Planet Orxon died slowly.

There was nothing spectacular about it; no cataclysmic event that cracked apart its crust and scoured the atmosphere with scorching and hungry fire; no invasion by some hyper-violent alien species hell-bent on extermination.

All in all, it was almost pathetic.

Thousands of beacon-lights from the vast industrial-complexes stretching out on its salt basins blinked intermittently, just barely visible from space through the hazy, smog-filled atmosphere. They flickered and went out, one after the other, as the gargantuan power stations and manufactories run out of what little auxiliary power they still had and fell silent, this time forever.

Waiting on geo-stationary orbit around the planet, their silhouettes standing out against sickly-green clouds obscuring the surface, the last few Blarg ships and freighters prepared themselves for the warp-jump. They were scavengers, brave souls come to scour the toxin-filled surface and take back to the fleet what little had been left behind. Not much, in all likelihood. The only real consolation was that the evacuation had been very thorough.

Julen stared at his home, hands clenching tighter and tighter the security railing before the observation dome's glass with each passing moment. For the first time in years, the Blarg was glad to wear his life-mask and rebreather. Even if he was alone now, he didn't want anyone from the crew to see him weeping.

He had always known such moment would come. He had prepared whole speeches about it, all filled with sorrow and loss, fire and fury. He was a politician, like his father before him, and his ability to pour out fiery rhetoric was a mark of pride for him.

But to finally see it happen before his very eyes? Ironically enough, Julen didn't have the words for it, his mind unable to actually process it as it was happening. A naïve part of him still clung to the childish belief that it was but a nightmare, that soon he would have woken up.

In reality, there was no awakening from it. There was no escape from a nightmare of his own making.

So, he wept on and on, the soft whirring of his life-mask indicating that his tears were being washed and sucked away by the automated systems before they could obstruct his vision.

That's what they were, weren't they? Obstructions.

He turned away from the glass, walking back into his office in silence. With a sweep of the hand on a touchscreen nearby, the pneumatic doors snapped close behind him. Sitting behind his wooden desk, the Blarg activated the communicator fixated to his collar.

"Captain Dronte?"

"Yes, sir?"

"We're done here. You may set course for the Polaris Galaxy when you're ready. I believe the coordinates of the rendezvous with the rest of the fleet should already be in your ship's system."

There was a brief pause as the captain checked the data from his side.

"Yessir, they are. Preparations are underway but we'll be ready for the jump in eight minutes. Our ETA for Polaris is seventy-two hours."

Julen nodded, even though the other Blarg couldn't see him. "Understood. Thank you, captain. Oh, and please, would you mind sending a message to Detachment Epsilon while you're at it?"

"Not at all, sir. What would that message be?"

"Advise them that they may retaliate at their earliest convenience," Julen said, his voice calm. "That will be all."

Another pause. "Of course, sir. It will be done. Oh, and enjoy the trip." Then he cut off the link.

Eight minutes and eleven seconds later, the Blargite Heavy Cruiser Pelican's outline turned into a hazy blur as its warp-drive went online and reached full power. Itdisappeared with a bright flash, leaving nothing behind but the revolving and rotting mass of Planet Orxon, now shrouded in darkness.

None of those aboard the ship would ever see their home-world again.

"Oh, son of a b-"

A loud splash followed the exclamation, and Rivet plunged underwater. After a few moments, more to recover from the shock that anything else, the Lombax pulled her head out, spitting out water in the process.

Rivet pushed a wet tuft of hair off her eyes, blinking as she remerged; her boots struggled to find purchase in the muddy riverbed. Her white pelt and clothes were utterly soaked; water dripped down from her slanted ears.

She paid little mind to any of it though; her eyes darted upward, a fierce gaze settling on the grinning figure of a second Lombax, sitting on fallen tree trunk a few feet above the water.

"Well, that's one way of stopping, I guess."

"Don't say it!" She whipped an accusatory finger at him. "Don't you even dare to say it!"

Feet dangling in the air, Ratchet gave her a small chuckle as he raised both hands in defence. "Fine, then. I'm not gonna say it."

