Author's note:

And now for something a little different, since I've been struggling a bit with the Todano chapter(s). What was supposed to be but a small interlude focusing on other characters has grown into a full chapter in its own right, and I thought it would be a shame not to include it after all the effort put in to make it work. Rest assured, the next proper chapter is in the works and should be out on schedule. But until then, I hope this interlude will suffice.

I'm always trying to improve as a writer, so please read and review. Constructive criticism is welcome, flamers are not.

If you enjoy this story, please feel free to check out the other stories on my account should you wish.

- RevenantReaper337

Disclaimer:

Ratchet & Clank, associated characters, organisations, and intellectual properties belong to Insomniac Games. All other real world organisations and products belong to their respective governments, companies, etc. Original characters, creatures, weapons, etc. belong to me. Cover art belongs to Nekolover3 and is used with her kind permission.

'Thoughts'

Flashbacks

"Speech"

Chapter 25:

Interference

Galactic Communications Relay Station, Xhilius XII

Bogon Galaxy

G2.17.083 Galactic calendar

12:23pm local time

Far away from where a certain trio were planning their next move, in a different star cluster altogether, lay the relatively tiny planet and mostly ignored planet of Xhilius XII. Discovered a few centuries back and cited for future exploitation, this luscious world had yet to be touched by Megacorp's manufacturing and mining division due to abundant resources already being surveyed elsewhere in less isolated locales; much closer to regular shipping lanes and guaranteeing a quick, easy profit to boot. That didn't mean that the company hadn't already begun to stake their claim however, with the planet becoming home to yet another of Megacorp's galactic communications relay stations as part of the first wave for future mining development; much in the same manner as had happened to Tabora some thirty years previously.

For now though Xhilius XII was quite a sight to behold; resembling an African savannah for the most part with its grassy plains, sparse trees dotted throughout, and a climate to match. The only real major landmarks around on the fairly small planet were in fact a sprawling mountain range towards the centre of the solitary continent that could be seen for miles around, and a massive landlocked lake at its base on the south side that easily covered a good ten square miles; acting as a large scale watering hole for the numerous wildlife that called this place home. Taking a sip from his mug of coffee as he leaned on the gantry railing some three storeys up the relay's primary mast, a burly-looking novalian man found himself gazing out across the beautiful landscape with its oddly amber-hued sky and honestly hoping that it would never come to pass.

Clad in a bright orange jumpsuit, thickly insulated boots, matching gloves, and a white hard hat emblazoned with the Megacorp logo to top it off, it was perhaps obvious to any who saw him that Jim Bowman was an on site technician; one of two who had been assigned to this station for a six month rotational shift before the next pair would come to relieve them both. In spite of being stuck away from home and family for so long however, Jim actually liked his posting here; the isolated splendour and abundant wildlife simply going about their lives outside of the enclosed compound providing a welcome distraction from the often times boring monotony of his daily routine.

Oftentimes he had regaled what he had seen on the weekly calls to wife and son on Boldan; little Alex drinking it all in with that boundless excitable energy that all four year olds seem to possess and begging not for the first time for his daddy to bring home one of the cool animals like the ones on the Nature Channel that he watched obsessively. Cassandra on the other hand made sure to remind him of exactly what he was missing while stuck out in the middle of nowhere, and the... catching up they would have to do once he got back; giving Jim fitful nights and making him wish for the umpteenth time that resident technicians were allowed to at least have their spouses visit every so often.

Unfortunately, the only personnel allowed on site right now were himself and the other technician, Phil, plus a multitude of robotic workers, drones and automated security necessary for giving an isolated outpost safe from any raiders stupid enough to try anything. The only exceptions to the rule were the supply shuttles launched from passing freighters every two months, and of course the one designated for bringing the next shift once the six months had elapsed; which was why the senior technician was puzzled by the silhouette of an approaching vessel coming in from the east with the sun at its back. The blocky shape was familiar in a way, but it was still three weeks before the extraction shuttle was due, and he was pretty sure neither Phil or himself had requested any additional parts, supplies, or otherwise anytime recently.

Shielding his eyes with one hand as he squinted against the sun, Jim kept an eye on the rapidly growing shape of the closing ship while thumbing his earpiece with the other; the device already synced to his company issued Wrist Com and the number of his solitary colleague on this rock in particular. "Phil, you there?"

