"Don't walk away from me!"
The aggression. The revulsion. The desperation. Rippling through space, the waves of his voice shattered upon impact with Ratchet's ears.
It was happening again.
"I said stop!"
Just like all the times before, as Ratchet turned, he was met face-to-face with a bolt of negatively charged energy. An attack from the last thing he could've ever expected: another Lombax.
Arms, legs, head, torso—every component of himself moved slower than molasses, and it took all the effort in the world for him to even budge a single muscle. Thankfully, Clank was always there to tackle him out of the way. But by the time they recuperated and were able to move again, he was already too far ahead.
"General, you have to stop this!" Ratchet shouted.
He's seen it happen hundreds of times already. How it begins, how it ends, and everything in-between. This was his chance. Maybe this time things could be different. It had to be.
Last time, he didn't charge his hoverboots fast enough. This time, he'd take care of that.
Before that, he misaligned the hover bolts a few degrees off. This time, he'd take care of that.
Ratchet tried leaning forward more for a little extra speed on the grind rails, and bent his knees less for a shorter hop between them.
Maybe I can just trip him, distract him somehow.
Or maybe he could try throwing rocks, or shout and mock him to grab his attention. He had to do something to stop him in his tracks.
'Time shift initiated.'
Damn it!
Yet, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what carefully planned steps he took to improve each run, he couldn't keep him from reaching the Orvus Chamber.
Screw all the other plans. This time, he'd incapacitate him, but quicker. The sooner he could get to the Clock's controls, the better.
He pulled out the RYNO immediately and started shooting. The other Lombax retaliated, throwing back bombs and more coils of energy at him.
"Coward!" the Lombax howled. "Traitor! You're betraying your whole kind! Your father would be ashamed of you!"
With each accusation, Ratchet's heart dropped. Every word stabbed and twisted within his wounds as the only being who could know the truth had told him he was a failure of his own race.
"Incompetent rat! You couldn't even save two robots if your life depended on it!"
Wait, since when did he...
Ratchet shook his head as he gritted his teeth, firing another shot.
Doesn't matter. The Clock is breaking.
The General was swift, and there were some close calls as his Praetorian OmniWrench skimmed Ratchet's fur, but Ratchet already knew every trick that the other Lombax had up his sleeve; it was too trivial.
"No! What are you doing?!"
Down the General went, roaring at Ratchet as he ran for the lever. It broke last time, he remembered, but hoping to prevent that, he positioned his hands lower on the mechanism. Ratchet pulled and pulled, putting his back into it as he applied his entire weight in the opposite direction.
*SNAP*
It. Still. Broke.
Then I'll just have to improvise!
Pulling out his wrench, he wedged it in the fulcrum of the mechanism, twisting as hard as he could.
"Come...on!" Ratchet screamed through his teeth. It barely moved, but that wasn't going to stop him. Not when he was so damn close. He yelled for his own sake, for the universe's sake, for the other Lombax's sake. All he needed was one good pull, and they'd all be okay.
"Oof!"
The wind knocked out of his lungs as the panel sparked, sending him flying meters back with his wrench. He couldn't move. Bruises all over his body, his limbs refused to listen to his commands.
No no no, not this again...
Around them, the room trembled as it was on the verge of collapse. Smoke blew from the electrical panels as a blinding beam of light rose from the lever.
Ratchet laid on the ground, immobile; helpless. The other Lombax stood up, with over twenty years of sorrows and regrets culminating in his eyes at that moment.
"I'm so sorry…" he said.
Running towards the center light, the Lombax approached with heavy steps—each burdened by a past that he only wanted to amend. In his right hand, he gripped his own wrench: the answer to fix the catastrophe once and for all.
Ratchet reached out to him, with the pain of a thousand needles piercing into his arm. But reaching was all he could do as he was forced into a useless position while the other Lombax left to seal his fate.
"General…don't…"
Bolts of electricity from the center struck all crevices of the chamber. It was too bright to make out the Lombax's figure outside of his burnt fur, with white turning black as the heat from the beams scorched him. Yet, despite the pain, he remained in place as he forced the lever to move.
"Take care of yourself, Ratchet!"
For what must've been at least the hundredth time, Ratchet cried for the Lombax. Was there anything meaningful that he could've done? Anything that could've saved his mentor?
"Ratchet!"
"Ratchet…"
"Ratch…"
"Ratchet!"
He shook with a sharp exhale as his eyes shot open.
Beneath his fur, he was drenched in sweat despite the room being cold. It could've also been the stuffy blanket he had wrapped all around him, but that was never a problem before.
Ugh, what time is it? Thirty o'clock? Wait, no…
Nothing made sense in the moment as his mind booted up, processing the world that spun around him.
Where…?
The lights above didn't help either as it blinded his ill-adjusted eyes. Laid out on the soft cushions beneath, all he could make out was a silhouette staring down at him: a figure with large striped ears leaning over on his right.
"...General?" Ratchet croaked, his dry throat in dire need of hydration.
He stretched his arms out towards the entity, waving his hand around as his dulled sense of depth kept him from hitting the target. But eventually, he was able to close the gap and grasp their arm.
It was fuzzy, but firm; proof that they were a tangible body unlike last time. Upon contact, all of his surroundings clarified, and the hazy mist that blurred them into obscurity no longer interfered.
"Uh, Ratchet? It's me."
The intensity of the lights dimmed as his eyes finally adapted to its brightness. Above, the silhouette became more detailed as goggles and a scarf appeared, and the white fur he expected was instead tinged with a slight purple while the red stripes on their arms and ears became blue.
Rivet.
Sitting straight up, Ratchet tugged his hand to himself as his awareness leapt from zero to a hundred. "Ah! Sorry, I didn't—"
"No no, my bad!" Rivet backed away from him, gripping her robotic arm with her left hand. "I was gonna let you sleep, but you were, like, moving around a bunch and mumbling and...you're also sweating a lot."
Blanket still on top of him, he dragged it off and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Wait, what time is it?"
"About eleven."
"Eleven!" Ratchet's ears shot up as he jumped off the couch and scrambled for the bathroom. "We're late!"
Oh crap, oh crap!
With a long stride, he made it to the door in a second and yanked it open, creating a gust of wind from the sheer force of it.
We haven't been late to anything in years! How did we oversleep? Where the hell is Clank?
"Late?" Rivet called from the couch. "We're not late for anything."
He paused, one foot already in the bathroom before he turned to her. "What?"
"Quantum called off the meeting; we're good for today. Tomorrow he wants us to attend some conference, made it sound really important. But today, we're good."
The adrenaline was dying until exhaustion caught up with him. His labored breathing bordered on wheezing as he recovered. Turns out, sprinting right after waking up was quite demanding on the body.
"Oh."
A freak. That's what he must've looked like from her point of view. A furry, sweaty, maniacal freak who was fretting and panting a little too much over a problem that didn't exist.
"Um." He calmed down, taking another catch-up breath as he rubbed his eyes. "Where's Clank and Kit?"
"At the factory. Mort needed them for something, I think."
"Mort, right." He wasn't going to ask which one it was. "...I'm gonna go wash up."
