical. I sincerely hope you're not pranking me with a posed corpse because I would not put it past you to do that!'-

Surgeon Rick loudly chuckled; his boss knew him far too well because it was totally something he would have done under the right circumstances. He grinned to himself at the thought of his recipient's frustration as he mashed out the next message. -'Just come over here and see this shit for yourself, bro. It's whack. He actually wanted to come back, some shit about air conditioning? You think it's a cover for something else?'-

-'Possibly, but I can't tend to it right now as I'm not on the ship. I'm gathering intel on our next live retrieval and will have to update you on my return. This job is going to be particularly dangerous. You will need to pay close attention when I give you the instructions.'-

"Huh..." Surgeon Rick had to raise an eyebrow upon reading that; he was already curious enough to want more information. He didn't even seem to notice his show had started as he typed out the next reply. -'Must be valuable if you're already over there. How much is Sancheziminius paying you?'-

-'Look, C-711. Communications are dangerous at this time and I need to keep this short. Handle the situation without me as you are more than capable. You already know what to do.'-

Surgeon Rick needed a moment to stare at the screen. -'Holy shit, boss. Was that actually a compliment?'-

The final reply came in haste. -'Record unusual symptoms. You know the rest. I should not have to tell you anything. Now stop endangering my position.'-

After the communication link had ended, Surgeon Rick tossed his datapad onto the coffee table in his grumpiness. "Yeah, boss... you keep doing you." He leaned back against the couch to watch his favorite TV show, but it couldn't cheer him back up; his mind was already entertaining hypothetical scenarios on the next live-retrieval case and all the ways he could possibly fail at it. He also found himself worrying about the direction his charge's illness would take next, and he became anxious about wanting to do the next blood test.

So much for trying to switch his brain off. He took another swig of his beer to see if he could just do it that way instead.

By the time Rick had woken up again, everything around him was dark and the TV had been switched off; the only lights to guide him were the small, glowing, LED-standby bulbs on the various devices around the room. He slowly sat up and navigated his way to the couch, only to find his grandson snuggled up against his dimensional double, who was also fast asleep and snoring his head off.

"You damn traitor, Morty..." Rick leaned over the back of the couch to pick the little boy up, being careful not to rouse him from his slumber. "I'm actually beginning to think you like these guys. It's OK by me if you wanna befriend them, just as long as I remain your favorite Rick. You think you could manage that?"

Morty didn't hear him.

Rick slowly shook his head and slipped out of the room before he could cause any further disturbance. He made his way back to the terminal hub with every intention of adding to his intel reports, but it didn't take him very long to get sidetracked with the thought of getting into more of the doctor's journals; the room was completely unguarded and he had free-reign to do whatever he wanted.

Once his grandson was settled in the crib beside his chair, the scientist resumed reading through the mass of entries relating to bees. He soon discovered that he had indeed been correct in guessing that the doctor had come to the ship to clone his Morty; he found disturbing accounts of his multiple failures in trying to do so.

As Rick continued to read through the entries, it became more and more apparent that Ricktus had been plagued by guilt, alcoholism, and perhaps insanity. Though, the most overreaching emotion that echoed through his written accounts were his frustrations; the bees became bigger and more rugged with each genetic tweak, while every attempt to clone a new Morty had ended in failure: the congenital defect made certain of that. It didn't even seem to matter what the doctor did either, and in the three months that followed after his Morty's death, he had already lost five more clones to the exact same thing.

A part of Rick's mind reminded him that he should probably be concerned about human cloning and genetic experimentation, but in reality he wasn't in the slightest; it genuinely interested him enough to keep reading. Just as he started getting off track with thoughts of all the crazy things he could combine in a cloning tank if he had access to one for himself, he finally stumbled on some of the answers he had been looking for since the beginning:

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-10-12
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: Who cares?
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Classified

I'm hopelessly drunk and quite amazed that I'm still capable of typing this bullshit. I've lost another three clones to the same goddamn thing I always have, and this week's death toll was a nastier blow to my self-confidence than I am willing to admit. It doesn't even matter if I accelerate the growth of the clones or not because they always fucking die at exactly the same development point - the equivalent of a 32 - 36 week fetus, right before full-term. It has become apparent that they will NEVER survive on their own and I have to start working twice as hard because there has to be a way around this one; all these failures are worthless and keep putting me further behind. Maybe I'm just not meant to have this?

I'm sorry, Beth. Your father, who loves you more than anything, is a complete failure and you still don't know. You didn't deserve any of this. I WILL return to you after I have solved this dilemma, and then everything will be as it was before.

