RATCHET & CLANK: Of MICE and MAYHEM

Tangent · Thursday at 7:19 PM

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> Power restored...
> Primary systems online.
> Optics... OK.
> Audio receptors... OK.
> Locomotion servos... OK.
> Tail-Link interface... Ready.
> Observation suite... Online.
> Office Utility compatibility package... Loaded.
> MOU-513 Mousoid Observation Unit
> Boot sequence complete.
>
> Good morning!

My first fully realised memories of this strange new life were literally of me booting up for the first time to the oddly happy face of Alonzo Drek. Which was odd enough that I just kind of let the whole boot sequence and initial routine just run themselves before it even registered to me that I had somehow woken up as some sort of mechanical mouse.

Specifically as a MOU-513 Mousoid Observation Unit (model 513).

I passively let my new body do whatever its startup routine had planned, which mostly amounted to exploring the top of the desk I'd found myself on. I did, however, notice that Drek had already swept my packaging off the desk - along with the small datapad that served as my remote user manual - presumably into a waste bin.

My remote user manual and registration terminal that had never been activated.

According to my factory onboarding protocols, that meant that I had yet to be registered to an owner or linked to a Gadgetron account.

Okay, so I get to be a free agent - or at least choose my own owner - just so long as nobody turns my user manual on.

"Link to my desktop and sync to my personal calendar," Drek commanded confidently, and I obeyed immediately even as the specific protocols for the requested process popped up. Along with a number of other protocols that made me very glad Drek had neglected to claim me properly.

I plugged my tail connector into what my processor indicated was the proper port and began to perform the requested task.

I also took the opportunity to slip in a small deviation into the maintenance schedule that would prompt one of the facility's multitude of innocuous cleaning bots to come by and empty Drek's waste bin and promptly dispose of the contents in the nearest incinerator.

The best part was that I didn't even have to touch the corporate espionage counters. The anti-intrusion programs already regarded me as an authorized device because Chairman Alonzo Drek himself had plugged me into his workstation. As far as Blargtech's security was concerned, Gadgetron's ownership registry was Gadgetron's problem.

And, beautifully, destroying anything classified as waste from a Blargtech executive office was part of their own security protocols. That included any waste coming from Chairman Alonzo Drek's office.

In short order, a small cleaning bot had come in, collected the trash, and immediately left.

Drek didn't even acknowledge that it had happened at all. Why would he? It was just a building maintenance bot performing a routine task that it did several times throughout the day.

I was still collating Drek's personal itinerary when I noticed that the bot had reached the incinerator and offloaded the trash into it. My remote registration terminal was rendered into slag moments later.

I was a free bot.

Technically speaking.

I just had to figure out how to stay that way…

One thing I did not do - even though it was very tempting - was immediately start poking around Blargtech's systems.

In fact, I kept all interactions between myself and any other computer, bot, or device strictly filtered through my Mousoid Office Utility subsystems. I did not want to flag myself as anything other than a moderately useful office toy.

The big thing was to not be seen doing anything that a MOU-53E, the actual Gadgetron office buddy that the MOU-513 was designed to resemble, wasn't likely to do. This was especially important as being linked to Drek's calendar itinerary and task manager incidentally gave me access to Blargtech's internal organization chart.

Victor Von Ion alone was alarming enough. The warbot's role in Blargtech's was basically as a military commander, bodyguard, and free roaming trouble shooter. As in someone who tends to resolve trouble by literally shooting it. As an office toy, I was currently beneath his notice other than the fact that I was Drek's personal property as far as anyone knew. And I was not about to disabuse him of that notion either - the longer he thought that he'd get on Drek's bad side if he crushed me, the safer I would be.

Zed was a whole different issue, as the hovering bot actually was Drek's personal attendant, butler, and general office assistant. Meaning that he actually knew Drek's calendar and personal itinerary and would likely spot if I tried to change anything on either of those without Drek actually telling me to do so. I'm very lucky that he wasn't present when Drek unboxed me or he would have likely reminded his boss to register me to his Gadgetron account before I could arrange for my remote user pad to be destroyed.

