As the group stepped into the trailer, they took a careful look at their surroundings. Much to Vendra's surprise given Qwark's usual attitude and behavior, the trailer was rather Spartan. It was little more than an empty metal crate with a raised slab the titular Captain was presently taking a nap on. While a physically impressive specimen on a normal scale, the green-clad 'hero' was less than impressive to the Prog siblings. He was only a half foot taller than Neftin - who was still growing - and easily out-massed in pure muscle by the largest sibling. His undersized legs also detracted from his overall look.

It was eventually Clank who spoke up. "Captain Qwark?" he asked uncertainly.

"Wha? Whozat?" Qwark demanded, immediately sitting up as his hand went to the blaster at his hip, showing that at least his reflexes and combat instincts were somewhat impressive.

"Yo," Ratchet greeted noncommittally. "Name's Ratchet-"

"I know who you are," Qwark interrupted as he leapt to his feet, steadying himself as he straightened up...before becoming plainly unnerved that Neftin didn't have to look up that far to meet his gaze.

"You do?" Neftin asked, surprised.

"Of course!" Qwark answered readily. "You're the Prog Trio, Ratchet, Neftin, and Vendra...and you are Clank!" He leaned forward to greet the little robot. "And thank the Galaxy you've found me!"

"Would have been easier if you'd actually shown up to the race to give out the prize," Vendra pointed out a trifle snidely.

"That wouldn't have done at all!" Qwark countered firmly. "A great evil threatens the Galaxy, and the public eye is always on me. If we were to meet in public, the eyes of ill intent would be locked upon you, and you would not be able to do what is necessary in order to save everyone!"

Ratchet, Neftin, and Vendra exchanged glances, and then began to speak to each other in Nether.

"Is he trying to shift responsibility onto us?" Vendra asked disdainfully. "I thought he at least liked the glory."

"Maybe he intends to use us to save the day and then take the credit?" Neftin asked grumpily.

"I could easily see that," Ratchet groused irritably.

"Perhaps you could ask him?" Clank suggested diffidently. "With what he said about the public eye, it might be he needs relative unknowns in terms of heroes to do work under the radar?"

Ratchet, Neftin, and Vendra all turned to Clank in shock.

"What?" Clank asked innocently. "I am now able to generate Nether Energy. Between that, how frequently you slip into the language for private discussions, and how advanced my CPU is, deconstructing, analyzing, and translating your language was a matter of simplicity. Though it helped that I downloaded the phonetic alphabet you crafted simplified matters immensely, Ratchet."

"I fish jiggle bath salts!" Qwark offered enthusiastically in a horrible accent.

The entire group winced visibly, and then Ratchet turned to face Qwark. "Just...don't," he urged irritably. "So...you want us to save the day?"

"Indeed!" Qwark declared once more in Galactic Standard. "A grave plot threatens to destroy our planets, and I need your help to save them!"

"We aren't exactly...heroes," Neftin pointed out uncertainly.

"I'm not asking you to save sophonts," Qwark countered gently. "Well do I understand why that might be something that fails to envision your altitudes! I'm asking you to save worlds! The forests, the seas, the deserts, the grasslands, the hills and vistas...these, far more than the people, are what these villains seek to despoil!" Seeing Vendra's gaze turn flinty as energy crackled around her hands, he smirked. "I thought that might rustle your neutrons! Now, I cannot deal with this myself because I'm too well known! I need allies, ones that add an unknown element to the villain's equations! And the only way to do that is if those I recruit I at no point meet in public view!"

"...makes sense," Ratchet allowed thoughtfully. "But...what's in it for us?"

"Eh?" Qwark asked in surprise.

"We've been telling everyone we're mercenaries," Ratchet pointed out, "and while saving the planets appeals...the people who live there will ruin the places eventually anyway. So if you're hiring us to save the galaxy...what's the pay?"

Qwark's eyebrows crawled up his face until they could hide under his mask. "Mercenaries, eh?" he mused thoughtfully. "I've dealt with mercenaries before...but if I'm to share the plans I have learned of the villains activities - and my own counter plans - with mercenaries, I need to know they are capable of handling what I ask, and won't be captured and break under the villain's interrogations! You all have raw talent...but I need to see that it has been forged into the mettle of warriors!" He held out an infobot. "Contained in this tiny machine are coordinates to my secret base...my hero training grounds. I will meet you there if you are truly interested, and then we'll see if you have what it takes to accomplish this dangerous mission!" He looked around carefully. "For now though, we must go our separate ways." He promptly dove out a window that they hadn't noticed before.

Ratchet, Vendra, and Neftin all stared in consternation. "Well...that happened," Neftin allowed uncertainly.

"Coordinates for Planet Umbris acquired," Clank spoke up. "Will we be heeding the Captain's call?"

"Well...we don't have coordinates for Kaleebo III yet..." Vendra observed thoughtfully.

"Or anywhere else, for that matter," Ratchet grumbled ruefully.

"So...guess so," Neftin allowed. "Back to the ship?"

"It's right outside," Vendra said calmly as she floated out of the trailer and into the ship that had pulled up at her call.