Let The Ricks Fall Where They May

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

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

NOTE: So with the advent of Season 3... it doesn't change my story an ounce! In fact I actually correctly predicted some things (such as the Feds not having access to interdimensional tech). Yaaay! Season 3's appearance won't affect this story, its original ending, its plot, or its updates.


"Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance."

- Jean-Paul Sartre


Chapter 24 – The Rick And The Dead

December 1st, 9:45pm, Local Ship Time, 2001
Unnamed Nebula, Space
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316


"What the fuck is this shit!?"

Approximately three seconds ago, Rick had discovered that Surgeon Rick's door code was universal and could grant access anywhere he entered it. Fortunately for him, it worked on Ricktus's door and he was able to barge into the room uninvited. He kicked an empty wine bottle in his pathway to the bed and threw the holo-projector down onto the mass of covers as his demands were escalated to a shout. "Wake UP, moron!"

Unfortunately for him, Ricktus was unresponsive; he was still very much asleep and was being watched over by three other bee-hybrid insects. Two of them regarded the intruder with complete indifference, while the third reared up on its hind legs and made loud, threatening sounds. Rick held Morty in one hand and used the other to snatch at one of the bee's claws, throwing it off the bed in an aggressive motion. It was much lighter than anticipated and it flew further than he intended.

"Wake up, you sadistic fuck!" Rick demanded a second time, then shoved the sleeping lump in the shoulder. "You have some explaining to do!"

Ricktus's first reply was a grumpy moan. He forced his eyes open and wasted no time glaring up at the blurred shape overhead. "Explain what, exactly...?"

"How about you actually sit up and pay attention to what I'm showing you?" Rick spat back. "Your dimension's gone to shit... a-anywhere worth anything in the galaxy has already been destroyed. You wanna fill me in or what?"

Ricktus did not move; he didn't want to entertain the question and was more interested in going back to sleep. "You woke me up for that? I don't know. Now go away." He made his displeasure known by rolling over and turning his back on the scientist.

Rick visibly bristled; that was the last response he wanted. "Stop being so evasive, you goddamned son of a bitch! Get up!" He snatched up the blankets and tore them off the bed.

While the sight of another version of himself lying in bed should have been nothing out of the ordinary, it wasn't; what he saw next made him stop dead. Both of the doctor's legs ended approximately three-quarters of the way down his thighs and connected to what was left of them were metallic, biomechanical junctures that had been surgically grafted onto flesh and bone.

All the scientist could do was stare; while he'd certainly seen the technology before and knew about the outstanding injury from the video archives, it still managed to take him by surprise. "Holy shit..."

Ricktus gave up upon hearing the declaration; he'd already been disturbed and figured he wasn't going back to sleep again soon, especially considering how persistent his charge could be in the pursuit of knowledge. He finally hauled himself to a sitting position on his arms and shuffled towards the edge of the bed, his movements awkward without the weight of his lower limbs to counterbalance himself. "Are you satisfied? I told you I don't know anything. If I did, I certainly wouldn't be sharing that information with YOU. I'd be taking it straight to the Council to let them decide what to do." He reached behind him to grab the holo-projector, then looked at it thoughtfully as he turned it over in both hands. "Ah, of course this is why you're asking. And you've fixed it... you've been busy, haven't you?"

Rick ignored the question. "No wonder why you said you can't run," he shifted the squirming youngster onto his other arm. "You're an amputee."

"Well, that's rude." Ricktus reached across to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. "We prefer the term 'people of mechanical enhancement'." After putting them on, he scowled back at his dimensional counterpart. "Before you ask why, it's personal preference... the rehabilitation time was faster than regrowing new limbs and I had too much shit to do. It's no secret that in most universes everyone wants a piece of Rick Sanchez, and in this one, the bastards finally got it. I've been 'mutilated', as you so aptly put it."

"Does it hurt?" It was an absentminded question that just sort of slipped out.

"I don't want to talk about it. Do me a favor and don't bring it up again." The doctor finally set the holo-projector aside. "And for once, I'm not actually trying to evade answering your dumb questions. I genuinely don't know what happened to... whatever you've been looking at."

Rick's expression became suspicious; he was entirely unconvinced.

"Look, I want to go back to sleep," Ricktus bluntly declared. "If I tell you what I know, then will you go away?"

Morty had been holding onto his grandfather throughout the entire exchange. He was tired, hungry, and nearing the end of his tether, so he made his feelings known with a very-audible whine. While he wasn't quite in an unreasonable state yet, he was certainly going to work his way up to it if left unchecked.

"Fine..." Rick conceded; he saw no reason to disagree and Morty's noises were a warning sign that it was time to leave anyway.

"I know my universe is fucked up," Ricktus began. "Most of them have their own ridiculous dramas and it's better to stay out of them or risk ending up like you."

Rick made his feelings known with a short, unappreciative grunt.

Ricktus ignored him. "I don't know what happened to my universe and it doesn't concern me. I suppose it would be nice to know what happened here, but I'm the sole surviving member of the crew and my personal recollection is useless. For all their technology, they didn't even think to leave behind a forensic black-box recorder or anything... s-so fucking stupid." He gave a rueful shake of his head before continuing. "I originally came here with one specific purpose in mind, and that was to, well..." He trailed off. "They needed my skills and I needed their technology. I don't know what the morons who ran this ship originally had in mind. I don't know what they were running from either, because I was never privy to their battle tactics or plans. All I ever did was spend my days cleaning up after their casualties."

