Ratchet and Clank: Lifeforce Chapter 26

Lifeforce: Chapter 26

"Hearts can break. Yes, hearts can break. Sometimes I think it would be better if we died when they did, but we don't."
―Stephen King,Hearts in Atlantis

Wake Me Up

Ratchet wondered just how many times he'd run through enemy halls like this. Heart pounding, mouth dry, senses hiked up to the breaking point, so even the smallest movement almost had him shooting at shadows. By now, after everything he'd gone through, he thought he'd be used to it. And he'd thought he had been, but the universe seemed determined to eradicate that fact. He felt eerily like this was the first time he was sprinting through enemy territory; and even with Clank on his back and the loud, assuring clinks of Cronk and Zephyr on either side of him, he still felt uneasy. He couldn't quite control his breathing.

This dratted feeling had clung to him like sweat throughout this whole 'adventure'. He was sure this one was going to be put on the shelf as one he'd never want to discuss again; seconded only by that time he'd had to deal with tiny organisms that pretended to be little girls with lisps. Only this situation certainly wasn't tiny; it just wasn't cutting him any sort of slack whatsoever. And Trisby, he wasn't afraid to say, had just complicated it more.

The amber lombax forced his mind back to the mission. Find the archaeologists. Forget about Trisby; she's wrong, this is the better thing to do...

Why did the way she smiled make him feel like he'd been threatened?

"Clank, you don't think Trisby..." The mutter slid from his barely open lips before he realized it; he blasted down a minion in his way. His legs where on autopilot to locate some kind of control room or clue to lead them to the captive trio of rock-finders. Clank heaved a quiet sigh.

"Trisby does not strike me as a hostile person to those who do not deserve it. She will not hinder us..." He seemed saddened, though. Ratchet didn't know why, she hadn't been the nicest she could be to him.

He felt a hand pat his ear and he blinked, his arms automatically shooting down another speeding minion. Clank heaved another sigh,

"I know you are frustrated, Ratchet, but no one blames you for what happened. You cannot be expected to be invulnerable."

Ratchet didn't know whether to thank Clank or be even more annoyed with himself. Had it really been that noticeable? Of course Clank would figure it out, but...

"Ow, Rookie, we don't care if ya get drunk and accidently go out with Qwark in drag, we need ta find those three rock-buddies and get the heck outa here!"

The sheer absurdity of Cronk's offhanded comment made Ratchet leap back out of his thoughts, and he jogged forward to rejoin the two at the end of the hall. He grinned sheepishly, trying not to let that image get into his brain. "Uh, sorry, guys...and uh, are ya sure Tachyon came from the left when you saw him?" It wasn't much to go on...

"Positive." Zephyr nodded his elongated head a bit, looking confident- or at least as much as a robot face could look- "And usually these villain-types have big prisons, so it shouldn't be hard ta find 'um."

"I do not think we should spend too much time idle." Clank cut in, staring back the way they came with distrust, "But Tachyon will certainly know by now that we are here, and he will not hesitate to corner us."

Ratchet gave a curt nod and looked back at the hallway they'd come to. It looked just like all the others; minus any minions as he was sure they'd busted every one that had come zipping out to attack. "All right..."

Then he heard it. A voice, not a minion, muffled and weak, calling out in a pleading yet weakened tone. Ratchet's body stiffened when he heard it, and the trio of robots he was with blinked simultaneously.

"Well that's lucky." Zephyr remarked. Then, they sprinted, all at once. Ratchet hoped this was good news, and prayed that with Nefarious's cranium bashed in he wouldn't be able to spring another trap. They skidded around the corner and where met with a horrible sight.

Hanging from above where the three archaeologists; tied by their wrists and hung from the ceiling. The two organic members where bloodied and scarred, and Ratchet had to bite down on his lip to stop himself gasping. They looked horribly mangled, like dead fish, dangling from the chains. Canter, the robot, was sparking ominously, his head having the worst of it. He looked slightly less beaten, but then again, Ratchet had no idea how painful messed up wires was for robots.

A loud, echoing stamp sounded behind them. This wasn't a trap. This was just the end of the chase.

Ratchet turned, and in the whirl he saw a blur or brown topped with orange- drophids, around them. And when he'd come to a full turn, he saw the familiar, hated legs that where wider than his body and rivalled trees in their height, all to make up for the ugly little creature that held far more malice than it should have.

Cronk and Zephyr lifted their weapons and took aim. Ratchet gripped his wrench till his fingers grew cold and glared resentfully up at Percival Tachyon, who looked back with that hatred that never really reached Ratchet, but rather seemed to hover around him. Because he had done nothing to deserve it; that irrational hate just hovered around the lombax because of who he was, what he was. He never let it get to him. Not enough to make him snap in from of him, anyway.

