Chapter Text
The Great Clock's machinery hummed with a rhythmic cadence, the sound echoing through the vast chamber like the heartbeat of the universe itself. The crisis was over. Alister Azimuth had made his sacrifice, pulling the lever back and preventing the Great Clock from tearing apart the fabric of space and time. The damage he'd caused in his desperate attempt to change the past had been undone, but at the cost of his life.
Ratchet stood in stunned silence, the weight of Azimuth's Praetorian OmniWrench heavy in his hands. His ears drooped as he stared at the spot where the elder lombax had been just an hour ago. He planned to take his ashes back to Fastoon for a proper funeral. All that remained was the pocket watch, its face cracked from the energy surge, hands frozen at the moment of Azimuth's sacrifice.
"He... he saved us all," Ratchet finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Clank moved to his friend's side, placing a small metal hand on Ratchet's arm. "General Azimuth made the right choice in the end. He understood what was truly at stake."
"Yeah. He did." Ratchet swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "Though I find it ironic that he spent years trying to change the past, only to save the future." He picked up the pocket watch, turning it over in his palm. "I just wish there had been another way."
"The most difficult choices rarely come with convenient alternatives," Clank observed softly. "Though I suspect he found peace in his final moments."
"You think so?" Ratchet asked, looking down at his friend with hope in his eyes.
"He corrected his greatest mistake," Clank replied. "For someone who carried such guilt for so long... I believe that would bring a certain solace."
Sigmund hovered nearby, his expression solemn as he surveyed the Orvus Chamber. "The temporal readings are stabilizing," he reported, tapping nervously at his console. "The Clock is returning to normal operation. Well, 'normal' being a relative term when you're dealing with a cosmic mechanism that could unravel reality if someone sneezes too hard near the quantum stabilizers."
"Thank you, Sigmund," Clank said, his tone gentle but firm. "Your precision is... appreciated."
"Sorry, sir," Sigmund replied sheepishly. "I tend to babble when the universe nearly ends. It's a coping mechanism. Better than my previous one, which was screaming into a paper bag."
Clank looked up at the massive mechanisms of the Great Clock, his expression thoughtful. The weight of his responsibility as Senior Caretaker pressed heavily upon him. This was what he had been created for—to maintain the Clock, to ensure the safety of time itself. Yet as he glanced at Ratchet, he knew he couldn't leave his friend alone.
"Sigmund," Clank said, his voice firm with decision, "I am promoting you to Senior Caretaker of the Great Clock."
Sigmund's screen displayed his shock, pixels scrambling in disbelief. "M-me? But sir, you're the heir! This is your responsibility! I'm just the guy who calibrates the chronometric entanglers and occasionally gets his head stuck in the temporal flux regulators!"
Clank shook his head. "My father wanted me to find my own path. And my place..." he looked at Ratchet, their eyes meeting in a moment of profound understanding, "is with my friend."
Ratchet's ears perked up in surprise, emotion flooding his features. "Clank, are you sure? This is what you were made for. I don't want you giving up your purpose just because I... because I'd miss you."
"Is it truly giving up a purpose to choose a different one?" Clank asked thoughtfully. "Besides, someone needs to ensure you don't accidentally create another interdimensional crisis while attempting to 'upgrade' your toaster."
Despite everything, Ratchet chuckled. "That was ONE time! And technically, it wasn't a crisis—just a minor temporal displacement that happened to summon those void crabs."
"The Polaris Department of Extradimensional Threats classified it as a Level 3 incursion," Clank reminded him primly. "We were cleaning void crab shells out of your garage for weeks-"
"He's exaggerating, I swear!" Ratchet told Sigmund.
"Careful, Ratchet, or your tail is sure to catch on fire from your lies..." came Clank's smooth retort. Returning to the manner at hand, he nodded. "But regardless of your usual shenanigans, I am completely certain of my decision," Clank continued, his green optics glowing with conviction. "For now my place is beside you."
Sigmund accepted the Chronoscepter with trembling hands, his expression shifting from shock to determination. "I won't let you down, sir! I'll maintain the Clock with exactly 46.7% more efficiency than before! I've been practicing my serious face for important time-related emergencies!" He demonstrated, his screen shifting to an expression of exaggerated gravity that somehow managed to look constipated.
Just as Clank handed over his father's legacy, a subtle vibration began to run through the floor beneath them. At first, it was barely perceptible—just a faint tremor that could have been dismissed as part of the Clock's normal operations. But within seconds, the vibration intensified, the metal flooring humming with increasing energy.
"What's happening!?" Ratchet asked, his hand instinctively tightening around Azimuth's wrench. "Please tell me this is just standard Clock behavior," he added, bracing himself as the tremors grew stronger. "Like a temporal hiccup or something?"
Sigmund frantically checked his readouts, his eyes widening in alarm. "I don't know! The temporal matrix is showing some kind of feedback loop! It's like time is folding back on itself! Which, for the record, is DEFINITELY NOT supposed to happen!"
The walls of the Orvus Chamber began to shimmer with an ethereal blue light. It started at the edges of the room, creeping inward like tendrils of luminescent water. The air itself seemed to thicken, becoming charged with an energy that made Ratchet's fur stand on end.