Entering the bathroom, he shut the door, prepared his toothbrush, and brushed away with his eyes closed. Side to side he scrubbed his teeth, subconsciously following a rhythm as he swayed back and forth on his feet.
Day nine.
Time must've been flying by fast, because it was already day nine of his and Clank's cleanup adventures in Rivet's dimension.
In the previous days, they prioritized restoring Blizar Prime to its 'former glory', as Quantum had put it, since the resources from the mines there were essential to the galaxy's running economy. Doing so required the help of an acquaintance that Rivet and Clank made while acquiring phase quartz: The Fixer.
There were many unique characters that Ratchet had met in his life, but based on Rivet's description, 'The Fixer' sounded like a complete fantasy. Seriously, a 'mountain-high robot who suffered from an existential crisis and also could repair anything with his laser eyes'?
He chuckled as he recalled Rivet's face when she described the iron giant. The childlike wonder in her voice as well as her starry eyes as she tried to best explain her encounter with him was honestly cute, but he didn't buy it.
Then they went to Torren IV.
And as they landed on the planet and walked through the Vullard-inhabited scrapyards, there was a constant uneasy feeling in his stomach. A part of him held a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe…
He could've met an alternate version of Alister Azimuth there.
But there was no counterpart, and instead all he found was The Fixer, precisely as described, and then Rivet's smug 'I-told-you-so' expression as his jaw fell open at the sight of the robot in action.
No Alister, no other Lombaxes, no more Cragmites.
Ratchet stopped brushing, then spat into the sink and washed his face. Reaching for the towel next to him, he dried off his fur, flattening it, and checked for any strands sticking out in the mirror. As the years passed by, it became harder to smoothen the hair on his cheeks; they were beginning to get scruffy, and he could only get older.
His reflective counterpart stared back into his eyes, and the faint voice of a distant, yet permanent memory haunted him.
'You, my dear boy, look just like your father.'
"Well, Alister," Ratchet muttered, "I hope I didn't get only his looks."
'He was a great Lombax, smart as they come...the first outsider to theorize that the Great Clock even existed.'
"How about this 'dimensional' stuff, dad?" he said to the mirror. "What's your take on it?"
Despite the eerie discoveries made during the second day, he and Clank made no further investigations; there simply wasn't any time for research while they were busy repairing the galaxy. Regardless, the more they learned about the dimensions, the less sense it made. With the bouts of headaches, trembling hands, and occasional chills, thinking about it didn't do him any favors.
At least sometimes he'd forget everything, especially with Rivet around, and be able to enjoy life in the moment.
She'd be his distraction and blabber about how much she loved the hoverboots that he introduced her to, or she'd show him some nifty gadgets like the Hurlshot that she got with Clank, which apparently almost threw out her back upon initial usage. She was so talkative and energetic that it was hard to imagine only a few weeks ago she was, according to Clank, considered a loner, a reclusive rebel who expressed no desire to form any relationships with her peers beyond pragmatic purposes. But now, she was always finding ways to start a fun conversation, to lend her pleasant voice to his eager ears.
Yet, other times her very presence became the source of his stress. As he would, during the most inconvenient times, become hyper aware and realize that she was…
Ratchet splashed a handful of water onto his face.
Damnit, Clank.
He wiped off the water, head throbbing as he rubbed it.
See what happens when I listen to you? When you tell me to think more?
After finishing his morning hygiene routine, he exited the bathroom, making sure to slowly close the door on his way out. With a faint click from the release of the doorknob, he turned to the rest of the room.
Across was Rivet, who was watching television while occupying half of the couch that he had slept on. Miscellaneous chatter blared over the screen, and although he might've recognized the voices, his mushy mind decided to filter them out.
After he walked to the front of the couch, Ratchet leaned backwards. Disregarding the natural impulse to balance, he allowed gravity to take its course as he plopped onto the opposite end of the cushions like a ragdoll.
Rivet looked at him in concern, lowering the television's volume with its remote as she scooted towards him. "You okay?"
There was a lengthy pause before he moved again, eyes glazed over as he looked at her.
Who are you?
But tired of the millions of questions in his head, there was only one thing that he wanted to say.
"...Breakfast."
"Of course." Chuckling, she reached for a bag next to the television and placed it in his lap.
It was warm, and upon opening it, the gloomy clouds in Ratchet's mind parted away. He looked up, not at the ceiling of the room, but through it at the sky above, understanding that cosmic forces truly existed and they were looking after him.
Inside was a bundle of freshly baked donuts. Blueberry, glazed, chocolate, maple, a mix of cake-based and yeast-based, the whole smorgasbord. Then she also handed him a cup, filled nearly to the brim with coffee.
Ratchet thanked the cosmic forces again, this time for sending Rivet as their representative.
Lifting the cup to his lips, he took a sip, careful to not burn his mouth. It was creamy and sweet, but not toothachingly sweet. Then he tried dunking one of the blueberry donuts in his drink before eating it. A blend of fruit and sugar, accented by the nutmeg in the hot coffee, all melted in his mouth.
Nevermind, I could die happy right now.
Ratchet let out a joyous sigh and sank further into the couch cushions as he dipped and chewed.
"You're the best of the best," he said through bites. "When did you get this?"
"An hour ago. Clank saw that I was overdue for some new groceries, so I thought you'd appreciate this while we were out."
"You took Aphelion?"
"No, just my starship. I wouldn't touch yours without asking first."
"I don't mind. Anyway, I owe you one." Ratchet took another donut from the bag, but this time offered it to her. "By the way, please don't tell him I'm eating all of this."
Rivet chortled as she accepted the donut, her eyes remaining on him as she munched. "So, not much of a morning person?"
"It's not that. Just feeling a little extra…eh."
"Eh?"
"Eh." Taking another sip of his coffee, he smacked his lips and raised his cup to her. "We're good now, though. Thanks."
It wasn't a great answer, but at least sufficient enough for Rivet to nod and turn back to the television. In doing so, she also grabbed the blanket from earlier and laid it on top of her and partially him. With the embrace of the cloth and the sweet aroma of the steaming donuts, Ratchet allowed himself to settle in.
There was a trend that he and Clank noticed. No matter what kind of adventures they embarked on, regardless of the degree of danger and catastrophic events that took place, their lives ultimately ended up the same way: recreation in the form of food and entertainment at home.
All the elements were there. He was curled up on a couch, he had donuts and coffee, and there was a working television in front of him. The only difference was the location and the person with him. It wasn't his garage on Veldin, it wasn't his apartment on Endako, and the companion to his left was certainly not someone to merely glance over.
Everything was stranger, yet not necessarily worse.
The refreshing, cool breeze from the vents brushed over his fur, the noise from the screen's speakers provided a busy ambience to his ears, and the soft and plush feeling of the couch soothed his back. Despite the aforementioned changes, never before had life felt easier. Like regardless of everything that weighed on his shoulders, he could still sit down, kick back, and have a good time with his friends.
He subconsciously drifted towards the source of warmth next to him.
I could get used to this.
