This chappie was a bit slow in the making, but man, when I got going it was like an impressively fast moving thing. And stuff.

So, the plot thickens! Keira, Dax and Torn finally arrive! The more I write this the more of a romantic bent I'm inclined to put into it. Not just straight romance, mind you, I'm not nearly fluffy enough for that kind of stuff. But its now springtime, at least where I live, and that means thoughts of (insert your own verb here) are in the air.Yours truly's air included, blast it all. Tell me honestly, what do you guys think of what's happening so far? And don't be afraid to be honest cuz I'm an English major. I assure you, English majors are more than capable of writing crap. I've written my fair share. So let me know what you think, if this makes you think. If not, that's cool too. If you're apathetic and just want to read the damn story, I appreciate that as well.

Read and Enjoy, my friends! Read, and Enjoy.

(P.S. I have over 600 hits on this story now! I dunno if that's a lot in the grand scheme of things, but it makes me feel special. Thank you all very much. :) )


Jak stood and stared in amazement as Ashelin hopped off the rickety old gun turret atop the wall of Spargus. She looked rather smug. Jak could hardly blame her. Taking down someone at 150 yards with a turret older than Samos was something to be proud of.

"Nice shot." He said finally, not really knowing what to say. Jak gazed past her out at the wreckage of the Kavokan vehicle, straining for a glimpse of the Kavokan she had so recently dispatched.

"Don't mention it." Ashelin said, brushing past him. "We have bigger problems now. That shot should scare the rest of them off, but they'll be back, make no mistake." She leaned over the wooden railing to the stairs, staring down the spiraling circle. "That Marauder woman is insane. I hope for all our sakes she's really on our side, Jak. I'm not going to lie to you, it seems sketchy to me."

"I got thrown out of Haven for being "sketchy"." Jak retorted, cerulean eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Hell if I know why she's here, but we need the help. Haven isn't the only one with problems, you know."

"I know, Jak." Ashelin said quietly. "But one spy, one tipoff from the Kavokans, and you might as well knock down these walls for all the good they'll do to protect you. The Kavokans are dangerous, Jak. If she's with them-" She paused, then continued quietly. "It's said that they have technology of the Precursors. They could probably bring down all of Spargus in a week if they tried ."

"I don't believe that." Jak said, catching her arm. "Tell me what's really going on here. Why choose the Wasteland as a drilling site? And what do Marauders have to do with eco wells?" It was only a few of the questions he would have liked to ask. His mind traced back to a time not so long ago when the distance between them was not so great in any sense of the word. Those curves, that voice...Jak shifted, slightly uncomfortable at the memory, but his hand held firm.

Ashelin scowled, then relented, seeing as Jak wasn't letting go. "The Wasteland is a huge source of eco. Millions of barrels lie in the rock underneath the dunes. For the risk, it's the greatest payoff." She pulled away from him, her eyes locked with his. Jak saw that her fists were clenched slightly. A slight breeze ruffled her red dreadlocks.

"And the Kavokans?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"They're not Marauders, Jak. They're monks. Or they were. Nobody ever gets close enough to confirm anything. Our intel is a little shoddy on them lately. As I'm sure you've noticed. " She thumbed in the direction of the burning carcasses of the transports. "They... had a disagreement with my father."

"Big surprise." Jak said, snorting softly.

"Yes." She paused for a moment, searching for what to say, then sighed. "It's complicated. I don't know how to explain it."

And luckily for her at that moment she didn't have to. Her communicator crackled and sputtered. "Ashelin, Ashelin this is Torn. Can you read me?" The faint voice of Torn could be heard over waves of static. Ashelin snatched her communicator off of her hip.

"Ashelin here. Report, Commander." Ashelin said, relieved for the distraction and at once all business.

"Thank Mar, it's good to hear your voice. You scared us back there. What the hell happened? And how did you manage to blow up not two but three of my transports all at the same time?" His voice was rough, as usual, but there was a smidgen of playfulness behind it. Ashelin rolled her eyes.

"We ran into some Kavokans. They're the ones that took out the transports. Looks like they're better informed than we thought." She gazed over the top of the wall at the black smoke and ashes that were billowing from the ruined transports.

"Heh. I always hoped we'd never see them again." Torn chuckled grimly. "So that other scrap pile out there is Kavokan then? Are the troops okay?"

"Affirmative. One of the locals decided to play chicken with that Kavokan racer. The troops are inside Spargus. Everyone is accounted for."

"Good. Tell the citizens the marketplace is closing early today. Torn out."

Jak blinked. Ashelin swore. "What the hell does he mean, the marketplace is..."

Whatever Ashelin had to say was drowned out by the roar of jet engines. A blue streak flashed across the sky and circled round, swooping over the city of Spargus in lazy circles. It was Torn, smirking down at them from a repainted Hellcat. He waved once, then pulled away and drifted down for a landing inside the city walls. Even from where they stood Jak and Ashelin could hear swearing, chickens squawking, and the crashing of stalls. They both winced.

"Sure knows how to make an entrance." Jak muttered, shooting Ashelin a knowing sidelong glance. Then he hopped nimbly over the railing to the old wooden staircase and disappeared below. Ashelin smiled, a bit wistfully.