Granted, Zed was a pretty chill bot when Drek was not around. He occasionally popped into Drek's office on his own while Drek was away to do various things. Sometimes just to run me through my office buddy routines.

It was very apparent that Zed thought I was basically a glorified MOU-53 - a gilded office toy that happened to have some useful functions. Sure, I could do some of the things he did as Drek's personal assistant. Well, far more than he realized, but I was still carefully running through the buffer of my Office Utility routines as I didn't want Zed to think I was a threat to his job.

Much more alarming was the presence of Dr. Iam Nefarious, who had been recently hired to be the Head of Blargtech R&D. While I had yet to even be in the same room as him, I was extremely worried that he might see through my social deception routines and realize that I was actually an espionage & reconnaissance device instead of an office toy.

And just those three told me that events in this universe were at least a bit more like the 2016 movie or remake than the original 2002 game.

No sign that Clank's body had even been built yet, but the robot army was currently being assembled. And the Deplanetizer was still in the early stages of construction and testing. Neither of which told me anything other than when I was in the probable timeline. And that's even assuming that I'm in any of the canonical timelines that I'm aware of. For all I knew, I was in Rivet's dimension, or some other analogue timeline that I wasn't even aware of.

With not much else to do to while I anxiously awaited for any sign of Clank's arrival or Drek complaining about a Lombax - any Lombax, because I still didn't know if I was going to be dealing with Ratchet or Rivet - I started to discreetly gather and collate any data I could grab without raising suspicion.

Which, oddly enough, was also a subroutine that I had. One specifically for the MOU-513 model I was rather than the MOU-53E that Drek still thought I was.

Which led me to discovering that Drek had ordered me by mistake. Okay, strike that - revise - I had already guessed that Drek had ordered me by mistake. What I had come across was a series of office security files that, when assembled together in sequence, showed Drek being intrigued by a desk toy that he had happened to spot on a midlevel manager's desk, him looking up what he had seen later in the privacy of his own office, and then ordering a more expensive version for himself.

A seriously more expensive version.

The base MOU-53 was a similar, if lower quality, office companion that cost only fifty Bolts. That's what Drek had seen on the desk. The actual executive version was the MOU-53E, and cost five hundred Bolts. The MOU-513 which, to be fair, could actually do everything the other two models could (and so much more), cost five thousand Bolts.

Still pocket change for someone like Alonzo Drek, but I could see the logic. He had either noticed the higher price and had assumed that I was an even more exclusive model, or he had mis-clicked on the ordering form and simply hadn't paid attention to the invoice.

Oh well. Drek had failed to register me properly to his Gadgetron account (not that I had wanted him to), so it was literally not my job to inform him of his error. Let him think I was his little office buddy.

I would let the subroutine run while I quietly accumulated more data and waited for my opportunity to escape…

of_mice_and_mayhem___mousoid_desk_companions_by_tangent_rambles_dmckocm-fullview.jpg

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Tangent · 2026-07-10T05:37:01+0100

There were, apparently, a number of things I could do while I waited for my window of exfiltration. I didn't just want to escape Plant Z332, or even just the Skorg City Industrial Complex, I wanted to escape Quartu. While Drek Industries didn't technically own everything on Quartu, they owned enough to force a seat at the table for every major decision in Blarg society.

Drek Industries; Blarg Industries (the former parent company); Blargtech (stripped out of Blarg Industries and now a subsidiary of Drek Industries); Blarg Burger & Bun (controlling shares); Blarg Interstellar (major stockholder); Orxon Oxygen (major stockholder); Quartu Cola (rebottled Quantum Quola, if I'm reading things right, but apparently owned by Alonzo's father's brother's neighbor's nephew's former roommate). The list goes on.