"Hang on a sec, I'm just finishing up on the capacitors for generator three," came the reply a moment later; the sound of grunting followed by an industrial sounding turbine powering up in the background. "There we go! Damn thing blew another fuse again, and you know who's budget that comes out of. Anyway, what's up?"

"Are we expecting any visitors this week?" the novalian man replied while absently scratching at his neatly trimmed goatee; an involuntary habit he had picked up during his college years when faced with an impending deadline.

"Not that I know of," Phil responded hesitantly after a few seconds contemplation. "Why, what's going on up there?"

Jim swallowed nervously as the ship finally got close enough to see clearly; eyes widening as he realised that the flying brick-like, dusty brown vessel with its ventral cannon and sloping wings adorned with multiple missile launchers looked more like a flying tank than one of Megacorp's fleet of streamlined shuttles. "I think we're being raided..."

"What?! Are you serious?!"

The burly novalian was already moving with a sense of speed that belied his size before the other technician had even finished speaking; grabbing hold of a nearby ladder and sliding all the way down to the bottom before bolting inside a nearby doorway and sealing the hatch behind him. "Well they sure as hell aren't tourists with that kind of firepower, and I don't intend to stick around to find out."

Jim paused briefly to take a sharp left in the corridor he was pounding along, the route long remembered from countless emergency drills and leading to perhaps the one safest place in the whole facility once he reached the elevator. "Drop whatever you're doing and get to the panic room. Once you're there, fire up the turrets and security bots; see if we can't drive these guys off."

"I hear ya, buddy," Phil shot back; his breathing audibly short from taking the stairs from the lower levels two at a time. "Be there in five."

The connection soon cut off just as Jim reached the elevator; the novalian slipping inside once the doors finally opened and thumbing the button for the combined control centre and panic room located three floors below ground. Once there, both Phil and he would have not just the ability to verbally warn off whoever the hell was approaching via radio but also have a veritable arsenal at their fingertips; flak cannons, anti-ship missile silos, point defence lasers, and enough security robots in storage to make any would make any attacker think twice before trying anything stupid. With so much firepower soon to be on display, Jim felt confident that whoever was on approach would bug the hell out without a single shot needing to be fired if the pilot had any sense.

After all, what kind of nutjobs would want to wade through all that just for some tiny relay station?

{()}

"Damn it Harding, are you trying to get us killed?!" Angela yelled over the sound of blaring alarms within the cramped, two seat cockpit; fingers embedded within the headrest of her clearly insane pilot's seat with a vice-like grip as another missile narrowly streaked by the canopy with inches to spare. "I could have talked our way in, but no; you just had to open your mouth!"

"Not my fault they made us a couple of klicks out and decided to chuck a wobbly," Cash replied with a shrug; jerking the craft's nose down below the distinctly crimson beam lancing from a point defence laser battery that scored a line across its hull and responding in kind with the ventral chain gun. "Besides, that bloody galah called me a bushranger. Me, the best bloody merc this side of Bogon, a bushranger! Course I had to say something!"

And to think the day had started so well too.

Though she had broken ties with Megacorp after absconding with the Protopet, Angela still had her sources on the inside and backdoors to company databases that she had discretely exploited in an effort to stay ahead of her pursuers. Now that she was exposed however and tentatively working with allies however, the good doctor intended to put those assets to a much more productive use; grabbing any kind of information on the Protopet she could and using it to take the fight back to her former employers. The best source for that of course would be Megacorp headquarters itself; but since storming the gates of the most heavily fortified compound in the entire galaxy would be suicide at best right now, the lombax instead opted for a much softer target.

Megacorp's real-time galactic communications network relied heavily on several 'booster' stations dotted around on numerous key planets or in orbit to help take the strain; relaying countless Exobytes worth of data per second to distant star clusters without lag and making interplanetary phone calls a reality regardless of where someone lived. It just so happened that a newly established outpost had been setup on the isolated planet of Xhilius XII several months ago, and its distant location from any Megacorp miltary assets plus the potential for gaining access to otherwise secure datastreams made it an obvious target for information gathering on the Protopet and its current location.

