Ratchet & Clank: Blasters For Hire
EDIT: I'm making some adjustments to this chapter, primarily pending the advice of fellow Ratchet & Clank fan RevenantReaper337. Also, the idea of the Bolt Magnetizer comes from them too.
Greetings and salutations, friends and fans and readers! I am Thomas Holmes II! Now, it's time for me to introduce you to another hero; or rather, two new heroes: Ratchet, a Lombax mechanic, and Clank, his faithful robot companion.
Since the dawn of civilisation, we have wondered if we are alone in the universe. For those who know astronomy, like my mother did in her astrobiology studies, and I at school, this seems highly improbable; given that the universe is so vast, it's positively mind-boggling.
But how would it feel living in a universe that you know is full of life, yet you seem to be the only one of your own species?
Chapter 1: Letting the Right Ranger In
Kyzil Plateau, Veldin, Solana Galaxy
Creativity was usually a blessing, as it enabled people to look for new and unique ways of solving a problem. However, sometimes, creativity can run away with people. Sometimes, one can be so 'creative' with a piece of art that it can be hard to determine its meaning. And sometimes, what should have been a simple matter of fixing an ejector seat became a complete overhaul that culminated in a serious accident.
"How many times, Ratchet? How many?"
Ratchet winced at the reprimand as he hauled the battered ship into the garage's hangar. Mr Micron, a client of theirs, had brought his ship in for repairs. Ratchet, the assistant to Grimroth Razz, the garage's owner, had decided to blow Micron's mind, completely renovating the ship with protolux afterburners, a full weapon package, and a mag-booster so powerful, it could 'pick up a paper-clip from two kilo-cubits away'. Given Mr Micron was an old man, it hasn't gone well.
"Come on, he's fine!" Ratchet protested. "He landed in a pile of ivy."
"Poison ivy!" Grim pointed out irritably, setting down his tool box next to one of the ship's afterburners. "He'll need a crate load of lotion to soothe those rashes! That's another black mark against mah store you've caused!" He sighed heavily. "Look, you're a great mechanic; you're very creative and you got a lot of heart. But do you have to be so careless with your 'innovations'?
Ratchet pondered the statement as he picked up a screwdriver. "'Careless', that's such an ugly word. 'I prefer carefree'"
He chuckled, rather nervously, it was true, but hoping Grim appreciated it. But Grim's continuing scowl was all the answer he needed.
"Too soon? Yeah, it was too soon." His tone turned defensive. "But I gotta do something impressive, you know! This planet needs a bit of excitement!"
Grim shook his head. "Mmm, Ah know things haven't been easy for ya, but you can't keep acting up like this when I have a shop to run. Your 'out-there' style isn't really becoming of a simple mechanic."
Ratchet understood Grim's point. In fact, it actually reminded Ratchet that he needed to ask Grim something, though he wasn't sure if Grim would say yes to it. Grim, though a kind Fongoid in general despite his grizzled and somewhat unpleasant visage (not everyone liked his two protruding lower teeth, even if one was broken), still wasn't the most 'to-go' being.
Speaking of appearance, Ratchet couldn't have looked more different from Grim. He was a feline biped known as a Lombax, with a golden pelt, interspersed with brown stripes, and green eyes. A long tail tipped with a plume swayed behind him. He wore a brown leather pilot hat, an orange, short-sleeved shirt, gloves, green pants, boots and a chest harness. He was also one of the few beings in Solana to be pentadactyl, meaning he had five digits on each hand, where most others had only three.
Ratchet set the screwdriver down, but then, spotted a card on the table and picked it up. On the card was a large, powerfully-built sophont in a green suit.
"That's why I'm meant to do something more than a simple mechanic," Ratchet ventured. "I've always dreamt of being a Galactic Ranger, doing big things like Captain Qwark!" He held up the card for emphasis.
Grim grunted. "You want an old mechanic's advice? Avoid aimin' big; you'll retain your individuality better that way."
Ratchet frowned. "We buy from Gadgetron too, you know?"
"Only for parts; we're not one of their many advertisers!"
"Please, Grim," Ratchet begged. "I just need some time off so I can try-out at the space-port."
"You promised you'd help give proton scrubs to every ship in the plateau," Grim reminded him sternly. "And why are you botherin' anyway? You got your own ship you're buildin'."
