The High Take-off of Hope

No, no, no! What shall I do? What shall I do?

A red bulb blinked, while outside explosions flashed in the void darkness. All shook, the heat becoming almost unbearable (if you were organic, of course) and the world itself began to spin, accelerating in a dive pulled by a nearby planet gravity.

White, yellow, crimson flashes, metallic rumble, a long long whistle-

BOOOOM

…And pitch black.

– Some days… I just think I'll never get out this planet – a golden furred feline sighed looking to a homemade ship. It was… barely a ship. It was a mass of iron, titanium and some rare pieces of Raritanium held together with screws, bolts, duct tape and bubble gums. But it was his ship and the one and the only ticket out of Veldin.

It was too expensive to buy a decent model, even a second/third/nth one, not with his income, and to catch a ride on a passenger cargo wasn't really a possibility because he didn't want to depend on someone else to move. After all it was for this very reason that he had built this ship. And (theoretically) it could fly… If only he got a Robotic Ignition System! It was like a universal electronic key to turn on every type of means of transport so it was sold only along with ships or work-machines on his planet, as he really recently discovered. Pretty stupid idea if you ask the mechanic, but Veldin was a backwater world, so merchants rarely paid it a visit. So… No R.I.S.

The architect of that piece of tra- art sat on a wooden crate, contemplating on what to do with his now useless vessel, while fanning away the hot air from the desert planet with his large golden three striped ears to cool his head. Maybe his genius would be more creative with a lower temperature: with sisterboards worked, why not brains?

Unfortunately nothing seemed to come to his mind, so he gave up and stood in order to return inside his workshop. He could always work it out while working on something else… if he hadn't been distracted by a ginormous roaring beacon that flew over his garage and crashed further on the crimson Kyzil Plateau where it stood.

– A meteor? Or a ship? I didn't get a clear sight… – he mumbled, stroking his chin with a five fingers gloved hand. – Well, I wanted a distraction, didn't I? – he smirked tightening his grip on his Omniwrench while his striped tail lashed in anticipation.

The anthropomorphic cat-like creature, zoologically known as a Lombax, made an almost bee line towards the crash site, tossing absent mindedly the local horned toads out of his way with well-placed hits of his wrench and climbing rock formations with his feline instincts.

As he passed inside the rusted old carcass of a semi-dismantled ship, the Lombax came in view of ground zero: there was a large crater a hundred meters from him and all around there were several piece of metal and engine scattered on the ground. A ship, uh?

If it had had a pilot, they would have surely ejected themselves before the crash, nobody was that idiot to stay inside a crash-landing vessel… If they weren't suicidal, that is. The mechanic scanned the sky, while walking towards the remains the ship, in search of an open parachute or somebody with a jetpack, but the blue and partially orange space was empty sans for the profiles of Veldin two satellites.

He was about to comment aloud when his computerized wrist band (usually used for his help desk link) picked up an S.O.S. signal from the ship black box. Maybe the pilot didn't have time to eject the seat!

Frantically the lombax began searching in the debris. He was a little antisocial, selfish and arrogant sometimes (he did admit it, but being an orphan and only known member of his own species had "helped" awesomely), but one way or another at last he would never turn down a call for help of somebody in need. He often blamed his mysterious and extinct race genes for that.

A while later the mechanic stumbled with his bare clawed foot on something that afterwards he discovered that was an offline little robot. With a critic eye he picked it up and valued its structural integrity: it was scorched, of course, but nothing too irreparable because of its titanium exoskeleton. Probably it was turned off because of the crash or its sleep mode was the cause itself of the event. It wasn't too unusual that the autopilot disengaged by itself for spatial fluctuations, above all if it was produced by Blargs. And from the logo left on the pieces of metal… Yep, Blarg indeed. Were you resting when the moronic autopilot went off…? No doubt you couldn't eject yourself!