"So... you mean to tell me that you didn't bother doing any research into your employers?" Rick snorted derisively. "Who even does that? What if they were a bunch of rapists or space pirates? What if their intentions were selfish?"

Ricktus softly chuckled at the suggestions. "You mean like my employers now? Do you honestly think I gave a shit what their motivations were at the time? I was desperate. If I had known they were so screwed, I probably would have thought twice about coming here in the first place, but hindsight is always 20/20." He threw the holo-projector onto the nightstand as his expression darkened. "They were the means to an end and nothing has changed, even now. Everyone has their own agenda. Surely even YOU can appreciate that."

Rick simply shrugged and said nothing.

"So, are you done?" The doctor resumed glaring at him, having become fed up with him still being there. "Unlike you, I actually have a sleeping pattern. Sleeping, drinking, and fucking are my three favorite things, and I'd like to tick off at least two of those today. I was all alone before you got here, so... guess which of those I was going for."

"I'm not done yet." Rick replied. "So if this place is associated with such bad memories, then why would you bother coming back after it was trashed? I know I wouldn't."

"Hah," Ricktus dryly smirked; he actually agreed with him on something for once. "At first it was a place where we could conduct experiments without the Council breathing down our necks. They leave us alone here and rent is free. I stay because I've become comfortable."

"You mean 'complacent'."

"You're done, aren't you?" Ricktus narrowed his eyes, then nodded towards one of the insectoid creatures with him on the bed. "Because if you're not, you're about to be."

Rick continued to focus his stern gaze on the doctor, but for a brief moment there was worry behind his expression. "Has Morty inherited the same damn brainwave curse as us?"

"What?" Ricktus blinked, seeming taken aback by the question, all traces of anger suddenly gone from his face. "Really? You're worried about that?" He furrowed his brows in thought. "You're definitely not the first Rick to have thought about it. We've got... very limited data on the subject right now. Of course, the number of available Mortys to examine is also quite small as well, so if you wanted to contribute yours to the research pool, the Council would be glad to have him."

"He's not a lab rat," Rick growled, "and I don't want them touching him ever again."

"I can't tell you for certain, but the likelihood of him ever developing any brainwave activity even remotely similar to ours is slim to none. He's not like us... at all." It was hard to tell if the doctor was still talking to him or thinking out loud. "If you wanted a more detailed answer, you would have to go to the Citadel and request the official findings conducted by the Laboratory Ricks. The Council has been keeping a close eye on it since Morty was born, but he's far too young for any kind of interesting brain activity to have manifested just yet."

Rick slowly nodded, though he didn't seem content with the answer.

"He's related to Jerry for fuck's sake," Ricktus muttered sarcastically, "I'm actually surprised he doesn't walk into walls..."

"So you think he's stupid, too." Rick flattened his brow as low as it would go; his mood had deteriorated almost as much as Morty's. Then, like so many of his crazy ideas, another one randomly came to him and the gears of thought turned over in his head. He glanced at the holo-projector, then at the doctor's biomechanical leg junctions, then finally to the bees loafing on the bunk bed, knowing that they all fit together somehow. "Which one of these stupid insects is your favorite?"

It was the doctor's turn to be suspicious. "Why?"

"I just wanna know," Rick did his best to sound disinterested. "Tell me."

Ricktus let out a long, tense sigh. "If I do, will you shut up and go away?"

"Y-yeah." Rick stated truthfully; he had every intention of doing so now.

Ricktus rolled his eyes; although he saw no point in answering, he still pointed to the bee that Rick had assaulted earlier. "Her name is 'Fleur'. I swear, if you harm her-"

"Phh, relax, I'm not going to." Rick stated before he could finish, then turned to scowl down at the insect. "You," his tone became commanding, "I need you to find the damn idiot's prosthetic limbs for me."

"Wait, what are you doing?!" Ricktus loudly objected. "I-I need those!"

Fleur stood up at once, her antennae attentive and high over her head. She had absolutely no idea why her 'master' had thrown her so ungraciously before, but she was still eager to please him. Without waiting for another instruction, she sprang under the bed and used her jaws to pull the desired objects out into the open.

"Good," Rick stood back to watch, pleased by how ridiculously easy it was. "Now carry them both and follow me."

"No!" Ricktus protested. He pushed himself to the very edge of the bed, but there was little more he could do in his current state. "I need those to function! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

The bee picked up and held onto the metallic limbs easily in each of her scythe claws, but her attention alternated between both Ricks as they spoke, confused by the two conflicting instructions. She quickly decided to follow the first set and moved to stand beside the one who was standing.

"You're pathetic and you can't run," Rick finally answered, his tone turning cold. "You want them back? Come over here and get them."

Ricktus couldn't glare at the scientist any harder.

"Don't worry. I'm just gonna borrow them for a while, kinda like you did with my portal gun." Rick was smug now; the tables had been turned and he couldn't deny how good it felt to put the other Rick in a position of powerlessness after everything he'd done to him. "By the way, you're wrong about one thing. You weren't the only one who survived the attack on your ship. There's another that's been here the whole time, and I've already worked out how to get answers out of them."

Ricktus's anger evaporated as he stared at the scientist in disbelief. "How...?"

"Oh, you'll see," Rick turned around and headed for the door. "Come on Morty, I'm done here and you need a nap." He slipped into the corridor with the bee still obediently following at his heels.

"Why would you steal somebody's prosthetics?!" Ricktus fumbled for his datapad as he yelled at the closing door. "You sick bastard!"


