Uno

A little under half of this story is already written and posted on AO3, so if you want to read more, go right on ahead! :) Here I'll be updating once a week, so that way I'll always have a new chapter to post while I'm writing. Enjoy!

I'll be posting the first three chapters now, and then I'll go into a 'once a week' schedule.

On planet Veldin...

Ratchet stuffed the Ranger poster into his back pocket and sighed, leaning against a random crate before sliding down to the floor onto his bottom. He knew he never stood a chance. They would never let him become a Ranger, he knew. So why bother? Why bother? Why waste valuable time that could be spent repairing a customer's ship and making some much-needed money?

"I miss you, Grim," Ratchet murmured. The Lombax hugged his legs and rested his chin on them, sighing. It had been really hard after Grim died. Heck, it was still hard. Five years ago now. Five years since Grim had gotten horribly sick, wheezing and vomiting, his temperature dangerously high. Whatever it was, Ratchet must have been immune to it- he experienced no visible symptoms.

In any case, the Lombax had taken it upon himself to care for Grim- until, finally, the man had passed in his sleep. Ratchet buried him in the backyard- which was more of a wide cliff overlooking a valley. Had they more bolts, he would have had a funeral service for Grim, but alas- the shop only brought in just enough money to keep it running as well as the bare necessities. Grim always loved that view, he thought sadly. Ratchet supposed that was why Grim had chosen to set up shop here- well, that, and the fact that it was close to the village, where potential customers flocked daily.

Speaking of potential customers, a knock roused the young Lombax from his thoughts. Sighing once more, Ratchet stood and made his way to the door. He smacked the button on the wall and the garage door hummed to life, slowly rising up towards the ceiling.

On the other side stood an elderly Tharpod with a walker whom the Lombax recognised as a frequent customer.

"Hi, Mr. Micron," Ratchet greeted with a slight frown. While Micron was a good source of money due to the fact that his speeder was clearly a lemon and kept breaking down, the Lombax was starting to grow concerned about the Tharpod's financial situation. Surely that old man's pocket couldn't be bottomless- it had to end somewhere. Ratchet had suggested more than once that Micron really should get a new speeder, but the old Tharpod was far too attached to this one and blatantly refused.

"Good morning, Mr. Dinkles," the Tharpod greeted in return. Oh, yeah. Mr. Micron also seemed to think that Ratchet was his long-deceased pet. The Lombax had given up on correcting him about that a long time ago.

"Alrighty, let's see what the problem is." Ratchet grabbed a toolbox from his worktable and walked up to Mr. Micron's speeder. The Lombax pried open the hood with his Omni-Wrench and coughed as a cloud of ash blew right into his face from inside.

Just as Ratchet guessed. Another thoroughly charred regulator.

Meanwhile, on planet Quarto!

A lightning storm raged across the planet, thick clouds reigning supreme in the sky. It had been many years- decades, even- since a single ray of sunlight had touched the planet.

But we are not here to discuss the weather.

On this very planet, there was a warbot factory. A warbot factory that was owned and run by none other than Chairman Alonzo Drek, to be exact. And it was this very factory which the greedy Blarg had chosen to visit that day.

"Dr. Nefarious!" Drek's voice boomed into the room as he rode his scooter into Nefarious' office, nearly crashing into a nearby computer console in the process. The Blarg put on his brakes just in time to avoid the collision and looked over at the tall, green-skinned pointy-eared scientist in question. Nefarious had turned his gaze upon the smaller alien and was watching with an unimpressed frown.

"Heh- uh, Dr. Nefarious!" Drek repeated, quickly composing himself and smiling at the villain once more.

"You said that already-"

Drek didn't let Nefarious finish. "The mad scientist who made all of this possible!"

Nefarious scowled and retorted in annoyance, "Ahem- 'mad' suggests cognitive impairment. I prefer... a 'vengeful scientist,' thank you not very much." The "vengeful scientist" went on, "I trust you're here to meet the troops?"

"Well, obviously!" Drek drawled, an evil smile spreading across his lips. "So? Where are they? Where's my warbot army to-be?"

"Follow me."

Nefarious led the Blarg down a dimly lit corridor. The faint light being emitted from the ceiling lights was reflected by the metal walls and floor, illuminating the hall in an almost dramatic glow. "Loooove what you've done with the place, Neffy-"

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that," Nefarious muttered indignantly. Drek didn't seem to hear him over the sound of his own voice.

"- I can literally feel evil radiating the halls-"

"Actually, what you're feeling is probably the radiation from the Quartanian ore I've been using to power the factory," Nefarious tried to explain to no avail. Did this moron of a Blarg ever shut up?