"Well, well, well." The grating, high voice droned in mock pleasantness. "How nice of you to join the gathering, Lombax. How do you like my display?"

His thin, misplaced brows raised, Tachyon lifted his scepter towards the hanging, limp forms of the archaeologists, a smug grin upon his maw. "They add a nice touch if I do say so myself."

"If you wanna show just how insane you are, maybe." Ratchet muttered. He didn't say it too loudly; he had a feeling a conversation here wouldn't continue long. He wasn't Nefarious; He didn't spend as much time talking, though he liked to have a good boast.

Tachyon's posture stiffened and his smile switched to a sneer in an instant, barely looking any different to Ratchet expression-wise. "Not that a piece of vermin like you could ever comprehend acts of victory."

Ratchet's grip on his wrench tightened. There were so many things he wanted to yell at him, but they all bottled up to the point where he could say nothing. Clank's hand rested on his shoulder from behind.

"Any criticisms of his 'victories' you give him will fall on deaf ears...he does not care, Ratchet, he is not worth the wasted syllables."

"I see you have brought the piles of debris with you, lombax." Tachyon remarked smoothly, and Ratchet was thankful Cronk and Zephyr hadn't started firing just yet. "Clearly your choice of comrades only proves how foolish you are. You clearly cannot come up with a good plan in dire times."

"Says the guy who teamed up with Nefarious of all people." Ratchet replied, a small grin tweaking his face. Clank giggled quietly on his back. Tachyon's eyes narrowed furiously, and the throne began advancing towards them with thunderous steps. Ratchet and the robots slowly began stepping backwards, eyes locked on him.

Think, fast, before he maims us...

"How resourceful it is of you to try to ignore my words, so they do not cripple you when you try to show defiance." Tachyon's voice sliced into him, and Ratchet felt his blood boil. The cragmite was grinning with savage delight. Ratchet cursed himself for letting his anger onto his face; Tachyon had played this game over the Holo-Screens, but Ratchet hadn't allowed himself to respond face to face...

Tachyon's grin suddenly vanished, eyes flickering over each member of the group. "...Where is the other vermin of your race hiding?"

Ratchet's ears stood up. The armoured lombax...now that he looked, and thought...he was gone. He'd been right behind them a moment ago!

He was thinking too much. He needed to get a grip...

Ratchet shook his head, ridding himself of the building confusion for a few seconds. "Where he is doesn't matter. We're all you need to get yourself kicked off that thing you call a throne."

"I can't say I am surprised." Tachyon said, giving an ugly laugh as he drew nearer, backing the group up more and more, "The wretch abandoning you when I appear..."

Ratchet snorted, but didn't reply. He glanced over his shoulder at Clank, and with a determined nod the small robot hopped from the harness and trotted off quickly. Tachyon didn't pay him much attention, his furious gaze locked on the lombax ever more.

"You ain't got nothing but a fish parade, Tachyon...!" Cronk called, aiming his blaster up at the grub in the seat above. "We're taking them archaeologists!"

"Silence, you insignificant prop!" The cragmite hissed, and Ratchet saw a blur of metal- and Cronk had been kicked by the tree-trunk leg of the throne, and his head popped clean off his shoulders and flew backwards.

Ratchet had but a second to gape before that leg slammed down beside him; Tachyon now towered directly above him. Ratchet threw himself backwards without much grace as the arm of the throne swooped down. If he hadn't moved it would have hit his neck full-on. He flipped backwards in the air and landed in a low crouch, only to duck back again as the next arm came at him; pincer-like claws grabbing at his head.

Cronk and Zephyr opened fire, backing up so they lined up just below the hanging trio above. Clank hopped onto Cronk's outstretched hand and was tossed upwards like a small canon ball. Ratchet saw his tiny hand grip Marlo's toe just before the hand of the throne smacked against his chest.

Ratchet's back hit against the hard, cold wall with a powerful slam, and his breath caught in his throat. He gagged once, raised his head and barring his teeth, meeting a pair of boiling yellow eyes that seethed with pure, unrelenting hate. Ratchet's heart pounded loud and panicked, and he squirmed in the grip of the hand.

He couldn't get free. He felt fear, actual fear, wash over him. And the first thing that came to mind was what where the others going to do it he died...

Tachyon's unrelenting gaze slid from Ratchet's defiant face to something clinking against his shoulder. He had just been about to ask him if he had anything else to say before his demise, Ratchet was sure...but then he saw Ickabar's belt strung around his shoulder.

It was like seeing his face change in slow motion. First was Tachyon, his face twisted in delight as he finally had a chance to kill him...then his face slowly morphed into bulging-eyed disbelief.

"..."

Neither of them had time to react as the disc on the belt gave an abrupt spark, and the light grew to a burst of cold, raw light that blinded Ratchet and evoked a screech from the loathsome creature facing him.

Ratchet forced his eyes shut.