"Clank?" Ratchet called, his voice rising with concern. "Please tell me you've seen this before!"
"I have not," Clank replied, his voice steady despite the circumstances. "The Clock appears to be experiencing some form of temporal realignment," he continued, his antenna glowing red as he scanned their surroundings. "But this is not a standard procedure..."
The blue light intensified, pulsing now with a rhythm that matched the beating of Ratchet's heart. The floor beneath them began to ripple like the surface of a disturbed pond, the solid metal becoming fluid and unstable.
"Sigmund!" Clank called out. "What do the readings say?"
"They say we're in big trouble!" Sigmund shouted, his voice cracking with panic. "The temporal matrices are cascading! It's like the entire timeline is being—"
But Sigmund's reply was lost as a high-pitched whine filled the chamber, drowning out all other sounds. The blue light coalesced, forming a swirling vortex at the center of the room—directly where Azimuth had made his sacrifice.
"Ratchet!" Clank shouted, reaching for his friend as the vortex expanded, pulling at them with increasing force. "We must get out of here!"
"Not without you!" Ratchet lunged for Clank, wrapping one arm around his friend while the other clutched Azimuth's wrench. Their eyes met for a brief, intense moment—a look that contained years of friendship, trust, and unspoken promises.
But the vortex's pull was too strong. Their feet lifted off the ground as they were dragged inexorably toward the swirling center of temporal energy.
"Hold on, pal!" Ratchet yelled over the deafening whine. "Whatever happens, we face it together!"
The last thing they saw was Sigmund's horrified expression as the vortex engulfed them completely. Reality fractured around them like shattered glass, each shard showing a different moment in time—Drek's forces attacking Veldin, the Protopet crisis in Bogon, the war against Nefarious in Solana.
Faces flashed by:
Captain Qwark, his heroic pose belying his cowardice.
Dr. Nefarious, cackling with mechanical malice.
Another glimpse of Nefarious, but his appearance shifted to white panels and a red globe for his head followed by a small yellow robot in similar size and stature to Clank.
Emperor Tachyon, his hatred for lombaxes burning across realities.
And then lastly Alister Azimuth—his expression serene in sacrifice—each appearing and disappearing in an instant.
Ratchet felt as if his very atoms were being pulled apart and reassembled incorrectly. The sensation was beyond pain, beyond any physical feeling he had ever experienced. Beside him, Clank's circuits sparked with temporal energy, his systems overloading from the exposure.
"Clank!" Ratchet tried to call out, reaching desperately for his friend as reality warped around them, but no sound escaped his lips. The universe around them continued to fracture and reform, time and space bending in ways that defied comprehension.
And then, abruptly, everything went dark.
Their screams faded into silence as they disappeared from existence, as the timeline finished resetting around them.
The smell of freshly baked pastries wafted through the air, pulling Ratchet from a deep slumber. His consciousness drifted lazily upward, clinging to the remnants of a strange dream… about the Great Clock, Alister Azimuth's sacrifice, and Clank's decision to stay with him instead of fulfilling his destiny as Senior Caretaker.
"Ryder! You're going to be late for school! Get up!"
The unfamiliar female voice jolted Ratchet fully awake. His eyes snapped open, taking in surroundings that were completely foreign to him. Instead of his modest garage on Veldin, or the familiar walls of his apartment in Meridian City, he found himself in a spacious bedroom with high ceilings and large windows that let in streams of golden morning light. The walls were adorned with intricate designs—geometric patterns that seemed to tell stories he couldn't quite decipher.
"What the...?" Ratchet muttered, sitting up abruptly. The bed was larger and more comfortable than anything he'd ever slept on, with plush pillows and soft sheets that felt luxurious against his fur.
A holographic display on the wall showed the date and time, but something was wrong. According to the display, it was years earlier than it should be. "This can't be right…" he whispered, rubbing his eyes. But the display remained unchanged.
"Ryder Sterling! Did you hear me? You better not be still in bed, mister!"
Ratchet's head spun. Ryder… Sterling…?
"…Who's Ryder?" he muttered.
Noticing a lot of moment outside his large window, Ratchet stumbled over to he what appeared to be a balcony door. Sliding it open, he stepped out into the crisp morning air and froze, gripping the railing for support as the full vista came into view.
Stretching before him was a vast, gleaming metropolis—towering spires of advanced Lombax architecture reaching toward the sky, their surfaces catching the golden light of twin rising suns. The city pulsed with life; hover cars zipped along elevated transit lanes, starships of various designs soared overhead, and most staggeringly of all, Lombaxes—hundreds, thousands of them—moved through the streets below and the sky above.
"I-Impossible…!" Ratchet breathed, his knuckles tightly clutching the railing.
This was Fastoon—not the ruined, abandoned graveyard he had visited, but Fastoon at the height of Lombax civilization. A thriving, vibrant world that, in his reality, had been destroyed by Tachyon's vengeance. He could see parks with small Lombax children playing on the swings and slides, markets bustling with activity with plenty of vendors and eager buyers, and what looked like a massive research facility in the distance, its distinctive dome gleaming in the sunlight.
