A pleasing fragrance lay sleepily about the room. It was the first thing Ratchet noticed as he began to stir from his sleep. He gently blinked his eyes open and noticed the heavy fog about him, layered thick but still plenty of centicubits above him. Ratchet carefully turned his head right and left, trying to get a visual on his surroundings. He couldn't see it too well, but his head told him that he was lying on a blanket. He couldn't identify the material but he could recognize that it was soft, very soft.

"Nothing hurts," he muttered to himself, silently impressed. Around him, Ratchet could see in any direction he looked what he took to be curved walls. He judged himself to be in a room, small and approximately in the center of it. From his position he could see nothing that resembled a door.

"Where am I?" Ratchet thought as his gaze returned to the fog. "And where is everybody else?"

The idea of being alone didn't worry him much, although being injured definitely lent it some gravity. But mostly, he was concerned for the others. As far as he could tell, they weren't nearby. And this wasn't the campground that he, Clank, and Terin settled at. So where were they?

His ears perked to a sound, flat and unassuming, moving closer to the lombax's position.

"No voices," he thought curiously, knowing the approaching noise to be steady footfall, yet he pondered the purpose of their coming here.

"They must be here to check up on me." Ratchet closed his eyes and faked being out. For a brief moment the steps paused, but he soon heard them again alongside a 'whoosh', as if someone moved a drape over.

"Ratchet," someone called out. It was quiet, and the syllables were stretched out, speaking each one slowly, as if testing it for the first time. Nothing in the lombax told him he was in danger, so he opened his eyes and spoke aloud, "Hello. Who's there?"

"Don't be scared. I am Diminuel," the self-same voice said again, a bit louder this time around, still slowly pronouncing each syllable. Ratchet noted the voice sounded kin to that of a young girl, perhaps a bit older.

"Hey," Ratchet called out softly. "Could you tell me where I am and where my friends are?"

"I can. But first," Diminuel started, "you need to do something first."

Ratchet soon heard the sound of rummaging, assuming Diminuel to be searching for something. From the similar sounds that entered his ears, Ratchet assumed again the contents of whatever she was carrying to be similar to each other, and were all contained inside a bag or satchel.

"Aha, here you are!" Diminuel chirped. The sound of rummaging stopped. "What do you have there?" Ratchet inquired, wishing he could see what it was exactly. Actually, he wished he could see anything but this fog really.

"Something you need to eat," she said, in a tone that bequeathed command, speaking as if she was some doctor and given the lombax a prescription. He was going to interject, because, in his mind, Ratchet had enough doctors. More than enough actually. Ratchet began to claim that he was fine and that he was not going to chomp down on anything anytime soon when suddenly, a green-blue leaf lay resting on his nose. Ratchet stopped talking and, with newfound curiosity, he lifted his hand to his face and picked up the leaf. Shaped like a perfect spade from a deck of cards, Ratchet saw the blue in the leaf's veins. The foreign coloring seemed to invade the green, making the whole leaf look sick or contaminated. At the end of his analysis, Ratchet concluded that this did not look edible.

"Uhh, you expect me to eat this?" He asked, trying his best to keep his obvious distaste to a minimal.

"Believe me," Diminuel replied, "it is much better than it looks."

"You would be surprised how many times I've been told that."

"Then it seems to me that those people who have told you that do not have your best interest at heart. Quite selfish if you ask me."

Ratchet blinked. What kind of statement was that? Baffled, Ratchet nodded cautiously and returned, "Well, that's true but have you never heard of a practical joke?"

"Practical joke?" Diminuel seemed to let that roll around her thoughts for sometime. "No."

"Wow, that's—" Ratchet thought, only to be interrupted when her voice reached his ears. "Although I do know that a joke is a statement one tells another to coerce laughter."

"That's correct… sometimes." Ratchet mumbled the last word.

"And practical is when something… something… hmm—" Her words trailed off as she struggled for an answer.

"Practical, in this case, would be something resulting from practice or action. Combine the two and that's when a joke becomes something for the amusement of the one committing it. Even at the expense of the victim," Ratchet supplied, finding the guest's rather strange innocence a novel. His thoughts returned to the leaf. He looked at it again. And without another thought, he opened his mouth, placing the plant in between his teeth before chewing. Nothing sensational attacked his taste buds as his teeth meticulously worked to shred the solitary leaf. But Diminuel was right: "it is much better than it looks". He swallowed, placing a hand on his throat as a striking pain shot through it.