Rivet dropped her arm back into the water with a splash, but her sullen face remained. She wanted to lash out in fury at him, but she couldn't find the will to do so. After all, he had warned her, hadn't he?

They had chosen that place well at least; the river wasn't too deep, the water reaching just below her armpits, and the current was weak enough to make hover-boot practice safe. The calls and noises of the planetary wildlife echoed all around them through Sargasso's lush jungle.

Practising over one the acid swamps near her hideout was out of the question, no matter how careful they thought they were. Still, accidents could apparently still happen.

"Still, I had warned you," he finally said.

"You just promised you wouldn't!"

"I never said I'm any good at keeping promises though."

Her eyes narrowed even further. She only stopped short from a retort because a wet tuft of hair kept on slipping down and she had to swipe it back up. Eventually she gave up, and let it dangle in front of her face.

"Well?" Rivet sulked after some more time.

Rachet raised an eyebrow. "Well what?"

"Aren't you gonna help get out of here?"

"So that you can pull me in there too?" He tutted and shook his head, still grinning. "I'm not falling for that again, you know."

"It was an accident! And besides, I'm in this mess because of you," she gestured at the surrounding water and then at herself for good emphasis. "The least you could do is giving me a hand right now."

"You're in this mess because you ignored my very reasonable advice and your hover-boots cut off mid-flight. As I said they would," he pointed out.

Rivet rolled her eyes at him. "It's fine. You're just jealous cause I was in the lead, aren't you?"

"I'm not joking, Rivet. You could have gotten hurt. And that wasn't even a race to begin with"

"It's fine," she insisted.

"No, it isn't." The sudden shift in his tone wasn't lost on her. Something in his previous affable demeanour changed, eyes seemingly hardening with firmness.

Ratchet inhaled deeply, then shook his head. "Look, Rivet, hover-bots are not toys. Are they amazing? Heck yes, they are. But they're also extremely delicate instruments. Each pair is calibrated not only to its owner weight, but also to his or her movements mid-flight." His eyebrow furrowed.

"And that's why I said we needed to test them gradually, so that we can make changes as we needed. At least the water broke your fall, but it could have gone worse."

Rivet shook her head in annoyance. "I've used them before, you know. I know pretty well how they work."

Ratchet barely lifted an eyebrow. "You've used them to grind over rails. That and flying at almost seventy miles per hour are two different things."

"And what about Zordom, uh? They worked fine when I had to get you guys out of there."

"And then they stopped working immediately afterward, didn't they? Because the calibrations were off."

"Yeah well, I …" she paused, lost for words. Rivet shook her head and, as she glanced up, their eyes met for a brief moment.

"How do you know about all of that, anyway?"

A shadow of uncertainty passed across his face in the blink of an eye; his upper lip twitched. It was brief and, had Rivet not been looking exactly for it, she would have probably missed it.

In the last couple of weeks spent together, she had quickly noticed that Ratchet showed some reluctance when talking about the Lombaxes. And these hover-boots were, according to him, well-known tech amongst their people. That, however, made Rivet wonder why Ratchet knew all of that, when he had said that he never met another Lombax aside from her.

She couldn't shake the feeling there was something he wasn't telling her, that he knew more about their species than he let on. If only he wouldn't be all that tight-lipped about it. It was irksome, to put it mildly.

"Well, I …" Again, that hesitation. Eventually, Ratchet shook his head. "Let's just say I had a good teacher."

"Very good?"

He smiled, but his wasn't a sincere one. There was something else behind it. "Oh, you have no idea. So, are you planning on coming out of the water any time soon? I thought you said you wanted to do some more practise while Clank and Kit were occupied."

Her lips perked up and she rolled her eyes. Once again, he was diverting the subject. Still, Rivet was confident enough that she would eventually get to the bottom of that. Sheer determination was her best quality after all. Even if the Morts continued on using stubborn to describe her.

"Very funny. Yeah, alright. Just give me a moment to…"

She stopped, her eyes darting to her right side, specifically at her prosthetic. They widened as Rivet noticed that it simply lay limp by her side.