The way it was? I'm not sure I can remember that. It's getting hard for me to even form clear cognitive thought anymore. You think your universe sucks? Want to know the definition of ironic? How about being an MD with a double speciality in Immunology and Pediatrics, and then not even being able to do the one fucking job you trained your whole life for?

The second irony is that my employers have promoted me to head physician in spite of my incompetence. What a joke! It doesn't even matter now. All that counts is getting my successes.

Speaking of which, I finally have one I can brag about - half a dozen, fourth-generation hybrids have graduated from their cloning tanks here at the facility today, and they follow my every movement as if I am their parent. Perhaps I am? I am not entirely unhappy with the result. I wasn't expecting to see such loyalty in this generation, but it is a welcome behavioral trait to see after the attitudes of their predecessors.

My little space-bee friend still makes up the majority of their DNA, but the final blend that made them viable was ordinary European praying mantis (Mantis religiosa) and monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus), both of which were retrieved from Beth's garden on Earth when I paid her property a quick visit. There is one final element I shall elaborate on further down.

I think I can finally call them a success, at least in terms of their ability to produce a renewable energy source. They feed on anything dead and decaying, which they then convert via metabolic processes into an odorless substance that is highly volatile and combustible. This liquid burns with a 99.999% efficiency and I cannot currently think of anything more superior. I refuse to call this substance 'honey' because that implies it is edible. Note to self: Do not do that. DO NOT DO THAT, EVER.

When they die they eat each other, thus completing the renewable cycle. If a hive was installed in the correct application, they could power a ship forever. Think of the possibilities!

Aside from being a fuel source, the liquid substance has a rather remarkable property that I discovered quite by accident. One of my little companions noticed I was injured (a minor cut from an unrelated incident) and promptly proceeded to clean it. By the end of the day, the injury had completely sealed itself without a trace. I must repeat this at a later date and properly record the results.

The first generation of hybrid insects was unfaithful and mindless; four immature organisms were still more than capable of producing enough fuel to burn for an entire week (imagine what a hive collective could do in a year?), but they were not the slightest bit interested in following instructions. After it was clear that they were going to grow up to become hostile and turn against me, I had to put them all down. Such a waste of my time.

The second generation was modified with further praying mantis DNA, which caused them to become more aggressive and territorial, but all the females wanted to do was eat the heads of the males. I guess I should have expected that one!

By the third generation, they were still stupid as fuck and completely incapable of comprehending basic directions. It was becoming clear that... something further needed to be added, but because there is rarely any intelligence to be found in the insect world, I had to consider more complex organisms. There isn't much of an intelligence pool on the ship to draw from, so I didn't even have to look. Besides, who is more intelligent than me?

The fourth generation is perfect and I am finally satisfied, but I'm still not sure what to call them. A new species needs a name, doesn't it?

I suppose it comes as no surprise that my latest batch wants to spend their every waking moment with me, because the members of a hive will reject anything that is not related to them. They do not listen to anyone else other than me. I may have just made myself completely indispensable.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

As Rick reasoned through the implications of the last lines, a loud hiss escaped his throat. "Oh my god... t-this guy is fucking insane..." He didn't know whether to be irritated or impressed; the journals were now posing as many questions as they answered.

After a quick glance around him to make sure that he was still alone, he got stuck into reading the next batch of entries.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-10-14
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: -
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Restricted

In a last ditch effort to create a viable clone, I'm going to map out Mortimer's entire genome as well as mine and then simply edit the flaws as one would change the text of a document. I don't care how long this takes. I already thought about cloning myself and reverse engineering the DNA, but if too many modifications are made then it's no longer Mortimer anymore, is it? I have been consoling myself with a bottle of wine while I keep thinking about how to do this, but I can do anything because I'm a fucking genius.

Right...?

I simply do not understand how I can do whatever the hell I want to the bees while my Mortimer clones keep dying. I stopped counting the failures after 20 because I am so overcome with shame that it makes me feel vile just thinking about it. It defies all logic, and I have already had several crazy ideas involving just combining both organisms, but what use is that? The bees are perfect and Mortimer will never be. This is a giant insult to my intelligence.

If my final efforts do not work, then perhaps it is time to give up on this place and explore other avenues.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

It was at that moment that a rather-disturbing thought penetrated Rick's conscious mind, and he wondered if Ricktus had already tried to clone his Morty since his arrival on the ship; he probably would have resorted to similar actions had he been placed in such a situation. The scientist suddenly found himself wanting to know where the cloning facility was and if it were still operational, but he already knew there was little point in asking about it; he already guessed that he was going to be lied to or denied access. It was just another thing he would have to investigate on his own later.

