Post-Birth Distress

Few organics ever remember the day they were born. This isn't surprising, given how rudimentary our minds and memory capacities are. Of course, their births are always a big event for the parents. Or else, they should be, because they're bringing new life into the universe. And every life is important.

With robots, it's a different tale. When a robot comes online, they usually remember doing so. But it's usually uneventful. On Mobius, we might think it's pretty awesome to build a robot and bring it to life. But in Solana, where robots co-exist alongside organics, it's not treated nearly as wonderfully as organic births. And because of this, robots often suffer bias and condescension.

But there's always a diamond in the rough. In a large robot factory, on planet Quartu, where Chairman Alonzo Drek was constructing his robot army, the birth of one small robot would prove highly significant in the shaping of galactic events.

Plant Z332, Drek Industries, Skorg City, Planet Quartu

Systems check…

Motors and pistons: serviceable

Optics: functioning

Sound receptors: operational

Central processing unit: online

Sisterboard coming online… 10%… 25%… 37%… 59%… 86%… 100%…

Receiving information… Galactic Rangers… Elaris… Cora Veralux… Brax Lectrus… Captain Qwark… Hall of Heroes, Aleero Metropolis, Planet Kerwan… Target acquired!

'Good luck, my son!'

"Huh, what was that? What's going on?"

B5429671, a robot barely 2 feet in height, blinked open optics that initially glowed red, but as he rubbed them, they turned green. He looked around, confused and wondering where he was. He appeared to be some kind of large factory, standing on a conveyor belt. There were many conveyor belts above and below, and a large robot in front and behind. The constant sound of whirling, drilling and hammering, not to mention the lack of sufficient lighting in some areas, and the mostly grey architecture, wasn't welcoming.

"Oh my!" B5 wondered.

'State your prime ob-huh?! Hello? Anyone there?'

B5 looked up. A robotic arm with a single red eye was holding a blaster and looking around above his level, apparently puzzled.

"Hmmm…" B5 mused.

The robotic arm looked down at the tiny automaton.

"Hello," B5 greeted.

The optic scanned him, taking B5 completely by surprise.

'Defect detected in Warbot B5429671. Preparing for immediate destruction!'

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" came a deep voice from somewhere nearby. "A defect! Go play, Victor!"

"As you wish, boss!" replied another voice, this one also deep, but robotic as well.

B5 didn't like the sound of that, whoever was speaking. Without pausing to think any further, he leapt off the conveyor belt, landed on a gantry and began running as fast as his tiny legs could carry.

"I'll get you, defect!" the second voice yelled from behind him. B5 looked back to see a massive figure land on the gantry behind him, a weapon of some kind clutched in his hand. The figure, no doubt this 'Victor' the first voice had given an order to, was so big and heavy that the gantry shuddered as he landed.

B5 didn't wait to see what Victor looked like; he just dashed towards the nearest ventilation system, his only chance of escape.

Several rockets shot over the small robot's head. An info-bot wandering about jumped and cowered. Instinctively, B5 grabbed it and dragged it with him into the duct, just as another rocket whizzed over their heads.

A moment later, B5 and the info-bot shot out of the duct, landing on the metal floor of the loading bay with a thud. A number of ships stood nearby.

B5 turned to the info-bot. "You are an info-bot, correct?" he asked.

The bot nodded, and its head turned into a screen. When B5 saw what was on it, he gasped.

"I must warn the Galactic Rangers of this," he cried. "Come with me!"

B5 did not really know why he wanted to warn the Galactic Rangers. From what he'd been able to glimpse of the factory, the Warbots were being constructed to destroy. And the fact he had the co-ordinates of the Galactic Rangers in his memory database told him that the Rangers were the target. And yet, he felt no obligation to carry out this objective at all. It just did not feel right to B5 at all. It was a mystery, but right now, that didn't matter.

The info-bot shrank down and B5 stored it inside his chassis, before running towards one of the ships. Jumping inside, B5 slammed a fist on the ignition button, just as Victor came charging out towards him. The craft blasted off, but Victor fired his Devastator. One rocket overshot the craft, but the other found its target, damaging one of the wings. Fortunately, it managed to break atmosphere. Victor scowled.

"He won't get far," he growled.

B5 activated the on-board computer. "Computer, set a course for the Galactic Ranger home base, Aleero Street, Metropolis, Planet Kerwan."

'Destination set. Sad to say we will never make it due to the damage to the wing, but hey, what are you gonna do?'