"Ah, crap."

"What?" Ratchet asked in sudden concern. She gestured at her metallic arm in response.

"I think one of the watertight seals opened. Dammit, not again!"

"Are you alright?"

"Well, yeah. It's not like the circuitry will fry me or anything." Rivet shook her head, pinching the top of her nose, clearly irritated. "Still, it's going to be a pain in the rear to fix it."

Ratchet nodded. "I see. I think I can help you though. First of all, let's get you back on dry land, alright?" He rose from his seat and into a crouch, one hand extended down and towards her. "Then we head back to your hideout and see what needs to be done."

Rivet arched an eyebrow at him, before nodding. "Sounds good to me."

The Lombax trudged towards her counterpart, pushing and labouring through the water with her organic arm. Ratchet noticed that she seemed to be having some troubles though, as the prosthetic was effectively acting as dead weight.

He leaned dangerously over the edge of the trunk, using his other arm to keep himself steady.

Finally, the two Lombaxes were close enough for Rivet to try and reach his extended hand. So she did. With her perfectly functioning prosthetic, now clasped tightly around Ratchet's hand.

Only in that moment he spotted the malicious grin that had made its appearance on Rivet's face. It was far too late by then. By the time everything clicked together in Ratchet's mind, the Lombax was already sailing through the air and towards the freezing cold water below.

He had no one to blame but himself, really.

"How long have you two known each other?"

The question came from close by, and momentarily blindsided him. Slowly, Clank glanced up from the small console he had been working on and toward a rather nervous-looking Kit.

His optic sensors blinked once, then twice. "I beg your pardon?"

The small yellow bot remained quiet for a moment, fidgeting with her metallic hands.

"You and Ratchet," she eventually said, her voice barely higher than a whisper. "From what I've been able to observe so far, you two seem ... good friends. So, I was wondering for how long have you two known each other." She glanced away and at the ground. "I-If you wish to divulge that, of course."

"I don't see why it should be a secret," Clank said as he hopped down from his chair. The Morts had been kind enough to lend him one of their working stations inside the main hub. The two bots were now in a rather spartan-looking room, with a series of consoles lining one of the walls.

It wasn't much, but Clank didn't need anything special, not when he was about to put the finishing touches on his little side-project.

"We are indeed good friends," Clank informed her. "And we have been such for, ah, give me just a moment to check my databanks and – there! Thirteen years, five months and twenty-seven days. Though please keep in mind that there is probably an error-margin of at least eight hours." He chuckled, mostly to himself. "I should really fix that bug now that I'm thinking about it."

Kit nodded, but she still refused to look anywhere near him. "That is a lot of time."

"To be fair, we got separated from each other for about two years, when the Zoni decided to kidnap me and bring me to the Gr-" he paused, thinking better about telling her those events in particular. He also realized Kit was now giving him a worried, and puzzled, glance.

"Never mind that part, please. The situation was, ah, a bizarre one, you see."

"Of course."

"May I ask why the sudden question?"

Kit said nothing, once again looking away from him. The yellow bot wrapped her metal arms around herself, remaining silent.

Clank's eye-sensors went slant in the best imitation of a frown. He didn't need to be a telepath to know, or to at the very least make a guess, on what thoughts were racing through her processor.

"I do not wish to intrude of course, and you don't need to answer me if you'd rather not," Clank began in a gentle tone.

Kit shook her head. "It's not that, it's just … well, it's complicated."

"Is it about you and Rivet?"

She blinked, shooting him an appraising glance. "Was it really that obvious? Perhaps it was. It's just …" She hesitated for a moment. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how this 'partners' thing works. Are we supposed to just forget everything that has happened, of what I've done to her?

"Have you two tried to sit down and talk about it?" Clank asked.

"Since the Emperor's defeat? Barely, if you include a couple of occasion. And even if we were to, I can't see any way of that ending well. Rivet can be very defensive on certain subjects." She shook her head. "And she has good reasons to."