"Yes, but that's more of a plan B," Ratchet noted. "Besides, I'll come back as soon as I can. I promise. Would I lie to you?"
Grim raised his eyebrows, but otherwise, relented.
"There's no changin' your mind, is there? Very well. Show 'em what you got, kid."
Ratchet's heart leapt. "Thanks, Grim! You won't regret it!"
"Somehow, Ah think Ah will," Grim muttered to himself, as Ratchet made his way for the door.
As Ratchet stepped outside, he gazed out upon the familiar sun-baked, arid plains of Kyzil Plateau. The oppressive heat hit him full force from the moment he stepped out of the air conditioned garage and into the blazing midday sun. The very air itself shimmered and seemed to weigh heavily upon his body in spite of the occasional humid breeze ruffling his already sweat-drenched fur as Ratchet carefully inspected the home-built ship that had consumed his every waking moment these past several months.
It wasn't the best ship by any stretch of the imagination: frankly, it was a piece of junk that Ratchet had essentially thrown together using any spare or used part he could get his hands on, with only a few shiny new parts patched on here and there. But it was his ship, nonetheless; and thus far, it had proved functional. And thankfully, Grim hadn't had the heart to dismantle it.
Ratchet had lived on Veldin for as long as his memory permitted. His earliest memories were watching Grim building his garage, all the while trying to protect Ratchet from Horned Toads. Aside from the occasionally harsh living conditions, Veldin didn't have much going for it. It was as far removed from galactic society as ice and snow were from Veldin itself.
Veldin was not inhospitable, but it was no tourist attraction, either; even the seas weren't appealing. Ratchet was tired of Veldin; it was home, but he wanted to see more of the galaxy, and hopefully, make some real friends. Many clients came and went from their garage, but they never stayed long, and few remained in contact. Fewer seemed interested in exactly what Ratchet was.
A Lombax... That was all Ratchet knew about himself.
Ratchet shook his head. He'd rather not think about that right now... He had more important things to focus on.
Ratchet hurried out across the Plateau, away from the garage, past the Skyhopper. Sand and dust kicked up around his feet on the rocky path that led towards the nearby space-port and the accompanying fairground.
As Ratchet's boots pattered across the sandy ground, a number of small, orange amphibians with white horns atop their scalps bounced towards him. Horned Toads were a common pest on Veldin; they were drawn to the water in the tanks, using what little dripped out to survive the arid environment. They had powerful jaws that could bite through a limb with one chomp. But Ratchet wasn't worried; if anything, they were the ones who should be worried.
The wrench Ratchet was carrying in his right hand wasn't your typical wrench that could only be useful for tightening bolts, though it definitely served that purpose well; the Omniwrench 8000, courtesy of gadget and weapons supplier Gadgetron, was a remarkably durable close-quarters weapon. Ratchet took a powerful whack at the nearest Toads, leading to several loud cracks as their bones broke. More Toads hopped towards him, but Ratchet simply employed a Comet Strike; sending his wrench hurling at the Toads like a boomerang, knocking them right off their long legs, before allowing the magnets in his gloves to draw the wrench back into his grasp.
Ratchet continued on his way, leaping across various plateaus, until he reached the local fairground, where a number of posters were plastered on the walls; all based around a group of individuals of various species - collectively known as the Galactic Rangers.
From an early age, Ratchet had been interested in the Galactic Rangers. The Rangers were an interplanetary police force, responsible for the safeguarding of Solana. Armed with state-of-the-art weapons, and the finest ships one could pilot, they were a fine crew of heroes. Ratchet admired them greatly, and he hoped to join their ranks and make friends with them. And he could finally leave his boring life behind.
Ratchet reached the entrance to the training course, which anyone could do simply by walking into it. He took a slow, deep breath, bracing himself.
"Alright," he motivated himself. "Let's do this!"
As he made his way into the fitness segment, he heard a voice sound over the tannoy.
"Hello, recruit. Cora Veralux here. Show us how quick you can be on your feet by jumping across these obstacles."
"Don't mind if I do," Ratchet grinned, as he approached two large hurdles, one taller than the other. He'd always been spry on his feet and able to perform great jumps in a single bound. Holstering his wrench to his belt, Ratchet made a running charge, and sprang forward. He grabbed the edge of the first hurdle, pulled himself forward, and used the momentum to reach the second hurdle and swing himself over it with ease.
