Q

The office of the Galactic President, some time prior to current events:

"Now, listen, Captain… of course we're all immensely grateful for all you've done for the Solana galaxy and its residents over the many, many years of your distinguished career…" President Phyronix said, his fingers intertwined and a worrisome expression on his face. Qwark had just sat down on the other side of the desk, and was not terribly enthused with the tone the conversation had just taken. Oh no: this was to be one of those 'But' conversations, with a capital 'B'. Those never ended well.

In an attempt to prevent it from becoming one, Qwark tried changing the subject, "Indeed. Of course, the only reward I need is the knowledge that I have made the world a better place, but I'm grateful for your gratefulness. It really is great... Heh, this conversation reminds me of the cheesegrater I got recently, funnily enough. Did you know they made them with lasers? Total gamechanger. I really don't know why that isn't standard, makes everything so much-"

"BUT," Phyronix interrupted forcefully. Crap, Qwark thought, Well, it was a long shot anyway. Here it comes, "I'm afraid that, in today's political atmosphere, some have started to wonder what the point is of having a captain of the galactic rangers if he spends almost all of his time in front of a camera instead of doing his job. Now, I understand the importance of public relations, but with the recent disappearance of planet Ellerune and the rangers' investigation being unable to find the, uhm, culprit… Look, people are looking for someone to blame, and, like it or not, you're an awfully public figure closely related to the rangers who, to be blunt, doesn't appear to be doing a very good job. Now, now, I know what you're going to say, but the public wants what the public wants and I am ultimately their servant..." Yeah, a servant that has a re-election campaign to run, Qwark remarked to himself, who needs to be seen doing something, no matter if it actually helps or not.

Instead of giving voice to his thoughts, the superhero produced a chuckle in the hopes it would diffuse the situation somewhat, "Heh, President, you need to lighten up a little! If I didn't know any better I'd think you were about to fire me or something." Qwark decided to lean back into the chair in a relaxed manner to add to the illusion, even putting his hands behind his head without an apparent care in the world as he examined the pattern on the ceiling.

Phyronix sighed regretfully in response, which made Qwark feel like someone had poured a bucket of ice water down his spine. "Two months. I don't think I can give you any more than that. You have two months to find who or whatever stole Ellerune or at least make a convincing enough effort to placate the public. If you don't, well… I'll have to look into other options. You may show yourself out." When Qwark returned his gaze to the President he found him unwilling to meet it, preferring to read one of the documents that littered his desk. So that's how it is, then. Shit.

"Well, I guess I better get to work! Ah, I should thank you, President Phyronix. Finally something to do! Er, with proper stakes, that is! Until next time, then! I promise I will not disappoint you, or your citizens!" Qwark said, bravado filling each word, as he exited the office, determination in every step. That's the impression he was going for, anyway. His real feelings were a good bit more… panicky.

This is fine, this is fine! I just have to catch this villain, somehow, and all will be peachy! But that would involve… work. And a lot of it, Qwark mused, feeling vaguely sick, this is so unfair!

The so-called superhero was halfway out of the building when he felt his phone vibrate against the spandex of his suit. Picking it up out of its hidden pocket, it became apparent that he had received a message from an "Ultimate Supreme Execu…". The phone had truncated the name, but Qwark was fairly sure of what it was.

Huh, I wonder who this Ultimate Supreme Executioner is? A new supervillain? That would certainly be convenient right around now. Let's see what he has to say…

C

Things had fallen into silence after they went to warp in their newly-acquired spacecraft, but this time it wasn't quite as uncomfortable as before. That's not to say Clank had completely forgotten his previous anger about Ratchet's unforgivable attitude towards the importance of regulations and all the trouble it had gotten them in, but said trouble had a way of putting things into perspective such that getting into a rant about it felt awfully petty. Ratchet seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as far as Clank could tell, going by how… absent he was acting. The lombax seemed much more withdrawn than before, preferring to keep empty eyes trained on the viewscreen and instrument cluster, as if deep in thought. But what could he be thinking about? Clank wasn't naïve enough to hope that he was contemplating the error of his reckless ways and how it had almost gotten both of them killed, but it was a nice thought regardless.

Whatever it was that had caused this sudden introspection, it at least allowed Clank to start going over some of the things that he had filed away for later when he hadn't had time to address them. He had stored them as a simple enumerated list of queries and observations, so it was a simple matter to access it.

1. The Quartu Main Warbot Factory Supercomputer seems to have deliberately created me with the aim of having me escape and leak Drek's plan to the authorities. Additionally, I distinctly felt what I could only describe as pride expressed in its last communication to me. Both these things are highly irregular, and elude mundane explanation.

2. Being given a name made me feel warm inside for some reason. Not a literal warmth detected by my temperature sensors, either, but something more emotional, which doesn't make sense.