Clank raised an arm, his new one to be precise, as if he wanted to place it on her shoulder. He stopped in mid-motion, thinking better about it and deciding to let her some space.

"If it can make you feel any better," the bot began instead, "Ratchet and I didn't have the best start either."

That seemed to get her attention, and she looked up at him, blinking in surprise. Clank let out a small chuckle.

"Now that I think about it, it is probably a wonder that we managed to keep our partnership from imploding right there, especially after Quark's double-crossing. Still, I guess that when you're trying to prevent a money-hungry and unhinged corporate executive from blowing up your home planet, you start to see other matters in a much different light."

Unsure on how to respond, Kit settled for a nod. "I guess so."

"My point is though," Clank continued, "and please keep in mind that I'm simply speaking through my personal experience, that this is not an easy matter to resolve. It will take time, you see; time and a lot of effort from the both of you, considering the, ahem, previous history between you two. Still, you want this to work, right?"

There was a moment of hesitation on her part, but then she quickly nodded. "I think so, yes."

"Then I've no doubt that you'll do exactly that. As for Rivet, I know that she has a tough shell on the outside, perhaps she's a bit abrasive too once in a while, but I know she cares about you, in her own way. Perhaps she's just as confused, or scared, as you are right now, and she's just waiting for you to do the first step. You'll just have to push through the initial awkwardness and face the problems as they present themselves, one at a time."

"What if it doesn't work though?" Kit asked almost fearfully. "What if we … what if we can't get past … that?"

Clank shrugged. "Then, and I hope you'll forgive my frankness, better to know that for sure and move on, rather than keep on worrying. I hope I've made myself clear."

"You have, yes." She pondered for a few moments, her eye-sensors slanted as if in deep thought. Eventually she looked back up, a tentative, yet grateful, smile on her mechanical lips. "I … I'll need a moment to think about it. Thank you, Clank. I appreciate your honesty."

"Oh, you're welcome. It's the least I could do." He grinned right back. "Now, was there something else you wanted to discuss?"

"Just one, actually," she answered after some thought. "Who's Quark?"

"Ah, that." Clank rubbed the back of his head. "Well, it really depends on who you ask. For example, if Rachet were here, he would say that Quark is nothing more than a-"

A sudden beeping erupted from the console, causing Clank to snap back his attention towards it.

"Please excuse me a moment," he apologized as he climbed back on the chair. There was some evident relief in his voice. His eye-sensors soon fell upon the screen, and then widened slightly as he absorbed the incoming information.

"I think we both deserve a pat on the shoulder, if I say so myself," Clank announced triumphantly.

Kit tilted her head to one side for a moment, confused. Then it dawned on her. "Wait. Are you telling me it's working?!"

Clank nodded. "Indeed it is. The Extradimensional Rift-based High-Speed Communicator is officially online and working properly. Quite an impressive result, considering that most of our theories were empirical in nature."

Kit smiled back at him, then shook her head. "Well, you did most of the work. I was just glad to lend a hand where I could."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short. I'll go so far as to say that your contribution was fundamental. I'm not very familiar with Imperial technology and, as much as it pains me to admit, it would have taken me months to figure it out on my own."

Clank's sensors went slant in a frown. "Uhm, about that. Please don't tell Ratchet that part. I know for sure he will mock me for weeks on end otherwise."

An amused chuckle escaped Kit. "I thought you two were friends."

"Oh, but we are. Which is precisely why I know that he'll do it."

"Very well then." She grinned at him, passing a metal hand on her mouth as to mimic closing a zipper. "I will not say a word."

"Thank you." Clank glanced back at the screen and began typing on the keyboard. Then, he paused.

"That's … strange, to say the least," he noted with a frown.

"What is it?" Kit inquired.

"It's just … you remember when we synchronized the device with Aphelion's own comm system? Well, it appears we are currently receiving a message from our dimension. From Felton, no less!"

"Who?"

"A friend of ours. Still, it's surprising, is it not? I never gave Felton, nor anybody else for that matter, a copy of our Extradimensional Rift-based High-Speed Communicator. And yet he managed to contact us all the same."