This was the second time that Surgeon Rick had been called to respond to one of the doctor's alerts since being injured. While the first had been in much more dire circumstances, the information he was provided with this time suggested that the situation was every bit as urgent. When he rushed into the room, he was met with a very anticlimactic scene; Ricktus was still seated on his bed and there didn't seem to be any emergency situation at all.

The surgeon couldn't have looked any more unimpressed as he limped across to the bunk bed. "OK, what the fuck happened now?"

"I didn't want to call you, but I need your help." Ricktus admitted at once. "Rick B-526 has stolen my biomechanical enhancements and I need you to get them back for me."

Surgeon Rick stared back at his boss, then had to bite his lower lip to stifle a loud snicker. "You're fuckin' kidding me, right?" A grin cracked through his expression, which turned into a fit of bemused laughter when he couldn't hold back anymore. "Holy shit, bro, just... really?! That's fuckin' hilarious!"

"I-I'm being serious!" Ricktus quickly sputtered in his agitation. "You have better negotiation skills than I do, so go find him and get them back before he does... I don't know what he's planning! While you're at it, give him a lesson in basic decency because who even does that?! Would you steal a short-sighted man's glasses?" He paused, his brow flattening. "Well, maybe YOU would..."

"Maybe?" Surgeon Rick smirked back at him. "I'd do a lotta things, but stealing the shit you use to walk is going too far." He breathed a tired sigh as his amusement faded. "I'm just glad this isn't something more serious, y'know? I'm gettin' real sick and tired of being your gopher." He hummed in thought. "Wait, why do you need me? You got two minions there on the bed with you."

"They're not the best negotiators," Ricktus grumpily muttered, "and you would be better at it. You have more tact and he actually listens to you for some reason."

"Yeah, tact," Surgeon Rick scoffed. "Y-you don't know me at all."

"Just go." Ricktus's tone became a warning, blatantly implying that he was done talking. "The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you can go back to resting."

"Hey, uh," Surgeon Rick was a little hesitant now. "While we're on the subject, whatever happened to that Rick's Citadel-registration forms?"

"I think we left them in the Council's office." Ricktus sounded unsure, for he wasn't entirely certain himself. "Why?"

"I need 'em back," as the surgeon answered, there was no hint of sarcasm or jest in his voice. "Some real serious shit went down today and I gotta write more shit down on them."

Ricktus was immediately troubled by the new information but did not show it; instead he narrowed his eyes in reply. "Elaborate."

"Uh, well..." Surgeon Rick glanced off to the side. "He asked me to go back to his native dimension with him. I went with it because, y'know, information gathering and shit? Well, you know that part on the forms about what to do in the event of a Rick's death? I got more to add to it. He wants his Morty left in the care of his bird-people allies if he dies, so... we're obligated to record his wishes."

"That's preposterous!" Ricktus spat back at once. "Why would he choose something like that? A Morty deserves so much more than a boring life among tree people!"

Surgeon Rick shrugged. "And who are you to deny another brother's death wishes?"

Ricktus hissed through gritted teeth. "It's stupid, that's all..." He waved it off with his hand as if brushing off his feelings toward the matter. "Whatever. Just keep a close eye on it, C-711. Behavior like that has two causes – either he's legitimately planning for his own demise because he knows he's sick, or... he's still plotting to kill himself. You would be dumb if you rule that one out because it's still too recent to ignore."

"Got it," Surgeon Rick nodded; he had his own feelings on the subject but figured that getting into it was highly likely to end in hostility. Instead, he opted for the door, keen to escape.

"Oh, and one last thing," Ricktus suddenly spoke up as he watched his assistant leaving. "Do you know what happened to D-491's portal gun? It was supposed to be dispatched with him when I delivered him to the Citadel infirmary for processing, but it's not where I left it. Sancheziminius is asking where it is, and it's going to reflect badly on our project if we've lost it."

"Dunno," Surgeon Rick did his best to sound aloof as he slipped into the corridor. "I've mostly been in my room when you haven't called me to deal with your shit."

The doctor chose to give him the benefit of the doubt as he was left alone in the room.


Although he was glad for the fact that Rick's movements around the ship were becoming predictable, Surgeon Rick had already decided that it was too quiet for his liking as he stood at the doorway to the electronics lab. He took two lumbering steps into the room so as not to startle his new friend, but after taking three more towards the workbench, he noticed that either the scientist didn't know he was there, or didn't want to bother acknowledging his presence.

"Hey," Surgeon Rick said finally; he didn't know how much of a touchy subject it was going to be, but he had to speak up. "While I think it's awesome that you took up my advice on not going on any more crazy adventures, I gotta call you out on something. Look," he cleared his throat and did his best to sound serious, "I love pranks as much as the next guy, but stealing a dude's mobility shit is going too far, bro. You wanna give back the crap you stole from my boss?"

Rick did not look up.

Surgeon Rick's shoulders sank in disappointment at Rick's behavior. "Come on, it's late and I wanna go to bed. This is petty, childish bullshit!"

"It certainly is," Rick nodded in agreement. "Fuck that guy for what he did to me."

"Oh, so that's what it is?" Surgeon Rick grunted. "Payback?" He was no stranger to the altercations that Ricks often had with each other. It happened all over the Citadel at every level of management; even the Council themselves had their own disagreements every now and then. He'd fallen for it more than a few times himself, though the squabbles with his boss usually ended in him yielding because he was the subordinate one. If the motive was indeed payback in this case, it didn't surprise him in the least; he knew neither his boss nor this Rick got along.

Rick's answer was stony silence.