It was for this reason that Angela had gotten her hired merc to take them there with his own ugly, but practical, brick of a ship; having long since stowed her own elsewhere for safekeeping. The journey itself had been rapid, and they were well into the atmosphere on approach to the surface compound before being hailed by one of clearly jumpy on site technicians; demanding to know who the hell they were and issuing the expected warnings as to the use of deadly force if they didn't answer right now. She was just about to spin their agreed upon cover story of being lost contractors looking for a place to refuel when Cash decided to vocalise his opinion of being mistaken for pirates or raiders with some very strong words; tensions escalating during the following exchange until somebody on the other side decided to activate the station's automated defences with inevitable results.

Which of course led to the current situation of playing missile quartet while trying to avoid being shredded apart by the multitude of turrets that had sprung from concealed silos within the compound; Cash jinking hard to evade another burst of flak and saturating the offending emplacement with a salvo of rockets before veering off again. So far they had been ridiculously lucky, due in part to the fact that the station's defences were more geared towards larger threats operating in orbit rather than a single craft up close, and that had allowed the merc to pick off a fair number of the turrets without being hit. But that kind of luck wouldn't last forever, and it was all the rogue lombax geneticist could do to hold on for grim death as they drunkenly inverted into a roll on the spot to avoid a piercing laser beam that would have gutted them entirely before rapidly diving once more below a missile streaking overhead.

"Missile!"

"I see it."

"MISSILE!"

"Yeah, yeah, I see it."

Perhaps knowing this, or otherwise having had enough dancing around the distinctly unfriendly skies for one day, Cash took them in at a steep angle that had them rapidly accelerating towards what he judged to be the main structure's entrance; ignoring the sharp intake of breath and accompanying fearful squeak from his employer in back. Truth be told, he had anticipated having to fight their way in from the very start regardless of what the lombax thought and had prepared accordingly; a flipped switch opening the recessed bay beneath his ship's belly and allowing its solitary occupant to descend into launch position.

The PB-30 'Gate Crasher' was a Vox Industries manufactured smart bomb that was extremely popular with pirates and mercenary groups alike; designed to punch a hole through heavily fortified structures or vessels and create a breach for troops to storm through without damaging the contents inside. The only problem was that it required sufficient velocity and distance in order to 'warm up' the warhead upon launch, which didn't exactly give the cazar much room to manoeuvre as they approached the presumed main entrance at high speed with anti-air fire whistling by the fuselage scant inches away; waiting until the last moment before thumbing the release button and yanking back on the stick.

As it was, the bulky vessel barely made it into a vertical climb without pancaking the relay tower itself; taking off most of the underside paint and a standing balcony in the process as Cash inverted into a loop that gave his already paling passenger a good view of what came next. Striking the intended target head on, the Gate Crasher more than lived up to its name considering the now nigh twenty foot square hole blown through what had to be a good twelve inches of battleship grade armour; easily big enough to fly a small ship through if you didn't mind risking the wings being trimmed off. Which Cash apparently didn't, judging by the fact that he hadn't slowed down one iota after completing his loop and continued back towards the breach at speed; anti-air fire following in their wake and coming dangerously close to scoring a lethal hit as throttled up once more.

"Might want to hold on to something back there; it's gonna be tight."

Angela's death grip tightened if at all possible at the cazar's casual declaration; eyes glued on the gaping hole in the facility wall coming up fast and heart lodged firmly in her throat. The defence turrets were thankfully no longer able to get a bead due to their extremely low altitude, but that didn't make things any easier for the blocky and inelegant vessel as it scraped through with the loss of a few inches off one wingtip; forward momentum sending it screeching across the spacious interior floor within on hastily deployed landing gear with sparks flying in their wake. Thankfully the surface friction, along with twin air brakes and an emergency drogue chute, managed to just about slow Cash's flying brick of a ship down enough so that it didn't pancake the hanger's far side in a fiery explosion; instead gliding to a halt with its blocky nose merely bumping against sheet metal lined wall with a slight reverberating echo.