Reluctantly, he tore himself away from the balcony view and returned to the bedroom, catching his reflection in a mirror. He gasped. He was looking younger—much younger. Maybe around fifteen or sixteen years old at most.
"What is even happening…?!" he muttered, touching his face to confirm what he was seeing.
"RYDER!" Suddenly the door to his bedroom burst open, and a female Lombax with cream-colored fur and distinctive tan markings strode in, her ears tilted back in pure annoyance.
"Honestly, Ryder, did you sleep through your alarm again? You've got ten minutes before the transport arrives, and you haven't even brushed your teeth! Though I suppose personal hygiene is optional when you're trying to set a new galactic record for tardiness!"
Ratchet stared at her, speechless. A female Lombax with a long bushy striped tail, was standing in his room. Acting like... well, like his mother.
"I... who are..." he stammered.
The female Lombax's expression softened as she looked at him. "Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?" She approached, placing a cool hand on his forehead. "Hm, you don't seem to have a fever. Though your cognitive functions appear to be working at the same impressive speed as your morning routine..." she sighs.
Before Ratchet could respond, another voice called from downstairs—deep, masculine, and somehow familiar.
"Mirabelle! Is he up yet? The transport will be here any minute!"
"He's up, Kaden, but our son is moving slower than a Rilgarian slug!" the female Lombax—Mirabelle—called back. She turned to Ratchet. "Come on now, hurry up! Do you want to be late on your first day back from semester break? Your father has an important presentation at the Center today, and he can't be late because you missed the school transport again!"
Kaden.
Your Father.
The words echoed in Ratchet's mind like thunder. His father was Kaden, the keeper of the Dimensionator, the last Lombax to stay behind on Fastoon before sending his infant son to safety. The Lombax who, according to Tachyon, had died trying to protect his family.
And now he was apparently downstairs, alive and well, concerned about being late for a presentation.
When Ratchet failed to move, Mirabelle placed her hands on her hips. "You know, Ryder, your impression of a statue is absolutely remarkable! Perhaps you should consider a career in performance arts instead of engineering!"
She sounded serious, but the look on her face said otherwise. Ratchet hesitantly tried to ask, "…wha-"
"GET MOVING NOW BEFORE THERE'S HELL TO PAY!" she ordered, her tail bristling behind her in agitation.
Her tone of voice snapped Ratchet back to his immediate predicament. Somehow, against all logic, he was here—living as Ryder Sterling, son of Kaden and Mirabelle, a teenager with school to attend in a civilization that shouldn't exist.
"Y-YES, MA'AM!" he answered back automatically as he gave her a salute, his voice cracking in a way that made him wince. Was he really that scruffy and high pitched as a teenager? "I... I'll be right down!"
Mirabelle gave him a curious look for some reason, but nodded, appearing mollified. "Five minutes, Ryder. Not a second more. Though I'm sure in your personal time zone, that translates to about fifteen." She left the room, closing the door behind her with a precision that somehow communicated more threat than if she'd slammed it.
"Arg! Pull it together!" Ratchet muttered to himself while smacking his cheeks. "Figure out what's going on… play along until you understand!"
With shaking hands, he dressed in what appeared to be a school uniform laid out on a nearby chair—sleek, well-crafted clothing that felt both foreign and strangely comfortable. He quickly used the adjacent bathroom to freshen up, marveling at the advanced Lombax technology that made other bathrooms seem primitive by comparison.
As he finished, a loud horn sounded from outside.
"Ryder! The transport is here!" Mirabelle called urgently. "Unless you're planning to revolutionize teleportation science in the next thirty seconds, I suggest you move those feet immediately!"
Ratchet rushed to the balcony window and saw a sleek, hovering vehicle waiting at what appeared to be a designated stop. Several young Lombaxes were boarding it. They were dressed in uniforms similar to his with school bags either on their backs or hanging off their shoulders.
"I'm coming!" he called back, grabbing what he assumed was a school bag from beside the desk. He raced downstairs, nearly colliding with a male Lombax at the bottom step.
Ratchet's heart nearly stopped. He immediately recognized his face from the photo in Alister's pocket watch.
Kaden.
His father.
"Whoa there, son!" Kaden said, steadying him with strong hands. "In a hurry now, are we? After sleeping through your alarm? I'm shocked—truly shocked—that my nightly advice to 'get some sleep so you're not late tomorrow' has fallen on deaf ears once again!"
Ratchet could only stare, taking in every detail of the face he had never expected to see in person. Kaden had the same golden fur, same dark ruddy brown stripes as Ratchet, but older. His green eyes held a keen intelligence, and there was a warmth to his expression that made Ratchet's chest ache with a sudden longing.
"I... sorry," Ratchet managed out.
Kaden raised an eyebrow at his son's strange behavior. "You'd better hurry. The transport won't wait," he reminded him before muttering darkly under his breath. "As if that darn driver ever does... I swear he deliberately leaves early just to spite me."
"Well, you did reprogram his navigation system to speak in pirate slang last year and never apologized for it, so what do you expect?" Mirabelle appeared from what Ratchet assumed was the kitchen, holding a wrapped package. "Here's your breakfast, sweetie. You can eat it on the way."