As he attempted to scroll down and read more journal entries regarding the bee-hybrids, he soon discovered that he couldn't; just like that, they had stopped. What he found next in line after them were video files, and it seemed that the doctor had taken to videographing his progress instead.

It wasn't until he opened them that he understood the reason for the switch.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Is this thing on?"

A loud-buzzing sound could be heard right next to the microphone of the recording device. Electrical interference caused the visual portion of the clip to crackle with static for a brief moment, but it stabilized again.

"Fleur, get off that!"

As Ricktus focused the recording device onto his face and took two steps backwards, Rick could see right away that he was devoid of his grievous scar and glasses. He was also grinning from ear to ear like an idiot, and was charged with more happiness than he had seen in the time he had known him. There were also three, young bee-hybrids perched on his shoulders; one was sleeping on his right, while the other two were trying to compete for the space on his left.

"Oh shit, uh, before I forget... log date." Ricktus quickly checked his wristwatch. "October 18th, year whatever. So I'm logging further progress by video dictation so I can look back on this crap, and... well, you have to see this. These things are growing every day and if they're anything like their predecessors, they're going to grow even bigger. But that's not even the thing I set this up for though, j-just look at this shit!" He snatched one of the bees off his left shoulder and held it up to the camera lens. "This... t-this... I've created an apex predator, and all I was doing was playing around until something worked. I can do anything I want to her, she doesn't care! Look!" He turned the young insect upside-down and gently shook her.

The young bee responded by regurgitating a long, clear string of syrupy fluid.

"OK, that's... that's gross." As Ricktus dropped the bee off-camera, a wild-eyed perplexity came over his face and he went silent. In another instant, he snapped back to reality and grabbed up a half-empty bottle of wine to chug from. "Now that I've... I'v-UURRRP endowed them with sentience and cognitive reasoning, they, t-they're behaving just like children. They're getting into all my shit... I guess they have to learn?"

The camera was suddenly knocked off the table, and the sound of the device hitting the floor was accompanied by a loud shattering of glass along with the doctor's scolding voice. "Fleur, I told you not to touch that! It's not food!"

After readjusting the camera back to its original position, the video signal was disrupted a second time by loud interference and a distant rumble. The doctor didn't seem to notice however, and simply went on with his drunken rambling.

"I still don't know how I managed to do this... I mean, why did this experiment work but not the reason I came here for? T-this... this is fucked up." He stared off into nothingness as his mind overtook his body, and then threw his head back in a gigantic fit of crazy laughter. "Oh my god! It's so fucked u-"

The video suddenly cut out and went dead.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Hey, it's me again." As Ricktus adjusted the camera back on himself, it was clear that he was incredibly nervous and that something concerning was happening; the ceiling lights flickered erratically and the whole area shook with intermittent vibrations. "Log date is early morning, October 20th. Something big has been going down for the last several hours, let me tell you... I-I think the morons finally got themselves cornered? They're not telling me anything and I'm locked up here, but... stay calm? Yeah, like that's going to happen. The blast shields have cut off access to my room, but my portal gun is in there and I'm bailing on this thing at the earliest opportunity, it... it's... we're so screwed."

"So," he turned the camera towards the corner of the medi-bay box room he was currently in, and aimed it at the half-dozen young bees cowering in a cluster in the far corner. "Forget about all of that... this is the perfect time to demonstrate my new species' sentience in action. I'm not sure if they're reacting to me or if they sense the danger for themselves, but... they clearly know something's up. They're displaying rather-obvious anxiety and fear."

"It's cool to watch, but," he glanced upwards as another violent tremor rocked through the entire section of the ship, and then the overhead lights, plunging the room into complete darkness. "Well, shit... it looks like we're going to have to cut this one short."

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Just like the video before it, both the audio and visuals crackled with heavy interference as if threatening to cut out at any given moment. Between the near-pitch blackness and the static, it was difficult to discern if anything was even happening at all.

Then a rather pathetic, weak groan rose above the cacophony of far-off explosions and deep rumbles; it was as if the entire area was coming under heavy assault. When the visuals finally did become clear, the scene was literal carnage; the roof had partially collapsed and some of the supporting structure had fallen down along with it, making what used to be a medi-bay completely unrecognizable. Off to the left of the shot, a small fire was burning unchecked in the exposed cavity of the wall. As the emergency lighting strips along the floor came on, the room was illuminated in an eerie glow of weak, red hues.

"Log date is, uh. Who cares... i-it doesn't even matter..."