Accepting this theory, the Lombax scanned again the surroundings, finding only metal and flames, no other passengers. He made a mental note to make a call to the local division of Rangers later in the workshop to report the accident and send someone to investigate further. However this robot was now his priority, he had to check for internal damage, just to be sure: that had been one heck of a crash landing. So much for asking for a distraction, I have to be careful on what I wish for.

An hour later the Lombax finished his examination with a relieved sigh: nothing was broken or dislocated and the battery was fully charged. It- she should be awake soon.

The teen mechanic had soon noted her style differences from genderless or male robot: the round optic frames had upward commas on both external sides, almost eyelashes-like, there was a strange rubber protrusion on the bottom part of her body that covered the retracted feet like some kind of skirt and finally the feet themselves were like oval shaped mid-heels shoes. Moreover the titanium (once cleaned from ashes and scorch marks) held a pale lilac shine. However there were strangeness, too: the absence of lips paint that he remembered seeing on the news anchor robo-lady of Channel 2 News, as also the lack of "hairstyle" that both the journalist and the synthetic singer Courtney Gears shared.

He couldn't deny that she made him curious: she was a really strange mecha, although her size (half of his height and he was already a runt, but he wouldn't ever admit it) she was pretty advanced and adaptable despite coming from a series production line (he had guessed so from the serial number printed inside her chassis) that he never saw around. Was she a new model?

That could be the answer. But what about the crash? The Lombax sighed again and decided to ask her directly once awake.

He put her on his work desk again and stood to stretch: he was always generally stiff after a so precise revision, above all if he had to deal with robots. He preferred ships, heavy machines or even weaponry because they didn't require the freaky accuracy needed to repair robots, but he was capable of it.

The Lombax was so deep in thought and in the exercises that he didn't notice how the mecha's optics opened revealing a pair of emerald green lens that scanned the inside of the messy workshop and stopped on his figure, as pondering him.

Slowly, after coming with a decision, she extended her limbs from her chassis, hesitantly made few steps on the work desk towards the other oblivious occupant of the workshop and lifted a hand with a raised index.

– E-excuse me… – her very first words were a bit shaky and unsure, but they were enough to startle the creature that her databanks now confirmed was a Lombax. It -he? She was not certain- spun around in alarm, pupil enlarged by the size of teacup plate making his emerald irises almost hidden, while he emitted a yelp. She herself jumped back because of that reaction and froze, not knowing what the other would do. At first she had approached him because she assumed the Lombax was the one that extracted her from the remains of the ship, but this response was not something listed in her brief experience with other beings. Was he dangerous or aggressive? What should she do?

Before any decision was made, he took a deep breath, resting a hand in the middle of his torso. – Phew, lil' one, don't scare me like that, I almost jumped out of my fur! – the voice (definitely male, her guess had been right) was relieved while releasing a strange sound that her databank identified, after a long search, as a laugh. – What do you need?

– A-are you the one that rescued me f-from what I assume was the crash site of my s-ship? – her insecurity and shyness were back in full force, but her index was still raised, even if a little lower than the start.

– Yeah, you were the only thing still in one piece in that crater. What happened to you to end like that? – he asked curious, stepping near the work desk.

– I-I was s-shot d-down – she made a step behind, his presence near her made her incredibly nervous. Sensing her discomfort he stopped advancing making a placate gesture, but frowned.

– Why would anybody shot you? Is that why you didn't eject yourself from the ship? – he seemed confused but not "threatening" anymore, so she stood fidgeting, unsure.

– Y-yes, i-it was. I-I did not k-know which b-button was it. I-I panicked. – she held one of her wrist with the other three fingers metallic hand close to her body, looking at her feet awkwardly. – I-it was my f-first flight – she added in a murmur. Apparently he had heard her because he sighed.

– Never let amateurs drive your ship!* – she looked up, seeing the creature with his hands on his hips – However you didn't tell me why you were shot down. – he continued with a smirk somewhat mischievous.

– C-can I-I t-trust y-you, Mr.? – as soon those words left her mouth she regretted it: they would make her suspicious! However the response she got was a mere raise of one of his eyebrows.