3. Attached is a video file of Ratchet's reaction to learning that I am on an important quest and headed for Marcadia. Perhaps, once I am better at reading his body language, I can derive more information from this as to his motivations and perhaps even figure out his species.

4. Attached is a video file of Ratchet's reaction to my bid for assistance in reaching Marcadia. His body language seems odd and even paradoxical going off of Cazare behavioral patterns. Either members of his species emote differently from Cazares, or he is attempting to hide his emotional state. Perhaps I can derive more information from this once I am better equipped to read him.

5. If both me and Ratchet somehow make it out of this alive, I should make sure to correct any nutritional deficiencies in Ratchet's diet that seem to have resulted in him having less strength than he should, going by the weak-sounding impact of his wrench against the warbot that boarded his ship.

To start with, points three and four were by now irrelevant as Clank had already figured out that Ratchet was a Lombax and that his odd behaviour could be explained by his desire to use Clank to get to Marcadia, which Clank had been fine with. Five was based on a false assumption as it was quite clear that Ratchet could take care of himself in a fight and there was no reason to think he was as severely malnourished as Clank had thought. That didn't mean that Clank wasn't going to be keeping an eye on his diet and other needs while they travelled together, as a common-sense measure given his secondary objective of delivering Ratchet safely to a reputable conservationist group, but it wasn't as much of a priority as it had seemed at the time. So entries three to five could be safely dismissed.

That left the first two. The second one could be explained by the apparent presence of an inordinately advanced emotion engine, which, while a mystery on its own, seemed like it could safely be considered a facet of the larger mystery presented in log one. Said point could then be restated more simply to encapsulate the main unknown surrounding Clank's existence:

1. Why did the Quartu Main Warbot Factory Supercomputer create me such that I possess high emotional fidelity and a conscience that made me want to thwart Chairman Drek, and then assist me in doing so?

For this Clank had no real answer, which was concerning. It made no sense that the supercomputer which ran the production of Chairman Drek's armies would want to oppose him, unless there was some major screw up that had occured in its installation and gone unnoticed. Such a thing was possible, Clank mused, but felt… unlikely. Perhaps this was just sentimentality speaking, but the robot felt that there had to have been an actual good reason for this.

It may have been illogical, but the alternative was admitting the possibility that Clank owed his existence to a mere error, and he didn't really like the feeling of being the product of an unintended and unwanted twist of fate. A part of him reasoned that there wasn't anything inherently wrong with that and that there was no material difference between it and a more 'proper' deliberate act of creation, but his emotion engine flared up in unease at the thought.

Realising he probably wouldn't get anywhere useful following this line of inquiry, Clank pushed the philosophical question aside with a little difficulty. There were more important matters to think about and to tend to that took priority.

He glanced to the side at the yellow-furred Lombax to the left of him who still emoted contemplation. Or was that just his neutral expression? It was difficult to tell, and Clank wasn't about to open conversation with such an awkward question at this stage in their relationship.

Another possibility presented itself, and Clank mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. Perhaps Ratchet had gotten himself injured in some way in the fight, and was in pain? Clank hadn't been able to see anything visible, but Ratchet's fur ought to have hidden any bruising from blunt trauma and scratches fairly well, so it was quite possible that he simply hadn't seen anything, especially since the Lombax seemed like the type to try hiding that sort of perceived weakness from Clank.

But that raised the question of how Clank might broach the subject without Ratchet immediately getting defensive or offended in some way. Simply asking him if he was injured might very well work, but Clank had a feeling that that could easily go less than smoothly. A subtler approach would likely be worth it.

"Ratchet, I must profess some curiosity as to how you managed to defeat the three warbots armed only with your wrench. It sounds like an incredible feat," Clank asked, deciding on a strategy of flattery to tease a description of the battle from him, at which point it should be a conversationally easy matter to determine if Ratchet could have been hurt or not.

The Lombax snapped out of his apparent musings and turned his attention to Clank, first with the swivelling of his large ears and then his face proper. He regarded him for a moment, perhaps finding the sudden question strange, but answered nonetheless, "Well, uh, really it was just the one warbot that I faced with just my wrench," he started, his speech more awkward than Clank was used to hearing it, "because after disarming it I had this blaster." Said weapon materialised in Ratchet's hand for a moment, to emphasise the point, before he continued, "Plus it wasn't three at once, just the first one at the start and then the two I took by surprise inside their ship, so it wasn't quite as one-sided as you might think. The hard part was disarming the first one, after which it was just surprise and faster reflexes."

Clank had the distinct impression that Ratchet was leaving something unspoken here, but decided on not pressing that point specifically, instead going with his original plan. If whatever was being hidden had something to do with any injuries Ratchet might have sustained he would dig for it, but else he would probably leave it alone for now. He was working with a limited budget of probing questions, after all, so it would be unwise to go chasing unrelated leads.