"Whatever possessed me to keep this thing in my pocket... I'll never know." The doctor focused the camera lens onto himself and then set it onto the floor in front of him. He was completely trapped and unable to move much more than his arm; the lower half of his body was heavily pinned under several large pieces of twisted debris, and the left side of his face was freely bleeding, his left eye swollen shut; he had obviously been struck by something large and sharp. "If... i-if anyone finds my work and actually makes use of it, then good for you... but know that the owners of this ship were careless, and that they deserved everything they got..."

One of the young bees suddenly bounded across the shot and stopped in front of her master, attracted to him by the scent of blood. In another moment, she was actively trying to groom him and clean the wound on his face.

"Fleur, don't. T-there's no point..." Ricktus gently nudged her aside and focused his attention back on the camera. "That's it, I-I... I'm done for. I don't know what the fuck happened here, but... o-oh god, it hurts." He put his head down on the ground as he felt himself slipping away, no longer having the strength to hold it up anymore. "So this is it, isn't it? This is how it ends... it's not what I expected, b-but... I'm sorry nothing worked out. There's not even anything useful I can say... w-what a pathetic mark to leave on the universe..."

He was silent for a short period of time. "I failed at everything I ever tried..." As he began resolving himself to the inevitable, a neon-green vortex swirled into existence right beside him. "Wh... what the HELL?!"

"Yo, fucker." A Rick dressed in light-blue scrubs stepped out of the portal and casually stood over him as if nothing outstanding was happening at all. "This ain't your grave if you don't want it to be." He carelessly dumped the first-aid kit he was carrying onto the floor and crouched down beside him. "Where's your portal gun at?"

"It's... it's back in my room..." Ricktus raised his head and stared up at the newcomer with his only good eye, absolutely confused out of his mind. "What are you even doing here...?"

"Saving your dumb ass if you want me to," the new arrival shrugged at him. "Or I can put you down and make this as quick as possible." He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and sifted through the first-aid kit for the supplies he needed. "It's up to you, but whatever you decide, I'm gonna need your portal gun."

"How did you know I was here...?" Ricktus continued to stare at him. "Where did you come from?"

"Ugh, really? Of all the questions, that's your angle?" The other Rick rolled his eyes and a wide smirk came over his face. "Well, suit yourself. When a mommy and a daddy love each other, they, uh... well, sometimes the daddy doesn't actually love the mommy, but he acts like he does so he can get some action, and-"

"G-goddammit!" Ricktus weakly hissed back at him in protest. "That's NOT what I meant!"

"You're the one who asked, bro." After preparing a syringe from an ampule he'd pulled from the first-aid kit, he held it upright and removed all traces of air from the tube. "So, your call. You want me to get you outta here? Or are you done? Pick one and make it snappy, because otherwise you're gonna bleed out."

"I... I-I don't want to die..." Ricktus admitted, the pain in his voice very apparent. "Not like this..."

"Yeah?" The other Rick's tone suddenly became sympathetic. "I know of at least three different Ricks who would be happy to hear that." He recapped the syringe and packed it away again. "You sure, buddy? Because nothing is ever gonna be the same again."

"I don't care... what's worse than this...?"

The answer seemed to satisfy the other Rick, because he got to his feet and began examining his surroundings. "Not much, if you want my opinion... but you really are stuck pretty good, aren't ya?"

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

The next video in the stack was recorded under much quieter circumstances, though it was obvious that the owner of the device was absolutely bored out of his mind, and not even the fact that the left side of his face was covered in gauze padding could conceal it as he focused the lens on himself. He was also wearing a light-blue gown and propped up on several pillows in a hospital bed. The recording stopped and started again several times simply because he was playing with the buttons.

"Log date i-" the video stopped briefly. "Whoops. Oh well... who can even tell what the date is when you're stuck in a place like this? Every day looks the same." As if to emphasize how dull his surroundings were, he turned the camera onto the room around him. He was in a sterile, white room that had a singular window framed with curtains, which were pulled back and letting fake sunlight into the room.

"Hey, who are you talkin' to?"

"Nobody." Ricktus grumpily answered, then ignored him. "So apparently, this is some crazy Rick's idea of an infirmary. Believe it or not, this whole place is run by Ricks for Ricks, a-and... I don't even know what to make of it. This isn't even the worst of i-"

"Why are you talkin' to nobody? It's cool with me, but we have enough crazy fuckers around here if you want the truth." The voice off-screen cut him off. "You know what you're filming right now is classified, right? They're probably gonna destroy the footage as soon as you leave."

"Oh, go away already!" Ricktus suddenly snapped at him. "Don't you have some other hopelessly pathetic Rick to annoy?"