No, apparently he didn't.

"- ooooh! I know, I know! We should make matching evil T-shirts! T-shirts that say, 'We're evil, so don't mess with us-'"

"Oh, look at that!" Nefarious cut in, about two decibels away from practically shrieking in relief as he and Drek stepped onto the hexagonal platform overlooking the manufacturing chamber.

"We're here! Chairman, meet the troops!" The scientist waved his hand at the warbots in question, who stood inert on the many slowly moving conveyor belts. "Each one has been outfitted NOT with the latest missile technology- heat seeking missiles, x-ray vision, blah blah blah- but rather weapons and gadgets of my own personal design. Unhackable software that can only be accessed via a six-pass alpha key with my or your digital signature, adaptable nanotechnology capable of self-upgrade, and last but not least: Groovitron immunity. I'd like to see Megacorp offer you that quality of service, ha!"

Drek stared down at the deadly machines in awe. Then his awestruck expression warped into one of confusion as his eyes locked onto something on the nearest conveyor belt. He pointed to the aforementioned object and asked, "What's that down there, Neffy?"

Nefarious' gaze followed Drek's finger and locked onto on a small, silvery robot that was standing on the conveyor belt just as inert as his warbot companions. That is, until the little robot reached the activation point. Said defect's metallic eyelids slid open, revealing a set of large, green orbs. He lifted his gaze to the large, metal arm that was bolted to the pillar attached to the side of the conveyor belt. On the top of the arm sat a small green light that could pass for an eye.

"Hello," the tiny machine greeted politely, lifting his hand to wave at the arm. "My name is..." The defect paused. "Odd. This is very odd. I cannot seem to recall-" A cone of yellow-green light burst from the robotic arm's "eye" and enveloped the little bot, effectively cutting his sentence short. At first all the tiny defect felt was a mild discomfort- after all, it wasn't very polite for one machine to scan another without at least indulging in the return of a greeting beforehand.

The light then shut off abruptly, and the arm's speakers blared, "Defect detected! Preparing for immediate destruction, in three, two..."

"I!- defect?!-" The small machine, in a fit of panic, wasted little time and threw himself off the side of the conveyor belt- which, on second thought, probably hadn't been the best idea since he hadn't bothered to check to see if there was a platform below.

Thankfully there was. His body crashed onto the platform, denting up his alloy shell. The defect did not seem to notice the damage his body had sustained, however, and scrambled back onto his feet before charging down the hall.

Nefarious' shriek of "VICTOOOOORRR- GET THAT DEEEEFECT!" ricocheted off the walls, painfully grating on the audio receptors of the defect in question.

Almost there! While the defect could not remember his name, or anything else about himself for that matter, the factory building's plans lay in his software crystal clear. If they were accurate, he was fairly close to vent that he could use to reach the hangar. Drek's plans also sat clearly in his mind. And he knew he had to warn the Rangers somehow before it was too late.

The defect was about six yards from the vent when a colossal metal machine tore through the wall more easily than a knife could cut through butter. "There you are- defect," said machine sneered, tele-equipping a Negotiator into his massive titanium hands. "Time to die, you useless piece of scrap!" The "piece of scrap" in question scurried to the side as fast as his little legs could carry him, already calculating another route of escape. A mishmash mess of tangled, seemingly nonsensical code nearly overwhelmed his system, but he quickly overrid the strange program and filed it away for later examination. His priority was to get to safety. Nothing else. The giant machine fitted with the oddly-designated missile launcher stomped after him, shouting expletives and insults all the while. The defect zigged and zagged from side to side, hoping that this would throw the Negotiator's targeting systems off. A pipe lining the wall to the little robot's right unexpectedly burst- spraying water right into his pursuer's face.

"EEEUGHH! WATER!"

The tiny defect used this opportunity to slip into another vent right before the other machine could grab him. He tumbled down the vent, each collision of metal on metal eliciting an "Oof!" of pain. Finally, the poor, beat-up little machine reached the bottom, tumbling out onto a stack of bolt crates below. The crates tipped over, sending the robot flying onto the metal floor below. After a few stunned seconds, he scrambled onto his feet and raced to the nearest shuttle. He jumped inside and slammed his tiny fist on the ignition. The ship sputtered to life, and blasted off into the sky. It seemed to the defect that he was in the clear, and he let out a sigh of relief. However, his respite was extremely short-lived. Something smashed violently into the back of the ship, bursting into flames upon impact. The defect yelped in fear, tightly clinging to the pod's leather seat.