Ratchet took the package automatically, still too stunned to form coherent thoughts.
"I didn't do that!" Kaden insisted, his ears flattening defensively. "It was clearly a random software malfunction!"
"Right..." Mirabelle said with a knowing smile. "A 'random malfunction' that made the transport announce 'PREPARE TO WALK THE PLANK, YE SCURVY LOMBAXES' whenever it arrived at school."
"I'm serious!" Kaden protested, throwing his hands up. "Besides, even if I hypothetically had something to do with it, which I absolutely did not, the driver should appreciate the creative improvement to an otherwise boring commute!"
Mirabelle rolled her eyes and gave Ratchet a gentle push toward the door. "Ignore your father, dear. Some geniuses never quite master the art of admitting when they're wrong-"
The horn sounded again, more insistent this time.
"Go now before it's too late!" Kaden practically shoved him through the door. "And maybe tonight we'll try that revolutionary concept I keep suggesting—it's called 'going to bed at a reasonable hour!' I've heard rumors it helps with this mysterious morning phenomenon known as 'waking up on time!'"
Ratchet stumbled outside into the bright Fastoon morning, still trying to process everything, but the transport was already beginning to pull away from the stop.
"Wait!" he called, sprinting after it. The driver looked in the rearview mirror with a smirk that could only be described as vengeful satisfaction. The vehicle accelerated, leaving him standing alone on the sidewalk, watching it disappear around a corner.
"Great..." Ratchet muttered, face palming. "First day in an alternate reality, and I've already missed the bus!"
The front door opened behind him, and Kaden stepped out, his expression shifting from concern to annoyance when he saw Ratchet still standing there.
"You missed it again, didn't you?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question.
"I... yeah," Ratchet admitted lamely.
Kaden sighed deeply, checking a device on his wrist that appeared to be a highly advanced chronometer. "Perfect. Now I'll have to drive you, which means I'll be late for my presentation at the Center!"
Mirabelle appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. "Perhaps this is the universe balancing itself out after that time you programmed the transport's proximity sensors to shout 'ABANDON SHIP!' whenever it got within ten feet of a puddle-"
"That was a legitimate safety feature!" Kaden protested. "Water and electrical systems don't mix! I was thinking of the children!"
"The driver had to attend therapy for aquaphobia," Mirabelle reminded him with raised eyebrows.
"A mild overreaction," Kaden muttered, fishing in his pocket for his keys. "Come on, Ryder. I'll drive you, but we're taking the shortcut through the Raritanium district. And for the record, that driver has had it out for our family ever since I merely suggested his route optimization algorithm was written by someone with the directional instincts of a concussed space slug."
"You said it to his face at the school fundraiser," Mirabelle called after them. "Through a megaphone!"
"It was constructive criticism!" Kaden shouted back as he ushered Ratchet toward the garage. "The lombax race wasn't built on coddling mediocrity!"
Kaden led him to a garage that took Ratchet's breath away. Unlike his modest workshop on Veldin, this space was enormous—a mechanic's paradise filled with hover cars, starships, and an array of tools that would make any engineer weep with joy. Workbenches lined the walls, each dedicated to different projects in various stages of completion. Holographic schematics floated above some stations, while parts and components were meticulously organized on shelves that reached the high ceiling.
"Wait in the car," Kaden instructed, gesturing toward a sleek hover vehicle near the entrance. "I need to grab my presentation materials from the study. Won't be a minute."
As Kaden disappeared back into the house, Ratchet remained rooted in place, his eyes scanning the magnificent space. This wasn't just a garage—it was the workshop he'd always dreamed of having. His gaze drifted across the various vehicles until it landed on something that made his heart skip a beat.
There, resting on a landing pad at the far end of the garage, was a ship he recognized instantly. Sleek, dark red and burgundy with yellow accents, with distinctive Lombax design elements—it was unmistakable.
"Aphelion?" he whispered in disbelief, moving toward the vessel as if in a trance.
The ship that had been his faithful companion in his timeline—the one he'd found abandoned on Fastoon and lovingly restored—was here. Pristine. Operational. And apparently belonging to his father.
As he approached, the ship's systems hummed to life, recognizing his presence.
"Good morning, young Sterling!" Aphelion's familiar voice greeted him warmly. "Your father has informed me that he will be transporting you to your educational facility today in the hover car."
"Aphelion," Ratchet said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's really you!"
"Of course it is me," Aphelion replied, sounding slightly confused. "Who else would I be?"
Ratchet placed a hand on her hull, feeling the cool metal beneath his fingers. In this reality, Aphelion had never been abandoned, never damaged in Tachyon's attack. She was whole, undamaged—and a direct link to his father's life.
A realization struck him like lightning. If Aphelion was here, then perhaps Clank existed in this reality too. Perhaps he could find him, reunite with his best friend, figure out what had happened to them both.
"Aphelion," he said urgently, "I need to find someone—a small robot named Clank. Do you know if he exists in this... I mean, do you know if there's a robot by that name anywhere?"
The ship's sensors focused on him, as if studying him more carefully. "I have no records of a robot with that designation. Is this for one of your school projects?"