Rivet shuffled around, nestling herself underneath the blanket until everything was to her satisfaction. In this docile state, her ears lowered, almost touching the top of the couch's backrest. They'd occasionally twitch as her fur was also caressed by the fans, with strands blowing in the direction of her curved ear tips that contrasted his straight ones.
Her pink nose scrunched as she sniffled, and then she brushed her white tuft of hair to the side. Most notably, she was smiling. For what reason, he couldn't figure ou—
Wait, what am I doing?
In a moment of realization, the heat from the coffee and donuts returned to his hands. Ratchet blinked and looked away, unaware of when he even started staring at all. He continued to eat his breakfast in silence while Rivet watched the television.
'Ye'll be payin' a high price for stickin' yer nose in the wrong places!'
The voices from the speakers raised in volume, prompting Ratchet to finally look up.
'It be over, Copernicus! Yer blaster's all out o' juice!'
'Oh please, Gabriel. Did you really think that I'd only bring one blaster?'
'Nooooo!'
He gawked at the television, dumbfounded. On it was a scene of two men, one villainous robot and one superhero, having a showdown on the bow of a flying pirate ship with unconvincing costumes and even less convincing acting.
"...What are we watching?"
Not taking her eyes off the screen, Rivet said, "The old Nefarious Broadcast Station. Quantum started airing some new stuff that Qwark gave him. Ever seen any of this?"
"Nope. Qwark tried making me, but I never did."
"Well it's, uh, really something else." She reached her hand out from under the blanket and scratched her ear. "Actually, I kinda like it. It's miles better than the Emperor's dumb news updates and propaganda films."
"I'll take your word for it."
And it wasn't a lie either. Especially given his exposure to Dr. Nefarious' attempts at 'cinema', if one could even call it that, as well as other forms of entertainment.
The fur on the back of Ratchet's neck stood as Dr. Nefarious' grating voice played in his head, singing covers of Courtney Gears albums over and over. Wishing to clear it out, he bent towards the television and focused on the shootout between the characters 'Copernicus' and 'Gabriel' until the scene faded to black.
'My Blaster Runs Hot will return after these messages.'
Slouching back into the couch again, he took a sip of his drink as the infomercials played.
'Hello, citizens of Polaris! Welcome to week two of this galaxy's new era! I, Captain Qwark, have a few questions for you. Do you have that itch that you can't scratch? Do you feel grimy even after taking a shower? Or maybe your breath just smells, no matter how hard you brush your teeth? Well, I've got just the right gadget for you!'
Ratchet nearly choked, holding his cup underneath his chin to prevent any coffee from spilling.
"Uh..." Voice cracking, he looked at Rivet with sunken eyes that could've only been given to him by the most scarring trauma. "You might want to change the channel."
Remote in hand, she pointed it at the television before looking at him. "There something wrong with this?"
'And now, with my patented Personal Hygienator, yours truly will follow up with a demonstration!'
"Trust me, you don't want to watch."
Right as Qwark flicked on the device, the screen changed to a broadcast of a robot—another one whom Ratchet recognized from the first meeting in his dimension's Megalopolis—speaking into a microphone as they stood in front of Nefarious Tower, now donning flags with Qwark's, or rather Quantum's, logo.
'...And with the restoration of the Blizar mines, a collective sigh could be heard across the galaxy as prices finally stabilized thanks to the leading efforts of President Quantum and Captain Qwark.'
Photos of both men posing next to each other were displayed on the broadcast. Knowing Qwark, he must've taken it himself and sifted through hundreds of shots before deciding on which to send to the station.
'Of course, this is due in part to the actions of Ratchet and Clank, two heroes who, along with Captain Qwark, hail from another dimension, and Rivet and Kit, former members of the now-defunct Resistance group.'
Pictures of each named individual popped up one at a time, with Clank and Kit being first, for whatever reason, and then...
"Wha—what the hell is that!" Ratchet exclaimed.
Centered on the screen was probably the worst photo of him that anyone could have ever taken.
It was a portrait of him glaring at the camera, fangs bared as his ears peaked into an arch, forming a shape reminiscent of a devil's horns. The shadows on his face were also darkened from increased contrast, and a red tint was added to the overall picture.
"Pffff...bwahahaha!" Rivet cried laughing, wiping her tears with the blanket.
"Someone went out of their way to choose this picture and edit it! What did I do wrong?"
"Well, hehe, at least they're still calling you a hero. I mean, what else could they—"
The screen changed portraits again, this time finally showing Rivet's picture. But, compared to the photo of Ratchet's bad fur day, it was anything but offensive.
Ratchet whistled. "Wow."
"This is, uh…"
It wasn't even a real photo. Instead, it was a drawing of Rivet from the shoulder up. Incredibly detailed, from the texture of her scarf to the individual strands of her fur, every aspect of her face was beautifully rendered. She was smiling, and in her intricately sketched eyes, a certain innocence, a sort of confident optimism captured within.
"Looks like you've got a fan," Ratchet said as he drank his coffee and looked at Rivet to compare her features to the drawing.
"Not sure how to feel about this."
"I think it's flattering. I mean, look at what they did to me!"
The portraits of the two Lombaxes were placed side by side. Rivet's angelic figure against Ratchet's demonic caricature; the beauty versus the beast.
"I don't know. You look pretty cool in that edit."
Ratchet laughed. "You think so? Maybe we can ask them to switch our places next time."
"I'll definitely keep that in mind. Can't believe someone drew me like that though..." Despite those words, she didn't take her eyes off the picture.
"What do you mean? That's exactly how you look."
"I don't look like that!" Hiding her face behind her hands, she finally pried away from the screen. "It's too cutesy and sweet," she said with disgust. "I feel like I'm going to get diabetes looking at it."
"Pretty sure all those desserts you eat are gonna get to you before an accurately cute drawing of you does."
Putting her arms down, she glowered at him. "I'm not cute."
With her face visible once again, Ratchet took another look at her. This time alone without comparing it to anything else.
An angry, pouting Lombax stared back with cheeks that, when she frowned, puffed up in such a way that begged to be squeezed. Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to look threatening, emphasizing her pretty eyelashes and thin, well-groomed eyebrows, which only accomplished the opposite effect. And how her ears drooped on the side, like a set of jet wings, was simply the icing on the cake. It was impossible to take her so seriously when she looked so adorable.
"Yes you are," Ratchet said.
She scowled, baring one of her fangs on the side. "I'd tackle you if you weren't holding your breakfast right now. Be thankful that I'm respectful to food."
"Sorry, I take it back." Ratchet held his cup and bag of donuts close to him.
"Good."
Lifting the remote up, Rivet switched the television back to the previous channel where Qwark's infomercial was no longer playing and his excessively high-budget holo-film resumed. They watched, with Ratchet passing her another donut as a peace offering before he ate more, eventually coming to a point where the bag felt weightless.
He looked into the empty bag, now realizing how massive it was as he resisted the urge to eat the crumbs at the bottom. How desperate.
How many donuts did I even eat?
With one final sip, Ratchet finished the rest of his coffee, holding the liquid in his mouth a little longer to savor the last drops for as much as he could. One gulp later, it was all over.