"Pah!" scoffed a second female voice, this one a lot more aggressive, with a heavy accent, as Ratchet scaled a wall beyond the hurdles. "That vos nozing! I could do zat in my sleep!"
"Hey, Helga, we talked about this! Sorry, recruit. She designed this course; she's always butting it. Anyway, show us your mindfulness of your surroundings, by hopping across these platforms."
The next obstacle was two metal platforms over a large, deep chasm. Ratchet could remember falling into a chasm when he was younger. They were no laughing matter; it had taken hours to get him out. But Ratchet was older now, and more nimble on his feet. As the platforms began to move back and forth, Ratchet bent his knees, ready to spring. When the platform moving toward him was nearest, he jumped and landed easily. He chanced a glance into the abyss. He couldn't see the bottom, and for a moment, he remembered his pitfall. But Ratchet shook the memory from his head and turned his glance back to the other platform as it came closer. He jumped again, and, again taking advantage of his momentum, made another leap forward, reaching the other side easily.
"Good job; you might be the recruit we've been looking for."
"Hah, too easy! Zis course is for panzies! I say ve have ze platforms drop ven stepped on!"
"Alright, that's it! Brax, take over for me! I need to have a few 'words' with Helga!"
Ratchet entered the combat segment of the course. Several stacks of crates stood around him. He knew what he needed to do.
"Hey there, recruit, Brax Lectrus' the name and brutality's my name! Smash-"
Ratchet had already smashed up the crates with his wrench. Bolts flew everything. Bolts were the primary currency in Solana, used to purchase pretty much everything there was: weapons, clothes, vehicles, holidays, gadgets etc. Ratchet absorbed them into his Bolt Magnetiser, which converted Bolts into electronic data. Pretty useful, I daresay. I mean, who wants to lug so many bolts about?
"Wow! That was quick! I'm impressed," Brax complimented, and Ratchet felt a surge of pride. "Okay, keep moving - it's time to try your hand with some firepower!"
Ratchet walked up to a Gadgetron vender, which was dispensing a Bomb Glove for trainees. When he activated it, a familiar, reptilian face appeared on a holoscreen; Moby, one of Gadgetron's best tradesmen.
"The Bomb Glove. Range: medium. Rate of fire: medium. Deals only moderate damage when lobbed at enemies. Excellent for taking out small groups of enemies. Unless they're wearing heavy armour; in which case, you're pretty screwed and will spend your last few moments wishing you had a different weapon!"
He then spotted Ratchet. "Hi there, fuzzball. The Bomb Glove? Smart choice. That's a good one."
Ratchet acquired the Bomb Glove for free (it was their standard weapon of choice) and it materialised on his arm, configuring to his size. Clenching his fist, a Bomb formed in his palm.
There was a gate blocking Ratchet's path. Standing a safe distance, Ratchet lobbed a Bomb at it. BOOM! Metal flew everywhere, clearing the way for the Lombax. As he went, Ratchet noticed a couple of cameras following his movements. He grinned. He was going to give them a good show.
Next, Ratchet noted a number of crates standing here and there, different from the ones he broke earlier.
"These are ammunition crates, kid," Brax explained. "The Solana Galaxy is a perilous place; so Gadgetron felt it necessary to leave these crates about; so people can blow enemies up at short notice."
"Neat," Ratchet grinned. Breaking them open with his wrench, a few bits of Bomb ammo flew free. One of them was drawn into Ratchet's Bomb Glove, to replace the one he'd spent earlier. A few Horned Toads hopped onto the course, but they were no danger. Ratchet just sidestepped them as they attempted to take a bite of him, summoned another Bomb, and tossed it at them. The subsequent explosion carried with it the smell of charred flesh and entrails. This made Ratchet's nose curl, but he shrugged it off, and pressed on.
Ratchet leapt onto a higher level, blasting through a gate in his way. He suddenly felt a wave of greater heat than the sun, and realised his next obstacle was leaping over two pits of hot lava.
"A Ranger must be able to put up with environmental extremes," Brax continued. "We chose lava because if you slip up, your end should be quick, though briefly painful."
"Pleasant thought," Ratchet muttered, sweat glistening through his fur. He'd be lucky not to suffer a heatstroke. Wasn't the natural heat of Veldin extreme enough?