For a moment the ship merely sat there with steam venting from overtaxed engines, not showing any signs of life until the long, tinted canopy smoothly opened to reveal the two very contrasting occupants. Had it not been for the gloves she was wearing, Angela's claw-tipped fingers would likely have torn apart the pilot's seat headrest from how tightly she had been gripping it in fear for her life. As it was, it took all her willpower to simply let go; deep indentations clearly visible on the solid and normally impermeable material as she leaned back in the cockpit's rear seat while releasing a shuddering breath.

Cash on the other hand was entirely nonplussed as he shut down the engines and unbuckled his harness; throwing a grin over his shoulder towards where the cockpit's other occupant still sat motionless. "See? Told you I'd get us here; old girl hasn't let me down yet!" One of Angela's eyes twitched in response, but the Aussie-accented merc appeared oblivious to her rising anger as he hauled himself out of the pilot's seat and dropped over the side; landing in a slight crouch on the riveted metal surface below and fondly patting his battle-scarred ship's fuselage before raising an inquisitive brow at his employer. "You alright, Doc? Looking kind of pale there."

With fur bristling and a rising growl in her throat, Angela proceeded to tell one Cash Harding precisely what she felt about his little stunt and blase attitude in words that are far too vulgar to describe here. Suffice to say however that the lombax found venting on the subject of her ire to be a suitable outlet for her pent up frustration and fear; the cazar simply standing there with a stoic visage and arched brow until she finally ran out of steam. "Feel better?"

The previously raging lombax scientist exhaled deeply before nodding slightly. "A little bit. Maybe," she grudgingly admitted. "But if you ever try to pull something like that again-"

"Company," the bleach-furred merc interrupted as he drew the archaic-looking quad-barrelled shotgun holstered at his side; pointing it one-handed at the set of blast doors opening on the hanger space's adjacent wall just as a multitude of Megacorp Security Robots along with accompanying drones swarmed out to greet them.

Snapping up her own weapon, Angela felt the surge of anger resurface as she sighted her heavy pistol on the closest machine and pulled the trigger in quick succession; the report quickly being drowned out by the roar of superheated buckshot from Cash's Roadwarrior as he blasted away another. Tempting though it might have been to do more than give Harding a piece of her mind, the lombax knew that such a gesture would be detrimental to her survival and that she needed him to protect against what lay ahead. These damned security robots on the other hand were more than fair game, and so it was with a particularly vindictive grin that the good doctor partook in a much more productive form of stress relief; firing away in tandem and gradually beginning to turn the tide as the pair advanced towards their point of origin.

Much like the pair of commandos they were tentatively allied with, both Angela and Cash had their own distinctive combat styles which complemented one another; playing off each other's strengths and creating a synergy of their own. Considering his distinct choice in weaponry and prior clash with Ratchet back on Siberius, the cazar merc was more inclined towards close combat; pulling his Bushwhacker from its over-shoulder sheath and slicing cleanly through the leg of an MSR in one fell swoop as he ran past, before spinning on one heel and unloading his shotgun into another attempting to bisect him from behind.

Unlike the lombax however, Cash preferred to mix things up with both weapons at once in a chaotic melee such as this; seamlessly blending the honed edge of his machete and lethal potency of the compact scatter gun up close into a unchoreographed dance of buckshot and blade craft. Certainly the Megacorp issued security robots didn't seem to be able to keep up or even target the merc for more than a few seconds as he parried away a chainsaw arm before slicing away its hydraulic lines with an underarm swing; diving away as the MSR was consumed in flames shortly thereafter by one of its pyro-inclined fellows and emptying the last of his Roadwarrior's four barrels into the offending machine.

Though less mobile now without the jet glider she had employed as part of her masked thief persona, Angela had adapted rapidly to ground combat in a more supporting role; the heavy pistol she had kept serving more as a back up weapon for taking potshots at the approaching hoard and keeping them at bay. Her main focus and combat capability however came from the contents of a recently acquired Quick Select hanging from her belt and the seemingly inherent lombax ability to fix or modify nigh anything; the rogue scientist pulling out a faintly pulsating silvery disc before flinging it much like a discus towards the vanguard of bladeballs that had swarmed ahead of the rest.

The resulting airburst a few seconds later as it detonated over the group generated a miniature, localised EMP pulse that instantly fried the drones and left them lifeless husks; permanently shutting down any active electronics within a ten foot blast radius while leaving everything else intact. Of course that hadn't been all she had come up with after being exposed as the masked thief. Other than the same thermal grenades plus the launcher she'd used on Siberius, Angela had also concocted some particularly nasty compounds for use in a variety of thrown explosives and mines that were now seeing widespread use in their push forward.