'Copernicus! I beg ye to leave me crew alone! I offer peace!'
Of course, the film was playing again. And with that, Qwark's poor acting was the focus for every frame of every scene as he showcased his bravado and sense of justice through his fictional persona.
'Fortunately for you, Gabe, I am a forgiving being who always opts for a pacifist route. What do you say?'
'Really? I say...sike!'
Thousands of lasers spammed around the screen as a firefight began between the characters, creating a mindless mesh of special effects and post-processing that immediately lost what little interest Ratchet held.
Instead, he chose to look around Rivet's hideout. Despite staying in it for over a week, it was a place in which the only things familiar to him were the couch, the bathroom, and the shelves that he and Rivet put their gear on.
Eyes wandering, his vision first fell upon said shelf, placed in the corner behind the television. From top to bottom row, it held tools, weapons, more weapons, and some other equipment.
Ratchet paused momentarily, eyes caught by two peculiar weapons leaning against the bottom of the shelf, before deciding to skip over them in favor of the two pairs of hoverboots underneath.
"Hey," he said, averting Rivet's eyes away from the television. "Wanna head out?"
"Whoa-hoo-hoo!"
Fun as it was to be moving at hyperspeed, the boost provided by the hoverboots was still hard for Rivet to adjust to. Bushes and the other plants of Sargasso whizzed by as the currents blew into her eyes. Squinting through the rush of air, she was almost tempted to reach for her goggles—
"Oh crap!"
She dropped to her knees as she rapidly approached a tree, feeling the branches sweep past the top of her head that would've otherwise left a nasty scar.
"Hey! Who let you pick the route?" she yelled out.
Ahead of her was Ratchet, the dumb Lombax who decided that it was a genius idea to race down one of the most densely packed areas of flora in Sargasso instead of the clear passages by the factory. He didn't have any protective eyewear on either; if he didn't need it, neither did she.
"You did!" he shouted back, jumping over a fallen tree. "It's not my fault you're so slow!"
The sun's rays shone through the clearings in the trees, hitting her eyes every so often. Maybe she did need the goggles after all, but there was no way she was going to let that goof get the better of her, especially with that cocky attitude of his!
It was almost too late by the time she noticed, but the fallen tree was soon ten feet away from her. Rivet yelped as she twirled over the trunk, stumbling a little upon landing.
"Dang it, Ratchet!"
Ratchet's laughter bounced off the trees all around as he turned left, entering a wider section of the forest with the foliage more spread out. As Rivet shifted her weight over to follow, she copied each of his moves, cutting every corner as narrowly as possible, boosting her boots to their maximum setting, but still wasn't able to catch up to him.
How is he so fast?
He briefly glanced behind at her, and as if he could read her mind said, "Keep your back straight, but lean a little more into it! You won't fall!"
Ratchet demonstrated the technique, tilting his body at an acute slant relative to the ground. The gap between them widened further as the difference in their speed persisted longer.
Well, Lombax see, Lombax do.
Doing exactly as he said, she angled her body forward, hands locked to her sides, but prepared to loosen in case she had to catch herself at any moment.
Everything around started passing by so much quicker. The grass below became one smeared chunk of green and the striped, yellow ears of the Lombax ahead of her were getting bigger; closer. Much to her surprise, she was also perfectly balanced; the force of the boots took care of everything.
Soon enough, she was right next to Ratchet, no longer forced to follow his dust trail and watch his tail flail around.
I did it!
Looking to her right, Ratchet gave her a thumbs up and an approving nod. He reached over to her, maintaining his speed and stability as he lightly punched her arm.
"Pretty good, rebel!"
She laughed in response, spreading her arms wide to feel the wind as well as the leaves graze her hand as they sped through the trail.
Rebel.
It was once a title to describe her resistance, her opposition against the Emperor's oppressive regime. But now? Now she didn't know what it meant anymore.
There was no more Nefarious, and because of that, no more hiding. No more cramped vents and sewer tunnels. No more sleepless nights. No more makeshift graves.
Rivet shook her head as she refocused on the incoming patches of tall grass and the Lombax she was trying to outmaneuver.
As if any of that matters anymore.
Now that she and Ratchet were at matching speeds, it was less of a competition and more of a leisure stroll. At least, as fast as 'leisure' could be.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"No idea!"
Without either Lombax in the lead, they were mindlessly following whatever opening in the forest they could fit through.
The trees were getting closer and closer, and now the road was too tight for the both of them. Rivet was in second place once again as the small path forced her behind Ratchet. With their matching speeds, they were so close to the point where she was practically breathing down his neck.
"Hey, hotshot? This place is definitely not hoverboot-able."
He turned his head to her, looking away from the route while boosting straight, as if such a reckless action was so natural to him. "Anything is hoverboot-able if you try hard enough. Come on, stay right on my tail!" he said, turning back and then yelping.
"Watch out!"
While they were focused on each other, they failed to realize that they were headed right for another fallen tree.
Rivet shut off her boots as she dug her heels into the ground and crouched.
Instead of ducking with her, Ratchet launched into the air and towards the trees. The inertia almost threw Rivet to the ground as she halted and then ran after Ratchet in preparation of his fall.
Like a top, he spun endlessly, hollering until he impacted with the nearest tree...and then ricocheted off of it.
"What the…"
One after another, all trees within the vicinity lined up as backboards for him to bounce off of. He zig-zagged from trunk to trunk, slowly lowering towards the ground with each perfectly timed jump; a master-class dancer in the most unfitting, yet somehow maneuverable stage.
After a dozen or so hops and rolls flashier than anything the Emperor could've ever hoped to choreograph in his crappy music videos, Ratchet landed, creating a small cloud of dust around him upon impact.
...That just happened.
Rivet ran up to him, inspecting his body for any damage. If he was in any sort of pain, he certainly was good at hiding it. Instead, he was cheering as he stood, hands raised high as if he had ridden the best rollercoaster ever.
"Woo-hoo! Hell yeah!"
"Okay, when did you learn to do that?" Rivet said.
"Well," Ratchet said, sweeping the dust from his legs and shaking his boots. "A couple of years ago."
"Are there, like, hoverboot professionals or something in your dimension?"
Mid-motion, he stopped cleaning his armor. "Maybe back then. They're…not that popular nowadays."
"You're kidding! I can't even live without these!" Rivet activated her boots, circling around Ratchet at the lowest speed. "Why did I get stuck in the universe where no one invented hoverboots?"
Ratchet's ears and eyebrows both raised as the adrenaline-fueled joy on his face wavered.
"What's up?" Stopping in front of him, Rivet deactivated her boots.
"Nothing."
"Come on, what's on your mind?"
He rubbed his arms, looking off into the distance. "Just thinki—aw man, I chipped my shoulderplates!"
Rotating his body to her, he pointed at his left shoulder where there was a gash in his armor. Cracks formed around the area, disrupting the smoothness of the entire piece's orange design.
"Huh. How'd that happen?" Rivet said.
"Must've scraped it on something while we were racing." Ratchet picked at it with his finger, feeling around the sharp edges that the cracks created. "It's been a while, guess I'm just rusty."