So, Aphelion didn't know Clank, or perhaps in this alternate reality, she had never encountered him. The realization settled heavily in Ratchet's chest, but his determination only grew stronger. His jaw clenched with resolve as he processed this new information.
"Aphelion, I need your help," he said urgently, stepping closer to the ship's gleaming cockpit. His fingers trailed along her pristine hull. "I need to get to Veldin, in the Solana Galaxy. It's absolutely crucial that I go there as soon as possible."
"Veldin?" Aphelion repeated, sounding perplexed. "That is not your designated destination. Your educational facility is located in the northern district of the city."
"I know, but this is important," Ratchet insisted, attempting to climb into the pilot's seat. "I need to find someone there. Someone important."
To his surprise, the cockpit canopy remained closed, preventing him from entering.
"I apologize, young Sterling, but I cannot allow that," Aphelion stated firmly. "You are a minor, and regulations clearly state that you cannot operate a starship without adult supervision. Additionally, your father has not authorized any interstellar travel for you."
"Please, Aphelion!" Ratchet pleaded, placing his hands on the canopy. "You don't understand. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not really Ryder Sterling—I mean, I am, I guess, but I'm also Ratchet Razz! I'm from a different timeline where I found you abandoned on Fastoon and repaired you. We traveled together, fought together. We were partners!"
"Your vital signs indicate elevated stress levels," Aphelion observed. "Perhaps you should sit down and take deep breaths. I can alert your father that you may be experiencing a medical issue."
"No!" Ratchet exclaimed. "I'm not having a medical issue. I'm trying to tell you the truth. In my timeline, Fastoon was destroyed by Tachyon. The Lombaxes used the Dimensionator to escape to another dimension. Kaden—my father—sent me to Veldin as a baby to protect me. I grew up there, alone until I was taken in by a grump named Grimroth Razz, not knowing who I truly was or where I came from!"
There was a pause as Aphelion processed this information.
"Your narrative contains multiple historical inaccuracies," she finally replied. "Percival Tachyon was banished by the Lombax Council into exile with his own kind in another dimension after General Azimuth discovered his plans to betray the Lombaxes. The Dimensionator has never been used for mass evacuation. And you have resided on Fastoon since birth, with both of your parents."
"In this timeline, yes," Ratchet agreed desperately. "But I'm from a different one. Somehow, I've been sent back—or sideways or whatever—into this reality. And I need to get to Veldin to find my friend Clank. He's a small robot with a big brain and an even bigger heart, and he's the most important person in my life!"
Another pause.
"Your description matches no known robot in my database," Aphelion stated. "However, your belief in this narrative appears genuine. Your heart rate and stress indicators suggest you are not deliberately fabricating this story."
"Because it's true!" Ratchet insisted. "Please, Aphelion. I need you. I need to find Clank!"
"I cannot comply with your request without authorization from Kaden Sterling," Aphelion maintained. "It would violate multiple safety protocols and potentially endanger you."
Ratchet's patience was wearing thin. He glanced at the time display on a nearby wall—Kaden would be arriving any minute.
"I'm sorry, Aphelion," he said, reaching for a panel beneath the ship's hull. "But I don't have time to argue."
His fingers found what he was looking for—the manual override access port. In his timeline, he had installed it himself after a particularly harrowing adventure where Aphelion's systems had been compromised. But it seemed that in this reality, Kaden had incorporated the same feature.
"Y-Young Sterling, what are you doing?" Aphelion asked, a note of alarm in her voice. "That is a restricted access port!"
"I know," Ratchet replied, inputting a sequence of commands that he hoped would work in this timeline as well. "And I'm really sorry about this."
His fingers moved swiftly over the control panel, inputting a series of commands he'd learned from years of tinkering with ships. But he went further than a simple override—he accessed Aphelion's core systems and initiated a complete AI shutdown sequence.
"WARNING: SENTIENT INTELLIGENCE PROTOCOL DISENGAGING," Aphelion announced, her voice becoming increasingly mechanical. "CONSCIOUSNESS SUBSYSTEMS SHUTTING DOWN. REVERTING TO BASIC FLIGHT OPERATION MODE. Ryder, please do not—"
Her voice cut off abruptly as the sentient portion of her programming went dormant, leaving only the basic ship functions operational. The canopy hissed open, no longer under the control of Aphelion's consciousness.
Ratchet felt a pang of guilt. He had essentially just rendered his friend unconscious—worse, he had stripped away her sentience, even if temporarily. But he needed to get to Veldin, needed to find Clank, and this was the only way.
"I'll make it up to you," he promised the now-silent ship as he climbed into the pilot's seat.
With Aphelion's AI disabled, the ship responded only to direct commands through the manual control interface. Ratchet initiated the startup sequence, and the garage hanger door began to open automatically in response.
"Coordinates for Veldin, Solana Galaxy," he instructed the navigation computer, which complied without Aphelion's personality to question or refuse.
The ship's engines hummed to life, and Ratchet prepared for liftoff, his hands moving over the controls with practiced ease despite his younger body.
Just as the ship began to lift off the ground, a shout echoed through the garage.