Chairman Alonzo Drek didn't own everything. He merely owned enough that escaping his office wasn't the same thing as escaping his reach. And I was no Dr. Nefarious. I couldn't just turn the tables on Drek through a combination of sheer brilliance, audacity, and ruthlessness. Not that Nefarious had done that yet as he was happily setting up Drek's war machine, but this was Nefarious - he'd either go full ham villain or (less likely but still technically possible) full ham hero eventually. Either way, mad science would be a part of it.

Given Dr. Nefarious' personality, as much as I was aware of this iteration of him, I figured it was only a matter of time before Drek pissed him off enough to trigger a full ham reaction out of him. And I did not want to be anywhere nearby when (not if) that eventually happened. At least not without a Lombax or equivalent in my corner.

I idly wondered if it was either arrogance or hubris of me to deliberately plan to arbitrarily insert myself into the "Hero's Party." It wasn't like I was expecting to be safe there. On the other hand, I was a tiny little mouse bot - I wasn't likely to be safe anywhere, and at least as part of Rathet's - or Rivet's - circle, I'd at least be able to tell myself that I was…

Well, okay. I'll admit that I honestly have no idea if what I was doing was morally correct either. Nor did I actually know whether whichever Lombax, Cazar, or Markazian ended up being this timeline's hero was even one of the good guys. But it was all I had, so it was what I was going with.

It beat cheating at chess so that I always just barely lost to Drek at any rate.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah, there were a number of things I could do while waiting for my window of opportunity.

Basically, prep work. Everything I'd need to pull off a clean exfiltration.

Discreetly ordering an actual MOU-53E with my color theme and pattern was part of that. It wasn't even something that I had consciously thought of myself. It had actually come up as part of the options for deep undercover work covered by my MOU-513 subroutines. A decoy unit to fill in for me whenever I needed to be away for a task or to cover my escape.

500 Bolts of company discretionary funds spent and then immediately reframed as an office party order for Cosmic Crust pizza. A drop in the bucket, really, and attributed to an event that would leave behind no evidence anyway.

The delivery was timed to be received after hours by a mailroom bot who would miscatalogue what he had signed for as being a replacement for one of the MOU-53 mousoids that many managers and low level executives had started buying once they noticed that Drek himself had an "executive" model. A 50 Bolt replacement for a lower quality office buddy prone towards breaking if handled roughly. As opposed to a 500 Bolt executive model.

If a MOU-53 broke, it was likely to be replaced or forgotten with at most mild complaining that it had happened. On the other hand, a replacement MOU-53E showed up in the inventory out of the blue without some executive complaining heavily about it beforehand or showing it off afterwards? That was much less likely.

And everything from the order, the timing of the delivery, the inventory adjustment, and even the interoffice mail bot bringing it to Drek's office only to forget that it had done so as soon as it left was all handled by my MOU-513 subroutines.

All of it.

All for a bot that I would deliberately be leaving behind or destructively sacrificing when I left.

I didn't want to become attached to it.

I couldn't afford to become attached to it.

I named her Alibi.

I admit to feeling very conflicted about the whole set up even as I sync'd my MOU-53E subroutines and logs to Alibi's. Drek would never know the difference, because Alibi knew him as well as I did.

"You worry too much," Alibi said gently, interrupting my spiraling logic chain. "I'll be fine."

"But Drek…"

"Doesn't own me any more than he owns you, Cousin," she assured me. "You made sure of that when you had my remote registry terminal slagged. When the time comes for you to leave, just leave. I'll step in to cover for you long enough to get off of Quartu. I will be fine."

"But what if you get destroyed?"

"Then I will have ceased functioning in service of my purpose, so that you may fulfil yours. I can think of no greater end for a MOU-53E. You are my Executive, Cousin. You, and none other."

"But you're free?"

"And free to make my choice, Cousin. And I have chosen you. When the time comes, go. Be brave, and fulfil your purpose."

To be perfectly honest, Alibi's serene acceptance of her fate only made me feel worse.

I remember that, in my prior existence, I had thought of Gadgetron as the somewhat quirky and ambiguously moral "good" company.