"You ate it?" Diminuel asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Ratchet mumbled out. Why was swallowing the worst when you were unwell? It could even be worse than Qwark. "Now that's something," mused the lombax.

"I guess it's time for me to tell you where your friends are."

"Um, sure." He'd gotten so caught up in the conversation that wanting to locate Clank, Terin and there ships had been pushed to the back of his mind. But Diminuel's overall attitude reminded him of someone from a somewhat recent time—albeit the many differences between the two. His thoughts went to Suzie, the tharpod child/galactic scout who'd helped him, Clank, Qwark, and Nefarious when they were taken to planet Magnus by Ephemeris. She was the one to sneak into the behemoth creature collector and used a Vac-U to free them from their stasis bonds. And, according to Commander Spog, the one who was sticking chewing gum in all the machinery.

Yep, their differences were many, but both seemingly reminded Ratchet of simpler things. His thoughts returned to reality and he told Diminuel to show him the way. Just as soon as he got up. "This is an agonizing process," he finished, turning himself flat on his stomach. Against grinding teeth and bursting flames from within, Ratchet placed his hands on the blanket and pressed against it. He expected much, much trouble but his arms immediately responded, instantly throwing up the approximate ninety-five pound lombax over his feet. By such a sudden motion, he nearly tumbled over and on instinct, his tail shot out to catch himself from falling.

Wait, tail?

Ratchet craned his head and to his utter amazement, his tail saved him from a fall.

...

...

...

He wasn't hurting. At all. Anywhere. Ratchet faced forward and looked down at his feet. Only his heels were resting on the floor. No pain there. He looked to his arms and swung them both, cautiously at first, but he quickly found out that it didn't hurt either. He stopped. Looking back at his tail, Ratchet remembered for the first time what Dr. Rinis said about the endoskeleton: "...he'll be faster, stronger, more resilient."

"Well, this is something," voiced Ratchet, limply pressing off his tail, coming up on his feet.

"You can thank the Keliop leaf for that."

Ratchet looked up at the sound. The fog didn't allow for much sight farther than his own body, but he recognized the voice to be Diminuel's.

"Keliop leaf?" Ratchet asked.

"Mmhmm," came her simple reply.

"So, my injury—"

"—is delayed."

"Delayed?

"Yes. Now if you will follow me, I'll take you to your friends."

"Lead the way."

Ratchet started his way through the fog, using his ears to follow Diminuel out of the room. He came up to where he'd heard the 'whoosh' noise and felt about. It was a drape that could be moved aside for easy passage. After crossing it, Ratchet came into a large hallway of stone. As the lombax walked alongside the walls, he looked to find sketches and other artistry chiseled into the rock. Every detail Ratchet acknowledged was done by masters of the craft. And as the lombax started to inspect the work with a keener eye, he soon noticed the many details forming into pictures, and the pictures into a story.

A story of—

"Over here!"

Ratchet looked up from the walls toward the end of the hall where he spotted Diminuel, waving at him to hurry up. Ratchet took a double take once Diminuel's race dawned on him.

—Fongoids.

Between the young lady before him and the miniatures etched into the stone, there was minimal difference, although from the distance pervading the two, Ratchet saw that the living, breathing fongoid down the way was donned in a modest, long-sleeved, light green dress.

Taking one last look to the wall and placing his hand on it, Ratchet ran his hand across the surface before starting off again, hoping that this time he didn't lose his guide. Diminuel waited for Ratchet to near before taking off again.

"Would it kill you to slow down?" Ratchet called out, echoes bouncing across the hall. Her echoes answered back, calling out for him to run.

Run? Was she crazy?

"You can thank the Keliop leaf for that."

Ratchet looked up at the sound. The fog didn't allow for much sight farther than his own body, but he recognized the voice to be Diminuel's.

"Keliop leaf?" Ratchet asked.

"Mmhmm," came her simple reply.

"So, my injury—"

"—is delayed."

"Delayed?

Ratchet paused to ponder the meaning behind that blunt statement. Exactly how long was his pain delayed? Was it five minutes? Ten? Twenty? An hour? Indefinite? And his arm strength seemed to finally kick in; his tail as well. It only required a little effort to pick himself up off the floor. So that was useful.