One such orb dispensed a fine mist of particles as it arced through the air over a cluster of machines that were bearing down on the lombax; promptly igniting into a veritable firestorm that melted through plate armour like butter and allowed Cash to shatter what was left with a wide spread of buckshot from his recently reloaded shotgun. They continued to fight in this fashion as the surge of mechanised security pouring into the hanger space began to dry up; Angela continuing to spam groups with elemental and tech grenades from a healthy distance, while her hired gun stuck to close quarters and took down any stragglers that got to close to his client. With a final gunshot snapping back the helm of a chainsaw MSR, it was all over; Angela gingerly lowering her thoroughly overheated pistol as she realised there were no more foes left to assail them and glancing over to where Cash was currently busy trying to extract his machete from another machine's hide.

"Nice work there, Doc," the merc acknowledged with a tip of his hat; leveraging himself against the inert robot's side with a grunt of effort before finally pulling his beloved blade free. "Reckon you were wasted in genetics. With those beauts, Megacorp should've had you in weapons division instead."

"Not much of a difference either way," Angela replied with a light shrug and slight smile tugging at her lips; feeling a faint warmth at his compliment in spite of still being a little mad over the cazar's earlier stunt and holding up the silvery orb still clutched in her off hand for inspection. "Besides, these are just basic chemistry in a can; something that took five minutes to whip up in the lab."

"Well I hope you've got more, because I reckon we'll need 'em," Cash shot back with a trace of his oftentimes vulpine grin; taking the opportunity to slot a fresh Nanoclip into each of his break-action shotgun's four barrels before snapping them shut once more "Well Doc, ready to get going?"

"As I'll ever be," the rogue lombax geneticist responded with a sigh; taking the opportunity to replace her pistol's spent clip with a fresh one as they picked their way through their robotic attackers scattered parts and shattered remains. "Let's just get this over with."

Cautiously, they proceeded through the blast doors at the far end of the hanger before whoever was in charge of security decided to lock them down; turning right into a narrow corridor and advancing with weapons raised and ready. Now it was just a case of finding where the main control room and data storage for the relay station was located before whatever personnel were on site decided to purge it all, otherwise this whole mission was a bust. Angela just hoped they weren't too late.

{()}

"Well, shit... What do we do now?"

Jim didn't bother to add to his fellow technician's assessment as they watched the resulting robot massacre over the control room's wall-mounted monitors; security feeds showing both intruders carving a trail of destruction that was gradually making its way towards where both were currently holed up. Everything had been done by the book since he had first spotted the incoming ship and guessed at their intent; the facility locked down, warnings broadcast over an open frequency, and automated turrets deployed just in case. It was all going well too until the weirdly-accented pilot took offence to Phil suggesting they could be pirates or raider and promptly told them where to go.

It wasn't clear who fired first, but in the end it didn't really matter. That flying brick of a ship had somehow managed to not only evade nigh all of the air defences combined firepower but knock out several turrets too, right before blowing a big ass hole in the surface vehicle bay door and flying inside a space designed to house only a few utility vehicles at high speed. And now those pair of rampaging lunatics were loose in the facility despite having every damn security robot left on site choking the corridors; shooting up everything in sight while getting closer by the minute to where Jim and Phil were currently holed up.

Protocol dictated the use of the station's self-destruct feature and nearby panic room as a last resort in the event of being overwhelmed by an outside force; the latter option being proofed up to a one megaton bomb and packing enough emergency supplies to support them both for a good year or so until relief forces turned up to drive off the enemy The former however was a final option that took time to prepare; something they were both lacking in right now, but guaranteed to prevent the intruders from getting their hands on any sensitive data or taking control of the relay network while the crew escaped to orbit via shuttle.

Jim didn't know who these invaders were, but considering how violently they were mowing through what little was left of the security robots on site, he had no intention of finding out. Thus it was with a weary sigh that the novalian made his decision; ignoring the MSR squad being blown away on screen with a weary sigh and turning towards his colleague. "Phil, you did manage to get that distress signal off, right?"