Rivet scoffed. "Those moves were insane for someone 'rusty', whatever that means."
His eyes lit up, looking at her as the corners of his mouth rose just a smidge. It was just like the first time they finally had a chance to talk one-on-one. Gentle, but with a fierce will to back it up. She couldn't help but stare.
*BZZT* *BZZT*
His Comm-Link rang. Shortly after picking it up, Clank's voice came through the device.
"Ratchet. Rivet. Come in."
"Yeah, we're here. What's up?" Ratchet said.
"The Morts are requesting both of your presence at the factory. Are you two at the hideout?"
Ratchet looked up at Rivet, who was just as curious as him.
"Uh, we're close enough. We got hoverboots."
"Good. In that case, we will see you two soon."
With Clank's last message, the device pinged as the call ended.
"Guess we should get going," Ratchet said.
Instead of responding, Rivet gazed at the distant mountains, tugging at her scarf as it suddenly felt too hot around her head.
"Hey," he said again with a prod to her left shoulder. She barely turned to him, arms still kept to herself. "How about I teach you some hoverbooting tricks later?"
With an offer like that, her sense of unease soon dissipated as she put her hands on her hips. "Now you're talking. Race you back?"
He grinned at her and blasted away on his boots, with the force of the thrusters against the ground leaving a cloud of dust in her face.
Particles got caught in her nose as she sneezed and waved the dirt away. Looking back where Ratchet, the source of her displeasure, left, Rivet watched as his figure got smaller and smaller, failing to remember on time that she was supposed to follow him.
"Hey! We didn't even do a countdown!" With a hop and a swift kick, she activated the boot's propulsion cells and chased after him.
Oh, it's on.
Hunting for the male Lombax, she grinned ear-to-ear while thinking of the many ways she could get back at him.
The thrusters sputtered as Rivet turned off her boots, feeling her weight fall back on her feet as she landed on the ground. She stood next to Ratchet, who was waving in the factory's direction.
At the edge of the platform's ramp, two of the Morts were walking towards a large tree while holding baskets in both hands. Behind them, Clank and Kit carried a stack of plates, cups, and utensils.
Rivet moved her hand right next to Ratchet as he spoke, deploying her act of revenge.
"Hey, guys!" Ratchet cupped his hands around his mouth. "What's happeni—YEEOUCH!"
He snapped his head back, cradling his tail close to his body as it had just been given the unfortunate experience of being yanked. Before he could fully turn, Rivet looked away, humming while holding her hands behind her back.
"Gee, I wonder who did that!" he said.
The ends of her scarf blew around, persuading her to play around with it. After waiting the longest half-minute ever, maybe, just maybe, he was over it. Sparing the slightest glance in his direction, she rotated her head by a few degrees...
And then came to a complete halt. He was right in front of her, with their noses almost touching as he had a wicked smile carved on his face.
"I. Wonder. Who."
The few centimeters that made up their height difference suddenly mattered; he was a colossal mountain while she was a mere anthill. He tilted his head down at her, his expression skirting between the boundary of impish and cruel.
Rivet tittered, followed by a gulp. Words lost in her throat as she simultaneously tried to find them. "W-What's up?"
"I think you know what's up."
Only war could come from this point on. Whether Ratchet was aware or not, his earlier trick on Rivet was an invitation to battle, an opening shot. As it would be against her nature to deny the offer, she fired back.
A high-pitched whistle blew from behind, with the two Morts jumping as they beckoned to them. "Hey, you two! Over here!"
"Be right there!" Rivet shouted, turning back to Ratchet, who closed what little distance was left between them. Green pierced into blue as their eyes fought.
"We're not finished here, rebel."
Her tail flicked in the air as chills shot down her spine. Nothing had even happened yet, but she had a feeling that the chance of an armistice might already be out the window.
Challenge accepted.
The nervous smile she previously held turned cocky and mischievous. "Right back at ya, hotshot."
They continued staring, waiting to see who could fold first, who was actually the one in control. Two equals in limbo, it was as if they could stay in their state for eternity. Being up so close, every strand of Ratchet's neat fur was visible to her from the marginally darker strips near his eyes to the lighter shades on the rest of his face.
…
It was getting difficult to hold. A weird tickling sensation in her chest began to rise, and the longer she kept her charade up, the more intense it felt. It was the kind of feeling that she would only ever experience after barely escaping Nefarious' troops, or when she dodged the bite of a raging Grunthor. Those situations always left her wondering when her luck would inevitably run out, when she wouldn't find a convenient escape route, or turn to react to an attack in the nick of time. Yet, all there was in this case was Ratchet.
This time, she actually didn't mind it.
But nevermind that. She was going to lose this struggle for dominance, unless...
Rivet flicked Ratchet's chin up, forcing him to stumble backwards. Giggling at his immediate outcry, she bolted for the tree where the two Morts, as well as Clank and Kit, waited.
"Hey Mort!"
Here, one Mort was still wearing their hard hat while the other wasn't. It had become easier over the decades for her to distinguish who was who amongst them, but these visible differences did not go unappreciated.
"Rivet! How are ya?" the hatless Mort, dubbed Mort One, said with her motherly voice.
Before she could answer, Ratchet caught up with them, his chest rising and lowering as he recovered from the sprint.
"And you!" Mort One pointed at him. "That was a strange way of greeting someone earlier, but I like the enthusiasm!"
"The what?" Ratchet said.
"Your shout earlier. You know, the 'yeeouch'?"
"Oh, that. Right, that was, um—" He shot Rivet an accusing glare, speaking while grinning through his predatory teeth "—me getting a little too excited."
"Well we appreciate it. You already know our names at this point, but let's make it official." She straightened her back and pointed at herself. "I'm Mort!"
Then, the other Mort—Mort Two—walked up, taking his hat off and holding it to his side. "And I'm Mort!"
"Right..." Ratchet snapped his fingers while maintaining his signature 'everything-is-fine' pose. "Good to meet you guys."
He's so lost.
A guffaw almost burst out of Rivet before she could hold it, getting another unamused look from the male Lombax. She stuck her tongue out at him.
"The pleasure's all ours!" Taking Ratchet's hand, Mort One vigorously shook it. "You four are always leaving before noon breaks, and then you come back so late that we can never introduce ourselves!"
Under the tree, Clank and Kit were pulling supplies out of the baskets and laying blankets on the ground. Noticing this, Mort One ran towards them. "Dearie, let me take care of that!"
With three pairs of hands helping, layers of blankets were quickly spread around the grass, pinned down by the weighty baskets.
Ratchet squinted. "A picnic?"
"You betcha!" Mort Two said. "What better way to meet Rivet's new pals than some food in the outdoors!"
"Weather's nice today too," Mort One said, bringing out multiple trays covered in tin foil and a pitcher. "Soft breeze, not too humid, and the toads won't bother us either."
"And Rivet here took care of all the Grunthors within a mile from this place." Tip-toeing to reach her height, Mort Two ruffled Rivet's head, making her laugh.