"If that's what it is," Surgeon Rick continued, "then get over yourself. I mean, I know he's an asshole, but this isn't worth your time."

"Uh-huh." Rick wasn't listening. He busied himself by levering the casing off the left metallic limb with a screwdriver and seemed more interested in picking through the internal mechanism, his brain visualizing and mapping out how it all went together.

"Holy shit, what are you doing!?" Surgeon Rick yelped. "I hope you're gonna put that back together the way you found it!"

"Not even slightly." Rick threw a threadbare screw across the desk, and then a gear that had shed most of its teeth. He moved off the chair and stood directly over the top of his work, his eyes narrowing as he removed three more damaged components. "No wonder this idiot can't run... i-it's a wonder he can walk at all with this outdated tech. Who even uses gears for fine motor movement anymore?" He turned the device onto its side and began to repeatedly thump it on the tabletop, knocking free the copious amount of metal filings that had been allowed to accumulate inside the hollow parts of the contraption.

Surgeon Rick just stood back to silently watch the scientist at work; while it was beyond his area of expertise, he already understood that Rick's current actions likely weren't being done with malicious intent like he had previously thought. "You're... fixing it, aren't you?"

"Sort of," Rick gruffly replied as he hunched over the maintenance hatch, seeming far more interested in tinkering. "I'm making it less shitty."

Before any more could be said, a loud, piercing wail cut through the peace of the room; Morty had been fast asleep in his mobile crib but clearly wasn't now.

Rick shook his head in frustration; he had just started to enjoy himself and being interrupted seemed typical of his grandson by now. Instead of complaining about it though, he moved over to the little boy and immediately picked him up so he could rest him over his shoulder. "Hey, buddy. What the hell is that all about?"

Morty's reply was a loud cry as he hugged onto his grandfather and buried his face in his shoulder, desperately seeking his warmth and comfort.

Rick held onto him for a moment, then carried him back to the workbench. As he patted the youngster on the back in the attempt to soothe him, he began pondering the root cause of the problem; it certainly wasn't his fault this time. It had been more like a spontaneous reaction, like he was frightened out of his wits. Because there had been nothing nearby to startle him, the scientist could only reach one conclusion.

"Do kids this young have nightmares?"

"Sure, why not? Nobody knows for certain, but it's a plausible theory." Surgeon Rick answered, then loudly yawned. "Are you gonna be much longer? What am I supposed to tell the boss?"

"Why don't you just sleep on it? You've already proven that you're smart enough to make up your own lies." Rick grumbled; he literally didn't care about how the doctor might have felt. Morty was a much higher priority and he actually felt terrible for the youngster; after everything he'd been through, it was little wonder that his mind had conjured up a bad dream. While he didn't know how much capacity Morty had to store long-term memories just yet, he certainly had a set of awful experiences to draw from if he did, and worse, there wasn't even anything he could do to make it better except offer his closeness.

"Yeah, great advice, bro." Surgeon Rick huffed in irritation. "If I go to bed without dealing with this, I'm never gonna hear the end of it."

"Grow a pair and tell him to fight his own battles." Rick hissed back at him. "I'd work faster if I wasn't so distracted." His efforts to settle Morty again were soon rewarded with silence, and he set him in his lap as he sat down at the workbench again. "So, a nightmare, huh? It's OK, I get them, too. To be honest, they don't ever really go away... do you wanna know how I deal with them?"

Morty silently stared up at the older man, teary-eyed.

"I just tell myself that they aren't real, a-and that none of it matters," Rick's voice became quiet as he explained, despite knowing that he wouldn't understand. "They're the one thing in this whole shitty, fucked-up existence that actually isn't real. You remember that the next time your mind plays cruel tricks on you, won't you, Morty?" As he reached down to ruffle the little boy's hair, he realized that he was talking more to himself than his grandson. "D-don't let it get to you."

Leaning heavily against his favorite person, Morty was finally able to relax; Rick's towering presence was like a balm to his fears and just being in his company soothed him.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Rick couldn't help but feel a little smug. "Nothing's gonna hurt you here, buddy. I'll kick its ass if it tries."

Surgeon Rick surreptitiously headed for the door; he felt like he was intruding on a personal moment and it was worth more to leave than to keep arguing his point. He had no sarcastic remark or goodbye as he slipped away and left the pair to their own devices. He hoped that Rick would stay true to his word on fixing the biomechanical enhancements, but there was no evidence to suggest otherwise - he wasn't like the other Ricks. There was something about him which just kept standing out, although he still couldn't put his finger on it; he only knew that their interactions together and watching him with Morty fortified those thoughts.

He was definitely a different kind of Rick.


Ricktus had fallen asleep waiting for his assistant to carry out his instructions and it was only his natural sleeping rhythms that finally woke him up again. When he discovered that his biomechanical attachments were lying in the middle of the floor, he breathed a sigh of relief; although he was still furious about them being taken, it was much easier to overlook now that they had been returned. A quick glance at the slumbering bees beside him on the bed told him that nothing else had changed, which managed to keep him calm as he sat up.

"Fleur, go get my stuff. I'm ready to start the day." He pointed at the floor, not really thinking about it; as far as he was concerned, it was just another ordinary morning.

As the bee jumped off the bed to obey her master's command, a loud, mechanical chirp resonated from her neck. "OK!"

"What the hell!?" As Ricktus watched her every movement, he was a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Is this some kind of prank? How are you talking?"