"Destination, please," the ship's computer requested. The terrified little machine didn't seem to hear it, so the computer repeated, "Destination, please."

"Galactic Ranger home base!" the defect told it, still clinging to the chair for dear life.

The computer responded in an emotionless tone, "We will never make it, but hey, what are you gonna do?"

"Oh dear," the robot murmured fearfully in response.

Then his escape was all for naught.

Ratchet sighed tiredly and folded his arms behind his head as he lay sprawled on the roof of his garage. "I'm never getting off this rock... am I?" the Lombax muttered to himself, his gaze flicking from star to star.

One star in particular seemed to grow a centimetre or two in the past few minutes, but Ratchet didn't think much of it. It was only when the star grew even bigger that he really took notice. It was another full ten seconds before he realised- it wasn't a star at all. The little ball of light had evolved into a streak of flames and black smoke painted upon the sky before crashing violently at the other end of Kyzil Plateau.

Ratchet tele-equipped his Swingshot and grappled his way down the ground. "Better get there before the other scavengers do- there might be something I can salvage from the wreckage," he told himself. "If there's even anything left."

The Lombax switched to his handy Omni-Wrench and, as he headed down the sandy path, smacked a pair of Horny Toads (who the heck came up with this name anyway?) square in the face. While one of the aforementioned reptiles hopped away yelping, the other Horny Toad stayed behind and snarled threateningly at the Lombax. Ratchet brought his wrench down harder on the alien, effectively knocking it unconscious.

The Lombax then went on his way, occasionally stopping to shake the sand out of his fur and clothes. He eventually reached a high cliff face which, with the help of his trusty Swingshot, he barely managed to scale. Just as he had hoisted himself over the side, the roar of a nearby ship engine snatched his attention.

"Wha-" Ratchet looked up to see a colossal-sized ship of an unfamiliar configuration clouding over the sky, blotting out most of the stars. The Lombax gulped. A massive door on the starboard side of the ship creaked open and out of it flew dozens- perhaps even a hundred- smaller ships. The ships split up and started flying over the area in a systematic manner.

Whoever they were, they were looking for something.

Ratchet finally tore his gaze away from the mysterious ships in the sky and resumed his journey to the crash site. Thankfully, the crater was only another couple of yards away. Ratchet stopped at the edge of the cliff and carefully grappled his way down to the burning wreckage below. He carefully weaved around the gnarled, half-melted shards of metal and glass, and finally reached the cockpit section. Inside, a tiny robot sat, deactivated.

Ratchet took a deep breath and quickly grabbed the machine in question, biting his lip in pain as hot metal burned his flesh. He scurried away from the wreckage as quickly as he could and set the robot down in the sand, whimpering a bit from the intense pain his gloved hands and arms had been subjected to.

After giving both himself and the deactivated robot a chance to cool off, Ratchet decided to examine his newly found prize. He had just knelt down to take a look when without so much as a warning, the machine sat up in a flash. Its head smacked violently against Ratchet's, sending the feline tumbling backwards into the sand with a pained yelp.

"I- oh!" the robot stumbled towards the Lombax and offered a tiny hand to assist. "My sincerest apologies, sir, I-" The machine looked up just as a ship landed a couple of yards away from them. "Oh dear."

"Huh?" Ratchet was back on his feet in less than a split second, Omni-Wrench in hand. A million thoughts raced through the Lombax's head as he waited, his Omni-Wrench at the ready.

"I think we should run," the robot at his side murmured, hovering close to Ratchet's leg.

"There's a Versa Magnet on the back of my harness," Ratchet told him. The little machine seemed to get the message and hopped up onto the Lombax's back, quickly turning around so as to attach to the Versa Magnet.

At this same moment, the cockpit-window of the ship in front of them flipped open, revealing a disoriented Blarg inside.

"Oh man, I think I'm gonna puke!" the Blarg said right before Ratchet bashed his skull with his wrench. Then the Lombax grabbed the Blarg by the back of his uniform and yanked him out of the ship.

"Looks like this ship is ours now." Ratchet settled in the pilot's seat while his new mechanical companion took the copilot's. The Lombax shut off the autopilot controls and pulled shut the cockpit-window. "Okay, altimeter, check. Grav-o-metric warp drive, check."

"Are you a pilot?" the robot asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. "That 'altimeter' is actually-" The ship hummed to life and jerked off the ground, ending the little bot's sentence short.

Ratchet glanced over and said, "We're about to find out." With that, he steered the ship upwards into the sky, not away from the other Blarg ships- but rather towards them. "Any idea what kinds of weapons this thing has?"

"Oh dear," the tiny machine murmured.

This was definitely not going to end well.