...

Raymas Lars was cold. He was stern.

He associated his brother Raymas with things that could not be bent; not be challenged, could not be deterred. He was the tree that stood tall on the hill side where he played, he was the buildings that loomed high above; their backs to the sun as they cast a shadow all around him. A pillar, with eyes that where unreadable and deep.

One would think he would be difficult to love, but Ickabar lived in a world of such uncertainty that the stiff arms of his eldest brother where reassuring. He knew best; he was the eldest, he knew the world. He only did what he thought was best for them, even if it made Percival angry.

Sometimes, however, he would have been okay with him being wrong, if it meant he'd be a little warmer. When Ickabar was sad, really sad, to the point where words could not heal that of the hurtful jeers, Raymas did not comfort him in the way he craved. He sounded like the teachers, sometimes, record droning familiar phrases that held no consolation.

But he was no teacher, he was Raymas. Ickabar knew he tried. But it was hard for him to show love. He wouldn't realize until later life that Raymas was stark different, yet strangely similar...that is, when Percival was in the equation. Percival showed more. He smiled more, he scowled more, he yelled when he was mad, he didn't glower silently in shadows. Ickabar was never like Raymas. Raymas showed nothing...yet...

Ickabar hid a lot of things. He smiled when he felt like crying; he felt cold in the sunlight. And part of him knew Raymas Lars felt something deep within that he could not convey on his face. They were more alike to each other than either of them would be to Percival...whose feelings where just not as deep as theirs was.

Sometimes the Carers at the facility worried that Ickabar did all the feeling for the cragmite. He certainly did enough feeling for the three of them put together. Ickabar never thought too much about what lay behind Percival's greyish face, for he'd known he had never meant any of the mean things he said to him.

"...Yes he would..."

...

When Ickabar awoke, the blinds where not drawn. The fresh morning sunlight, not sunrise nor sunset, peered through the rectangular spaces. The dust specs drifted silently by, but all warmth had already left the room. He felt it when he awakened; not with a start, but fading out of the dreamland he'd been in moments before. Suddenly, but not too suddenly, he found himself in a dim-lit place that felt unfamiliar.

He inhaled the dusty air; eyes sliding to the window. The silence was not warm like it had been before. It was so quiet, so empty, that he felt as if he lay in a graveyard. Something was wrong. Ickabar turned his chin, slowly, and his eyes caught the sight of the coat rack beside the door. Percival's coat wasn't there.

He slowly drew up onto his elbows; pieces of paper sliding off his shoulders and fluttering to the carpet as he stirred. He didn't need to call upstairs to know he wasn't there. His heart began drumming against his chest, but not quick. Slow, heavy. He walked towards the door, gripped the handle with numb fingers, and went outside.

The hush of the early morning greeted him without any welcome; his shadow was crookedly cast by the sun reflecting off the shinier buildings towering above. They lived in a sloping part of land; the city was build to adjust to it. Behind their narrow home was the landing docks; a lesser used dock than larger ones, but one all the same. It was obscure, surrounded by the small apartment buildings.

And as he turned his head, he could see them over the roof of the house; two figures blanking out from the landscape on the docks above; blurs. Ickabar felt his nerves cease up as he stumbled quietly, his breath held, to the stairway that led up to the docks. It was a closed-in route, and his sight of them was cut off. It left him feeling like he was climbing a steep tunnel, and his uneasiness only grew. He had no idea why.

Then the voices gradually grew into his line of hearing. Slowly, like how he'd awakened, they became clearer and clearer. He found part of himself wishing for the muffled tones to remain quiet grumbles, for he had a horribly sound notion that he wasn't going to like what he heard.

But he didn't stop, his legs did not feel the deterrence his mind did, and before he was ready he was at the top of the stairs, in the light, and walking across the docks to where his brothers stood. He felt as if he where trekking across a horribly exposed place, leaving the tunnel-like staircase behind. Percval's sloping back faced him; his head tilted upwards to Raymas. For a few seconds, Ickabar felt invisible, his steps made no sound.

Then he saw Raymas, and suddenly his unease peaked to the point. Raymas held not the stern, reprimanding look he'd expected, but he looked...worried, he looked almost...scared. Raymas was never scared. Ickabar felt his stomach clench and he his pace grew slower as his eldest brother lifted his head and those bulging brown eyes of his rested on him. Whatever speech he'd planned faded off his lips and he looked at Ickabar with a terrible look that could only be described as apprehensive alarm.

What's...?

Raymas looked at Percival. Ickabar found himself speaking, and he felt inwardly annoyed at himself for shamefully trying to turn the situation back to normal, when clearly it wasn't normal. "Hey, Percy...did you come back to the house yesterday? Where'd you go?" His tone was light and he finally came to a stop behind him, but for once, not too close.