The other technician bobbed his head in nervousness, eyes still straying back and forth between the monitors while flipping between security feeds. "First thing I did once I got here, right after those crazies hit us; twenty-six channel spread. Hell, folks in the next star system'll hear it, even if the company doesn't first."

"That's what I thought..." Jim nodded to himself with a sigh at the expected answer, removing his helmet and running a hand through his short stubble of black hair. "Alright, we've done everything we can and it's still not enough. Bring up the Omega protocol and let's get the hell out of here before those two decide to add us to their hit list."

"Damn straight," Phil countered as he began to rapidly tap away at his keyboard with one eye straying to the windowed camera footage of the intruders streaming above; realising that it was in fact only three corridors away and endeavouring to work faster still.

Twin passwords, retinal scans, and encrypted key card entries on both technicians part later yielded the necessary screen, which soon spread itself across a good portion of the monitors along with a single flashing prompt. Ensuring that the data storage drives were well on their way to being wiped, Phil exhaled deeply before stabbing down on the return key with a sense of finality; executing the Omega protocol and bringing up a countdown on every monitor in bright red numerals just as something heavy slammed into the armoured control room door from the other side, followed by muffled voices and an acidic substance beginning to hiss along the seams.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, both employees quickly made their way to the panic room located on the far side and sealed it shut; quickly crossing over to where a pair of escape pods lay ready with their hatches already open and clambering inside, before punching the solitary red launch button on the console within once their respective capsules were sealed. The sudden force from five gees of acceleration pinned both Megacorp technicians back into their seats as they launched vertically out of the soon to be doomed relay station, quickly leaving the facility behind and punching through the atmosphere into space.

Once they had settled in orbit however, and his stomach too from the subsequent deceleration, Jim couldn't help but sigh as he looked down on the beautiful world that had been a temporary home to both Phil and himself these last several months; wondering not for the first time if he'd done the right thing. Sure, Protocols had been followed and all measures at his disposal had been used to try and repel the intruders, but communications relay stations were irreplaceable, not to mention expensive. What if the company found him at fault? Losing this job was the last thing he needed right now, especially since it would ruin any future career prospects with any Megacorp affiliated subsidies in Bogon, and what few independents were left dwindling.

The only silver lining here was that he might be able to see his wife and son a lot sooner than anticipated, and it was that which Jim focused upon as he settled in for the long wait until help arrived; closing his eyes leaning back in his thickly padded seat. "Still, could be worse," he mused. "At least we're not stuck down there with those whack jobs."

{()}

The MSR I series security robot staggered backwards with a ragged, basketball-sized hole through its torso; still dripping molten metal even as it shuddered and collapsed. Lowering the still smoking, compact grenade launcher in her hands, Angela automatically set about loading another thermite bomb into its maw while striding past the twitching corpse with a scowl etched on her face; ignoring the mangled mess of machine parts strewn across the corridor behind her and rejoining the still jovial Cash as he yanked his machete free from another's metallic hide. Thankfully that last rush had been all that remained between them and the control room for this place, but the lombax had quite frankly seen enough killer robots to last a lifetime and was just about ready to throttle whoever was sending the damn things after their way with her bare hands the second she laid eyes upon them.

Seriously, the sheer amount of automated security measures in this place was ridiculous; way more than an out of the way relay station should have had. Was it because they were protecting something more important, or was it simply karmic retribution coming back to bite her in the ass? Having previously sicced any number of them loose on those two commandos and their robot friend, it was something of a poetic irony that the former masked thief would find herself having to weather an onslaught of the very same types of machine that had previously protected her own interests. Almost funny in it's own twisted kind of way, were it not for the fact she was knee deep in the middle of it all, with only a cazar merc of questionable sanity for company.

As if to highlight her line of thought, Cash decided to rush the solitary Megacorp trooper bot that lay between them and the sealed bulkhead ahead with his antiquated shotgun in hand; ducking and rolling beneath twin torrents of plasma fire as a thrown pulse mine flew overhead and blasting it in the chest at point blank range a heartbeat after its systems had been thoroughly scrambled. Sheer concussive force sent the body flying backwards, slamming into the reinforced door with a resounding crash of metal on metal before finally stilling; giving the quasi-Aussie a chance to push buck up to his feet and check for any more unpleasant surprises before finally deigning to relax.

