[Ratchet hesitates for a long, suspended moment before he locks the audio feed and resists the extremely strong and slightly hysterical urge to bang his helm against his desk.]

It's my hands, Magnus. [He sounds so tired.] I was killed--well, I died recently. Here. And, yeah, people come back, but not quite whole, from what I've been able to gather. Lots of people lose memories but I haven't noticed any gaps--just... when I came out of cryo, it was with the hands I had when The Lost Light took off from Cyberton the first time. The broken ones. I don't know what happened to my other set, but I'm pretty sure they're gone for good, and even if they aren't there's nothing I can do to get them back now. I'm... working out a solution. But after a whole fragging year trapped in that sinkhole I can barely make a fist, let alone hold tools or operate.

There's nothing anyone else can do. There's no way to really fix it. I'm doing what I can. I just need people to not nearly get killed in the meantime, because I don't know if I'll be able to help them.