"I've been able to since the day I emerged from my brooder cell," the bee dragged the metallic limbs across the floor towards him. "It's not my fault that that you can't understand me." She sat on her haunches and tilted her head to one side, staring back at him with unblinking compound eyes. "It's yours."

Ricktus snatched up his limbs and clicked them into his biomechanical junctures without a second thought. "Stay there, I want to see what that damn idiot did to you..." He took a singular step away from the bed and went down with a loud, crashing thud. "He messed with these, too!?"

"You did it. You should know." The bee seemed confused as she crawled over to her master and licked the side of his face. "Why would you create something and not give it the ability to speak like you? Is it an act of superiority like a god, or are you being a dick?"

Ricktus hauled himself to a seated position and reached over to pat the bee on the head. When his hand brushed against the collar on her neck, he discovered the translator that Rick had stolen from the Korblock dimension. A quick inspection of the device told him that it had been modified, and now it was strategically resting against her throat. "Oh, right." He paused, frowning. "I'm not a god, Fleur. Wait, out of all the questions you could ask me, that's all you wanted to know?"

"Yes." The bee continued to blankly stare at him. "Why would you create me to be inferior? Why do I exist?"

"I'm surprised you have such complex thought processes..." Ricktus seemed troubled by what she was saying. "Have you always thought this way? Great, just what we needed around here... another lifeform questioning their own existence."

"I do not hate you for it," Fleur's collar buzzed as she idly groomed herself. "I just want to understand why."

"Why, indeed..." The doctor muttered in reply; it was something he'd never be able to simplify and was easier to brush it off like it didn't exist in the first place. As he made an uncoordinated attempt to stand, he ended up glaring down at his attachments, suddenly more interested in them - they were still as he remembered, yet also felt wrong somehow. While the casing still looked more or less the same, the ankles had been tarnished with fresh welding marks and it only took him a second to work out that major modifications had been made during his time asleep.

"Asshole... I-I didn't give him permission to do this!" He took three steps towards the door and promptly met with the floor again. Instead of calling for help, he struggled to his feet and forced himself through his morning routine; he'd already called his assistant far too many times and his desire to remain independent was more important to him.

By the time he was ready and at the terminal hub, he was late to work and had fallen down a dozen more times along the way. However, he chose to play it off like nothing was wrong as he passed by Surgeon Rick's table.

"What are you even doing here?" The doctor thumped him in the shoulder as soon as he was close enough. "You were supposed to be resting. Do I have to kick your ass all the way back to your room?"

"I'm boooorrrred," Surgeon Rick made a point of whining out the vowel. "I gotta keep my mind engaged. There's only so much crap you can watch on TV before your brains turn to mush. I figured if I can't run around, then I might as well get something done at the desk, y'know?" He held up the dead parasite he had been dissecting before his boss had arrived. "Has the Council ever thought to weaponize any of the shit we come across? I bet you could do a whole lot of damage if you released a bunch of these somewhere."

"I'd suggest you lodge it as an idea, but someone probably already has," Ricktus shrugged his shoulders as he headed towards his own workstation. "Remember, everyone at HQ thinks like y-" He didn't finish the sentence as he went down, making abrupt contact with the floor yet again.

Surgeon Rick dropped what he was doing and swiveled around in his chair. "Oh wow, are you OK over there?" He had to bite his lower lip to smother a snicker out of respect; now would have been a bad time to laugh, especially over such a touchy subject.

"I'm fine..." The doctor hissed in reply as he shakily stood up, bracing himself on a nearby chair for support. "B-526 fucked with my shit and I don't even know why. I didn't ask for it and I didn't want him to do anything. I'm almost certain he did it just to spite me!"

"You think?" Surgeon Rick frowned as he pondered the accusation more closely. "I dunno about that, man. When I approached him, he told me that he was gonna make them better. Why don't you walk around for a while and get used to them?"

"I don't WANT to get used to them," Ricktus adamantly declared, "I want them back the way they were!"

"Hah, I don't think that's gonna happen, boss. I was there when he was pulling them apart. You should have seen how much broken shit came outta them. Just give it a chance, OK?" Surgeon Rick leaned back in his chair and sighed; mediating wasn't something he enjoyed very much, but he thought the whole thing was stupid.

"Why didn't you stop him!?" Ricktus turned on him. "Why don't you-" He took a singular step towards the surgeon and was on the floor all over again.

"Look," Surgeon Rick was on his feet and stood over his boss as he offered a hand of help out towards him. "I get where you're coming from, I really do. I-it's like a violation of your property, but... I don't think he did this to be a dick. I think he just... does stuff like that? It's hard to explain."

Ricktus mumbled under his breath as he took his assistant's hand and hauled himself to his feet once again. "Your priorities and loyalties are becoming awfully concerning, C-711..."

Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes and chose to let the obvious jab slide; reacting to it would have been entirely counterproductive. "Just shut up and go walk around until you get used to it. If you hate it so bad, you can always go and yell at him until he adjusts them to the old configuration, right?"

The doctor gave a resigning sigh as he stepped away; he could see no reason to argue. "Fine... but if he doesn't listen, then you're going to make him."

Surgeon Rick had to laugh now. "R-really? I can't make anyone do anything, least of all you!"

Ricktus's only reply was a grumbly mutter as he turned around and headed towards the exit. "Shut up and get back to work..."


Despite feeling like he was constantly losing balance and fumbling just about every step like a drunkard or a child learning to walk, the doctor persisted in staying vertical out of sheer stubborn determination. Several practiced minutes of walking didn't make it easier and he was forced to use the wall as support. He knew that he was going to bruise badly from all of his trips to the floor and it only served to sour his mood as he finally gave up and decided to seek out Rick to give him a piece of his mind.