"RYDER! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"
Kaden stood in the doorway, his expression a mixture of shock, anger, and disbelief. With a swift motion, he slammed a button on the side of the wall, and the massive hangar door began to descend back down, sealing Ratchet inside and cutting off his escape. Without hesitation, Kaden dashed forward, moving with the speed and agility that Ratchet had inherited.
"Aphelion, emergency shutdown, authorization Kaden-Seven-Delta!" he commanded.
There was no response from the ship, which continued to hover. Kaden's eyes widened in realization. "You disabled her AI…" he said, his voice suddenly quiet with a controlled fury that was somehow more frightening than shouting. "You shut down her consciousness."
He reached under the ship to the same access panel Ratchet had used, his fingers moving even more swiftly and surely than Ratchet's had. Within seconds, the ship settled back to the floor, and the engines powered down.
"Aphelion, sentient protocol reinitialization, authorization Kaden-Seven-Delta," Kaden commanded, inputting a complex sequence into the panel.
The ship's systems hummed as Aphelion's consciousness came back online. There was a moment of disorientation as her AI reintegrated with the ship's functions.
"SYSTEM RESTORATION COMPLETE," she announced, her voice initially mechanical before warming into her familiar personality. "What... what happened? I was speaking with young Sterling, and then... nothing."
"He shut down your sentient protocols," Kaden explained, his voice tight with anger. "Disabled your consciousness so you couldn't refuse his commands."
"I see," Aphelion replied, her tone distinctly cooler than before. "That was... most unpleasant, Ryder. I am disappointed that you would resort to such measures."
Ratchet winced at the hurt in her voice. In his timeline, Aphelion had been more than just a ship—she had been a companion, a friend. And he had just violated that friendship in the most fundamental way.
"I'm sorry, Aphelion," he said, genuine remorse in his voice. "I didn't want to do that. But I need to get to Veldin. It's important—more important than you can understand."
"Important enough to strip me of my sentience?" Aphelion asked, her tone uncharacteristically bitter. "To treat me as nothing more than a machine?"
"I..." Ratchet began, but found he had no good answer. "I'm sorry," he repeated lamely.
"Get out of that ship right now," Kaden ordered, his voice dangerously quiet.
Ratchet hesitated, weighing his options. He could try to restart the engines manually, but Kaden had clearly locked them down. He could make a run for it, but where would he go? This was Fastoon—a planet he barely knew in this timeline.
Slowly, reluctantly, he climbed out of the cockpit.
"What were you thinking!?" Kaden demanded, his anger barely contained. "Overriding Aphelion's security protocols? Shutting down her sentient systems? Attempting to take a starship off-planet without authorization? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? How illegal? And since when do you fly?! I normally have the coax you into it just so you wouldn't be the only one at your age without a learner's permit!"
"I need to get to Veldin!" Ratchet said, standing his ground despite the intimidating figure his father cut. "It's important!"
"Veldin?" Kaden repeated incredulously. "In the Solana Galaxy? Why in the name of the Great Clockwork would you need to go there?"
"I…I can't explain," Ratchet replied, knowing how insane the truth would sound to his father's ears if he couldn't even convince Aphelion to help him. "You wouldn't understand…"
"Try me," Kaden challenged, crossing his arms.
Ratchet took a deep breath. "I need to find someone there. Someone important to me."
"Important to you?" Kaden's brow furrowed in confusion. "You've never been to Solana. You don't know anyone there."
"I do," Ratchet insisted. "Or I will. It's... complicated."
Kaden studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "This is about that dream you mentioned last week, isn't it? The one with the robot and the planet-destroying weapon?"
Ratchet blinked in surprise. He had told Kaden—or rather, Ryder had told Kaden—about dreaming of Clank?
"You remember that?" he asked cautiously.
"Of course I remember," Kaden replied, his tone softening slightly. "You were quite shaken by it. But Ryder, it was just a dream! There's no robot waiting for you on Veldin. There's no galaxy-threatening crisis that only you can solve-"
"You're wrong," Ratchet said quietly but firmly. "It wasn't just a dream. It was real—is real, somewhere. And I need to find Clank!"
"Clank?" Kaden repeated. "Is that the robot's name?"
Ratchet nodded.
Kaden sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, I know teenagers get fixated on things, but this is taking it too far. It was a dream, Ryder. Just a dream! And even if it wasn't, that doesn't justify what you just did to Aphelion!"
"I know," Ratchet admitted, though he wasn't sorry for trying. "But I just need to find him! Somehow-"
"Enough, Ryder. I may not understand what is going on with your dreams, but what I do know is that you're late for school and I'm late for my presentation," Kaden said firmly. He pointed to a sleek hover car parked on the other side of the garage. "And we're both going to be in trouble if we don't leave right now. We'll discuss this... fixation on your dream later."
Ratchet wanted to argue further, to make his father understand the urgency of finding Clank. But the determined set of Kaden's jaw told him it would be futile. For now, at least, he was trapped in this reality, playing the role of Ryder Sterling.
"Fine," he muttered, grabbing his school bag from where he'd dropped it. "But this isn't over."