Was running then that bad of an idea?

Ratchet braced himself. "It's now or never." Accomplished, he started walking again, quickly picking up his pace until his legs started pumping methodically, carrying him faster and faster. Feet pounding, Ratchet rounded a corner and saw a light at the end of the hall. He pushed himself harder, chest rising and falling as his body exerted itself more then it had over the last few days. This may have been a bad idea, but at his point, he didn't care. The feeling of moving again, especially at this speed, was exhilarating.

As he neared the end of the hall, Ratchet realized that the light was actually a portal leading outside. He slowed down, coming to a stop right before crossing over. Here, Ratchet's vision was met with life abundant. He reared his head back. What he'd took to be a series of halls was actually a small, simple cave system. For what purpose it served Ratchet could only begin to wonder. He turned again toward the world outside the portal and stepped forth.

Series of succeeding bird sounds chirped and cheeped, singing songs to the bright blue day at large. The air was sweet on the breeze as it whistled in and between the lombax's ears. Although dominated and overshadowed sometimes by the vastly different shades of green, many different hues found their place among the flora. Dashing and dotting, the bright colors popped here, there, and everywhere. Strong and sturdy trees held their ground, casting crisscross shade patterns on the ground below, catching the lombax inside their welcoming protection.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ratchet saw something jump in and out of his peripheral in the blink of an eye. He whipped around to see what had gone by but couldn't make anything out in the distance. Just more signs of blooming vitality.

"How do you like it?" A familiar voice started.

"It's amazing," Ratchet said, looking around for Diminuel. "But weren't you going to take me to the others?"

"I was," she acceded. She sounded close this time. Ratchet turned around, coming face to face with the elusive fongoid. "I just wanted to show you our home." She smiled at Ratchet.

"Well," Ratchet said, using a hand to gesture to their surroundings. "And I'm sure there's more to see."

Diminuel nodded. "There is." She turned around, dress twirling with the sudden motion. "Our village is down this way."

"As I've already said," Ratchet sighed, "lead the way."

He wasted no time catching up with the sprightly young girl. He started to walk alongside her, matching her gait step for step. "So, I've got to ask," Ratchet began after some time. "Are you a Fongoid or a Crolnan?"

"Oh, we've found you. We're the Crolnan," Diminuel answered. "But I would prefer if you not ask questions. The elder will explain everything you want to know about us or Travel The Days."

Ratchet looked over curiously. "You know about the artifact?"

"We all do. Every Crolnan knows about our charge."

"Travel The Days is your charge?"

Diminuel shook her head. "The elder will explain everything."

"You just answered my other question."

"I know."

"Why?"

"I was playing a practical joke on you."

Ratchet rolled his eyes. "Okay," he mumbled, shaking his head. "You obviously need pointers."

"If only we had time to," Diminuel replied wistfully. Something must have caught her attention because the next thing Ratchet knew, his guide was running ahead, calling back for him to follow. Ratchet shrugged before he broke into another sprint. As he followed Diminuel off the path they'd been on onto another, Ratchet marveled at the energy in him. He had no clue he needed this. But after being cooped up like a newborn for the past few days, to finally run free was something dearly missed.

"There," Ratchet heard his guide call over her shoulder. The lombax looked up and noticed Diminuel pointing far over, ahead and to the left. From in between the trees, Ratchet could barely make out what exactly she was pointing at. But soon enough, their run took them to a break in the trees where they stopped and Diminuel showed Ratchet what exactly she wanted him to see.

"The Crolnan village," she explained. "Your friends are already there, waiting for you." Together, they stood on a hill overlooking the village proper, hidden behind monolithic walls that surrounded it, to which the farmland rested beneath its shadow. The other Crolnan looked like little miniature dots to Ratchet as his gaze swept across the scenery below him. He returned his sight toward the village, scanning its many buildings and dusty roads.

"Nice place you have here," Ratchet said aloud, turning to face Diminuel. She too turned to face Ratchet and nodded slightly. "Thank you," she replied. "Now come on, I'm sure your friends will want to see you."