"Reckon we'll have trouble getting through this door, Doc," Cash opinioned as he rapped on the thick plating with his off hand. "Dunno if I've got anything that'll bust through without taking out everything inside too."

And that certainly wouldn't do, especially since the entire point of this mission lay on the other side and the risk of collateral damage ruled out the necessary kind of explosive charge needed to breach the door. Thankfully however, Angela just so happened to have an ad hoc solution to their problem, and with a little bit of guesswork along with some cannibalised corrosive grenades from her small arsenal of exotic explosives, the lombax and cazar managed to coat the where the perceived locking points were located with a highly concentrated acid that quickly began to eat through the plated metal. Long seconds passed and the wait was agonisingly slow, but around half a minute later something inside began to give with a tortured groan; a final shunt from Cash overbalancing the armoured bulkhead enough for it to slowly keel over and crash down into the room inside with a resounding thud.

Both burst into the room a heartbeat later with weapons drawn and ready, shifting over the interior in search of any movement only to find the control room already abandoned and its presumed occupants long gone. Letting out a frustrated growl at not being able to give the on site technicians a piece of her mind for what they'd had to wade through just to get here, Angela's vengeful line of thought trailed off upon catching sight of the bright red digital countdown being displayed upon the wall mounted monitors; the purpose of which was easily understood regardless of species or language barrier. Eyes widening and heart racing, the lombax geneticist took over the vacated work station's seat and began to tap away at the keyboard at a blistering pace; her movements becoming more frantic by second. "No, no, no, not now! Not after all that!"

"what's wrong?" Cash asked as he paced back across the room from where he had been checking for anything useful; absently rubbing the shoulder he had used to barge the door down with his other hand as he gestured towards the nearest screen. "Apart from the blokes working here going troppo and trying to blow us up, that is."

"The damn hard drives are being flushed, all of it! Even the digital back ups!" Angela snarled in angered frustration. "All I can do is slow it down, and even that's not enough."

The quasi-Australian merc nodded to himself while casting a wary eye towards the onscreen countdown, noting the dwindling figures slow down somewhat compared to before, but otherwise still continuing to drop towards zero in spite of his employer's best efforts. "Better grab what you can then, while there's still time. The ship's still three floors up and it'll take a while to get topside again, especially if the elevators're locked down like I reckon they'll be."

Suffice to say neither particularly wanted to be stuck in the stations bowels when the self-destruct sequence finally finished, and Angela did her damnedest to salvage what she could; checking through whatever files weren't already shredded into a garbled mess and setting her Wrist Com to copy anything left that was still readable. It was as she clicked away from one irrelevant folder and onto another however that the rogue lombax finally hit pay dirt in the form of several inter-company call logs that had been secreted away amongst the quarterly accounting reports; the contents of which, along with a few attached video files, provided exactly the kind of information she both sought and dreaded with equal measure.

"Bloody hell Doc, you weren't kidding," Cash swore as he skimmed through the same data feed from over her shoulder. "If that furball of yours is as dangerous as you say, then with these numbers..."

"It's only a matter of time before they overrun the whole galaxy," Angela finished grimly; a look that deepened upon continuing to read. "And it looks like Megacorp's already- That can't be right."

"What's not right?"

"The distribution centre... It's being protected by Thugs-4-Less..." the lombax trailed off in disbelief. "Someone in upper management offered them an indefinite contract, and gave them the location of my hot lab as a sweetener! What the hell kind of mercs are they? They're supposed to be protecting me from Megacorp, not the other way round!"

Cash merely shook his head. "Worry about that later. Right now we need to get out of here, before the whole bloody place goes up."

Angela knew he was right; time was short and she was exceptionally lucky to salvage what she did before the rest of the hard drives were wiped entirely. It would have to do for now, and maybe she could better analyse what she had gotten hold of later on. But with the self-destruct sequence indicating just under three minutes to reach the minimal safe distance, getting back to the ship in time was going to be a very close run thing.