"Nah, just you." As the Rick stepped into the right of the shot, he gave his patient a rather-friendly lopsided grin and tossed a large stack of paperwork onto the tray table at his bedside. "Whenever you're ready, fill these forms out. There's a lot to go through, but your knowledge can actually go on to help a whole lotta other Ricks."

"I can't believe you right now, you... y-you're asking for my help after you mauled me?!" The doctor yanked the blankets off himself to reveal what was left of his legs; two bandaged stumps that ended just above where his knees would have been. "I know you said that nothing would ever be the same again, but this is ludicrous! I'm starting to think I made the wrong choice."

"Ugh, you think you're the first Rick to lose a limb, dude? Well, two, but... quit being such a baby, it's not that bad."

"Are you kidding?!" The doctor barked at him. "Look at me, I'm a fucking cripple! I can't even wipe my own ass without needing help anymore, so how the hell am I supposed to help anyone else?! I-I'm absolutely fucking useless!"

"They wouldn't have asked me to pull you outta your dimension if you were useless. And need I remind you that your entire lower half was crushed under solid metal and debris? It was a mess, bro... you're pretty lucky to have escaped without losing more." The other Rick pulled up a chair to sit down beside him. "At least your junk is still intact. I'd be pretty fuckin' happy about that if I were you!" He impatiently rapped an index finger on the stack of papers. "Look, try not to think about it. Sure, it's a setback, but it's fixable. Just keep your brain occupied with this shit instead, it'll keep you going for a while. Once you're done, the boss is eager to meet up with you and pick your brains."

The next question was genuine. "What's going to happen to me...?"

"Eh, good question, but not mine to answer." The other Rick gave a nonchalant shrug. "You're in a Citadel full of frickin' geniuses, I'm pretty sure somebody can figure something out for ya. It's not the end of the world." He gave the camera a disapproving glance. "Why the hell do you keep on recording shit anyway? I know it's still running, 'cause the little red light is blinking."

"I use it like a dictaphone," Ricktus quickly explained. "I like to keep a record of where I've been so I can go back and review it."

"Well turn it off," the other Rick finally lost his patience. "It's stupid."

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Rick had completely lost track of time while immersed in his entertainment, at least until Morty began to stir awake; the little whimpers brought him back to his senses. His attention drifted towards the crib and he quietly watched, electing to leave the little boy to his own devices just to see where his mood would go. When the pathetic sounds died down again, he reached across to ruffle his hair.

"You're a good kid, Morty. You think you could try not bothering me now that you're up?" He asked him. "I like you and everything, but I was enjoying the peace and quiet." When he witnessed Morty trying to climb over the side, he promptly reached out to grab him before he could get too far. "Yeah... not very smart, little buddy. Here, why don't you come watch more of this crazy-ass shit with me?"

After settling Morty in his lap, Rick kept going. The rest of the video files were just more accounts of events on the ship after the doctor had returned to it, and he soon learned that the run-down ship had been used to continue working on Council-related projects. One such development was the curative serum; the doctor and his newly appointed assistant had created it by heavily modifying the syrup-like substance that the bee-hybrids produced.

Many of the earlier video-logs were legitimately amusing to watch; the doctor and his assistant seemed to have a playful back-and-forth game of interrupting and trying to insult each other in the background whenever a video was being recorded for the archives. In one video from the same time period, Surgeon Rick played a prank on his boss by stuffing the device down the front of his pants while recording.

Rick promptly shut it off before it could finish playing. "O-oh god... I didn't need to see that!"

After the curative serum was deemed a success, the nature of the work on board the ship shifted and so did the mood. The Council appointed the duo the task of cleaning up after dead-and-murdered Ricks on other timelines, and if Rick didn't know any better, he would have guessed that the grim nature of the job itself was the cause for the fracture in their alliance.

However, Rick did know better, but there was no satisfaction in having guessed the reason behind it all; it wasn't even his problem and he still felt apprehensive about it. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Morty while in the doctor's presence; while he had said that he had no desire to take Morty away from him, he still wasn't certain if he could trust him or not.

The final video at the bottom of the list had been recorded only yesterday, and it hadn't been viewed before. Rick found that unusual, yet decided to watch it anyway.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Hey, it's me," Surgeon Rick turned the camera onto himself and sat down in front of it. Behind him was his own workstation in the terminal hub, which was easy to tell because of the amount of rubbish scattered across it. "I was just thinkin' and, well..."

"I know you're eventually gonna see this. You've always been the type to go over your old stuff, because I'm convinced that you like torturing yourself." He folded his arms and glanced off to the side. "Man, I-I don't even know who you are anymore, and that's saying a lot coming from someone who basically IS you. You used to be fun and we actually used to be friends, but... I guess you lost it along the way? It's like you've become a different person, I-I can't even talk to you or anything."