– If you didn't do anything bad I think why not? I'm just a mechanic of a backwater planet, after all. – he shrugged, unconcerned.

– Y-you are not in league with B-Blargs? – she hesitated and he snorted.

– Those fourth grade technician? In their pathetic dreams! Were they the culprits? – he realized it? However his tone was light hearted and curious but with a serious undertone. It was that that at last helped her to take the final step.

– I-I have to r-report some illegal a-affairs I-I came across. I-I was found out and s-some of Blargs' d-drones chased me and s-shot me down…

– And now they think you're dead – that seemed more a question that a statement so she nodded. He folded this arms.

– I-I suppose s-so – he briefly closed his eyes at that affirmation, frowning in thought – M-Mr., do you h-have any contacts with t-the local authorities? – he glanced at her, considering her proposition.

– Well, I was going to call the Galactic Rangers anyway, so it's worth a shot. Gimme a minute – he walked towards a hanging device on the wall and dialed a number on its old keyboard.

– Galactic Rangers, what's the emergency? – after a while a green robot with an orange eye appeared on the screen of the device.

– An hour ago a ship was shot down on the Kyzil Plateau and the survivor said that was chased by Blargs. Can you send a squad and investigate? – he asked seriously.

– Blargs? You have a strange sense of humor furball! They don't have any affairs in this sector of the galaxy! Tell the "survivor" to check his brain for damage, then we'll send a squad. Ranger out. – the call was abruptly cut, eliciting an exasperate sigh from the mechanic.

– Aaaaaaand nobody believes the Lombax. Great. Typical. Why do I even bother? – he passed a hand on his face then he turned to her. – Sorry, no luck.

She was conflicted: what should she do? If help could not be found here, maybe…

– Y-you did your b-best, Mr., it is not your f-fault. P-perhaps somebody else may l-listen… A h-hero? – the Lombax seemed to think for a second then slowly nodded.

– Well, there's always Captain Qwark in this sector. I hear him on the radio sometimes, but I don't know where he'd be now – he dropped his ears sympathetically for an instant, only to raise them again in a flash. – Hey, maybe I can help if you tell me what's that about!

– F-few seconds a-after my birth I-I found this – she allowed the infobot stored in her compartment to fly out and play the footage she had already seen. Instead of watching it again, she devoted herself to observe the Lombax. After her first encounter with another older being (the sentry robot), she was weary of other people. Thence her insecurity and stammer.

He seemed shocked and… angry? She didn't know what to do with that reaction, so she waited a full response after the end of the "commercial".

– What the heck he thinks he's doing?! That's an abomination! – he cried hotly, then looked at her scandalized. – Why isn't anyone aware of this? I-I mean, disbanding planets? This is madness!

– N-no, this i-is Blargs' policy. U-use everything you c-can, then throw i-it away.

– That's disgusting! – he paused than frowned – Hey, with this the Rangers must believe me! …But their outpost is too far from here by foot. If my ship wasn't a useless scrap of metal…! – he growled frustrated.

– M-Mr., so you have a s-ship, don't y-you? – she asked hopefully and he nodded, but after a hesitation – M-maybe you could give m-me a lift to that planet c-coordinates. With more evidences t-the Galactic Rangers m-might be more inclined to believe…!

– Yeaaah, about it. …There might be a slight problem – he interrupted her, looking as sheepish as her.

– W-which it might be? – she wondered curious.

– My ship can fly, but… IdonthavetheRoboticIgnitionSystemtostarther… – he blurted with a slight redness under his fur. Is he sick?

– T-that problem i-is easily solved, Mr.. I-I am equipped with one o-of them. T-the latest model to be p-precise. – she gestured toward her sisterboard inside her chassis with a hand.

– That's amazing! – the redness was suddenly gone – Say, after informing the Rangers of Blargs' attack, can you accompany me to another planet so I can buy a R.I.S. myself and you're free to go wherever you want? – his tail seemed to lash in anticipation.

– Y-yes, I can. I-if it is enough to c-compensate the danger t-this situation will b-bring upon you, Mr. … – she hesitated, but he shrugged.