"Haha, well, I had some help," Rivet said, looking at Clank, who was unwrapping a bag of utensils. Hearing his name, he looked up and winked at her before resuming his activity.
Empty plates were spread on the quilt with utensils neatly presented on each of them. The foil on the aluminum trays were pulled off, revealing a mix of casseroles, cookies, cupcakes, sandwiches, and some finger foods.
Mort One clapped her hands together. "Good to go! Sit on down, everyone!"
Grabbing Ratchet's wrist, Mort Two led him over to sit, guiding by pushing the Lombax's back.
"Rivet!"
Over on the other side of the picnic blanket was Kit, who patted the space next to her. "I saved a spot for you!"
"Oh, uh, thanks!" Rivet said. "That's...thoughtful of you." She walked to her partner as the two Morts, Ratchet, and Clank joined them.
"Ahh." Ratchet sighed as he sat cross-legged, with every joint in his legs cracking when bent.
Everyone grabbed a plate, Ratchet specifically licking his lips while eyeing each presented dish with ravenous hunger.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing at a steaming casserole topped with tater tots.
Mort Two brought out a spatula, scooping the casserole and piling large portions of it on Ratchet's plate. "Hotdish. It's got beef, onions, cream of chicken and mushroom, taters, and lots of cheese."
"We like it simple," Mort One added. "None of that fancy sandshark meat and whatnot."
Stabbing into the plate like it was his worst enemy, Ratchet gathered as many layers of the casserole as possible on his fork, lifting it up towards his mouth until he paused.
"Yes?" Ratchet asked, millimeters away from eating, but now looking at a blank-faced Clank.
The robot turned away with an emotionless thousand-yard stare. "I trust that you will eat in moderation?"
"Come on, you know me. I've been eating 'in moderation' for the past week."
"I was afraid of that answer. Oh well, for the Morts."
With a simple wave of dismissal from Clank, Ratchet gorged on all the contents of the plate.
While he was off devouring anything that the Morts chose to give him, Rivet looked at the available options laid throughout the blankets.
Tater tots or lasagna? Or maybe I can just eat a bucket load of cookies and call it a day. Or maybe—
The plate she held slipped out of her hands as Kit took it and loaded it with a generous serving of a pie with ground beef and mashed potatoes.
"Ooh, the cottage pie is great. Try it," Ratchet said, who, while Rivet was deciding on what to eat, had somehow already grabbed more food and stuffed his plate with all the main dishes, even sneaking a cookie in there. At his advice, Rivet took a bite out of the pie.
It was good. Exceptionally good. Granted, it was near impossible to go wrong with meat, potatoes, and a good pie crust, but this exceeded any expectations. She chewed and chewed, reveling in the savory flavor of the beef balanced out by the creamy potatoes.
"And a cupcake too! Have some!"
Kit unwrapped and shoved a cupcake in Rivet's mouth, causing the Lombax to almost drop her plate and fork.
"Mmmph!" Frosting spread all around Rivet's mouth as Kit tried feeding her another treat. In a panic, the robot jumped back, head spinning at all degrees as she frantically looked around until picking up a napkin.
Kit reached for Rivet's face, smearing the towel against her fur. "Oh, sorry! I only—"
"It's fine, it's fine." Taking the napkin, Rivet wiped her face before picking her plate back up. "The cupcake is good. Let's enjoy it, alright?"
"Right. That is a good idea." Kit scuttled back and grabbed a nearby pitcher. She poured its yellow contents into their cups, with the sound of the drip-drops drawing Ratchet's attention out.
After she finished filling all the cups, Ratchet grabbed one and held it at eye level. He scrutinized the drink, rotating it to check all sides while the sunlight refracted through the glass and liquid, hitting Rivet right as he nudged her.
"Is this what you were raving about?" he asked.
"Aw, did she tell you about our lemonade?" Mort One said as she patted Rivet's head, laughing. "Try it! I promise it won't kill ya."
Rather than thoughtlessly guzzle it like one would expect, he inspected it carefully, putting his nose close to get a whiff of the drink's smell. Once deducing that it wasn't going to kill him, he took a sip.
After swallowing the first sample, he puckered his lips and smacked them twice, a firm nod to end the evaluation. "Best lemonade I've ever had."
The Morts cheered and raised their cups, with Mort Two shaking Ratchet's shoulder.
"To the heroes who got rid of that cake eater Nefarious!"
Cheers came from all around as everyone touched glasses and downed their lemonade, soon holding their cups up for seconds.
"Cake eater?" Ratchet mumbled from Rivet's right.
A perplexed look on his face, his mind was probably racing at thousands of parsecs a second to decipher the Morts' 'code'. Rivet snorted as she leaned towards his ear. "It's just something they like to say."
"Huh." And he didn't give it another second of thought as he dove right back into his plate, which at this point had become a mess of pasta, potatoes, sauces, and meat.
He really loves food, doesn't he?
She stuck her fork in her mouth, watching him eat, smirking at the way he always gobbled his meals as if it was going to be his last one each time. Then, in the corner of her peripherals above Ratchet was the factory, where she realized that there was something off, something missing.
Craning her head up, she looked above the factory platform where there was an empty nest of grass with a half-eaten batch of Zurpstones laying next to it.
"Hey, how's Trudi been?" Rivet asked.
Pouring himself another cup of lemonade, Mort Two chugged it and exhaled. "She's been hiding from us lately."
"What? Is she okay?"
"Oh yeah, mostly fine." He belched, excusing himself as he covered his mouth. "She's just getting ready for her kids."
"Kids?" Kit asked. "The creature we rode on back then is pregnant?"
"You betcha!"
"...Wow!"
Rivet clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Guess it's too late to throw her that baby shower now."
"Oh, you're such a peach," Mort One said. "I'm sure she knows and appreciates the thought."
"I sure hope so."
Disappointment. She needed something to remedy it. Reaching for the cookies, she then pulled her hand back as Ratchet, out of nowhere, grabbed one, threw it onto her plate, and then picked up more for himself.
"Heh, enjoying the food?" she asked, biting into the cookie.
There were stains all over his face as Ratchet looked up from his plate, and his cheeks were puffed, completely stuffed with food. "I'sh de'i'sh'sh!"
"A rabid saur-beast, you are," Clank said, handing him a napkin.
Mort One gave a hearty laugh. "That's good, eat as much as you can. A home cooked meal is always the best, but I'm sure Rivet has been taking you three out to Zurkie's."
"Mort, I can cook!" Rivet said. "I just got groceries today!"
"I know you can, dearie, but you're always making those sandwiches or whatever snack you can grab in such a hurry. A growing girl like you needs to eat something more filling than that!" And with that said, Mort One grabbed Rivet's plate and piled it with more of the hotdish, as well as some extra helpings of cottage pie.
"I also—"
"Takeout from Zurkie's doesn't count." She gave the filled plate back to Rivet, who, defeated, took it and ate in compliance.
Without turning, Clank gave a snide look to his left. "At least you occasionally make your own food."
Next to Clank, Ratchet glared at him and swallowed. "Hey, I can cook too! I just never get the chance to cause you're always the one doing it."