"Oh dear," B5 groaned. How was we going to warn the Rangers now?

Veldin, 19:13 local time

Ratchet was working on his Skyhopper again, fuming. He still couldn't believe the Rangers had turned him away! He'd worked so hard to prepare for that training course! When he hadn't been helping Grim around the garage, he'd been working to the Ranger's fitness videos. And they'd chosen to focus on his past mistakes, rather than his commitment?! Guess they weren't so friendly, after all! And that Qwark...

"'You don't have what it takes!'" he mimicked to himself. "'You're weak and inexperienced whereas I'm all big and muscly, with a massive chin!' Huh! I'll show him! I will show 'em! All I need is to finish this ship, and I'll be able to leave this place once and for all."

He finished tightening the engine into place and stood back to admire his handiwork. That should about do it. But the Skyhopper didn't seem to be powering up. What was missing? He decided to check with the Gadgetron HelpDesk.

On his left glove was a small device that provided access to said HelpDesk. Ratchet pressed a button.

'Final step: attach robotic ignition system' droned a flat, female voice. 'Thank you for choosing HelpDesk technology.'

Robotic ignition system?! Ratchet groaned. He didn't have anything like that on him! Where was he supposed to find a robotic ignition system?! Ratchet slumped over the ship in defeat. He was so close, but he was never going to get off Veldin now!

He rolled over and looked at the sky. Veldin's nights were so beautiful. Not only was the air cooler, but the clear sky allowed Ratchet to see the stars perfectly. He remembered when Grim would take him outside to watch the sun set and the stars come out. It was so relaxing, stargazing in the cooling air, with only the occasional sound of horned toads to break the silence.

But however beautiful it was, it didn't change the fact that Ratchet felt so alone right now. So very alone...

Something caught his eye. One of the stars appeared to be moving. At first, Ratchet thought it was a shooting star; but if it was, it was clearly a big one, and it was getting bigger by the second. Next moment, a distant roaring noise reached Ratchet's ears, growing louder and louder. The 'shooting star' was entering Veldin's atmosphere! Ratchet's heart accelerated. Meteorites were a rare occurrence. There was something terrifying, and yet, beautiful about them.

"Ratchet, what's that noise?" came Grim's voice from inside. "Is it a meteorite?"

"Looks like it, Grim!" Ratchet shouted. By now, the roaring was deafening, and Ratchet was clutching his ears. Next moment, the meteorite screamed right over Ratchet's head, heading for the canyons beyond the Plateau.

BOOM!

Ratchet felt the earth shudder beneath his feet, and thought he felt a slight ripple, as the meteorite landed. Except, when it had zoomed above his head, Ratchet had noted something about it…

"Err, Grim!" Ratchet called. "I'm going to check out that meteor, okay?"

"You sure 'bout that, kid? Those horned toads might get ya! I ain't treatin' 'nother bite!"

"Aww, come on, I've wandered out at night before and been fine. Besides, I don't think it's actually a meteorite. I think it could've been a crashed ship. If there's someone abroad, they may need help!"

Secretly, Ratchet wondered if the ship might have a robotic ignition system on board. If so, he couldn't let it slip through his fingers. A part of him felt bad for thinking selfishly, but it was blighted by his desire to leave Veldin and explore.

Grim sighed; he'd been doing it a lot lately. "Alright, kid. But you better take care, or you're in trouble!"

Ratchet was already sprinting away across the Plateau.

A few minutes later, Ratchet reached the crash site and approached cautiously. He held his wrench at the ready in one hand, a Bomb from his glove in the other. As he reached the rim of the crater, his nerves tingling - though with fear or excitement, he couldn't tell - he realised it was indeed a small ship.

Ratchet frowned. Perhaps the pilot had lost control. If so, he had to make sure they were alright.

'Danger detected! Danger detected!' a voice rang out. 'I told you we wouldn't make it. But did you listen to me? No.'

"Is anyone in there?" Ratchet asked, ignoring the voice. He saw someone in the pilot's seat; what looked like a small robot apparently unconscious. Ratchet thrust his wrench into one of the windows to pry it open.

'Prepare for self-destruction.'

"Argh! I hate it when they say that!" Ratchet groaned, as he forced the window open.

'Sorry; my programming dictates I announce-'

"Oh, shut up, you!" Ratchet snapped, snatching the small robot out of the pilot's step.

"This is very insulting. Thankfully, I shall be destroyed in 5, 4, 3..."