– You haven't seen what happens on this planet once a cycle, it practically rains clumsy hoverboard racers from this sector championship. They say that Veldin mountains are a great track because of his rock formations, but ain't a great spectacle at all when they are splashed with people's… – he paused at her horrified gaze and half-laughed apologetically. – Sorry, no need for the graphic content. But I'll be fine, how different would it be? – he waved a hand dismissing the topic while heading deeper inside the workshop. – I'll be back in a flash, I've only to grab some gears and we can go.

– G-gears of which diameter? W-which use are t-they for? – amazed by the response of a complete stranger willing to help her, she carefully stepped toward the other edge of the desk, waiting the Lombax. She heard a distant booming laugh.

– Not that kind of gear, tin can, I meant equipment and clothes! How don't you know something so basic? – was the mild muffled answer from beyond the door the other had vanished behind.

– I-it must b-be because I-I was created a-approximately 2,4759 standard hours a-ago… – she admitted a little uncomfortable.

– Wait! You're that young? – the Lombax's head popped out from the doorframe with a disbelieving expression, staring at her. Under his gaze she weakly and uncertainly nodded. Would this information change something?

She's barely a baby –temporally speaking, of course– and her first thought is to try and save people? Even after being shot down? It's only because she's a robot or is she just like that? The mechanic thought, wholly coming back inside his quarters after staring at the petit robot.

Troubled by this train of thought, he finished dressing himself with a more resistant and thermoregulatory total body suit and discharged his previous oil-stained pair of trousers in the laundry crate. Dusting off his feet, he then slipped on a pair of sturdy boots and wore a harness in case he had to carry a tool box on his back… Incidentally during his examination on the little mecha, he had discovered on her back the same bolt lock of the gear. It was strange…

Carefully he checked the accessories he had on (a belt with pockets and magnetic hook on his left hip for the Omniwrench, the harness, the computerized wrist band with both help desk and storage function links, the wrench itself already hooked on the belt, the suit, the leather pilot cap and gloves) and then nodded, satisfied.

He came back in the main room of the workshop (the biggest one, in order to accommodate ships), only to came in view of the little mecha who was gazing around, still atop the desk, a little lost but at least no more as insecure as before.

– Here I am, ready to go? – he asked her with a cheerful but somewhat softer tone. She looked a bit startled by his sudden arrival, but nodded and began to get off the desk, but noticing the height she hesitated. Taking pity he approached her slowly, remembering her backing before, and offered her a hand.

She stared at it, torn, but at his half smile she took it and she was gracefully settled on ground. She nodded a bit shyly in response and followed him outside and toward the ship after he had closed the workshop. The little mecha scanned briefly the vehicle and nodded again.

– I-I can stat it u-up, indeed. D-did you built it, M-Mr.? – she looked up at him amazed. He grinned while opening the hatch and again offered help for the different height. This time she didn't hesitate and was placed on the co-pilot seat. Next to her sat the Lombax who took a firm hold of the ship controls, barely containing his excitement.

– Oh, by the way – he started saying before the engine began to roar, making her perk up– if we're gonna do half of the crazy stuff I think we're gonna do, you can call me Ratchet.

And they took off.

To: quartufactory#blargempire,sol

From: seniorcaretaker#timekeeper,pol

Subject: Veldin

It seems that she made an acquaintance who will help her towards Novalis. He seems trustworthy.

From an old mail, down there there could be an old friend of mine that could lend them a hand.

I'll send you further information later.

OSC

* Oh, the irony! xD

(The last paragraph was supposed to have a fake mail address, but it seems that FFN doesn't accept it, so please use your immagination =_=' )

Oh, and ups for the half-quote of a number based title of a famous movie... A digital mochi (of your favourite flavour) for the first one who notices it! ^w^

And I want to thank Isomniac Games for letting us write fan fiction on their amazing work... (Of course I don't own nothing!)

Thank you for the reviews and here, have a new chapter!