The sun was low, burning streaks of orange and red through the water. Daxter looked down the length of the lab with a touch of newfound respect. The greenhouses above flashed red, and then the internal lighting took over. Half went dark.

"What's with that?" Daxter pointed to the black glass.

"High altitude environments, mostly," I said, turning to my house. "And the Sickle environments. Though they are devilishly tricky to maintain." We walked to the back and I pointed down. "It's a steep staircase. You can go ahead of me. My knees will make me go... ah... rather slowly."

I refused Jak's offer to carry me down several times. Daxter was already at the dock when the Glakkickh shook his head and turned. I gripped the railing and bit my lower lip. The wood was shaky. As I had anticipated, halfway down my knees froze. I sighed, carefully reached into my subspace compartment, and popped some Liqui-cap pills. The unfortunate side effect was drowsiness. I shook my head and started down again.

A full ten minutes later Jak looked at me. "I wouldn't've minded," he said.

"Yes, but I would have." I groaned and stretched my legs. I stifled a yawn.

"Weird boat," said the ottsel. "Where's the sails?"

"It doesn't have any." The boat bobbed next to the dock, a tear-shaped, windowless metal and wood creation. I entered the access code and the door swung open, "get in."

"It's more like a submarine," said Daxter, peering into the dark room inside.

"It's enclosed, yes." I climbed in carefully and pushed the boat away from the dock. "Yes," I yawned. "Submarine." I tapped the destination into the computer. "Now, remember," I yawned again.

"You okay, doc?"

I waved a hand at him and yawned again. "Shh. Remember, this is an emergency vehicle. It may go faster than-"

With a jolt, the boat shot forward.

"-you expected it to."

"Woah!" Jak grabbed the walls. The boat tipped down and skimmed along the underside of the water's surface. It rocked terribly. "Is it supposed to be doing this?"

"It's fine." I yawned again.

"How long's this gonna take?" Daxter screamed.

"Fifteen minutes, about." I pulled some brand name Kaffeine out of my subspace compartment and took a swig. It kicked in immediately. "Ahh. Much better."

"You're shaking, doc."

I looked at my hands. They were, indeed, shaking. So much so that the Kaffeine splashed around my knees. I tried to screw the top back on, but the threads couldn't interlock unless they were held steady. Finally Jak took it from me.

"Thank you," I said reluctantly.

"You're welcome," he handed it back and I put it away.

"There's repercussions for everything," I said, holding up my hands. My thin fingers twitched, confusing the suit.

"So I see."

"Pull down that string, there," I pointed awkwardly at the wall with my thumb, unable to curl my fingers together.

The Glakkickh complied. "Neat."

"This is a map of the Southeast Quadrant; that's our part of the world."

Daxter groaned. "I hate geography!"

"You obviously do not know anything about your surroundings," I said. "If Ashelin plans to reopen Haven, she's going to need more than brutes and guns."

"Reopen Haven?" Jak looked at the old paper map thoughtfully.

"Let me explain."

Daxter shrieked. "I refuse to participate!" He curled up into a huffy ball and snored loudly.

"You can refuse to participate quietly," I hissed.

Jak looked down and nudged the ottsel with his foot.

"Fine." Daxter turned over and didn't speak again.

"The island in the middle is Haven. All of the large land masses are named after the largest cities on them. Haven City takes up most of the island, as you should know."

Jak nodded. "I've been outside the walls a few times."

"Good. Now, Haven has a few tinier islands around it, and there are eco wells and such near its harbors." He nodded. "The large land mass south of Haven is the Waste Land Peninsula, where we just were." I pointed one shaking hand behind us. "Haven's Sector-Naming system calls the area I was in Sector 7G."

"Yeah." He searched the map of Haven, particularly looking at the penciled regions where I had written Spider Caves and Swamp?.

"The land mass to the west of Haven is Perpetua. That's also the name of the biggest city." I smiled a little.

"That's where you're from, right?" Jak sat back and squinted at the map. "It's huge!"

"Yes. Haven is the smallest of the three Greater Land Masses in the Southeast Quadrant. It is also," I lowered my eyes, "the poorest."