"So you took them all out without leaving any room for counterattack? Impressive," Clank replied, watching Ratchet's reaction closely. There was definitely something there, but whether it was a lie or something else, such as a discomfort with receiving compliments, Clank couldn't say.

"Pretty much. As I said, I got into a lot of fights back home, so I knew it was best to finish them before they could start properly," came the reply. "It actually turned out to be a lot easier than you'd expect. Drek must be skimping on the processors for these models."

Clank nodded, "Yes, these naval units aren't made for battle, so fast reflexes probably weren't one of the design considerations." He was by now fairly certain that Ratchet was uninjured, so the subject could be fairly safely dropped. Didn't mean he didn't still have some lingering questions about the battle, like how Ratchet was confident enough in his skills to attempt disarming the first warbot, but those could wait.

Besides, now that Clank had determined that injury couldn't explain Ratchet's recent mood swing the original question of what caused it remained. The Lombax in question had by this point returned his attention—or lack thereof—to the viewscreen, and seemed content to relapse into his previous sulking. Or whatever it was, anyway. Clank regrettably didn't have a method to look inside Ratchet's head, so it was difficult to tell what exactly was going on inside of it most of the time.

Regardless, he was committed to giving it his best effort. Mental health was just as important as physical health, and since Clank had the moral responsibility of ensuring Ratchet's well-being he would be remiss to ignore any troubling signs in that area. It was already clear that the Lombax was very cagey about anything to do with his situation and Clank got the impression that he was likely to avoid any conversation that touched on things he considered personal. It could be explained by the fact that the pair were at this point barely even acquaintances, of course, but Clank had a strong suspicion that it was an unhealthy defense mechanism resulting from what must have been a very hard life. If the robot was to have any chance of finding and hopefully alleviating whatever mental issues Ratchet might have—it was always possible he didn't have any but Clank didn't dare assume this—he would have to get under these defences. In practise this meant making successful personal conversation with Ratchet, of course. As a side benefit being on such speaking terms would make it significantly easier to get Ratchet to voluntarily place himself in the care of conservationists, which was strongly preferable to any non-voluntary options.

So, Clank needed to find an opening, as it were. Something personal enough that it would get Ratchet comfortable with talking about such things with Clank, but that wouldn't get him defensive. This would have to be done in several stages, of course, before they got familiar enough to get at anything that might be ailing the Lombax, but with determination he may yet succeed.

As a tangent, Clank noted that there was another side benefit to be had here: he would first discover what it was like to have a friend.

R

Well, that was close, Ratchet thought, quite glad that Clank hadn't dug any further into the battle earlier. He was definitely keeping the mysterious force that had conveniently won it for him a secret for now, for fairly obvious reasons. He really wanted to learn more about it, of course, but experimenting would be almost impossible with Clank around except if they accidentally run into a system under siege again or something. Still, there were still some things that could be done. He had spent the last thirty minutes silently trying to invoke it again by imagining the battle, or any violent situation that came to mind, as vividly as possible. Well, as vividly as he could without looking suspicious, of course. As he had kind of expected, though, it hadn't worked. But the time hadn't been spent fruitlessly. He learned that he probably had to be in actual danger for it to kick in, or at least truly believe he was in actual danger, and in between experiments he had also given some thought into the implications of it if he could get it to work reliably.

Up until a few hours ago, the plan when he got to Marcadia had roughly been to try to find work as a mechanic and to work odd jobs before he did. Housing would be an issue, but he had survived tough times before and he would probably survive even if he had to sleep on the streets. Now, however, he realised he might be able to seek employment in security, or even find out how one went about becoming a mercenary, which sounded like it could be much more exciting. He enjoyed working on ships and the like, of course, but there was a certain satisfaction in smashing that one warbot to bits he couldn't quite get out of his head. This wasn't all that surprising, as it had been a long time since Ratchet could deny being an adrenaline junkie without being horribly dishonest with himself, and this felt similar.

Now that he thought about it, he had yet to decide on the reward to ask for for delivering Clank to the authorities. The obvious choice had been to ask for bolts, of course, and he had pretty much left it at that. But there might be better options to be had, especially considering the changed circumstances. Like trying to join the rangers. They had some sort of academy on Marcadia, didn't they? With dorms and a cafeteria and stuff? If he could negotiate to have him accepted and all the associated fees waived, he would be pretty much set. Assuming he didn't flunk out, of course. And even if he did flunk out he'd get at least half a year's worth of free housing and food out of it, which wasn't exactly a bad way to start his new life.

Damn it, he was getting himself excited. Best to temper that for now, both so Clank wouldn't get suspicious and to brace himself in case it wouldn't work out. Speaking of Clank, there was probably no way he'd be cool with him aiming for such a 'dangerous' profession, was there? That would be an issue. He'd probably need to circumvent the robot somehow.