He couldn't waste energy on wandering about the ship to look for him while he was so useless, so he found his datapad's location through the ship's positioning system. After following the map straight into the barracks, he forced the scientist's door open and staggered into the room.

Morty looked up from his hoard of toys and immediately retreated to the bunk bed, screaming the entire way. After clambering up the side, he dove for the comfort of his grandfather.

"Thanks for knocking." Rick idly lifted his arm to scoop Morty up against his side, then turned the page of the book he was reading, not bothering to get up; he was taking time out to spend with his grandson because his presence kept him calm, and because the constant ache under his ribs was much more bearable while he relaxed.

"I'm only returning the favor!" Ricktus snapped back at him. "Why the hell did you mess with my prosthetics?"

"You said you can't run." Rick did not look up and rested one arm behind his head. "Now you can."

"I didn't give you permission to do that!" Both of the doctor's hands clenched into fists in his anger. "How am I supposed to run when I can barely walk as it is?!"

"Well," Rick finally looked up from his book, his expression completely flat and unimpressed. "All you do is put one leg in front of the other and move really fast-"

"You know that's NOT what I meant!" Ricktus snapped over the top of him. "You're going to get up off your ass and fix this, or I'm going to-"

"What? Get mad and cry? Lock me up here and force me to sit through another time-out?" Rick made a soft noise of mockery as he turned another page. "Stand there and make me suffer by listening to you? Go on, dumbass. Do your worst."

"At least fix what you did!" Ricktus demanded. "I can barely move around without crashing into everything. You literally had no reason to mess with my posesssions unless you were trying to be a dick, and if that wasn't your motive, then I don't know what the hell you were thinking. If this is your idea of trying to be helpful, then you've failed at it!"

"Is the balance-sensitivity setting up too high?" Rick finally sat up and put his book aside. "If you can't cope with the current configuration, I can adjust the fine motor servos. All the bipedal robots I've built never gave this kind of feedback, but they weren't whiny bitches like you."

"I'm not a robot!" Ricktus objected.

"Huh. Interesting how that's the one you chose to react to." Rick pointed to his kneecaps. "From there down you are. No wonder why it hurt so bad when you kneed me in the balls. You could have ruptured one of them." He reached back to pat Morty on the head before moving off the bed. "Stay back, buddy."

"Would you stop mentioning that?" Ricktus was about to say more, but Rick was already on the floor beside him with a screwdriver and pulling at the cuffs of his pants. He elected to stay silent and watched on as the scientist pried open the maintenance hatches to adjust the mechanisms inside his attachments. He stumbled back after it was done, still feeling riled up about the violation.

"Better?" Rick pocketed his screwdriver and stood up again. "Now that you have high-shock hydraulic suspension instead of gears, you can do anything you want... hop, skip, sneak, jump around, wh-whatever. You'll get used to it all in no time. Now, go away."

"I still don't understand why you would bother," Ricktus began to cautiously pace, though he was already considerably more coordinated on his feet than he had been mere moments ago. "You had nothing to gain out of doing this for me."

"Sure I did," Rick shrugged as he sat back down on the bed. "It might give me some leverage in an argument, and it'll stop you from complaining. Besides, now you can actually run away from harm. It's a legitimate strategy, and it's saved me more than a few times. If you can't run, you die."

Ricktus frowned at the logic of the statement; the scientist actually wasn't incorrect. "Fine, but you shouldn't have equipped Fleur with the translator device. I understand why you did it, but all she wanted to do was ask me the reason for her existence."

"That's YOUR fault for endowing your dumb pet species with your own intelligence." Rick picked up his book again and opened it to where he had left off. "You don't wanna find out what the bug knows? I already tried, but... some of the shit it had to say made even less sense than a Squanch."

Ricktus seemed mildly concerned. "What did you ask her?"

"I asked it why there were so many of them hanging around," Rick seemed bored as he answered, "I figured it was a simple enough question, but all it kept talking about was food sources. Almost everything was food... I asked it where the ship controls were, and if it remembered what attacked your ship. But all it could talk about was food. I don't think they're as smart as you think they are."

"No. There has to be more to it than that... they'll eat anything, but they're not food obsessed." Ricktus muttered thoughtfully. "Unless they think of each other as food?"

"Have fun deciphering what it all means." Rick finally lay back down and made himself comfortable. "Maybe you can use the dumb bee to get near your cloning facility and find out why they wanna keep you away from it."

"I gave up on that avenue a long time ago... it only ended in failure. Besides, the Council has since given me a much better offer." Ricktus was glaring at Rick all over again. "Why does my ship and my colony concern you so much? This is my reality, not yours."

"Well, all our dimensional variances are interesting, aren't they?" Rick admitted. "I wonder if the choices you made led to all of this. Maybe the culprits were tracking your brainwaves? I'm just thinking out loud here, but I bet you're at least part way responsible for what happened, even if you were just an unwitting factor in it."

Ricktus grunted in discontentment. "Yes, that thought has already crossed my mind, but it's just speculation. I doubt I'll ever find out the correct answer, even with the translator on Fleur's collar. What the hell would she be able to tell me? She was with me in the medi-bay when the ship came under fire."

Rick made a tired sigh and sat up again. "Well, you're never gonna find out anything with that kind of attitude. How would you go about getting into the rest of the ship?"