Kit tapped at her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, I see the problem. It seems we have misjudged how the communicator would actually operate. Makes sense, considering that most of this tech came from Kedaro Station. Do you think the device is using Rifts to capture the inbound signal?"

"Possibly, though I can't be sure at the moment. More tests will surely be required, but that's for later. Now, let me check what this is all ab-"

Clank fell silent as his sensors scanned the few lines of text inside the message, growing wider as the full weight of it sunk in.

"Oh." Slowly, he leaned back in his chair. "Oh dear." He tried and read it a couple more times, hoping that his sensors were just playing a trick on him; maybe he had just misinterpreted some vital part.

"Oh dear," he repeated.

"Clank? Clank, what's wrong?" Kit had come up by his side, voice fraught with worry. "Clank? Are you …"

"Yes, I'm fine. But …" he paused, blinking. He finally turned to face her. "Are Ratchet and Rivet back yet?"

Kit tilted her head to one side. "I don't know. I don't think so. You want me to try and raise them on the comms?"

He nodded. "Please do so. Tell Ratchet to come back right now. Tell him that …" Another moment of hesitation, then Clank shock his head in resignation. "Tell him that there has been an accident."

Two weeks prior …

"Hey, watch it!"

"Oh. I'm so sorry, mister."

He didn't know if the Markazian had heard his muttered apology in the ongoing ruckus. He spared a glance behind, but the guy had already disappeared back into the crowd.

Grimroth Raz continued on pushing his way through the throng of waiting passengers, doing so with surprisingly care for someone his size. It did help that most were too busy to pay any real attention to him. Still, he reached back with a hand to try and keep his duffel bag from swinging around and hitting someone else.

Grim wasn't sure how many passengers were there, chocking the starcruiser's outer galleries with their bodies, waiting for disembark; simple tourists; aliens clad in expensive-looking business suits speaking at their cell phones; entire families. They were going to enter Igliak's atmosphere any moment now.

Eventually, after a lot more efforts and apologies later, Grim managed to squish his way through the crowd and reach the panoramic windows. The situation was slightly better there, considering there was a bit more space to stretch your arms. All nearby benches and seats were occupied, so he decided to hang around the railing until the crowd thinned a little.

Glancing out from the large porthole, he was greeted by the absolute mess that was Igliak's orbit. A several miles-thick layer of satellites and space stations, military installations and branching-out supply platforms; a jungle of piers stretching out like a honeycomb of metal and dry docks, with thousands of ships swarming in and around them, as moths to a burning light.

Grim checked the wristwatch he had borrowed from his brother, then grunted. If all went well, he should still have two hours before taking the next starcruiser for Megalopolis.

He allowed himself a small, satisfied grin. It had been quite some time since he had last seen Ratchet. Things had changed a lot after all those years; he was a big shot now, a hero, and Grim was just an old man enjoying his retirement on Pokitaru. He still came to visit of course, but those times were few and far in between.

Not that Grim blamed him for that. The kid - even though he wasn't a kid anymore – had his own things to do, his own life to live. The last thing he wanted for Ratchet was to worry about an old friend enjoying some quiet retirement.

Still, it would be nice to pay him a surprise visit on Megalopolis. For a brief moment, he caught his own reflection in the glass, the deep lines on his face standing out.

'Wow, you're really getting old, aren't you? Ugly too. Ratch probably won't even recognize you.'

He snickered, mostly despite himself. The years had been cruel on him, and the morning aches were just getting worse. At least Pokitaru's weather was gentler than Veldin had ever been. A small mercy.

Something bumped hard into his side, wrenching him back from his musings. He shot a look around but found no one close by. Had it just been his imagination? Grim was about to turn his gaze back to the panoramic window when he heard a groan, an annoyed one.

He glanced down. The source turned out to be a brown-furred Cazar child; he sat on the steel pavement, massaging his head with both hands, hissing in discomfort.