Ratchet sprinted away from the ship, the robot under his arm, just as - BOOM! The ship exploded, showering Ratchet's back with dust and knocking him off his feet onto his face.

"Huh! Self-destructions! Such a waste of spare parts," Ratchet snorted, spitting dirt out of his mouth. He lay the small robot down on the ground. It was no taller than his thigh; it had a short antenna on its head, a titanium alloy skin and huge three-digit hands.

"Hmm, no vector shell damage; sisterboard looks intact… only thing that needs fixing is the left leg joint."

A bolt had come loose on the small robot's knee. Ratchet knew what he had to do; he had to take this robot back to the garage. Just then, his ears twitched at the sound of ship engines. He looked up to see two more crafts identical to the first fly overhead.

Tucking the robot under his arm again, Ratchet sprinted away from the crash site, being careful to stay out of sight. As he did so, he heard a voice from one of the ships.

"There are the remains of the ship. Let's check the wreckage; we should make sure if he's destroyed or not."

"Destroyed?" Ratchet muttered to himself. "Looks like some people dislike this little guy."

B5429671's optics flickered open, just as his sound receptors registered the sound of a bolt being tightened. Then, he felt something twist on his leg. He sat up quickly and-

CLANG! "Ouch!"

B5's head collided with something fuzzy, but he shrugged it off and looked around. He was sitting on a table in a small room, lit only by a small lamp just above him. One wall was plastered with several posters of figures that B5 recognised from his databanks; the Galactic Rangers.

"A little warning next time!" came an irritated voice.

B5 looked around. A biped with golden fur and green eyes stood next to the table, clutching at his forehead.

"Sorry about that," B5 replied. "Did I hurt you?"

"Yeah, but it's nothing," the furry biped assured, though he still looked annoyed. "I've had worse. You'll be pleased to know I fixed up your leg; it was damaged in the crash."

B5 glanced down at his leg quizzically. He did not remember any damage to it; but he had been knocked out in the crash, and frankly, he would have been surprised if there had been no damage at all.

"You are quite handy with your wrench, sir," B5 complimented.

"You bet. I built my own ship with it. So, what's a little guy like you doing out here?"

B5 suddenly remembered what he needed to do. "I must get to Metropolis!" he cried, rolling off the table quickly. "They are in danger!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" The furry one stopped him before he could take two steps. "Take it easy! I've only just fixed you up! And who's in danger?"

"Novalis is next! They must be warned, sir!" B5 rambled, not heeding the feline's advice.

"Novalis? The planet known for its sewer systems and jabo sandwich?" the feline asked.

"Yes, that is it! They are in danger! And so are the Galactic Rangers!"

The furry creature's ears pricked up, and he looked suddenly intrigued. "Wait, you know the Galactic Rangers?"

"I have not met them, but I know of them! Can you help me get to them?"

The furry creature looked more interested still.

"Why? What's happening?"

B5 opened his chest cavity and the info-bot flew out. It brought its screen and began the video.

A short, pale Blarg, with pupil-less blue eyes and a neat business suit, spoke directly to the camera.

"Hello, citizens of…" An image of Novalis appeared on the screen. "My race, the Blarg, have a small problem." The video showed a picture of what looked like a dirty landscape getting packed with Blarg, wearing breathing apparatus. "Our planet has become so polluted, overpopulated and poisonous and that we are no longer able to dwell here. But I, Chairman Alonzo Drek, have a solution." A schematic of a planet that seemed to be made of uneven segments, all easily discernible, appeared on the screen. "We are constructing a pristine new world using the choicest planetary components available."

The camera cut back to the Blarg, clearly Drek.

"So what does this mean for you, you might ask?"

Another schematic appeared.

"Using a highly sophisticated deplanetizer, the technology of which you couldn't possibly understand, we will be extracting a large portion of your planet and adding it to our new one." The video cut back to Drek again. "Unfortunately, this process will leave your planet in pieces; some of which will either be flung into the sun, where they'll explode; or else drift away and freeze. But, of course, sacrifices must be made."

He said it all like it was nothing; as if he was merely talking about making a pleasant exchange of a gravity repulsor.

"Thank you for your co-operation."

"Cut!" said a voice off-screen

At this, Drek's demeanour changed completely.

"And if you don't like it, you can take your whiny, snivelling, snot-nosed populations, form a line behind me, and kiss my-!" He suddenly looked at someone off-screen. "We're still on? WELL TURN IT OFF, YOU IDIOT!"

"Sorry sir."

The video cut out.