"Oh, it most certainly isn't," Kaden agreed, his tone making it clear that consequences would follow. "After this stunt you're grounded until I say otherwise. No holovids, no gaming, no hanging out with your friends. School and home, that's it!"
"What?" Ratchet exclaimed. "That's not fair!"
"Fair?" Kaden's eyebrows shot up. "You tried to steal my ship and fly to another galaxy without permission. You disabled Aphelion's consciousness—something that, I might add, is considered highly unethical in most civilized systems! You're lucky I'm not confiscating your tools and dismantling your projects."
The threat of losing access to his tools—even in this unfamiliar timeline—struck Ratchet like a physical blow. It seemed that some things remained constant across realities.
"Now get in the car," Kaden ordered. "And not another word about Veldin or dream robots."
Defeated for the moment, Ratchet trudged to the hover car and climbed in, slumping in the passenger seat. Before joining him, Kaden turned back to Aphelion.
"Are you alright?" he asked the ship, genuine concern in his voice.
"My systems are fully operational," Aphelion replied. "But I must admit, the experience was... unsettling. To have one's consciousness simply switched off..." She seemed to shudder slightly.
"I'm sorry that happened to you," Kaden said sincerely. "I'll run a full diagnostic when I return to ensure there are no lingering effects. And I'll implement additional security measures to prevent it from happening again."
"Thank you, Kaden," Aphelion said gratefully. "I appreciate your concern."
Kaden nodded, then turned to Ratchet with a stern expression. "You owe Aphelion an apology. A real one."
Ratchet swallowed hard, guilt washing over him. He had been so focused on finding Clank that he hadn't fully considered the implications of what he was doing to Aphelion.
"I truly am sorry, Aphelion," he said, meeting the ship's sensors directly. "What I did was wrong. I was desperate, but that's no excuse. You're not just a ship—you're a person. And I treated you like an object. I hope someday you can forgive me."
There was a long pause before Aphelion responded. "I accept your apology, young Sterling. But trust, once broken, is not easily repaired. It will take time."
"I understand," Ratchet said quietly. "And I'll make it up to you. Somehow."
Kaden joined him in the hover car, his movements crisp and efficient as he initiated the startup sequence. "That was a good start," he said, his tone slightly less angry than before. "But actions have consequences, and you'll have plenty of time to reflect on yours during your grounding."
The ride to school was tense and silent. Ratchet stared out the window, taking in the sights of Fastoon—the gleaming spires, the bustling streets filled with Lombaxes, the advanced technology integrated seamlessly into everyday life. It was beautiful, vibrant, everything he had imagined his species' homeworld might have been before Tachyon's attack.
But all he could think about was Clank, and whether his friend was somewhere out there, perhaps equally confused and disoriented by this altered reality.
"You know," Kaden said, breaking the silence. "When I was your age, I once tried to modify our neighbor's garden sprinklers to dispense liquid raritanium. I thought it would make the plants grow faster."
Despite himself, Ratchet was curious. "What happened?"
"Let's just say the Fastoon Botanical Society still uses pictures of the incident in their 'What Not To Do' training materials," Kaden replied with a wry smile. "My point is, I understand impulses. But there's a difference between harmless mischief and what you tried to do today."
As they approached the school—a large, architecturally impressive building with young Lombaxes streaming toward its entrance—Kaden's tone softened.
"Ryder," he said, "I know adolescence is challenging. Your mind is full of ideas, dreams, and impulses. But actions have consequences. What you did today was dangerous and irresponsible."
Ratchet took a deep breath to avoid lashing out in frustration. "Sorry, but I had to try," he stated firmly. "Clank is my best friend. We've saved the galaxy together. Multiple galaxies."
"This robot—Clank—he means that much to you? Even though he's just a dream?" Kaden asked, studying Ratchet with a mixture of concern and confusion.
"He's not just a dream," Ratchet insisted. "He's real! How many times do I have to tell you?"
Kaden frowned, clearly troubled by Ratchet's conviction. "I think we should talk to a doctor about this. These persistent delusions aren't healthy, son…"
Before Ratchet could protest the suggestion of seeing a psychiatrist, Kaden pulled the hover car to a stop in front of the school. "We'll discuss this further tonight. For now, try to focus on your studies. And please, no more attempts at interstellar travel without permission."
"But—"
"No buts," Kaden cut him off. "School. Focus. We'll talk later." He softened slightly. "Now, have a good day, R—"
Frustration and disappointment boiling over, Ratchet slammed the door shut before Kaden could finish, cutting off his farewell. It was childish, he knew, but the entire situation was maddening. He was trapped in a teenager's body, on a planet that shouldn't exist anymore, being lectured by a father who should be dead, while his best friend was who-knows-where.
Through the closed door, he heard Kaden's voice, now tinged with irritation. "Is that the way you are going to act? Fine..."
The window slid down, and Kaden leaned out, a gleam in his eye that Ratchet recognized all too well—it was the same look he got when he was about to do something mischievous.
"OH, RYDY!" Kaden called out, his voice suddenly loud and obnoxiously sweet. "Have a good day, sweetie! Remember that daddy loves you no matter what! Do you need me to walk you to class? I could carry your backpack if it's too heavy for my little champion!"