Together, they began down the hill again, sun shining high above as they reached the village farmlands. Many Crolnan greeted them variously before they returned to their work. Ratchet took in the sights. Each Crolnan he saw—be it man, woman, or child—each one was a nigh-carbon copy of the Fongoids back in Polaris. Ratchet thought about it, wondering if the 'elder' that Diminuel spoke of could answer that. From far off, a shout sounded. Ratchet looked for the source and witnessed three Crolnan working at the gate. Diminuel was standing at the entrance, also watching the other Crolnan work.

Ratchet quickly ran over and joined her as the gate moved aside, allowing passage for the two guests. "Where are Clank and Terin?" He inquired, crossing into the village, unable to see them among the roads.

"In the temple. We're almost there."

R&C

Their ships arrived smoothly out of hyperspace. At first glance, nothing seemed off about Tempalo, but once they traveled for a bit, the true reality behind this seemingly empty galaxy began to set in.

It all began once they met Liege. Once they acquired coordinates from the cragmite himself, the remains of Balloch's fleet met up with Liege's own fleet. (Which was smaller than Balloch's was pre-Raynarn.) Dornavan stood next to the Fell-Enk commander as Liege came aboard their ship with a company of his closest officers and best soldiers.

Under Liege were few officers, but the leader of them was another Fell-Enk by the name of Maseox. Though the two Fell-Enk weren't dissimilar in build and facial structure, when compared to the regal outfit which clothed the mighty Balloch, Maseox was donned in a full-body black commando armor. Yet both were able men who earned their place among the rank and file.

They greeted each other in a manner the Ribunis found odd. They shook hands using their right hand, and with the left hand, positioned them until they were crossing over the clasped hand and mere millicubits from the other's cheek. Then, their left hands slapped the other. Neither commander seemed to feel the simple attack. Then they lowered their left hand and gave one last shake to finish the greeting.

"It's good to see you again," Balloch said first, breaking the silence that pervaded the landing bay. "Ready to secure Travel The Days?"

"Of course," Maseox replied with contempt, in a pitch higher than Dornavan believed the commander would have. "It's time to rekindle that old alliance and forge a new empire across the universe."

"Q lir thrin," Liege spoke from behind them. Dornavan saw that the cragmite was still wearing his heavy brown cloak about him—although the mage would admit that wanting to hide his identity anymore seemed at this point ridiculous. Both commanders nodded briskly to Liege's statement and that was when it happened. At first, Dornavan heard faint whirring, like helicopter blades picking up speed. He shook his head and shifted his weight on to his other foot, thinking that he was standing on it for too long. That seemed to fix the problem and Dornavan continued to listen to Liege, Balloch, Maseox, and the other officers discuss their next course of movement.

The next odd happening was a few minutes later when Liege asked about their captures.

Pleased, Dornavan led the way to the prison deck with the Cragmite and two Fell-Enk in tow. They first arrived where Talwyn was being held. Entering into an adjacent room, they were met by a large computer monitor, manned by a solitary trooper. He turned and saluted once he saw that it was them.

"At ease," Balloch was quick to say. "How goes our markazian?"

"She's fine. Just bored. See for yourself," the trooper pushed his seat to the side, allowing the small group to watch the screen. There Talwyn was, lying down on a bed, pretending to throw an imaginary object into the air and catching it as it came down, only to repeat the process. Some officers and soldiers sniggered behind the primary group of four.

"Allow me," Dornavan said to the others, stepping up to the console. He pressed a button, opening a channel between them and her. "Hello, Talwyn."

She stopped her game and sat up, looking up around her. She gave up once she realized she couldn't see anything. Her head lowered and she returned the mage's greeting with a minute amount of positivity.

"You don't sound all to well. Bored?" Dornavan proceeded next.

"Yep," Talwyn returned, placing her elbows on her knees and her head on her hands. "It's just me and this imaginary ball. And before you ask… he doesn't have a name."

"But it has a gender," Balloch spoke up from behind, a tight curl of a smile forming on his face. Talwyn made a dramatic case of exhaling, flatly annoyed at the Fell-Enk commander.

"Well, you try being in here for as long as I have," she retorted, laying down again. "Give me a break."

"Nx," Liege spoke up, alerting Talwyn to his presence. She froze on the bed. They could see her eyes grow wide at the cragmite's statement.

"Liege," she said no louder than a whisper.

"Yx, uro ura Q."