But he had to press on. He couldn't turn back now. Steeling himself, Ratchet jumped over the first lava pit. The wave of heat swept up his body, and for a moment, Ratchet felt overwhelmed. Then, he landed on the other side and the wave passed. Determined to carry on before his resolve wavered, Ratchet jumped across the next lava pit. Once on the other side, Ratchet stepped into the shade cast by a rock formation to wipe sweat out of his fur.
"Hopefully, the Rangers provide fresh water too," he panted, before proceeding.
Beyond another gate, Ratchet saw a dummy holding a flamethrower.
"In order to spice things up, we've armed our dummies with Gadgetron flamethrowers. Our lawyers are totally cool with that."
"Sure they are," Ratchet quipped as he rolled aside; narrowly avoiding a gout of flame before quickly springing back to his feet with another bomb already palmed and flying towards the hapless dummy on a curving arc. It hit the dummy dead centre and detonated with enough force to leave little more than scrap metal and burning fuel in his wake. With the obstacle removed, Ratchet stepped on to the platform it had previously been occupying.
"Good job, recruit," Brax praised. "You may just be the next Galactic Ranger. Time for your final challenge."
"Alright, Ratchet, you can do this," the feline encouraged himself.
The platform brought Ratchet to a small arena, as the voice of Captain Qwark himself sounded from the tannoys.
"Time for the final challenge! Survive a brutal onslaught of enemies, and you might just be our next Galactic Ranger! Or maybe an intern…"
"Intern?!" Ratchet bristled. "Uh-uh, interns are for losers, or students who can't wait to finish their studies!"
Training dummies appeared around Ratchet, each sporting a Pyrocitor. Ratchet grinned. He was going to enjoy this.
The dummies began to advance on the Lombax. Backpedalling and summoning a Bomb, Ratchet lobed it at the nearest dummy, and it flew apart with a BOOM!
"One down."
With the next dummy, Ratchet decided to use his wrench again. Leaping over the stream of fire, he brought the head of the wrench crashing down on it in a Comet Strike. The dummy crumpled into spare parts.
The third dummy received a strong kick to the face-plate after it tried to grab Ratchet from behind, sending the head flying off the shoulders like a football.
"Impressive! Could we be looking at Solana's next Galactic Ranger?!"
"You better believe it!" Ratchet grinned, strafing along another dummy and planting a bomb directly on its back, before jumping away as it blew. "I want off this rock! Um, no disrespect, Grim…"
Unfortunately, this brief distraction allowed a dummy to score a burn on his arm. Ratchet cried out in pain, the acrid smell of burning fur filling his nostrils and making him cough.
"Ooooooo, he's gonna feel that tomorrow!"
Seething, Ratchet dodged another stream of fire, and threw a Bomb at the guilty dummy. Determined not to let the burn stop him, Ratchet redoubled his efforts. Leaping over a dummy's head, he tore the Pyrocitor from its grasp, twisted its head off with his wrench, and then turned the Pyrocitor on its fellows, streaming it from side-to-side to spread the heat.
"Whoa, now that's thinking outside the crate!"
The remaining dummies were overwhelmed by the heat and melted into pulp, thus concluding the course.
"Good job, cadet!" Qwark congratulated. "Come and see me after the show."
"Huh," Ratchet panted. "That wasn't so bad…"
As he made his way out of the arena, Ratchet approached a crate that contained a glowing sphere of blue-white light. Breaking it open with his wrench, Ratchet sighed in relief as the light streamed into his body. Nanotech was always good to use after an injury; Ratchet especially loved the tingle he got as the nano-machines entered the body. In seconds, the burn on his arm ceased stinging, the skin healed, and fur regrew.
Ratchet made his way towards the stage, where a large crowd had gathered. By now, his adrenaline was reaching feverish levels. This was truly it!
"Ladies and gentlemen of Veldin," cried the announcer, "get on your feet, put your hands together and give a big Veldin welcome to… the Galactic Rangers!
"First up, she'll shoot first, and ask questions when she's good and ready: Cora Veralux!"
A young female Markazian with light purple skin, dark red hair and a golden tiara stepped onto the stage.
"You loved him in Grapplemania; you'll love him more as a Galactic Ranger! Get ready to feel the pain of Brax 'The Brute' Lectrus!"