"Yes he does." Ashelin remarked to herself, half amused, half disgusted, as she descended the stairs like a normal person. Torn, Torn, Torn. Some things just never changed.


The marketplace was as chaotic as if someone had just landed right in the middle of it with a large cruiser. Which, incidentally, someone had, and he was leaned nonchalantly against the cruiser trying to ignore the looks of death he was getting from the marketplace shopkeepers. The actual damage wasn't too bad, just a few cracked stall frames and some bruised fruit, but that hardly made the Spargan merchants any happier that their day had been so rudely interrupted. That it happened during wartime didn't help any either. Discontented muttering and the caressing of weapons rippled through the crowd as Jak and Ashelin pushed their way through to where Torn was standing.

"Torn!" Jak said, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Jak. Glad to see this place hasn't killed you." Torn said, grinning in that slightly creepy way of his.

"Either that or he's just too stubborn to die." Carried a female voice from the cruiser. Keira hopped out, her fine featured face a little smudged with oil. "Torn, your equalizers are giving out. I'd have them replaced as soon as possible." She walked over to the three slowly, wiping her hands on a dirty rag.

"Keira..." Jak said slowly, his eyes widening. Keira ignored him, but she bristled a little at the sound of his voice. Torn and Ashelin exchanged slightly more friendly looks. Neither Torn nor Ashelin knew what had gone on between these two but it didn't look like a fairytale, that was for sure.

"I came because you're not going to win this war without a decent mechanic. If the drive train on one of those dune buggies you have gives out while you're out fighting we're all screwed." Her voice was short, matter of fact. "And Haven needs the help." She admitted, somewhat grudgingly.

There was a pause. "I see." Jak said. His voice was cooler now. "Thanks." Jak averted his eyes, and was that pain in his voice? There was an uneasy silence. Ashelin, ever the diplomat, opened her mouth to change the subject but was cut off by a rodent-like squeal.

"Jak!" Daxter screeched, having finally extricated himself from the cruiser. He scampered over to the group and wasted little time in taking his customary perch atop Jak's shoulder. "Long time no see, buddy. How's life in the sandbox treatin ya?" He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his beloved blue pants, grinning widely.

Jak merely smiled. "Hey Dax. Life is great." He spared the barest glance over to Keira at this. "C'mon Dax, we have stuff to catch up on." He turned slightly to leave.

"Indeed you do." Interjected a cool voice. Jak's ears prickled. That voice. Something about it set him immediately on edge. He looked for the source of it but all he could see were the confused faces of the marketplace goers. The crowd seemed to sense danger too, for it milled and parted to reveal a single injured man in strange armor standing twenty feet away from the cruiser. He seemed totally calm with the whole situation, despite the fact that one arm was in a sling and he was using a badly battered Peacemaker to support most of his weight. "You have much "stuff"," the man said quietly. "To talk about indeed." He took a few hobbled steps towards them.

"Who are you?" Jak growled, resting a hand on his gun. Torn immediately whipped the pistol he carried off of his thigh and cocked it, Ashelin following immediately after. Keira slipped away from the people with weapons back into the cruiser and out of any potential line of fire. A few civilians shouldered their weapons as well.

"Who I am is not important." The man said, flicking the long thick chestnut braid that was resting on his ear behind his shoulder with a toss of his head. "It is what I have to say that you should take heed of." He leaned on the Peacemaker, staring at each of them intently. His gaze was powerful, but mild; it was obvious that even with his current injury he was a man to be reckoned with.

"And?" Daxter demanded, hopping down on the ground in front of Ashelin, Jak, and Torn. "We haven't got all day you know. Lay your important message on us, oh mysterious one." Daxter said, giving a mock bow. "Jak, can you believe this guy?" He asked, thumbing in the man's general direction. Jak rolled his eyes.

"Mar." The man said quietly. Jak's eyes narrowed suspiciously, how did he know his true name? "Beneath your feet lies the lifeblood of the planet. Tamper with it, and you tamper with the nature of the planet itself."

"You're one of the Kavokans." Ashelin growled, her eyes flashing dark with anger. A woman next to her gasped and clutched her small child against her. "No, it couldn't be!" "Impossible!" Anxious whispers flittered through the crowd like a restless flock of birds. Torn's grip on his gun tightened, and Daxter conveniently skittered behind Jak's legs.

"I am that, Governess. Brother Marek, to be precise. A pleasure to meet you." He bowed slightly, no trace of irony whatsoever. "I apologize for our earlier run in." Ashelin blinked incredulously, it was if the man was apologizing for walking on her lawn as opposed to blowing up three government vehicles. "But this is no place to chat." Marek said, appearing for the first time to notice the setting that they all were in. "Might I suggest we retire to somewhere more private?"

"There you are!" The angry voice of Sig carried over the murmuring voices of the astonished onlookers. Immediately they fell away from him as if in a great wave, leaving a clear path beneath the injured Brother Marek and the Lord of Spargus. Excited whispers ran through the crowd, only Lord Sig was powerful enough to dispence justice to a Kavokan. Angrily he charged through the crowd, the whine of the Peacemaker cutting through the whispers like a bugle announcing the impending destruction.