Talwyn regained her composure and posed a question, giving it a sarcastic, biting air. "How many lombaxes does it take to kill a cragmite?"

"Kollux," Liege answered, satisfied that the markazian could make no smart reply. Talwyn must have known that because she looked toward the door. The video barely picked up what she muttered under her breath.

"That was cold," Maseox said, impressed.

"Who's that?"

"Miss Apogee, as you now know, we've met up with Liege, meaning we are now in Tempalo. This here is Maseox, another officer serving directly under and with Liege," Balloch introduced, allowing for Maseox to step up to the mic. He turned it down. "Just know that I'll be finding your friends soon enough," he announced.

"They'll stop you. Just like Tachyon was." A lively faith animated those words, much to Liege's displeasure. He pushed Dornavan out of the way and, with a claw tip, pressed the 'on' button for the mic firmly. "Gen fuml thrin-ra kramtak de indlex ri kaam."

Talwyn didn't know better. But she looked up and said one word: "Try."

Liege removed his claw from the 'on' button and destroyed the mic with his pincers.

"That was interesting," Maseox voiced, exchanging looks around the group. "How about we visit that psychic I've heard so much about?"

"A good idea," Balloch answered. "Follow me."

They all left, all except the mage. "Do you hear that?" He asked, not realizing that he posed the query aloud. The trooper managing Talwyn's prison cell answered him negatively. Dornavan looked behind him, facing the trooper. "What did you say?"

"I was answering your question. I heard nothing."

Beneath his mask, the mage's face contorted in confusion. "I asked something?"

"Indeed you did, just as soon as everyone left," the trooper answered, gesturing to the door with a hand. Dornavan looked toward the door and back at the trooper with haste. Before the mage could ask another question, the trooper anticipated and answered it. "They went to the psychic's cell."

"Thank you."

Dornavan left immediately after.

After witnessing the cell proper where the psychic was kept, Maseox and others whistled at the impressive display which kept the psychic bound. Liege, however, was more stone-faced as he walked forward, taking a long, hard look at the monitors. Several personnel were wary of the cragmite's intimidating presence. Dornavan arrived and stood by the two Fell-Enk commanders, listening in to their conversation.

"So," Maseox began, elbowing Balloch. "You do this?" The cocky smile gave away plainly the answer. He knew of the agents Balloch employed to assist him in dispatching the Travelers: two weapon experts, one skilled fighter, and a mage with a bone to pick against the psychic. Balloch chuckled, humored to say the least. "No, I did not," he gestured to Dornavan. "That was him."

"Hmm, shame on you. What did you do then, stay in your ship playing 'Big Bad Boss'?"

"I removed the Raynarn Defense Force from the equation."

"And yet they still gave you quite a thrashing."

"Unfortunate yes, yet I still did something. What have you done?"

Maseox pretended to yawn, cocky attitude in full bloom for he knew exactly where Balloch was going with this question. "Nothing yet. Although I will soon be leading a ground force on Jenavi to secure the last three Travelers."

"So you've said."

While the two commanders continued their discussion/mocking, Dornavan moved to where Liege was and stared at the monitor the cragmite himself had given his attention to. He announced his presence by clearing his throat.

"Dornavan, cal dook di mar?"

The mage cleared his throat again. "I'm afraid I don't speak Cragmite, sir."

Seamlessly and without pause, Liege moved a hand beneath his cloak and did something Dornavan couldn't see. After Liege removed his hand, he repeated his query, this time static translated his question into Galactic Standard.

"Oh," Dornavan said flatly. "Preparation and a lot of luck."

"Thrin cantirux." The static announced its translation.

"Seems that way. I'm not sure what to think now."

"Da mar di?"

"It began rather recently, but the first brush of my current trouble started after I got back from that strange place with Dr. Yolnan."

Liege remained silent, now lifting his gaze to the human trapped behind the window.

"Long story short, we were able to escape through a failed idea of mine. It led to me meeting this being who went by the name of Code."

Liege turned his head toward Dornavan, black beady eyes bored into Dornavan's blank mask.

"Apparently, Code gave me a disk that allowed me, then myself and Dr. Yolnan to escape from the 'contaminated zone', as he put it."

"Thran Code, desziel uro."