"Really?" The Glakkickh folded his arms.

"Yes. Perpetua and Sickle," my fingers shook at the third land mass on the map, "have closed all trading businesses with Haven. It is illegal for either land mass to import or export any good to or from that location. Those laws were put into effect decades ago, when it became apparent that the Barons of Haven weren't complying with the Southeast Quadrant Humane Terms."

"Humane Terms?"

I looked at him cooly. "You didn't think Praxis' treatment of his citizens was smiled upon, did you? Perpetua has the second highest standard of living in the world. It horrified us, as a population, to hear what was happening in Haven. I remember seeing vids of people being shot in the streets, and the Krimzon Guard is known the world over for its ignorance and cruelty." I shook my head at him. "Does Ashelin know of the Humane Terms? Is anyone in the Haven Council aware of the outside world?"

He looked around the cabin. "I don't know," he said quietly.

"And I've become the ambassador," I muttered. "Well, anyway, I was granted special permission to work in Haven and use its resources. You must understand, Glakkickh, that Haven was indeed once beautiful, but its current situation is atrocious."

"It is." Jak's eyes dimmed. I imagined he was probably thinking of the Baron's dark experiments.

"Social commentary can continue later," I said. "Sickle is that island there."

"It looks like the crescent moon," he said.

"So it does. How poetic of you, Glakkickh." He smiled a bit. "Sickle has some utterly fascinating environments. There are lakes and seas there of liquid metal, not water. The adaptations of those marine creatures are incredible, and it is widely believed that Metal Heads originated there. That is where I did my graduate work in Biometallics."

"People live there?"

"Yes, some of the physically strongest people in the world." I turned in the uncomfortable wooden seat. My hands shook less. "There are some ways to differentiate citizens from each land mass."

Daxter snored loudly, only this time it wasn't fake. Jak nudged him.

"The people of Haven come from both Sickle and Perpetua, so their features are usually a blend of the two. Sickle citizens have a range of dark skin tones and massive muscle systems."

"Sig!"

"What?"

Jak picked a piece of flint off his sleeve. "I think I know someone from there."

"Is he a gunman?"

"Yes."

"Not surprised. Sickle society is militant and organized. Perpetua citizens are much slimmer," I held out my arm. "We're shorter and paler. If you had to summarize each land mass in one word, Sickle would be 'military' and Perpetua 'art.'"

"And Haven?"

I thought. "Poor."

Jak frowned. "You shouldn't measure Haven by just money! People I care about live there. I live there."

"Yes."

The cabin was silent for a minute.

"Why is it important to know how people look different, anyway?"

"So that you can understand why certain people react to situations the way they do. There is more in your ancestral descent than you think there is."

Jak looked away. "Funny you should mention that."

I sensed he would only make vague comments if I inquired. "Broad nose," I said, lightly touching his face. He shot back in his seat as if I had burned him. I sat forward. "Cut jaw and angled cheeks." I frowned. "Probably fuller before the experimentation," he nodded, looking away. "Yes. Torture drains a young face of softness. Large eyes and wide frame. You have a classic Eastern-Perpetua form, with a hint of Sickle. Of course, this makes you one hundred percent Haven, because of the unique-" I squinted. "You know, you have just a glimmer of Mar in your zygomatic arches."

"Thanks."

"A lot of Haven citizens are Western-Perpetua descendants. They have longer faces and are prone to obesity."

Jak snickered.

"Your mother was Perpetua descended," I said softly, "and your father... he was probably a mix of a lot of things."

"All this with just a face."

"Three doctorates- I better be able to interpret your bone structure."

He looked at me. "I think Ashelin could really use you in Haven."

The boat slowed. The thought of working in Haven again displeased me. "Know what, Glakkickh?" I shifted, wondering if I was going to regret my next words. "I might stay a little longer than I originally planned to. You have a hideous lack of knowledge of the world. I'd hate to think what your government would do in the event it reopened Haven to trade, not knowing what the consequences would be."

Jak snorted. "Are all Perpetuates as flattering as you?"

"No. Most are worse."