"I suppose you are right in that regard. Perhaps we could start taking turns?"
"No!" The male Lombax panicked, sputtering and setting his plate on the blanket. "I mean, I wouldn't want to take that away from you. You know?"
"Mhmm. Sure, that is the reason."
"Yeah, you uh…" Looking around, Ratchet scratched his chin until a glint of mischief appeared in his eyes. "You enjoy wearing the apron every time, don't you?"
"Wha—What you are implying is preposterous!" Clank threw his arms down, rattling the plates nearby. A sudden display of passion from the normally collected robot. "I wear it to keep stains away from my body!"
"Nothing wrong with wearing an apron," Rivet chimed in.
"I am not saying there is something inherently wrong with aprons, I—"
"I think it is charming of you to appreciate the design and functionality of them," Kit said.
"Oh, Kit, not you too…"
Ratchet and the Morts broke into hysterics, for which Clank chided the Lombax, and after receiving even more laughter mumbled something about 'never leaving scores at a tie'.
Meanwhile, Rivet glanced at the yellow robot next to her, who smiled while watching the impromptu drama between their other companions.
Come on, just talk to her.
It was hard to stay true to her word to Ratchet. After over a week of living together, she and Kit seldom exchanged any interactions, at least when they were by themselves. Sure, they talked sometimes—usually in conversations engaged by Kit—and had a laugh or two together, but that was only when either of the boys were with them.
If she needed a third party present for permission to even say anything beyond 'good morning' to her partner, was she truly her friend? Instead, they were co-workers who frequently went to company lunches together, but never personally called each other; it was tolerance rather than camaraderie.
Okay, I can do this. Rivet took a deep breath through her nose. She's not just a robot, she's your friend, your pal, your partner, and she's trying hard.
"Kit," she said, drawing the named robot's attention. "How about you? Do you cook?"
Kit looked at her, mouth agape as she darted her eyes left and right, then back at her. "Well, Clank taught me how to for the first time earlier."
"Oh, how was it?"
"It was fun! He helped me make the pie."
"That was you?"
Clasping her hands together, Kit nodded. "And Clank."
"It's..." Rivet snapped her eyes back and forth between Kit and the cottage pie. It was tasty, that's for sure. But with the newfound knowledge of it being made by the robot, considering that it was her first time cooking, it was certainly a feat to respect—no, to be proud of.
"It's really good. Nice job!"
Kit's jaw dropped, and as if her processors were calculating the sentence, deconstructing it word by word, she took a moment before speaking again.
"Thank you, Rivet."
They shared a smile together, one that reached their eyes unlike before. This time not as a front for Ratchet's sake, and not as an obligation out of being 'partners'.
The sounds of utensils clanging against plates interrupted the tender moment as Ratchet, like the sloppy Lombax he was, kept stuffing food in his mouth.
"So, Ratchet," Mort Two said. "What do you usually eat?"
Ratchet held his finger up, pausing as he swallowed all the cookies and wiped his mouth. "Uh, whatever Clank makes. Pizza, pies, pizza pies—"
Clank interjected, "Those are the same thing—"
"—sometimes Galaxy Burger, waffles, these cookies," Ratchet continued, holding up the treats in his hands. "And uh, what's that thing you made a few months ago? At Skidd's potluck?"
"Quiche, and that was three years ago."
"...Oh, right."
An impressed look was on Mort One's face as she listened. "Wow, is that what Lombaxes usually eat?"
"That's only what he eats," Clank said.
Rubbing his shoulder, Ratchet shrugged. "Well, to be honest, I have no idea what they really eat."
Rivet's ear twitched.
Eyes widened as she stared at Ratchet, everything deafened around her.
'I have no idea…'
Right, they were Lombaxes. As if she didn't already think about that every time she woke up and saw him still there. Yet, they never spoke about that elephant in the room at all. It was as if they had to wait for the 'pit stop' to even talk about it.
Do I have to bring it up first?
She wasn't naive, because it was clear that he and Clank knew more than they let off. The signs were there, Ratchet's ship detecting her presence, the gaps in his stories from his previous adventures, and the 'Tachyon' guy that Qwark mentioned. What did he have to hide? Why?
I want to be patient, but...for how long?
Out of all the times to go into deep thought over it, it just had to be while they were supposed to enjoy their picnic and rest. Great.
Rivet grabbed and bit into a cupcake with such force that would've impressed a mutant crocodile, never moving her eyes from Ratchet while he ate with a blissful lack of awareness. Though she was miffed at the moment, his goofy face had overpowered that feeling as her visible irritation turned into a smile.
"Can we have more picnics like this?" Ratchet said, shoving more cookies in his mouth before he even finished chewing the previous ones.
"'Can we have more picnics'," Mort One repeated, as if each word in the sentence had never been used together before. "Of course we can! We can have as many picnics as you'd like!"
"Awesome." With his mouth full of cookies, he drank his lemonade to help swallow everything. "This is actually really good."
"Reminds me of the first time Rivet tried it. Right, Mort?"
"You betcha. Can't believe she used to be shorter than us and—wait, she drank the hard stuff, didn't she?"
"Oh yeah!" Mort One turned to Ratchet before continuing. "Unbelievable how much trouble a little one like her could give after a single accidental cup, don'tcha know."
"Mort!" Rivet yelled.
"No no, keep going," Ratchet urged the Morts, this time being the one to pour them another glass. "I like these kinds of stories."
"Well, when little Rivet got tipsy, she…"
The Morts continued telling stories about Rivet's mishaps as a child as Ratchet laughed way too heartily over every time she was said to have tripped, broken equipment, or crashed one of their supplied delivery ships. For the time being, this may have evened out the score between the two Lombaxes, but this was just the first of many battles. She'd make sure to come out on top.
Ratchet shoved the door to the side as he carried four baskets, two on each arm. The lights turned on as he and Clank walked into the gelatonium factory's kitchen, the back lined with shelves of various tools ranging from blenders to electric mixers and portable stoves.
"Alright, be honest," Ratchet said, taking out the basket's contents and putting them to the side. "Besides their voices, could you tell the difference between either of them?"
"Of course," Clank replied.
The empty pitchers clinked together as he brought them up to a shelf's middle row. "Really?"
"Yes, one of them was wearing a hat."
Ratchet rolled his eyes while Clank chuckled at his own joke. "Ha-ha. No, not that. Like, any color difference?" On his toes, without turning away from the shelf, Ratchet made a grabbing motion to his right. "Maybe one of them's got an odd number of spots on their head and the other has an even amount?"
Folding the blankets next to Ratchet first, Clank then passed them to him. "Are you put off by them?"
"No no, they're good people, really nice. I mean, they did pretty much raise Rivet after all."
"Is that so? You seem to have a high opinion of her."
With a short jump, Ratchet pushed on the top shelf until everything was flush against the wall. Then, he turned to Clank. "Why wouldn't I?"
"No reason, I am just glad you two are getting along."
"...Okay," Ratchet said, returning to the shelves.
Hand over his mouth, Clank covered up a cough. "Anyway, there are some new developments to talk about."