Dornavan weighed the question. It was interesting to say the least. What was it to Liege that some lucky crossing happened to turn several things in their favor. Although no matter how much or how hard Dornavan tried to forget about it, his thoughts came back to the chance meeting, stronger than before. It was no accident that it happened. That much Dornavan was sure of. And Liege gave off an aura of distrust as Dornavan continued his tale, as if the cragmite didn't believe what the Ribunis said.

Dornavan sighed. Too many things were happening and nothing was making sense. Hopefully, this approaching lull would be what they needed to get their heads straight and nerves calmed. Although he believed that was hoping against hope; he knew this lull would only put them on edge more than ever before.

"Code is no ordinary being," Dornavan began. "Tall, gaunt, paper-thin actually. Code's entire composition is nothing but—gaah!" Instantly, Dornavan's hands went to his head. The sudden outburst caught the two Fell-Enk's attention. Stopping their discussion, they turned to the mage who shrieked in pain. His knees quickly buckled and he fell on his knees, hand aglow in white, milky coloring.

"Get a doctor down here, now!" Balloch commanded as he rushed over to the mage's side. Someone complied and quickly called up to the medbay, requesting immediate medical assistance. He moved to pick up the mage off the ground when another ear-piercing cry sounded from the downed Ribunis. As his hand reached forward to grab a hold of Dornavan, an electroshock ripped across the air from Dornavan to Balloch, blasting him in the air. He fell on his back as he skidded over to the wall, dazed. Dornavan screamed again in total agony, falling to the floor with many stuttering cries.

Realizing the severe dire this situation was escalating to, Liege and Maseox rushed over to Dornavan's side. As they edged closer, Dornavan's magic began to spike erratically, throwing more bolts of lightning across the room. Technicians and other ship personnel panicked and ducked for cover. The lightning arced over to the monitors, frying them all from overload. Popping, cracking, splitting sounds added to the overall cacophony of noise as both Liege and Maseox grabbed hold of Dornavan. Magic poured into both of them and Maseox too, like Balloch, was cast away. Liege however, once placing a hand on the mage, stood frozen in place.

A vision lashed out at the mind of the cragmite.

Within total blackness, Liege drifted. He looked around him. Nothing but darkness greeted him. Rising panic swarmed his thoughts. He was alone in this oblivion. Or so he thought. White lines within the blackness appeared, forming into a solitary rectangular shape. Liege stared at the rectangle, fear and defiance vying to overtake him.

"Liege," a voice emanated from the shape. Two slits appeared in the rectangle, dim blue filling the holes it made. The being's voice came from everywhere. Hollow, mechanical and unreal. The cragmite trembled beneath its sight.

"Who… who are—" Sudden dawning reached his thoughts. "Code?" Liege asked weakly.

A white line of the being curled up in a malevolent smile. "Someone you'll meet soon enough."

The being faded away, leaving the cragmite completely alone. From behind, a chuffing noise reached Liege's ears. He turned and could see nothing, yet the noise grew louder. In a moment, the chuffing reached deafening heights, as if it were on top of him, and in that moment, Liege was thrown out of his vision.

In reality, the chuffing noise was an approaching sonicboom which emanated from Dornavan, knocking Liege through the air. He collided hard against the wall, sliding off pathetically as he came into contact with the cold floor. His vision swam with blurry images, the resonance of the boom drowning out all other sound, making him temporarily deaf. As he struggled against the encroaching unconsciousness, he made out doctors entering the room, taking in the total destruction before moving to the injured parties.

No one came to him before he went under.

AN: (3-26-18) Edited.

Would you believe that I originally didn't supply translations because I had no clue how to translate English to Cragmite at the time? My brain was so over-worked from rushing out this chapter when I first posted it all that time ago. Then I looked back and totally forgot to add translations... I just thought: "Screw it. No translations for you guys." I'd like to apologize for that. In any case, translations are as follows:

"Q lir thrin." = "I like that."

"Yx, uro ura Q." = "Yes, it is I."

"Kollux." = "Zero."

"Gen fuml thrin-ra akramtak de indlex ri kaam." = "Just know that's a mistake we intend to correct."

"Cal dook di mar thran?" = "How did you do this?"

"Thrin-ra cantirux." = "That's contradiction."

"Da mar di vii?" = "What do you mean?"

"Thran Code, desziel uro." = "This Code, explain it."