The trail of mangled machine parts did make retracing their route a whole lot easier, even with Angela accidentally tripping over several piles in her haste and the occasional drone straggler that they had somehow missed the first time around. But with the clock ticking and the elevators locked down as part of the self-destruct protocol as Cash predicted, the more circuitous route up three flights of stairs left less than a minute to go by the time they finally reached the vehicle bay hanger where they had crash landed. Getting the ship started and reversing course out through the hole by which they had originally entered left scant seconds to go; meaning that the cazar merc's angular vessel had only made it around five-hundred feet away when the countdown finally reached zero and a massive explosion engulfed the facility entirely, along with the surrounding ten square miles.

The resulting pressure wave dwarfed the fleeing ship and almost knocked it out of the air as it accelerated upwards; Angela holding on to her harness for dear life while Cash fought control all the while. It was only when the bone juddering force shaking the cockpit finally subsided a minute or so later and they were already making for orbit that either occupant felt like they could finally relax; the hardy vessel taking some moderate damage but otherwise remaining spaceworthy enough to make for their next destination. But before that though, the former thief needed to make a call to her tentative allies operating elsewhere in the galaxy and let them know what Harding and herself had found. Connecting into the next nearest relay beacon from the one that had just gone up spectacularly with her Wrist Com, Angela could only hope as her call was answered that those well meaning, naive idiots hadn't gone and done something else to jeopardise the whole galaxy.

"This is Angela Cross, calling Ratchet, on secure band seven-echo-foxtrot..."

So there you have it; Angela and Cash get their own share of screen time, and rightfully so considering how little one of only three confirmed lombaxes left remaining in the R & C universe gets in canon. As you may have already guessed by the last several words, this entire chapter takes place just before and during the Todano level; right up until the cut scene where Angela contacts Ratchet directly. The way I see it, she had get her information on Megacorp from somewhere in game, and this is my interpretation of sorts as to how it could have potentially happened 'off screen'.

Review replies:

OMNISENSE95 - Thanks, and you're probably not far off. Ellen's patience can only go so far, after all.

lkdog - Though we've already corresponded back and forth via PM, I'd just like to say good luck on your RWBY story once again. Here's hoping it's a success.

Firestar5277 - Thanks again, I'm glad you liked it! The area effect Nanotech thing was just something I came up with on the fly to explain how the drones could repair stuff. Our heroes are definitely getting more suspicious of Fizzwidget's intentions, and there's going to be hell to pay when the truth finally comes out. It's never really speculated on who the mysterious 'employer' is in canon when T4L switch sides, but my money's on Qwark with a disguised voice on the behalf of 'Fizzwidget'. As for this story though; well, you'll just have to wait and see…

As much as I'd love to write my way through the whole R & C universe, I'm afraid it would just take too long to finish; especially since this story alone will likely end up taking nearly two years to complete. Doesn't mean I won't be writing other Ratchet and Clank stories though; just in different settings and scenarios is all. Also, thank you once again for all those omake ideas and otherwise; I'll definitely be putting them to good use once I've got the chance. Let the chaos begin indeed. Take care, and hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Light Seeker 001 - Yup, Ellen's definitely suspicious by now, and it's only a matter of time until she manages to put the pieces together with regards to what's really going on. I can only assume that the Wiki put it that way either to prevent spoilers or because there is no definite confirmation that Qwark is responsible. It does seem kind of obvious though in retrospect, onvce you connect the dots. I haven't 100% finalised the details on our heroes end game armour sets yet, but chances are they will include full face concealing helmets of some kind, though not necessarily the same as that seen with the Carbonox armour.

starrat - Thank you once again.

Destiny W - Glad you liked it, and hopefully this one too.

Sonachugirl - Well I don't think they would have objected to a third wingman (or woman) in a furball like that. Thanks again, and lucky you! Getting one of your pieces up on one of your favourite Youtuber's videos? Woo indeed! (Gives hug) Seriously, congratulations, and who knows? Maybe others will want to will want to include some of your art in their videos too.

DarkEnigma95 - Yeah, I kind of found it to be a bit of a nuisance level in game due to the resurrecting turrets and a little on the dull side; hence my addition of attack drones to spice things up. Still, glad you liked it, and things are definitely going to get a lot worse for our heroes from here on out…

Until next time, please review and check out my other stories once they're posted and/or updated.

Thanks for reading

- RevenantReaper337