The site isn't letting me use asterisks anymore to separate the author notes from the story, so my A/N's will be in bold from now on. First, thanks to the following linklies:
Phoenix Flower- Jak's ancestry is a fun topic. Maybe the Haven peeps should try the Atkins diet- sure it kills your liver, but you look great! Haha. Thanks for the review!
Kokono- Haha, don't think too hard. wink Thanks for reviewing!
Miss Mandy- Whee! Thanks for your many long and inspirational reviews! Where in the game are the Metal Heads named? Hmm...
ElementalGoddess- long nosed shrew-like mammal thingy isn't too far off from the secret magical origins of Thrinaxia's name... haha. Discovery Channel rocks! Thanks for the review!
Zylia- Thanks for your IM reviews! (those count, durn it). I can't wait to see your many ficlets-epic fic.
Now, on to the (painfully) obvious: I didn't die! In fact, I'm finally done with school. I plan on writing a lot this summer between working (almost) full time and fighting my sisters to the death for control of the computer.
After this story is done I'm gonna post a chapter called Secrets of Thrinaxia, explaining the origins of her name and some other cool stuff. Also, I was thinking about making this the first in an arc- a Rebuilding Arc. As in, rebuilding Haven. But I don't want my fics to screw with whatever the third game has in store for us... I'll have to think about it, hehe.
"We're going under the harbor walls now, through a safety current," I said. The boat tilted down and the pressure in the cabin increased. I opened and shut my jaw, trying to alleviate the clicking in my ears. The lights dimmed significantly as the boat conserved power. After a few minutes it shot up again.
It bobbed gently on the surface of the water. I stood, heading for the door and wincing as my knees cracked. Jak picked up the sleeping ottsel. I took a deep breath. "The emergency vehicle should have alerted the Palace to send a small group of guards to meet me here. Did Praxis disable the primary alien emergency warnings?"
He stared at me.
"I presume that's a no."
The Glakkickh squinted. "Alien?"
"I'm not from your Land Mass," I said as I turned. "I can only assume the emergency warnings are still operable. When the door opens, it will form a small walkway we'll take to the dock." He nodded and I hit the door panel with a fist.
The door slid open, revealing smoggy night sky. Two things immediately hit me. The first was the smell- Haven's disgusting stench of social rot and supreme monarchial arrogance. The second was a tight cluster of menacing black circles, outlined by the city lights.
I raised my hands and forced my shield not to activate. The gun barrels swooped back. As I stepped onto the walkway, a team of Krimzon Guards eyed me suspiciously.
"Who are you?" An unmasked, heavily tattooed guard asked, his voice gravely. He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand.
Before I could answer, the Glakkickh said, "Torn?"
"Jak?" The guard tried to look around me. I stepped onto the pier, hands still raised. The guards shuffled back to give more room, the laser sights of their guns still centered on my chest.
"Chill," said Jak, appearing at the door.
The guard lowered his gun, looked at Daxter, and scoffed. "What happened to the rat?"
"Allergies," the Glakkickh shrugged. I put my hands down slowly and he joined me on the dock.
"Who's this?" asked Torn. He waved for the guards to lower their weapons.
"I am Dr. Thrinaxia," I said. I looked down at the dock water, swirling with pollution and dying luminescent phytoplankton. "Haven hasn't changed, I see."
"I'm Torn, Commander of the Krimzon Guard," he said. "We're changing the city now that Praxis is gone. What was your connection to him?"
I frowned. His voice was of the itchingly soft variety. "I obtained special permission to study in Sector 7G using Haven's resources."
He looked at me sideways. "Where are you from?"
"Perpetua."
"Psht." He shifted his feet and faced the Glakkickh. "What happened to the mission? Why didn't you report back?"
"My comm busted, and so did the transporter. Me and Dax met up with Thrinaxia. We used the ship to get back." He motioned backwards.
"Did you destroy the eggs?"
Jak glanced at me. "Uhh-"
"He certainly did not!" I folded my arms.
Torn stepped back a little, surprised. "Why not?" he hissed.
"I study Metal Heads," I said, looking right up into his eyes. "And you have absolutely no business disrupting the social patterns of my subjects in a protected area!"
Torn squinted at me, his frown deepening. "Study Metal Heads?"
"Yes."
He snorted a little. "That's what Praxis had you there for?"
"Yes! For the safe return of your scouts, I was promised an opportunity to speak to Ashelin about the continuation of my program."
Torn shook his head, almost smiling. "Ashelin." He pulled out his comm and walked away from us, muttering.
Jak looked from him to me and shrugged. Daxter opened one eye lazily.
"We're home!" He jumped up and perched on the Glakkickh's shoulder. He took a deep breath. "Ahh!" His sigh of relief dissolved into a coughing fit. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Yep. Good ol' stench a' home."
Jak grinned.
"So what'd I miss?" Daxter pushed his ears back and studied his nails.
"Torn's welcoming committee." Jak pointed to the guards. They stood silently, surveying the area.
I tilted my head. The stars were mostly obscured by black clouds of unnatural origin. I took out a flask of water and sipped carefully, trying not to inhale the air.
Torn stomped back over, barking to the guards. "Ashelin said to get you to the Palace. She'll speak to you in the morning, if she has time." He ignored my glare. "Everyone hurry up. We've got a cruiser ready."
I followed the Glakkickh, not allowing any of the guards to walk behind me. I didn't trust them for a second. My suit buzzed in reaction to my irritation and I set it to a minimal level. We sat in the back of a cargo cruiser, holding on to the riveted walls for balance.
"I need a medic," screamed Daxter over the sound of the cruiser's engines. He pointed to his bare skin and patches of fur.
"I think it's an improvement," said Torn.
Daxter stuck his tongue out at the guard. "You're just jealous cuz you know even though I'm half ragged, I'll still get more ladies than you!"
Torn rolled his eyes and looked away. "You disgust me," he said.
"It's one of my many talents." The ottsel bowed.
The cruiser landed hard and we exited. Torn nodded towards the back. We took a utility elevator to the top. I stood near the Glakkickh the whole time. I wasn't afraid, but wary.
"Remove any weapons, subspace compartments, communicators, higher dimensional storage facilities, knives, boots with heels over two centistandards in length, keys, nail clippers, coins, bolt cutters, tools, including metal and plastic wrenches, watches, prosthetics or false teeth," droned a guard.
Torn put his gun and knife into a plastic bin and walked through a detector arch. The light embedded in its apex remained green. He picked his knife up again and slung it over his shoulder.
The Glakkickh pulled four guns out of his subspace compartment, unclipped his backpack, and put them into the bin. He and Daxter strolled through.
"Getting tight with security?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. I unclipped my Spartle gun and subspace compartments.
"You don't overthrow a government without a little dissent," growled Torn.
I stepped through the detector arch. The green light flashed red and ear-splitting alarms went off.