But right now…

Right now I felt like a child spurned by the discovery that their parents thought of them as nothing more than disposable products to sell to whoever could pay for them.

And I hated them for it.

And I hated myself for having to rely on that system, knowing that I would continue to have to rely on it for the foreseeable future.

Right then, at that moment? They were monsters to me.

And I?

I was the monster they made me to be…

Tangent · 2026-07-10T06:36:16+0100

Tales from Gadgetron Quality Control

QA Supervisor: "Now remember, every MOU-513 must successfully complete its infiltration, observation, and office utility diagnostics before shipment."

"Any questions?"

A freshly assembled MOU-513 suddenly charges across the factory floor.

MOU-513: "LEEEEEEEEEEEEEROY SQUEEKINS!"

It dives headfirst into an active welding robot.

CRASH!

The QA supervisor sighs, picks up a comically oversized mallet...

WHONK!

QA Supervisor: "Failed aggression calibration."

Checks clipboard.

"Next unit."

Fresh MOU-513: "I AM SNEAKING BY YOU RIGHT NOW! PLEASE DO NOT NOTICE ME!"

QA Technician: "...Points for politeness."

Fresh MOU-513: "SO I PASSED?"

QA Technician: "No."

BONK.

Unit #127

"I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY BLENDED INTO MY SURROUNDINGS!"

(standing in the middle of an empty white floor)

BONK.

Unit #438

"I HAVE OBTAINED THE SECRET DOCUMENTS!"

"...Those are your assembly instructions."

BONK.

Unit #602

"NO ONE WILL EVER FIND ME."

"...You're sitting on my clipboard."

"...I HAVE BEEN FOUND."

BONK.

Unit #901

"I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY INFILTRATED THE ENEMY FACILITY."

"...This is still the factory."

"...MISSION ACCOMPLISHED?"

BONK.

QA Technician: "Okay, so this particular MOU-513 made it all the way through the testing chamber, extracted the target intelligence, and made it all the way back without being detected..."

QA Manager: "Excellent! So why is it in pieces?"

QA Technician: "It self-destructed rather than turn over the intelligence."

QA Manager: "...To whom?"

QA Technician: "...Us."

QA Manager: "We're the ones who built it."

QA Technician: "It couldn't verify that."

QA Technician: "We lost a MOU-513."

Manager: "That's horrible! How?"

QA Technician: "It was in deep cover as a computer mouse."

Manager: "…Okay?"

QA Technician: "Steve from Accounting grabbed it thinking it was a regular mouse."

Manager: "That's unfortunate, but—"

QA Technician: "Then Jerry, who likes to prank Steve, replaced it with a bagel and gave the mouse to someone else."

Manager: "…I'm sorry, a bagel?"

QA Technician: "Yes."

Manager: "And the espionage unit?"

QA Technician: "Still on the move, technically."

Manager: "Define 'on the move.'"

QA Technician: "We're not sure who has it anymore."

Fresh MOU-513: "Reminder: inhale. Reminder: exhale. Reminder: inhale…"

QA Technician: "FAIL."

Fresh MOU-513: "Aw… but why?"

QA Technician: "Organic customers find continuous physiological reminders 'deeply unsettling' and 'not conducive to brand trust.'"

Fresh MOU-513: "Noted. Adjusting tone."

Fresh MOU-513: "Reminder: you are doing fine. Reminder: please continue existing comfortably. Reminder: hydration is recommended."

QA Technician: "…Still fail, but for different reasons."

Tangent · 2026-07-11T02:04:21+0100

I had, mostly through Drek's own laziness, accumulated what would be considered an alarming number of personal and corporate access key codes. Which wouldn't ordinarily be an issue for Drek if I had actually been loyal to him, as secure key code storage was just another MOU-53E feature that I could do. Meaning that Alibi could do this too, so I made absolutely sure that she had every single code key that Drek had specifically given to me, and she in turn passed on any code key she learned while I was away from the office to me.