"Man, those people are hosed!" Ratchet observed, shaking his head.

"Can you help me reach the Galactic Rangers, sir?" the small robot asked. "They need to know of Drek's next target. That is…" he added, scratching his mouth plate awkwardly, "If that's alright with you. I don't want to put a civilian's life in danger needlessly."

But Ratchet wasn't really listening; he was thinking hard. This could be the chance he needed, not just to leave Veldin, but also prove to the Galactic Rangers that he had what it took. Perhaps if they went to Kerwan themselves, they could warn the Rangers about Drek's actions. He'd be a hero! The Rangers would have to recruit him after that, surely. They'd be friends, bonded by trauma!

"I'll show that big, muscular butt-head what I can do," Ratchet said quietly to himself, smirking at the thought of Qwark's expression when Ratchet showed him up.

"You'll show who?"

Ratchet started; he'd almost forgotten the small robot was still there.

"I… I was just saying… that I'd be happy to take you to Kerwan! And fight alongside the Rangers against Drek!"

"But you're just a civilian; what can you do?"

Ratchet hesitated for a beat. He had to convince this robot he could help. Besides, this was an emergency, so why not stretch the truth a little?

"Oh, I'm more than just a civilian," Ratchet told the robot, rather awkwardly. "I'm, err… familiar with the Rangers. In fact, I'm kind of a friend of theirs, you might say. I mean, why else would I have pictures of them on my wall?"

It was a lie, Ratchet knew, but surely, harmless in the grand scheme of things. Besides, it would benefit them both.

"Hmm, I suppose so, sir…" the robot acknowledged with a shrug.

"Alright, enough with the 'sir'; my name's Ratchet. What's your name?"

"I suppose my proper designation is Warbot Defect B5429-"

"Okay, that's not a real name." Ratchet thought for a moment. When he'd been carrying the small robot back to his garage, the broken joint had rattled, making a clanking noise.

"I'll just call you 'Clank' for short."

"Hmm, alright, I like it. Clank it is."

Ratchet held out his hand. Clank just stared at it, puzzled. Clearly, he didn't know the custom of shaking hands. Shaking his head in irritation and amusement, Ratchet took Clank's hand and grasped it in his own, moving it up and down.

"Up and down," he instructed. Clank, catching on, returned Ratchet's grip. "There, see, you're a natural." But Clank kept shaking, until Ratchet pulled his hand free. "Okay, that's enough now.

"Come on; let's go. My ship's waiting..."

Ratchet stopped, his excitement deflating as he suddenly remembered he was missing something. "Argh!"

"Something wrong, Sir, I mean, Ratchet?"

"I'm missing a crucial component for my ship; a robotic ignition system!" Ratchet groaned.

"I can help with that, Ratchet."

"You can?" Ratchet asked eagerly.

"I happen to be equipped with the latest in robotic ignition systems."

'Huh, so I did manage to get one from that pod after all' Ratchet thought. 'Who knew?'

"Alright, then," Ratchet agreed, his excitement back in place. "Let's go!"

Chairman Drek's flagship, Veldin's Orbit

Drek stood at the bridge of the ship and watched as a small, somewhat cumbersome ship broke Veldin's atmosphere and flew off. They had managed to track the defect's pod to this desert planet. Blarg scouts had located the crash sit, and found no sign of the defect in the wreckage. It was possible that the defect had been destroyed, but then again, it wasn't wise to take chances. He was close to finishing his new planet, and the last thing he needed right now was interference.

Drek wasn't alone: Victor Von Ion, leader of his warbots, stood next to him. He was a massive red mechanoid with a broad torso, a protruding jaw, and yellow, menacing eyes.

There were two other beings with Drek as well; one was an Androx, with pale green-grey skin and a large egg-shaped head. He wore a purple bodysuit with decorative wings and red accessories, specifically a node on his brow, sigil on his chest and button on his belt. He was Doctor Radius Nefarious, Drek's scientific assistant.

"You reckon B5429671 might be on that ship?" he rasped. "No other ships have left the planet."

"If he's still alive, I'll crush him, grind him into tiny pieces and blast the remains into oblivion!" Victor growled.

"Very well," Drek acknowledged. He looked at the fourth figure, who was in shadow. "You go with him and take care of things."

The figure nodded. He and Victor proceeded from the bridge, as Drek turned to his head scientist.

"In the meantime, Nefarious, prepare the Deplanetizer; the next part of our new planet waits." A cruel smile spread over Drek's face as they charted a course for Novalis.