A proximity alarm blared. The outer hull of Drek’s command ship groaned.
“Subject is a juvenile Lombax. Last of his kind, according to pan-galactic census. Intelligence: remarkable. Formal education: zero. He has no knowledge of quantum theory, yet he rebuilt a Warp Drive from a trash compactor and a toaster. His primary weapon is a modified OmniWrench 8000. It is not a weapon. He uses it like one. This is illogical.” ratchet and clank codex
The recording cuts to static. The last image is the OmniWrench impacting the primary lens of the recording device. The final audio is a low, metallic voice: A proximity alarm blared
Drek slammed a fist on the console. “They choose the 17% chance. Every. Single. Time. And they win.” Last of his kind, according to pan-galactic census
“Clank, the orphanage is on fire. The factory is making the fuel. Do we save the kids or blow the factory?” Clank: “Logic dictates that destroying the factory will save future lives. However, the sound of crying organic younglings is… distressing. I have calculated a third option.” Ratchet: “Let me guess. We blow the factory while saving the kids.” Clank: “Precisely. The probability of survival is 17%. But you have broken probability before.” Ratchet: “That’s my favorite hobby.”
The Lombax grinned. Drek could see his teeth even from here.
The next file was a data-pair. It showed a small, silver robot with a single blue optic lens. “Designation: Clank. Origin: Unknown. Defective Warbot from my own Kilonoid生产线. Threat Level: Minimal. Error: The Lombax treats him as an equal. The robot provides tactical analysis, historical context, and moral restraint. The Lombax provides reckless improvisation. Together, they are not additive. They are multiplicative.”