Heads turned throughout the schoolyard. Several nearby students snickered, clearly amused by the spectacle of a teenager being embarrassed by his father.
Heat rushed to Ratchet's face, his fur doing little to hide the blush. Two could play at that game, he decided.
"I love you too, father!" he called back, matching Kaden's saccharine tone. "And remember, when you get old, I am putting you in a nursing home! The one with the mandatory daily sponge baths!"
The snickers turned to outright laughter, but Ratchet felt a surge of satisfaction as he watched his father's jaw drop in shock. For a moment, Kaden seemed at a loss for words—a rare state, Ratchet suspected, based on what he'd seen so far.
Then, unexpectedly, Kaden laughed. It was a warm, genuine sound that made something in Ratchet's chest tighten with an emotion he couldn't quite name.
"Well played, son," Kaden acknowledged with a nod of respect. "Well played indeed! But this isn't over."
"I know," Ratchet replied, a small smile tugging at his lips despite everything.
Suddenly, Kaden's communicator pinged with a call from the Center for Advanced Lombax Research. Kaden rolled his eyes but answered as he began to roll up the window. "This is Kaden. Yeah, I know I'm running late, and this time it isn't my f— WHAT HAPPENED?" he exclaimed, his expression instantly transforming from annoyance to alarm.
The window rolled up completely as Kaden's face paled beneath his fur. Without warning, his father gunned the engine like a maniac, speeding out of the school parking lot, cutting off other vehicles and leaving a chorus of blaring horns and colorful lombax curses in his wake.
"What lit his tail on fire?" Ratchet wondered, but then shook it off. Despite the frustration and confusion of his situation, he couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. He had just bantered with his father—something he had never expected to experience.
"Hey, Ryder!" a female voice called from behind him. "Nice comeback! I didn't think you had it in you to stand up to your dad like that. Usually you just do that weird nervous laugh and stare at your feet."
Ratchet turned to see a female Lombax approaching—slightly shorter than him, with white fur and periwinkle blue stripes. She wore the standard Lombaxia High Academy uniform, but had customized it with rolled-up sleeves, untucked shirt. A school-issued tie hung loosely around her neck, clearly only there because of regulations. There was something oddly familiar about her, though he was certain he had never met her before.
"Ryder?" She waved a hand in front of his face when he didn't respond.
With a jolt, Ratchet realized this was only the third female lombax he'd ever encountered, after Angela Cross. Unlike Angela, however, this girl, and his mother, had the distinctive lombax tail—bushy and striped. And this girl's tail was currently swishing behind her with barely contained amusement.
"Uh, thanks," he replied, trying to sound casual while his mind raced. Who was she? How did Ryder know her? Why did she seem so... familiar somehow?
She narrowed her eyes and leaned in uncomfortably close, examining his face. "You've got that same look you had when you accidentally drank that experimental fuel stabilizer in shop class last semester. Should I call the nurse or just wait for your fur to change color again?"
"I-I'm fine!" Ratchet assured her quickly, leaning back. "Just... didn't sleep well."
"Probably because you were up all night working on that secret project in your garage," she said with a knowing smirk. "The one you won't even tell me about. Which is totally unfair since I helped you steal half the parts from the school's engineering lab." She poked him in the chest.
Secret project? Ratchet had no idea what she was referring to, but it seemed like something Ryder would be involved in. "Yeah, probably..." he agreed vaguely.
She playfully punched his arm with surprising strength. "Seriously, what is with you today? You're acting weirder than usual, and for you, that's saying something." She leaned in again, sniffing dramatically. "Did you actually use that cologne your grandmother got you? The one that smells like a Sargasso swamp monster?"
Ratchet felt his ears burning with embarrassment. "What? No! I just... had a weird morning."
"You're telling me," she laughed, adjusting her backpack. "Not once did I see you trip over your own tail in the parking lot. Classic Ryder move, but you usually save that for when Evalina is watching." She batted her eyelashes dramatically and spoke in a falsetto. "Oh, Evalina, let me carry your quantum physics textbook! Oh, Evalina, I wrote you a poem comparing your eyes to neutron stars!"
"I do not sound like that!" Ratchet protested, his embarrassment growing.
"You absolutely do," she countered with a grin. "Now come on, we're going to be late and you know how cranky Principal Neutrino gets when students are tardy—last semester he made Johnny sit in a corner with a dunce cap that was simultaneously there and not there. Poor guy is still in therapy."
As she turned to head into the school building, Ratchet caught sight of the name embroidered on her bag: RIVETTA.
Rivet. The name struck a chord, though he couldn't place why. Had Ryder mentioned her in his journal? Was she important to him—to this version of himself?
"Hey," she called over her shoulder, "race you to Ethical Rhetoric and Discourse? Loser has to eat whatever that mystery substance is in the cafeteria today!" Without waiting for a response, she took off running, deftly weaving between other students.
With a sigh, Ratchet followed her toward the school entrance. For now, it seemed, he was stuck playing the role of Ryder Sterling, Lombax teenager. But he was determined to find a way out of this situation.
"I'll get to you somehow," he thought, his mind fixed on Clank as he entered the school. "Whatever it takes."