The scene hit Grim a little too close home, and he smiled. It reminded him of another long-eared, hyperactive furball who couldn't be bothered to watch his steps in his garage and would inevitably end just like that.

"Oh, careful there, kid," Grim said. He offered his hand; it was almost as big as him. The kid looked up, blinked, and quickly accepted it, climbing back to his feet with his help.

"Thank you, sir."

"You alright?" The kid opened his mouth to answer but, before he could say anything, an adult Cazar scooped him up from behind and into his arms.

"There you are, Crill! What did I say about running away in the crowd, uh? Me and your mother were getting worried."

"But pa, I was bored!" he protested.

"That's still not an excuse." He glanced to the side, seemingly noticing Grim for the first time. He smiled despite his chagrin. "I'm terribly sorry. He doesn't usually run around like that. It probably was the snacks he ate while I wasn't looking. You know how kids are."

Grim shook his head, still grinning. "There's no need, really. I've first-hand experience with that, believe me. I know how hard it is."

He nodded. "You're a father too, uh?"

"Well, I used to. But thankfully he's grown up now and has moved out. I'm actually on my way to visit him." He patted affectionately the duffel bag by his side.

"Meridian City then? That's where we are disembarking."

"Well, not exactly. He's in Megalopolis right now."

"Ah, of course," the Cazar said, "The Festival of Heroes. Should have guessed it. I was planning on going there with the family you know, but after what happened in the Zarkov Sector maybe it's better for another time."

Grim's eyebrow furrowed in curiosity. "Troubles?"

He shrugged. "Something like that. I've heard on the holovision tha- ouch! Crill! Stop that!"

The Cazar kid, now in his father arms, was pulling at his ear with insistence. His eyes were wide, glued at the panoramic window.

"Look, dad! Look! Purple lights!" He proudly announced, a gleeful smile on his face.

Curious, Grim glanced out of the window. And then blinked.

There were indeed flashes of deep purple rippling through the pitch-black of space. More worryingly however, were the cracks appearing out of thin air, pulsating violently with each passing moment.

"What in the…" Grim muttered. He only belatedly registered the fact that the ruckus from the other passengers had died down as more and more turned to look at what was happening outside. There was silence, accompanied by the occasional worried muttering.

Crack.

Holes yawned open, hundreds of them, bright and radiating malicious purple energy as they crackled to life. A supply ship skewed to one side to avoid a rift that had sprung open on his flight path, only to crash headfirst into a freighter's bulkhead and embedding itself there in an explosion of debris.

All around, similar scenes repeated as panic spread quickly amongst the starships in orbit, each trying to quickly get as far away as possible from those mysterious rifts, as more and more cracked open. A fuel depo burst open with an expanding cloud of liquid gelatonium as a cutter smashed into it and slashed a wide gash across its tanks.

Panic was now starting to spread also amongst the passengers; screams and cries rented the air. Except they had nowhere to go. Many simply stood still, as if petrified.

Some distance away, another starcruiser was swallowed whole by an expanding rift, his thrusters flaring, desperately trying to reverse course as it was inevitably drawn closer and closer, until it simply disappeared.

The starcruiser around them groaned, then shook violently. A chill run down Grim's back. He had had his fair share of experience with machinery, especially starships. That was no normal shaking; it was more violent, accompanied by the wailing and screeching of bending metal on metal. The overhead lights flickered for a brief moment. The ear-splitting wail of sirens filled the air.

Grim whirled his head around, toward the wide-eyed Cazar, holding a now silent and terrified child. He opened his mouth. Whatever Grimroth Raz was trying to say mattered little and would in fact forever remain a mystery.

The corridor exploded.

Author's Note: Well, that's one of starting, isn't it? In case it wasn't clear already, this is a Post-Rift Apart fic. Unlike many, I discovered the Ratchet & Clank franchise relatively late, and immediately fell in love with it. Regarding the 2016 remake, I may or may not pick some characters to include in the story if I believe they fit well. As you've probably noticed here.

What will happen next though? Will things get any worse? That's a rethorical question, of course. Things can always get worse. I should know, I'm the author of this. Until next time.