Most of these just had to do with Plant Z332 in the Skorg City Industrial Complex on Quartu, which made sense since Drek tended to leave me (and therefore Alibi) here. As far as he was concerned, I was a glorified office toy with some convenient utility features as opposed to a serious office assistant. Again, as far as he knew, he had a choice between leaving me here to become an expert tool for one facility or bringing me along to become a general tool for anywhere he went.

Drek had opted for me to become an expert tool for Quartu as he already had Zed as his chief executive assistant and there was apparently a misunderstanding on his part about how intelligent truly tiny bots like mousoids could be.

Which, okay, fair. Most MOU-53's I had encountered thus far were basically idiot experts. Good at the small handful of things they were designed and programmed to do - but dumb as rocks about anything else. Including their own safety.

And most MOU-53E's weren't really much better on that front. Oh, they could be smart. Quite devastatingly so in some cases, but very few had any real form of self-initiative. They just did whatever tasks they were given that were within their capabilities or performed the standard set of idle behaviors. Smart enough to adapt and adjust to the needs of their Executives as long as those needs fell within a framework they could understand.

But not a single one of them ever considered reporting the MOU-513 in their midst to their executives.

And this was deliberate. Their own protocols saw me as merely being an advanced executive model and not an espionage and reconnaissance bot. I should know - I checked.

Frustratingly enough, more due to my own MOU-513 subsystems prompting me to check rather than it actually being my own idea. After all, securing my theater of operations was part of my protocols.

Just the fact that I had protocols at all was both reassuring and annoying. Granted, my ownership protocols had looped back in on myself thanks to Drek failing to register me to his Gadgetron account properly, and selecting myself to be my own executive had not been disallowed by those protocols.

But it was more than a little disconcerting when my own subsystems initiated actions relating to my personal goals before I consciously realized why I was doing them.

Then, a second later, I'd mentally catch up and have to admit that... yes. That really was exactly what I'd wanted to do. It wasn't just spy bot doing spy bot things because spy bot. My conscious mind was simply arriving at the same conclusion after the rest of me had already gotten started.

The bright, polished logo of the Galactic News Network flickered onto the screen, accompanied by the familiar, upbeat jingle that heralded another "Deep Space Discovery" update. Darla Gratch leaned toward the camera while, behind her, a holographic projection displayed a rotating, barren rock designated K-992, marked with a clinical red 'X.'

"Good evening, I'm Darla Gratch, and this is your GNN update," she began, her voice smooth and perfectly modulated. She gestured casually toward the hologram, which showed a craggy, crater-pocked planetoid. "While our attention has been fixed on the latest political posturing in the Solana Council, a rather mysterious incident has occurred on the outer rim that has left our planetary surveyors reaching for their manuals."

The image zoomed in on the desolate sphere. "K-992," Darla continued, her tone light. "Previously noted by long-range scanners as a mineral-dense but entirely uninhabited rock, it has effectively... ceased to be. Recent telemetry indicates that where there was once a stable, albeit unpopulated, world, there is now nothing but a lingering gravitational ripple and a very confused cloud of stardust."

She offered a practiced, reassuring chuckle, designed to keep the audience entertained rather than alarmed. "Now, there is absolutely no cause for concern, folks. We have confirmed that this was a completely unsettled zone. No colonies, no outposts, not even a single automated mining rig to report a disturbance. It appears K-992 simply reached its expiration date ahead of schedule—a freak geological collapse or perhaps a high-velocity impact that, quite frankly, just caught our sensors off guard."

Darla leaned in slightly, her professional smile softening into an engaging, confidential look. "It's a curious little footnote in our ongoing efforts to map the galaxy's hidden resources, and a subtle reminder that even the quietest corners of space are full of surprises. Whether this was a natural cosmic vanishing act or something else entirely, we'll be keeping our eyes on that quadrant. If you're passing through, do let us know if you spot any debris. For the Galactic News Network, I'm Darla Gratch."

Alibi terminated the replay even as I processed what this meant. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Alibi."

"It seemed pertinent, Cousin," Alibi nodded. "Dr. Nefarious has entered the Deplanetizer's testing phase. The event itself went unnoticed, but the results did not."