"You couldn't. The air content of the non-oxygenated sections is either harmful, or noxious. Or both." The doctor huffily explained. "The concentration of carbon dioxide in the air alone would make you pass out, but then the other gases would kill you. You would have to take your own oxygen supply in and hope for the best."

"Gee, i-if only there were some kind of environment suit that people use to move around in space, am I right?" Rick was suddenly smug. "You're on a fucking spaceship, you idiot."

Ricktus loudly hissed in realization of Rick's words. "Wow, I actually hate you right now. Why didn't I think of that?"

The scientist felt highly smug as he picked Morty up and slid off the bed again; he was more concerned with exploring than relaxing now. "So, how long will it take you to find some appropriate gear to navigate the ship with?"

"Wait, you think you're coming with me?" The doctor stared at him incredulously. "You thought wrong!"

"It was my idea, so you owe it to me." As Rick stood at the door, the grin on his face was huge. "See you in the corridor in ten minutes?"


After leaving Morty with Surgeon Rick back in the terminal hub, Rick impatiently waited around to see if the doctor would follow through with his suggestion. When he saw Ricktus and the two servant insects coming towards him with spherical-bulb helmets and oxygen tanks, he couldn't help but feel a little surprised – he hadn't been expecting him to willingly give in after putting up so much resistance and denying him access before.

He wasn't going to question it, though; his curiosity was driving him insane by the time he was handed the breathing equipment and he hastily put it on.

Ricktus immediately took the opportunity to pace around his charge, poking and prodding the lines and hoses to make sure they were both intact and secure. Satisfied with his findings, he turned the scientist's oxygen tank on.

"I'm half tempted to turn your oxygen delivery up slightly higher than normal," he muttered aloud. "If your red-cell count is still low, then you'll soon know about it if you overexert yourself again. Oxygen therapy has proven to be useful in such circumstances, but," he stood in front of the other and jabbed him in the chest with a pointed finger as he narrowed his eyes, his tone becoming firm. "If you show signs of illness again, I'm sending you straight back to the portal hub without question. Do you understand me?"

"I'll be fine." Rick huffed as he took two steps back, then distracted himself by taking his datapad out of his coat pocket. "Could we find the ship's bridge using the map? I say head there first."

"You wouldn't have the clearance to get that far, but neither do I. I can lead you into the methane-dominant parts of the ship, but that's where my own level of authorization ends. No, I have a much better idea," Ricktus turned around and crouched down beside one of his insects. "Fleur, where would you go first? Have you been anywhere that looks important?"

Fleur stared back at her master with expressionless eyes; she had only had a vague concept of important places. "Your territory." Her collar translated the answer as she buzzed her wings. "Only the chosen few may go there."

Rick made a loud, disgusted snort. "Wow... great idea, dumbass. It's a wonder you didn't develop a bigger ego, o-or a god complex for what all these stupid insects think of you. Us. Uh... whatever." He shook the datapad. "Computer, gimme whatever map you can. I'll manually navigate the rest of the way by myself." Without waiting for a response, he moved ahead and began to lead the way.

The initial journey was made in silence as the scientist headed through the corridors and into the damaged parts of the ship, though he had to turn around when he heard the unsubtle, mechanical thuds behind him, only to witness the sight of Ricktus actually enjoying himself as he bounced around on his feet much like a child at play. While it should have been worthy of mockery, Rick decided against it; he knew the doctor was testing out the adjustments he'd made and discovering his new degrees of mobility. Although he'd complained before, he was already demonstrating his willingness to adapt to the new circumstances.

It was definitely very 'Rick' of him.

"Having fun back there?" Rick asked with a subtle grin on his face; even if he didn't particularly like this Rick very much, the thought of restoring some of his mobility actually made him feel good about himself.

"Now that I'm getting used to it, I think I might need you to adjust the sensitivity again," Ricktus quickly answered. "My gait cycle is fine, but having ankles again is... weird. They're springy."

"They're supposed to be. In fact, having hydraulic suspension in your ankles would probably allow you to run faster than a regular old boring Rick. Instead of asking me to fix them for you every five minutes, I'll just teach you how to make further adjustments for yourself." Rick turned a corner and stopped in front of a set of airlock doors. "Then you might actually be able to do your job properly, instead of sending your minions to do your dirty work."

"You're still bitter about that?" Ricktus grumpily sighed. "I'm never going to apologize for saving your life."

"I'm just saying that now you could do your job better than before." Rick replied. "E-even though I could probably run circles around you and do it better than you ever could... I-I mean look what happened with that Rick in the Korblock dimension. Without me, you would have crashed and burned."

"Please... don't discredit me just because you got lucky that one time." Ricktus made a loud grunt, actually insulted by the notion. "Even if you were Council-approved and trained retrieving live Ricks off their timelines, you still wouldn't know what to do if they had a meltdown or started to bleed out on you. There's a good reason why Riq IV appoints medically inclined Ricks for the task. We have a stronger disposition to violence and gore, and we've... we've seen some shit."

"Isn't most of it improvising?" Rick shrugged. "Give me time to learn the rest... how hard could it be? Given enough time, even your sorry ass would be able to learn how to build robots and all kinds of crazy crap if you actually put your mind to it."

"Pass. I have absolutely no interest in that sort of thing." Ricktus nodded ahead of them. "Hmm, dead end? Are you stuck?"

"Nope," Rick furrowed his brows in thought as he glanced at the datapad map, then punched in Surgeon Rick's door code. "I'm doin' pretty good, actually."