A vast Khegral with brown scales and a number of spikes on the back of his head appeared, making a number of shooting noises, while firing invisible guns with his thick fingers.
"The one responsible for this fine course - and several ignored complaints about how it can be improved - Helga von Streissenburgen!"
A female, rotund Valkyrie cried "Guten Tag!" as she waddled into sight
"And finally, ladies and gentlemen, the saviour of Solana; Captain Qwark!"
Captain Copernicus Qwark appeared on the stage; large and powerfully built, Qwark practically embodied the look of a galactic hero. His posters and merchandise hardly did him justice. He was the public face of the Rangers and all their advertisements, and had undertaken many heroic adventures across the galaxy.
A wall of fire burst into life in front of the hero, and he did an impressive flip through it.
"Hello, Veldin!" Qwark crowed, stepping up to the stage's edge; a stool was slid across so he could place a foot on it, doing an impressive pose
"Hello, Captain!" Ratchet and the crowd cried in response.
"Hold on, Qvark, let me put that out for you!" Helga hurried forward to douse Qwark's suit, the shoulder of which had just caught fire.
"My name is Copernicus Qwark, and yes; that was an impressive wall of fire I just jumped through!"
Helga doused Qwark's back with a fire extinguisher.
"I'm going to be real with you folks for a moment," Qwark continued, his tone turning serious, yet still rather dramatic - per his style. "When President Phyronix requested we take new recruits into our ranks, I knew just to come to places like here. That's right; we want you!"
The crowd cheered and whooped. Ratchet's excitement drew.
"I know what you're thinking: do I have what it takes? After all, you may not have defeated Captain Blackstar and his robotic pirate ghosts."
The image of a large cyclopic space pirate with two large tusks and a large sword appeared on the big screen behind Qwark, surrounded by ghostly robots.
"You may not have saved Blackwater City from Doctor Nefarious' Ameoboid army." The image of several green, blob-like creatures composed of slime with orange eyes was shown
"While he hid in the women's restroom at Galaxy Burger," Cora whispered to Brax. Both chuckled behind Qwark's back.
"And you may not have this chiselled chin or godlike pectoral region." Qwark flexed to emphasize his point, straining his green spandex suit.
"But if you have heart, then you have what it takes!"
Ratchet felt he was going to have a heart attack from excitement. Finally, his chance had come. Finally, he could leave Veldin, make friends with the coolest people ever and explore the galaxy with them. Finally, he could…
"You don't have what it takes."
Ratchet was seated in the interview room, across the table from Qwark. He couldn't believe what he'd been just told. He felt as though his insides were deflating.
"B-but I have heart!" Ratchet protested.
"Yes, but it's encased in a weak, muscle-less shell of inexperience."
"Hey, I'm willing to learn. I catch on quick!" Ratchet cried, starting to get angry.
"Plus, there's your history to consider," Qwark continued, as if Ratchet hadn't spoken. "Cora?"
Cora was holding a database, although, even in his rising anger and desperation, Ratchet noticed a curious look on her face as she looked at him for a moment. It seemed rather inscrutable. But at Qwark's prompting, she consulted the list.
"Got a long line of citations here," she noted, as she began to scroll through them. "Possession of an illegal gravity repulsor…"
"I needed it to fix that broken speeder!" Ratchet insisted.
"Operation of a black-market accelerator," Brax read.
"We acquired it fairly and made good use of it!"
"Responsible for ze hospitalization of zeven speeder instructors," Helga continued. "Ha! Vot a reckless panzy!
"Those were accidents!" Ratchet pleaded.
"Sorry, young one," Qwark said condescendingly, "but you have none of the talent we're looking for. Honestly, I'm surprised you've lived this long here on this sand ball, you… whatever you are."
At this, Ratchet lost patience.
"Listen here, meat head! I've probably got more talent in one finger than most of you bozos have in your whole bodies! I've worked my whole life for this opportunity, and I'm not letting it slip me by, just because you're too dense to recognise my suitability! Now, I'm not leaving until you give me a spot among your ranks!"
The only spot Ratchet got was a spot of dirt in his face, as he was literally thrown from the ship.
"Und stay out!" Helga shouted, and made sure that the doors slid shut with an almighty crash, leaving a furious and disappointed Ratchet outside.