By David C. Daoust
Ratchet was back within the hold of the Blue family Sand Crawler. The series of events that now made up his life weighed heavily into his very being- forming a pit. The pit in his chest was like a gaping wound, seeping worry into the rest of him. As always, Ratchet found a way to keep busy. It seemed one of the junkbot’s thrusters was not quite optimal; caused the contraption to only spin about in circles. He was going over the design in an attempt to find what could have gone wrong. Ratchet found as long as he kept his hands moving, his mind working, he felt he might make it through to his next court date. A date that he even wondered if he was actually needed in attendance- considering the judge had allowed a complete mental copy to be made of his mind.
His family seemed to be scattered, so he was glad that the Blue’s were so close- and so plentiful.
The Blue sisters were everywhere. Dicey, the youngest of them, was actually chatting with Margo as he worked on the junkbot. He could not believe how they could just talk, talk, talk, about absolutely nothing, and still be happy to talk some more. All of this while the bot’s head was flipped back, allowing him access to her inner workings. Grace was nearby, though much quieter. He knew Harper had chores of her own to do throughout the sand crawler- though checked in on him more than once since he set himself to work. Farrah and Sadie, however, were not home.
Ratchet’s father and crew were off trudging through Twin Crown’s wastes- speaking with reluctant First Wave in person, trying to make the secession happen with fervor; Raymond’s interests in a free Twin Crown had doubled with Ratchet’s growing situation. His brother and Grandpa Haul had vanished some time ago. Ratchet could only wonder what they were up to. He hadn’t seen his cousin Craiden or his Aunt Mari since they charged into the Drone Raid- days ago. No one had. It was not too unusual for members to vanish for a while, but considering the events leading up to their absence, well, they were all starting to worry.
Ratchet followed a series of wires down through the empty bucket to where he attached the anti-gravity thrusters. He could not find anything wrong. That is, until he tried to manually shift the thruster from the outside. It was stuck. Something was wedged up under the bracket, within the bucket. He pulled himself up over the rim, he turned himself completely upside down as he allowed the light of the triwrench to illuminate the darkest reaches of the junkbot’s innards- he didn’t see anything. His fingers, though, felt a small cylindrical shaft, that really should not be there.
Getting a grip, the shaft suddenly snapped in half, one half dropped through to the ground, as Ratchet brought the other half with him as he righted himself.
An orange crayon?
“My crayon!” Dicey suddenly announced, at first cheerfully but then her tone shifted as she accused, “You broke it!”
Great, more accusations, Ratchet thought grimly as he stepped away from the Junkbot.
Margo, upon feeling the thruster free at last, began roving around the room, head still flipped back like an open trash can, happily able to maneuver around without the use of her over-sized arms or worrying about going round and round in circles.
Upon this sudden change of the room, Ratchet felt as the entire Sand Crawler suddenly lurched. Felt as the engines unexpectedly roared, and the over-sized vehicle began to move. Ratchet was not sure who could be driving the thing- Mrs. Blue was not even home.
The vehicle was spinning about and charging through the rubble of Grady before the cargo hold was even closed! The entire vehicle was shaking violently- Ratchet found it hard to stand, even harder to maneuver.
Ratchet told the girls to secure themselves as he stumbled to the cargo bay doors. He slammed the lock with his hand just as the ramp threatened to get jammed up with debris- rock and sand were already being scooped up. Whoever was driving, was reckless, without a care for who else was in the vehicle.
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