The airlock popped open without delay, releasing a copious quantity of dense, green smoke that sank to the floor and flooded around their feet.

"Well, isn't it nice to see that C-711 gave you his activation code?" The doctor's tone turned ice-cold. "What else should I know about you two?"

"There isn't anything to tell other than he's pathetic, and that Morty kinda likes him." Rick shrugged as he stepped into the dim, glowing light beyond the doorway. "Out of all the friends I've had, he's the most recent."

The area beyond the door was heavily polluted with atmospheric gases and just about every wall was coated with the same wax-like substance that the bees had used to seal and repair the ship. It looked more like an alien landscape than the inside of any spaceship; columns of green, bioluminescent wax dripped from the ceiling, while worker bees were busy feeding their young in open brooder cells glued along the walls.

They didn't care a whit about the new arrivals in their territory.

"What happened here...?" Ricktus scowled as he glanced upward, taking the scene in. "Why have you all expanded into this area of the ship? Is there really that many of you? What is the hive even eating to sustain this kind of population size? There were only six of you in the beginning!"

"Food," Fleur's collar answered as she followed behind her master. "Food everywhere."

"See, I told you they're stupid," Rick grunted in irritation as he pushed his way through the room. As his shoes squelched through the ankle-high, dense muck that lined the floor, he quickened his pace, feeling disgusted. "What the hell is this slimy goop?"

Fleur raised her head up towards the leader of the pack. "Excrement."

"Ugh, gross! That's fucking disgusting!" Rick angrily declared as he practically rushed towards the next door, not wanting to stand in it any longer than necessary.

"Yes, that makes sense. Where did you think it was going to go?" Ricktus softly chuckled. "What's wrong, B-526? Walking in bee shit wasn't on your checklist today? You can turn back anytime, you know. You're the one who wanted to come."

Rick's only reply was a growl as he opened the next door, his attention back on the datapad. The circular structure in the central part of the map was just too obvious to ignore; it was larger than all the other parts of the ship, and everything was built around it.

He had a hunch that it was where he needed to go.

Further through the corridors of the hive, Rick finally understood just why they'd needed to carry in their own oxygen; the atmosphere only became more dense and reduced visibility, and by the time he made it to the last door, it was more like being immersed in the middle of a thick fog.

"Is this metabolic waste produced by the hive?" Ricktus frowned as he took out his own datapad. "Computer, analyze the air content around us."

"Working," the computer smoothly replied, and then went silent. "Current atmospheric conditions include: Methane, 35.8%. Hydrogen sulfide, 28.9%. Carbon dioxide, 15.5%. Oxygen, 9.1%. Twelve other gases exist in trace amounts."

"Holy shit..." Ricktus mumbled in surprise. "That... shouldn't be."

"It all sounds like the ingredients for a giant flame pinata, if you ask me." Rick punched the same door code in again and stood back, but nothing happened. "Y-yeah, now I'm stuck."

Fleur moved ahead to stand beside him. "Let me help you with that, maker."

"Wrong Rick," Rick pointed at to the doctor, "I wouldn't bother throwing a bunch of random insects into a tank and creating something so fucking messed up."

"Is that why I exist? For your amusement?" Fleur's collar chirped as she climbed the wall. "You are a dick." She aggressively bit down on the door console and began to tear it apart with her powerful jaws. After exposing the electronics inside, she used her tongue to delicately extract two bare wires and coat them with sticky syrup, activating the circuit required to trigger the door mechanism.

The doors to the circular room swung open with a loud hiss.

"Not so dumb now, are they?" Ricktus proudly shot back. As he moved ahead of the scientist, he gently rapped a finger against the viewing window of his bulbous helmet. "Don't be so quick to judge next time." He took two steps into the room and stopped dead, his good mood evaporating entirely. "O-oh my god..."

"What?" Rick peered around his shoulder and was met with the same sight; the scene which greeted them was pure chaos.

What used to be the ship's central command station was now carnage; the rounded walls and ceiling of the large room were peppered with carbonized-plasma scorch marks and the room looked like it had been the focal point of a heated firefight. Haphazardly strewn across the floor and computer consoles were the corpses of multiple alien workers in various states of consumption; more than half of them had been partially eaten. They still lay in the positions they had died in, and their bodies had been covered in opaque, crystallized syrup from the hive, preserving them indefinitely.

"Huh," Cautiously making his way inside, Rick took three steps towards the nearest corpse - an alien slumped over at its battle station. "I'm pretty certain that this is what they've been snacking on since you left." He stood behind the chair and ran a hand across the surface of the crystallized substance. "Do you want some alien rock candy?"

It was obvious that the doctor was still stunned by what he was seeing as he slowly paced around the oval table in the middle of the room, his eyes glued to the scene around him as he took it all in. "I'd still like to know what they were running from..."

Rick turned around and glanced at piles of battle-tactics papers that were still laid out on the middle of the table and stepped forward to take a closer look; they were left exactly as they were the moment the crew had died. While he recognized some of the strategy from his days in the resistance, the paperwork suggested plans of attack rather than defense. "Uh... bro," he loudly cleared his throat to get the other Rick's attention. "I don't wanna do the 'you might wanna see this' cliche, but you might wanna see this."

Ricktus moved to stand beside the scientist, closely watching as he rifled through the papers. Some of the ones underneath were attack orders for the mercenaries on the ship, while others detailed planetary orbits and species-population-invasion strategies.

"Uh, not to be the bearer of bad news here, but I don't think your guys were running away at all." Rick muttered.

Ricktus frowned silently; he did not have a reply.