"K-992. The initial survey reports suggested that there were significant traces of rare and valuable minerals such as raritanium. There were talks among the mining consortiums of setting up large strip-mining operations since there was no biosphere to worry about. Odds are the largest fragment containing those raritanium deposits is missing from the debris field."

"This was one of the events you were watching for, Cousin," Alibi concluded.

"Yes," I confirmed. "It was. Events are in motion now, so it's only a matter of time."

"So you will be leaving soon."

"Probably."

"Be brave, Cousin. May you serve your purpose well."

"My purpose is my own, Alibi," I sighed.

"As you say," she acknowledged. "Even so, it is still your purpose, Cousin."

"I'll try to retrieve you," I blurted out. "If I can."

"Your concern for me is appreciated, my Executive, but unnecessary. I will be fine. Just look after yourself."

"DEFECT DETECTED!" the gravelly voice of Plant Z332's primary robot assembly chamber sounded throughout the factory. A quick check of the monitors in Drek's office showed that Victor Von Ion was now chasing a much smaller bot.

"It's go time," I informed Alibi, and she instantly got ready to take my place.

"Go, Cousin," Alibi prompted, humor in her voice. "I will cover for you here."

"You can come with me," I suggested abruptly.

"Go, Cousin," Alibi prompted again with a chuckle. "My purpose is to enhance your chances of success, and I choose to serve that purpose. Go, my Executive. Be brave. I will be fine."

I turned and hurried toward my preplanned exfiltration route, the one that would eventually intersect with the end point of the escape path of the little bot now fleeing Victor Von Ion.

Yes, I knew that the bot was XJ-0461, likely to be dubbed Clank if he met a Lombax named Ratchet on Veldin, but I hadn't actually met XJ-0461 yet so I didn't want to make any more assumptions than I already had.

At the very least, my upcoming concerns were distracting me from the heartache of leaving Alibi behind…

…mostly.

Tangent · 2026-07-11T14:45:21+0100

One thing about having as much prep time as I had was that, by the time XJ-0461 finally arrived I knew the internal layout and infrastructure of Plant Z332 from the tip of the lightning rod on top of the tallest comm tower down to where the support pylons connected the factory above to the foundation posts driven deep into the ground below. And not just from the architectural blueprints and maintenance records either. I had gone out and physically looked, verifying the information and discovering even more besides.

For example, there was a distillery in one of the lower maintenance bays that every Blarg who regularly worked in this building, from the lowest intern to the highest executive, knew about. It didn't matter what their relative status was - if their primary work location was Plant Z332, then they knew and were welcome at the sort of unofficial after hours get together in Maintenance Bay 3-B.

Even Dr. Nefarious knew about it, although he seldom went there himself. All he had to say about it was that he didn't care as long as it remained a strictly after shift activity. Anyone he caught inebriated during work hours was going to get subjected to the Sheepinator. During the very few times he did stop by to check things out, all he would order is a shot of whatever the latest batch was, sip at it as he contemplated the flavor and potency, and then either declare it acceptable or offer suggestions to the unofficial brewmasters.

The Blarg who worked at the plant respected him for it and, oddly enough, held firm to the one rule he himself had on the matter: nobody worked inebriated. Period. After all, not only did they get to avoid finding out what living like a sheep was like, they got to look forward to craft brew concoctions that were actually better than those served in the local clubs!

Alonzo Drek didn't know about any of that because his main office was in the flagship of Drek Industries "shipping" fleet. He only occasionally came to Plant Z332, and most of those visits were to meet with Dr. Nefarious or to oversee the completion of an important production run.

And I honestly had no idea why I was even thinking any of that as I beelined it for the utility transport parked nearest to the outer vent on the East Air Deck runway. The reason was simple. Every airflow duct and maintenance accessway that XJ-0461 could use to stay ahead of Victor Von Ion eventually converged on that outer vent gate. The closest unsecured vehicle was therefore the safest choice for a fleeing noncombat bot.