"I was just thinkin' about what happened earlier, and it didn't feel right to leave things the way they were." His expression became serious as he focused his attention back on the camera. "I know why you're so mad all the time. You have every right to be, but... y-you don't have to be that way. We're gonna get there eventually, y'know?"

His brows creased in frustration as he got to the point. "Look, I'm gonna keep working with ya, but you really need to fix your shit. You've become completely unapproachable and the other guy is right, i-it's counterproductive. I wanna help you, bro. But... you keep making it impossible."

"I miss being able to tell you stuff without getting bitched at," he continued with his outstanding thought. "Remember when you actually valued my opinions on stuff? Well, I'm sitting here looking at the data on which we've been collaborating regarding the new guy, and... something's amiss. I think you're actually wrong on this one."

"The fact that I even had to make a video about this for you to find is pretty pathetic, but you gotta listen somehow, right?" Surgeon Rick leaned forward and placed his thumb over the record button, ready to turn it off again. "This guy's gonna die if you don't fix it soon. Do you wanna kill him because of your ego? Get over yourself and be prepared to let it go."

Rick was completely silent after the video had ended, the last words echoing through his head. He knew that his health was declining, but being hit with the suggestion that he was going to die was like a grounding reality; as much as he didn't want to be wrong, it was starting to make sense. He wasn't sure how to feel, and was only certain of one thing - he did not want to die while Morty still needed him.

"He really is a pain in the ass, isn't he?" A voice quietly spoke behind him. "He's just like an annoying kid-brother who doesn't know how to leave you alone."

Rick nearly jumped off his chair in surprise, but quickly caught himself. He froze solid in his posture, not knowing what else to do.

"Relax," Ricktus moved to stand beside him. "If I truly didn't want anybody to find my research and journals, I would have destroyed all traces of them long ago. Yeah, I know what you're thinking... they're incriminating as all hell, but I just can't bring myself to delete them." He let out a tense sigh. "I thought I could do anything. I was so naive."

Rick frowned up at him, not knowing what to say; he wasn't at all sorry for what he had done, only for being caught in the act.

"So, are you done yet?" Ricktus folded his scrawny arms across his chest. "How much more of my shit do you have to delve into before you've finally sated your curiosity? I don't know whether to feel violated or flattered that you're so interested in my work. You're doing all of this without my permission, but it's not like I can stop you." He scoffed. "You do what you want, right?"

Rick was quiet as he studied the doctor's face; he didn't seem unreasonably angry, which was surprising considering the circumstances. There was a whole string of queries he had, but found himself only asking the most outstanding one. "When did you get here?"

Ricktus actually had to smirk in amusement at the simplicity of such a question. "It's 9am, which means it's time for another fun-filled day at work. Have you been here all night?"

Rick nodded, seeing no reason to lie. "Y-yeah," he turned his gaze back towards the computer and closed the outstanding video file, even though there was little point in doing so now. "But I operate on a different timetable to you, so it's not like I'm sleep-deprived or anything."

"Well that much is good to hear, though I suggest getting your Morty into a sleeping routine at some point." The doctor moved away and stood over Surgeon Rick's workstation. "If you're going to sit there and keep prying into things that don't concern you, then you might as well make yourself useful and go over something else that has nothing to do with you." As he sifted through the junk in the top drawer, he angrily muttered to himself. "How can anyone work like this...?"

"Uh, sure?" Rick raised an eyebrow, finding it odd that he was still asking for his help despite the fact he had blatantly invaded his privacy. "What do you need?"

Ricktus removed a USB stick from his pants pocket and casually tossed it in Rick's direction. "The Council has had a specialist weapon commissioned on your suggestions. You're going to finalize the blueprints and tell me if they're any good or not."

Rick easily caught the small object and inserted it into his computer. "Well, that was fast... but what do you need me for? You don't trust your own guys to design decent shit for you?"

Ricktus made a soft, irritated sigh. "Do I have to spell everything out for you? I want your expert opinion and advice. You're the illegal arms dealer and the weapon designer, not me." He pulled the entire drawer out of Surgeon Rick's desk and set it down on top of it so he could more easily go through the contents. "If you want to build it in the electronics lab, be my guest."

"And what makes you think I wanna do that?" As Rick brought the blueprints up on screen, he immediately narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "Whoever made this didn't think about overheating... you're only going to get about five shots per minute out of this thing. Do the Korblocks in the dimension you're going to like to stand there and wait for their enemies to reload?"