"What's that?" Ratchet closed a basket as the last of its contents were organized, and placed it on the bottom rack.
"I did some research earlier."
He froze, neck creaking as he slowly turned to Clank.
Oh boy.
Immediately after, he grabbed a chair from the kitchen counter and sat down, mentally preparing himself for the incoming headaches.
"Alright, let's hear it."
Clank looked at him, as if to gauge his preparedness for whatever he had to say.
"There is no Fastoon in this dimension."
...
"What the hell?"
"Not even another planet with similar conditions or a different name; it simply does not exist."
Ratchet stood and kicked the chest back under the shelves. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers against his temple. "What about the Cragmites? The Emperor wiped them out, right? That doesn't even make sense considering they were gone ages ago in our dimension."
"I thought about that, but perhaps the problem is with how we understand the universes. Is it right for us to assume them to be so similar?"
"What do you mean?"
"The thugs from Bogon in our dimension are peaceful monks here. Who is to say that it would not apply to this dimension's Cragmites?"
"You think they were pacifists instead?"
"Not necessarily pacifists. Just tamer; different."
"This place is weird." He looked around, observing everything so familiar about this reality, yet everything that was so different. "I mean, on our Sargasso, the Lombaxes used it for research. Here, the closest thing we've got are the Morts."
"The Lombaxes? What business would they have on this dimension's planet?"
"They've got everything to do with it. If they tested the Dimensionator in our Sargasso, then wouldn't they have left something behind in this one?" A look of dread appeared in his eyes as they widened to the size of the light bulb above him. "Wait, wouldn't all the Lombaxes there meet their counterparts here? How many Dimensionators are there? Crap, now I'm just confusing myself."
"Hold on, you may be onto something here." Clank held his hand up, tapping his chin. "I will talk to Gary about this, he might know more about it. In the meantime, has Rivet mentioned anything about this to you?"
"No."
"Have you two talked about the Lombaxes lately?"
"No."
"Any discussion at all?"
"...No."
"That is rather odd."
"I've been...waiting. For the right moment." He looked away, scratching the side of his face. "You know, we just met, like, a little more than a week ago. Why drop a bombshell like that on her so soon?"
"You were not as patient with Azimuth."
Eyebrows furrowed, Ratchet snapped back to Clank as he tensed up. "He knew my dad! Of course I'd ask questions!"
"And Rivet is in the exact same situation as you were, understanding nothing about the Lombaxes. Does she not deserve to know?"
"She does. I'll tell her everything eventually."
"Are you afraid?"
"Afraid? Of what? No, I just…" Ratchet pinched his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he gave an exasperated sigh.
What exactly was it that put him in such a bind? It wasn't like there was anything at stake, was there? They were safe, and anything that should've put them at risk was long gone. So what was the problem?
Even then, if he brought it up now, would she hold it against him for not saying anything sooner? After a week of staying with her, what judgement could he make on her character?
"...Just give me some time." Ratchet turned to the exit, opening the door. "Come on, they're waiting."
Before he exited the room, Clank ran in front of him with his hands raised to stop him from leaving. "I apologize if I am pressuring you. But I am confident that whatever has you so hesitant may not be a concern at all."
At this point, I don't even know what exactly I'm 'concerned' over.
"Yeah, I get it."
"I mean it, Ratchet."
Ratchet flicked Clank's antenna, chuckling as he walked around the robot. "And I mean it too."
Leaving the room, he entered the factory's lobby where Rivet and Kit were engaged in a conversation over Clank's cooking habits. During which, the latter robot explained with fervent animations while Rivet stood and listened with an attentive smile.
Once Clank caught up, Kit stopped, with her and Rivet turning to acknowledge the two.
"Finished?" Rivet asked.
"Yep, let's get going," Ratchet said, heading for the factory's exit.
"Where're we headed?"
"Well, we still have some time until the sun leaves this system. Your call."
She ran next to him, then slowed down to walk at his pace. "Really? I might have a few ideas, but my ship needs a refueling before we go."
"Leave that for later. You can take Aphelion this time."
With those words, Rivet jumped and boosted out of the factory with her boots, cheering on the way to his ship. Her giddiness brought a smile on Ratchet's face as she approached the landing pad out front and hopped into Aphelion's pilot seat, where the ship greeted her by name.
"Wait for me!" Kit said, running after her.
Meanwhile, as if the combination of Rivet and a Lombax ship like Aphelion wasn't relevant to their prior conversation, Clank silently walked with Ratchet. It went without saying that the topic was closed for the moment. At least so they could focus on having fun instead of theorizing over what little they knew.
Good. I'm tired of being stressed out.
"Night, Ratchet."
That was the last thing Rivet said as she hopped onto her bed, tucked herself in, and closed her eyes. Prior to that, Clank and Kit were already asleep as they all had to get up early in the morning for Quantum's meeting. Soft breaths sprinkled the room once she fell into an immediate slumber, accompanying the occasional tick of the wall clock, and leaving Ratchet as the only one awake.
She was a quiet sleeper, he learned. It shouldn't be surprising given how she spent over a decade in hiding, lurking around the grasp of a robotic empire where silence was her best friend. But, for the same girl who kept him engaged at all times with her antics to suddenly become so passive was...actually endearing, in a way.
Laying on the couch, rather than using the pillow that Rivet had lent him, he set his head on the armrest. Despite the padding around it, it was still solid beneath, and the slight discomfort there kept him awake. There were also the lights in the ceiling, dimmed and tinted to yellow for everyone's sake, but they still hurt to look at whenever he faced up.
That wasn't the problem though; he's slept through it all for the past week and been through worse before.
No, what really kept him up were the shelves in the corner of the room behind the television, the same shelves from earlier in the morning.
At the top of them were the usual tools like power drills, saws, and screwdrivers. Next, on the lower rows were grenade gloves, missile launchers, laser rifles, etc., weapons of all types ready to be sorted into their holo-packs for the next day.
But at the bottom, off of the shelf and leaning against its frame was his OmniWrench, standing right next to Rivet's hammer.
Her hammer.
Does she really not know anything about the Lombaxes?
The sounds of fabric rustling disrupted his train of thought as Rivet shuffled around her bed, murmuring between bits of low groans.
He raised his head, watching as she stopped and smacked her lips before turning silent once again. A smile graced her features, and with how comfortable she looked under the blanket, she was the picture-perfect example of 'serenity'.
She deserves to know. All of it.
The ticking clock on the back walls gave a solid twang as it struck the next hour. Unless he wanted to regret living with sleep deprivation in the morning, it was best that he finally rested.
Grabbing the pillow on the other end of the couch, he placed it beneath his head as he shifted from the armrest to the plush cushion. His eyes remained on the shelves, engraving the image of the two tools in his mind until sleep could take over.
Wrench and hammer.
Lombax and Lombax.
"...Night, Rivet."
A/N: Don't worry if I'm quiet. I just like posting and then vanishing until the next chapter, but trust me, I'm around. I'm reading everyone's feedback, and I cannot overstate how much I appreciate all of your thoughtful comments, seriously. :)