"Oh dear." Marek sighed mildly. "It appears my escaping from the sick house has been discovered. Ah well." Marek didn't turn to glance at his incoming foe, but his ears were twitching slightly, pinpointing the location of his footfalls. His right foot was creeping out slowly, the more experienced fighters among the crowd would notice that he was subtly redistributing his weight, perhaps in preparation for an attack. Marek flashed a brief smile to each of them, wizened eyes gleaming in his relatively young face. "So it goes."

There were only a few steps left between Sig and Marek. Jak knew better than to interfere, Sig had most likely taken Marek's escaping as a personal injury to his pride. And nobody carried a deeper or more bitter grudge than Sig. It was a matter of honor now, and injured or no Marek would have to face what he had brought upon himself. Marek's eyes closed halfway, pupils flickering beneath the lowered lids. Unconsciously the trio and a half held its breath.

"Turn around." Sig growled, the whine of his Peacemaker at its highest pitch. There would be no mercy. Marek glanced over his shoulder at Sig, a faint half smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Then, so quickly that even Jak had a hard time following the movement, he bent almost double backwards, his uninjured hand finding a neat hold with which to propel himself up off the ground and backward, all while still holding his own Peacemaker. He seemed to hang in the air above Sig for a moment, good arm outstretched, legs tucked loosely underneath him, a serene expression on his face. Then he landed neatly behind the King of Spargus, and before anyone could react he had his own Peacemaker across Sig's throat in a stranglehold, one half of the weapon across Sig's shoulderblade to use as leverage.

"You have chosen an unwise time to interfere." He said, murmuring quietly so that only Sig could hear. Sig was struggling to breathe, writhing against the weapon at his throat. "I do wish our conversation could be held on more favorable terms." Marek shrugged slightly. Ashelin tugged at Jak's shoulder.

"Shouldn't we do something?" She whispered. Jak shook his head. No matter how much he would have liked to step in and blow the Kavokan's head off, Sig would never allow it, nor any proper Spargan for that matter. So he crossed his arms and watched, uneasily.

"You dirty son of a bitch." Sig growled between gasps. "I should have known you were in with that Marauder."

"The Marauder?" He seemed amused. "No sir. I came here to prevent our lovely Governess from sucking the life out of the planet. The Marauders have their own affairs," At this point Sig ducked under the weapon at his throat and threw a punch at Marek's head. He sidestepped it neatly. "we do not meddle in them when we can avoid it. Nor yours. Its simply too messy." Marek flipped his Peacemaker so that it was tucked underneath his shoulder, ready to lash out at any moment like an inverted scorpion's tail. "But the planet," He continued, circling the king slowly. "Now that is another matter. It is unfortunate that our negotiations had to come to violence, but there was no other way. I assure you it wasn't for our lack of trying."

Sig's eyes followed the roving Marek, both hands tightening on his own Peacemaker. "Negotiations, hah. You really expect me to believe that?" Sig challenged, silently gauging where Marek would pause next.

"Not really. The Governess didn't. In fact, she seems quite hell bent on continuing the war that her father himself started." Marek paused and winced, his good hand floating to his ribs momentarily. Instantly Sig charged in, knocking Marek's Peacemaker to the ground and pointing his own weapon at his throat. Marek's eyes fluttered in momentary shock and pain, but he continued, obviously determined to press on. "Come, Lord Sig. You didn't think a war such as this, one that has gone on so long, would have started all by itself, did you?"

"What are you saying?" Growled Sig, the whine of his weapon charging up again backing the ferociousness of his words.

"What I am saying is that Baron Praxis deliberately started this war. He sent in troops disguised as Spargans to raid the food supplies of the Marauders, rape their women, burn what villages they had, anything to provoke them to war. And he succeeded." Marek's eyes slid over to Ashelin, who was standing rigid and stonefaced between Jak and Torn. "What's more," Marek continued quietly. "The raids on the Marauders haven't stopped since. Even after his daughter took the throne. Don't you find it odd that she has yet to resolve the City Council? Or appoint new advisors? Or even hold elections?" Marek laughed quietly. It was not a happy laugh. "Most of all, don't you find it odd that the Governess would find it so difficult to keep her own military, albeit perhaps now ex-military, from going after tribes of virtually defenseless desert nomads?"

"Is this true?" Sig demanded, never taking his eyes off of Marek, even for a second, but doubt was inherent in every subtle movement that he made. "Does this man speak the truth, Ashelin? Did Baron Praxis start this war?"

There was a long silence. Ashelin was staring straight ahead at nothing, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Of course its not true, right Ashelin?" Torn said, attempting to keep the look of doubt from his face. "I knew every in and out of the Krimson Guard while in Haven. If something like that ever happened I would be the first to know about it." He turned to Sig, his argument gaining speed. "I can tell you, there's no way the KG ever-"

"No, Torn." Ashelin said quietly, lifting her gaze to meet Sig's. "It's true."


dun Dun DUN! End!

Until I write again, adios. :)