"And there it is!" Ricktus suddenly declared, overly happy all of a sudden. "See? That's what I'm talking about, all that potential of yours can be useful if only directed properly. It's such a shame that you don't want to join the Citadel. All it took was one look at that blueprint and you're already seeing the flaws."

Rick snorted in disgust. "You say that when you don't even like the Council yourself."

"I have my reasons." Ricktus flatly told him. In another moment, his grumpy expression relaxed and his voice became much quieter and sincere. "How are you this morning? The assistant told me that you came back early, and that you're not feeling well. I am sorry to hear that." His gaze drifted towards the bandage on Rick's left hand, but he said nothing about it.

"I-I've had better days," Rick admitted with a small shrug. "But I'm OK."

"Is there any way I could convince you to let me extract another blood sample?" Ricktus stopped what he was doing with the open drawer and looked at him expectantly. "I'm still aiming to fix you fairly soon."

Rick shifted about in his chair to work his arms out of the sleeves of his lab coat while remaining seated. "Well, that's a dumb question... isn't that the reason you wanted me to come back in the first place?"

Ricktus nodded, seeming genuinely pleased. "I do believe that is actually the first time I've been able to get you to cooperate." He gathered up the supplies he needed, and then stood over the other to roll up his sleeve and begin working.

"Second." Rick grunted unkindly, then did his best to keep himself distracted with the blueprint designs while another batch of blood was drawn. "So what do you want me to do with this mess? Do you want me to... uh, redesign it, o-or just keep on telling you how shit it is?"

"Whatever it takes." Ricktus replied simply.

"In all honesty, i-it's not too bad, I guess... it could use a few design tweaks here and there, but... ugh, whatever. I guess I can do that once you give me my other arm back." Rick made a point of glaring at him. "So, random question for you."

"Hmm?" The doctor raised an eyebrow, but did not take his eyes off the job.

"The bees," Rick paused almost as immediately as he had begun, then scowled and went on with his question anyway. "How much of our intelligence do they really have?"

Ricktus said nothing initially and merely continued on with the task of collecting blood. Then, he flattened his brow and his voice became quiet and cold. "Just when I thought you were becoming agreeable, you go ahead and ruin it."

"It's a serious question." Rick stated bluntly. "Is it a little or a lot? Are they smart enough to formulate their own plans? Is that why they took over the ship? Have they worked out who created them, and are they going to revolt against you?"

"I very much doubt that." Ricktus replied. "All you need to know is that they're smart enough only where it counts." After finishing up with the job, he removed the needle from Rick's arm and clamped two gloved fingers down over the bleeding site.

"Smart enough to make their brainwaves traceable?" Rick challenged him. "If one of them doesn't have much intelligence on its own, surely hundreds of them would add up?" He paused in thought. "Or should I say thousands? Just how many of them are there, anyway? They must be really easy to track down as a collective, huh?"

"Fuck..." Ricktus suddenly swallowed a hard lump in his throat. "FUCK!"

"Oh, you didn't even think of that? What the hell is wrong with you?!" Rick growled back at him. "For a Rick, you don't seem very attentive or knowledgeable. I mean, you're a frickin' doctor and you're still making stupid guesses about what's wrong with me!"

"I could say the same about you!" Ricktus sharply retorted. "Put your thumb over this..." He huffily moved off to his own workstation and removed a small device from the top drawer. "For all our sakes, I hope you are wrong."

Rick did as he was instructed and watched him go, making careful note of the other Rick's walking gait. For somebody who had lost both of his legs, he was carrying himself surprisingly well. If he hadn't known any better, he wouldn't have noticed any differences at all. "What's that?"

"Council-developed technology," Ricktus muttered in reply. "Detects Rick brainwaves." After turning it on, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Well, it's not as bad as I thought, but... it's still picking up the equivalent of eight of us. Holy shit..." He sank into his chair.

"Does it even matter? Because it seems to me like the worst has already happened to this place." Rick swiveled around in his chair to face him. "If you're in danger, then why don't you just abandon ship and leave?"

"You... y-you don't understand..." Ricktus set his face in his hands and just sat there in an effort to contain himself.

"Actually," Rick carefully rolled his sleeve down again. "I think I do. You wanna succeed, and it's a huge blow to your ego when you fuck up, I-I totally get that. But even you've said so yourself, it's a lost cause. Unless..." He glared hard at him. "You've cloned my Morty, haven't you?"

"I can see why you would reach that conclusion, but... no." The reply was quiet and distracted. "I haven't been able to get anywhere near that place since coming back, the atmosphere has changed far too much. Carbon-dioxide concentration in that area of the ship is higher than 10%, and that's not even accounting for the other deadly gases. There's no safe way of getting in there, and they... well, they won't let me."