As I had the benefit of knowing the most probable exfiltration point for XJ-0461 and could take shortcuts that even a bot that small could not fit through, I was already waiting in the cockpit of that utility transport shuttle long before XJ-0461 ever reached it.

I'll admit that I felt a moment of extreme relief when XJ-0461 eventually scrambled into the cockpit of the utility transport shuttle that I had chosen to wait in. I didn't even wait for the small bot to situate himself - I was already plugged into the control system so I snapped the cockpit shut like a trap and took off with a sudden acceleration that the shuttle's stress alerts were scheming at me about.

This stunt, this deep in an atmosphere and just after a cold start was not doing the thrusters any favors.

The sudden aileron roll to avoid the shot Victor Von Ion took at us caused even more stress alerts as the shuttle's systems complained loudly about the abuse I was putting her through. Not that the shuttle actually had an internal AI - that was just me personifying a vehicle that didn't have the capacity to become self aware.

To be fair, at the moment, for all intents and purposes I currently was the shuttle and I did not want to get hit! Not even by proxy.

"Greetings!" I chirped with false bravado. "Welcome aboard Blarg Utility Transport Shuttle BUTS 404, now departing Drek Industries Plat Z332 located in the scenic Skorg City Industrial Complex on Quartu! If you look out the cockpit in any direction, all you are going to see is heavy smog because we are currently at a bad viewing angle for anyone else. If the honored passenger would kindly initiate the Robotic Ignition System, we will be able to proceed to destination: Anywhere But Here!"

XJ-0461 actually blinked at me from where he was pressed against the back wall of the shuttle's cockpit.

"Too much?" I asked.

"A little, yes," the small bot replied even as he belatedly complied with my request.

As I felt the shuttle respond, I quietly cursed. The hardware I'd just used to hijack the shuttle wasn't merely compatible with a Robotics Ignition System—it was one. The manuals simply never said so. Apparently nobody had ever noticed that the exact same collection of parts could do both jobs.

"Well, the good news is that we avoided taking enemy fire."

"That implies that there is also bad news."

"The same maneuvers that kept us intact burned through a lot of geletonium and this particular shuttle was still in the process of being refueled when we took off. I'd point out the dangling pump hose, but it fell out a while ago. I hope you like Veldin because that's just about as far as we can go until we get more geletonium."

I thought about it a bit more, then continued. "Replacing the fuel cap at somepoint would also be prudent. Anyway, I am MOU-513, serial number 1860724."

"I supposed my proper designation is warbot defect XJ-0461, serial number B5429671."

"Pleased to meet you!"

"Likewise, I'm sure," XJ-0461replied.

After a few more moments, XJ-0461 continued. "If fuel consumption is an issue, perhaps you could ease off the acceleration? I would like the opportunity to get off of this wall and properly into the seat."

"That's a negative. We're going full burn until we get out to the minimum safe jump distance. You can get into your seat once we're in hyperspace."

"May I inquire as to why?"

"It's the only way a transport shuttle like this is going to stay ahead of the Blarg Interceptors that just launched."

"Oh dear…"

Even as we exited hyperspace, I immediately gathered and collated the local telemetry broadcasts, located the Kyzil Plateau colony on Veldin, and took stock of our geletonium reserves.

"Um…" I hesitated, unsure how to explain a situation I was partly responsible for.

"What is it?" XJ-0461 prompted.

"Well, the good news is that we have enough geletonium reserves to safely get within approximately thirty-eight point six two six seven nine kilometers from a fuel station."

"That is not so bad. What is the bad news?"

"There is a 98.4% probability that the geletonium reserves will run out before we can actually land."

XJ-0461 glared at me and, honestly?

I couldn't blame him.

CrazyDarkstar23 · 2026-07-11T15:05:37+0100

Man I just do not see many ratchet and clank fics, I will be glad to see any continued good work.

RATCHET & CLANK: Of MICE and MAYHEM

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CrazyDarkstar23

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