Think of the devil, Clank chose that exact moment to butt in to Ratchet's thoughts.

"If I may inquire, Ratchet, do you keep any hobbies?" the robot asked, the subject coming straight out of nowhere.

"Any what?" was all the poor Lombax managed to say in response, train of thought utterly derailed.

"Do you have any activities or interests—besides the 'art of low-cost ship building'—that you partake in for entertainment or self-fulfilment?" Clank clarified, unhelpfully in Ratchet's opinion.

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you said. It just caught me off-guard, is all. Why do you wanna know?" Ratchet narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked down on his companion, suspicious as to his intentions. It was probably nothing malicious, but even if it wasn't it could still spell trouble if he wasn't careful. If only it were easier to read what was going on in that metallic skull of his.

"Is it so strange to want to learn more about one's travelling companion?" came the annoyingly reasonable retort. Ratchet ground his teeth in mild frustration as he considered his answer. Though he disliked letting Clank know things about him on principle, he couldn't really find a way to turn the robot down without sounding like a stubborn jerk. And this trip would end up being incredibly boring without at least a little conversation to fill the silence, anyway.

So, cautiously, Ratchet caved to Clank's demands, "I… enjoy… hoverboarding. Or used to, anyway, when my stupid board still worked." Alright, so far so good. He hadn't caught on fire yet, at least.

"What happened to it?" Ratchet had to suppress his reaction at the question, or rather, the memory it invoked. That had definitely been one of the dumber things he had ever done. And Clank could never, ever, under any circumstances, hear about it.

"The primary drive coil failed. Irreparably. And I haven't been able to save enough bolts for a new one yet." This was technically not a lie. Getting half-melted half-disintegrated by a power spike from the janky modded power supply he had bolted on to it in order to overclock it to high-heavens definitely counted as an 'irreparable failure' in his book. It had been freaking awesome while it lasted, though.

"Oh my. I do hope it didn't fail mid-flight." Ratchet once more had to fight to keep a straight face as he felt the scar tingle slightly.

"Nope, not at all. I was conducting, uh, regular maintenance when it happened," he lied. What actually happened that day was that he had learned to be forever grateful of thick bushes for their important role in breaking the falls of Lombaxes travelling at unhealthy fractions of terminal velocity, followed by a visit to the hospital. It hadn't been a fun time. He hadn't been able to sit comfortably for weeks afterwards.

"Well that's a relief. It is good to know that you have some sense, at least. Have you been deprived of a working hoverboard for long?"

Quite glad that Clank had bought the lie, Ratchet was all too happy to move the conversation along, "It's been… a year? A year and a half? Something like that. I've been too focused on the ship to be able to get a new one. Maybe I'll be able to save up when I've gotten settled on Marcadia."

"Indeed," the robot said, looking thoughtful. That didn't bode well. Clank thinking too much about Ratchet's living situation bore the distinct risk of certain topics being brought up that he would much rather avoid. He had to take charge of the conversation before that could happen.

"I also enjoy… uh," Ratchet began saying, quickly deciding to list another of his interests in order to pry Clank's attention away from whatever he had been thinking about, before he realised that he was coming up blank as to what exactly he was going to bring up. Truth be told, there wasn't very much he had gotten up to these past few years that he wanted Clank to know about. But he obviously needed to come up with something before he made a complete fool of himself.

Grasping at straws, Ratchet forged ahead with the first thing that came to mind that wouldn't upset Clank's sensibilities, "...sand baths." The rush of embarrassment was immediate. He had to hide it behind a stupid grin as soon as the words left his mouth. Surely, he should have been able to find something better than fucking sand baths.

"Sand baths?" Clank asked, sounding innocently curious.

Well, there was no going back at this point, Ratchet decided, "Yeah. It, uh, feels nice. Much better on my fur than a shower or a regular bath. Only if the sand is warm, dry, and loose, though. If it's cold out I'd much rather take a shower even if drying off is a pain. Probably the only thing I'll miss from Veldin. It will probably be much more difficult to secluded spots that are just right on Marcadia."

Clank looked at him for a moment, before saying, "Given your anatomy, it is likely that Lombaxes evolved from a dry desert environment, so it makes sense that you would prefer something like that to water-based bathing," thinking for a moment, he continued, "I would point out that this is exactly the kind of thing that a conservation foundation would be equipped to help you with, but judging by your expression I think I will refrain."

Ratchet was mildly surprised that the glaring had kind of worked. Perhaps Clank could be reasonable after all, even though his goals were fundamentally misaligned with Ratchet's own. Or perhaps it was exactly because he intended to stick Ratchet in a zoo that he was trying to appear reasonable. Time would tell, but until then, Ratchet decided, best to tread carefully.

"Yeah, I think I can live without them for a while," Ratchet replied, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice, before he turned back to the instrument cluster in front of him.

Clank didn't attempt to continue the conversation.