"They?" Rick raised an eyebrow. "Your own genetic creations?"

Ricktus nodded silently.

"Phh... so much for loyalty." Rick muttered as he scooped Morty up in his arms and got to his feet. "As much as I'd love to continue this conversation, this kid stinks. And unless you wanna do something about it and get some hands-on experience, I guess I'm stuck with it."

The scientist slipped out of the room, leaving his dimensional counterpart to wallow in his own misery. After reaching his personal quarters, he headed straight into the bathroom to give both himself and his grandson a much-needed shower. Although Morty chose to have a squealing tantrum throughout the whole affair, it was over and done with again within ten minutes.

By the time Rick had finished up and headed back towards the terminal hub, he could hear what sounded like a highly charged discussion echoing down the corridors.

"You goddamned idiot! How could you let this happen!?"

"I-it was an accident! You think I planned for this?! Ow ow ow, fuck! Stop it!"

"You goddamned moron, this is the worst possible timing!"

"Holy shit, I'm sorry, OK?!"

"I can't use you at all like this!"

"Oh god, it hurts! Stop DOING THAT!"

Rick hastened his pace at the declaration of pain; it sounded like the other two Ricks were involved in yet another heated argument or worse. "What are you two idiots going on about now? Don't you know how pointless it is to fight each other?!" However, as soon as he arrived in the doorway, he was met with the sight of Ricktus standing over his assistant, who was reclining in the computer chair at his workstation and had his right foot resting up on the table for examination.

"Stop moving around and let me look at it!" Ricktus grumpily demanded. "You think I want to hurt you?" He paused for a moment to prod the sides of Surgeon Rick's ankle with his index-and-middle fingers. "Does this hurt?"

Surgeon Rick's immediate reaction was a loud cry of protest. "OW, FUCK! O-of course it does!"

"Stay close, buddy." Rick firmly told Morty as he set him down on the ground beside him, then promptly moved the rest of the distance across the room to the other two Ricks. "What the hell happened?"

"I-I got careless..." Surgeon Rick closed his eyes and panted slightly as he fought through the pain. "Was supposed to be just another normal pickup, b-but..."

"You can tell us about it later." Ricktus frowned heavily. "What I need you to do right now is focus. Can you wiggle your toes for me? Do you think you could manage that?"

Surgeon Rick complied with the request, but it hurt so much that he had to clench his teeth.

"You think it's broken?" Rick wondered.

"No, that would be too easy..." Ricktus shook his head in thoughtful disagreement. "You've really only just met, so you can be forgiven for not knowing that C-711 has a tendency to whine like this." He placed a hand on his assistant's shoulder. "You're nothing but a big baby, you know. I'm going to take you down to the medi-bay for x-rays as a precaution."

"I don't whine..." Surgeon Rick grumbled. "Fuck you!"

Ricktus made a soft noise of mock-disappointment. "Hey, come on. You can do so much better than that." He moved to stand beside the surgeon's chair, then carefully supported his left arm around his shoulders as he hauled him to his feet. "You really couldn't have picked a more inopportune time to do this, you know. I kind of needed you in optimal form for the next live retrieval."

"Sucks to be you, doesn't it...?" Surgeon Rick grimaced in pain as he was forced to stand, and heavily leaned against the doctor. He attempted to place weight on his injured foot, then quickly decided it was a bad idea. "Ow, s-shit..."

"It actually does, because I can't do it alone. It's already going to be dangerous enough, and that Rick we're going to bust out is already in a bad way. If we leave him much longer, he's going to die." Ricktus hummed in thought. After another moment, his eyes widened as a positively crazy idea came to mind, and then he locked his gaze on Rick. "Hey, B-526... you want a job?"

"N-no, you can't be serious, boss... he's sick!" Surgeon Rick protested. "T-that's gotta be one of your worst ideas yet. Running around in high-risk situations is like, the LAST thing he should be doing!"

Ricktus ignored him, a wide, arrogant grin coming over his face. "He's already knowledgeable on how to kill Korblocks and how to effectively use the gun that the Council commissioned to do the job. Yes, it could work... it could totally work." He watched Rick hopefully. "What do you say?"

Rick glanced at Ricktus, then back at Surgeon Rick; it was completely impossible to tell who was thinking more clearly. When he realized that both of them were watching him expectantly and waiting for an answer, he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "What do you want me to do?"

Surgeon Rick gave him a harsh glare. "Don't do it, bro..." He turned his glare onto his boss. "You're both goddamned, irresponsible jerks!"