He stared down at the back of the head he'd always seen. Then, slowly, the head turned and he saw the side of Percival's face; and he saw a bloodshot, baggy eye that looked nothing like his brother's. For once insane moment he wondered if it was possible that another cragmite stood before him, but logic tore that away. Percival was looking at him, and looking at him as if...

As if he hated him...

"Why don't you just silence yourself for once?" He snapped. The voice cut through Ickabar's stiffened frame like shattering glass digging into every ounce of flesh on his bones. His lips parted and he stared down at him, trying to understand.

He went to the archives, last night, went...

...oh...

"Percy..." His voice sounded far away. Percival's resentful look did not waver. It scared him. Percy was scaring him...

He raised a hand; his bony digits a blur of purple reaching out. Percival's mouth draw back in a sneer, and his head whipped back forward, facing away from him. Ickabar saw all of it in flashes; how his shoulders lifted and fell with angry breaths, his headfins twitching, and all the characteristics of a bomb.

Why was he acting like this? What happened? No...He'd found something, something personal, Ickabar just needed to try and understand...

"What happened...? Why are you acting like this?" Ickabar said, his voice straining. Raymas lifted a hand,

"Percival...this is not his fault...it has nothing to do with him?"

"Nothing to do with him?" The cragmite spat, lifting his head. Raymas stepped back, eyes bulging. Ickabar felt his mind whirl. Raymas...?

Percival's head turned back to him and he looked at him, but it felt as if he was looking right through him; a burning spotlight. "Of course it has something to do with- with this..."

Ickabar felt something in him rise. It made his fur stand on end. "Percy..."

"Shut up, you stupid simpleton. Think for yourself for once!"

Ickabar had known Percival all his life. He had grown up in certainty that he and his other brother knew better, than they knew who he was. But...no. After all the times Percival had remarked how foolish he could be...this wasn't going to happen. Not this time. It was too far.

Ickabar was torn between fury, rare, poisonous fury, and the tearing hurt in his chest. "Now wait just a minute...Why are you saying this to me? I haven't done anything...!" He protested, and flared when he saw Percival turned his head away stiffly

He reached out and grabbed his shoulder,

"You can't just-"

A piercing pain slid across his cheek and the impact sent him reeling back. He fell on his side; his legs flopping to a rattling halt as the sting on his cheek burned deep, deep into his nerves. Ickabar stared upwards, gripped his face, and saw Percival glowering back at him from above. Behind him Raymas stood, his mouth gaping, his eyes wide with horror.

Ickabar breathed in, and out. All he could hear where those shaky breaths. Percy had hit him...

Percival stared at him for a few more seconds, the heavy silence closing in on them. With a growl of disdain he turned away and stormed off. He did not look back, not even as Ickabar stared after him, staring, and feeling his chest tear in two on the inside.

He felt helpless ,and lost.

No. Percy had not hit him. Because that hadn't been him. His brother was gone, and suddenly he knew nothing could be as it was, not now. Everything had shattered, so quickly, and it made him numb to realize it. It happened so quickly...one little hit...

Is that all it takes...?

Raymas looked at him then, and Ickabar finally tore his eyes away from where Percival had been moments ago. Anger seared, but it could not mask the pain he felt.

"...What did y-you do, Raymas...?" He whispered. The image of his brother blurred as his vision was overtaken by tears. He saw only a fuzzy green shape that no longer looked like Raymas Lars, but some husk, a mockery of what Ickabar thought he had been,

Raymas's voice, however, called out to him in this lonely, cold place that was crushing him in the warm daylight. Sorrowful, and full of shame.

"...Ickabar...there's something I have to tell you."

...

A piercing shriek cut through the memory that Ratchet witnessed; not in sleep, but in a flash that seemed to slow down time. Perhaps the memory had just been implanted in his mind rather than witnessed. This was no innocent holofilm. It was far worse, and far more deadly than a holofilm that you couldn't bear to look away from. And it was even harder to do so.

The shriek was no Ickabar's, not a man. Perhaps a child, not a grown woman. It rang as out, and behind the horrid screech, the uncanny sounds of explosions and crackling fire swam behind it, followed by the fainter screams that held less significance.

Ratchet had heard this scream before, in the hazier images, the ones with fire, smoke, and fleeing civilians. Those images where getting closer and closer to him through the cold, unseen ocean that floated around him...

What was this? This wasn't like a dream, not little fragments scattered about. He remembered them with uneasy clearness. He had been worried he was going mad, but now...now he almost wished his mind was playing tricks on him.

But this was real. This happened.

It had to be the Lifeforce. And it was showing him these things for a reason...but why? What did Ickabar have...or know, or do, or say, that the Lifeforce wanted him to know so badly...?

That almost sounded like the Lifeforce had a mind of its own...

"Wake up, Ratchet..."

"Ratchet..."

"...Wake...Me...Up..."