Chapter 7, Beacon in the depth

Silence.

He became aware of that first.

The dark eco still bubbled away, but there was nothing else.

At some point he must have passed out. It had been nostalgic in a way.

It made him want to throw up.

His skin still burned from where the darkness had been spread across it, long caresses pushing his damp clothes around and seeping through the fabric into his body. At least the acid in his bloodstreams had faded into a dull ache.

He felt sick.

But the snake was nowhere in sight, not that he could really turn his head to actually take a look around.

No matter where she was, he had been granted one brief respite, and it could very well be his last.

Gritting his teeth Jak reached down and grappled for his pockets, fingers hardly willing to obey him. He might only have a couple of minutes at best, not knowing where Maia had disappeared to. She might even be watching him from the darkness, but it was nothing he had time to worry about.

His pulse picked up and the search became more frantic when it failed to yield any result at first.

Where, where… she couldn't have taken it, could she?

His breath came out in a ragged gasp of relief as his fingertips stumbled over the smooth outline he had searched for, and he ripped the battle amulet from the hold of his pockets. With a wild glance around he slipped his fist up to his chest, trying not to let the precious item be seen too well.

Thumb stroking across the almost silky, polished ball in the middle of the amulet, he fumbled to push down-

Damas' dead body father is dead and who will you call to death this time, boy?

The thought pierced his mind like a red hot poker and he almost dropped the beacon. Just for a moment, a fracture of a second, he hesitated.

Do you want to live?

'Yes!'

He almost hissed the thought aloud, but his throat was too dry.

The knowledge was stronger. Life had screwed him over more times than he could count, but if he was to die – not now, not at her hands!

Clenching his jaw, he pushed down on the button. A muted beep answered him, the sound soothing to his ears.

We're coming. We'll find you.

He hid the beacon in his pocket again, but as soon as he had done so the last ounce of strength left him and his arm fell back to the ground. Taking in deep breaths through his mouth and nose he tried to regain control of his drained limbs, but all he managed were a few twitches of his fingers.

Great. They would find him like this, flopped on the ground like a rag doll. Unable to move, helpless.

They would never let him hear the end of it. Jak almost chuckled. Considering the options, the amount of teasing awaiting him did not really seem so bad.

He frowned slightly. Right, options. What were the options?

With all her denying it, it really did not seem like she was going to kill him. "I'll keep you"?

Whatever it was, he was not very curious at all.

'-'

Sig had, ever since the Metal Head Wars, regarded himself a warrior. Serving under Damas in Haven City he had grown so used to violence and gore that even a monster twice his size could not make him recoil unless it ripped through the ground right beneath his feet. And even then he would have blasted it before even thinking about what he was doing.

The current situation, however, made constant attempts to screw his steely mind over.

"That way, there's a ledge over there! Move it, guys!"

The green old man's voice had been a throaty whisper as he put down the theory of his and Daxter's in simpler terms. The men and women had hardly let him finish before they turned and flung themselves against the nearest way upwards, boots thundering against the blackened stone.

Today did not seem like a good day. There were few things that Sig did not feel qualified to deal with. In fact, the list had just gotten one hundred percent longer – adding to the "emotional issues" crap. Every time he paused to check on the area around him his hand unconsciously reached down to his waist to make sure that he had not dropped the containers hung on his belt. All this was starting to make him think that good ol' Seem might not have been talking from the dream weed when she saw the wastelanders off back in Spargus…

It was, in two words, messed up.

"Hurry, we've gotta get him outta there!"

Even worse was the fact that Daxter had taken up residence on his shoulder. And more disturbing than that…

"Thatta way's quicker!"

Sig looked up, following the path set by the pointing little hand. It was a sharp turn from the way up they had been following so far, but looking at the ledges he thought that they would be able to use them. But first, they would have to deal with the snarling metal heads clambering across the widespread stair of platforms, growling hungrily at the climbing intruders. So far the warriors had not even bothered to stop and blast the beasts unless they were in the way, but this time it might actually save them a few minutes instead of wasting them.

"Hold your yakows, cherries, he's right!" Sig called.

He raised the peacemaker, not waiting for everyone else to stop and turn around. Behind him he heard the assertive grunts and clicks as his fellows obeyed the order, Torn shouting at his soldiers to follow suit. He took aim...

… even more disturbing than Daxter perched on his shoulder was Daxter shouting at them to hurry towards the lair of the beast, and that they were listening to what he said.

Veger, meanwhile, was saying his prayers in a mix of manic whispers and ear-piercing cries. Nobody had the mind to care further than cursing at him to shut his goddamn scripture-trap.

Certainly all readers should figure that the above order to the religiously inclined ottsel was censored. Just the slightest bit, of course.

One had to give the fuzzy nutball credit for not protesting more than he already did. Might have been the look on Kleiver's face the first two times Veger tried to talk them all out of "this madness". Oh, and Daxter's swearing. That too had been disturbing.

Shots rang out, the flames from Peace Makers spiraled through the hot air. Several metal heads fell, but some drew back to get out of shooting range. Sig growled as he realized that the beasts were trying to force the attackers into a position where they would have to climb and shoot at the same time. The ledges were arranged so that the warriors would be beneath the monsters, unable to fire at them as the next ledge would act as a shield against the guns. Somebody might have to act as bait to draw the metal heads back into a position where they could be shot at.

That was when Torn brushed past the wastelanders, throwing his gun to a Blue Guard. He spoke through his teeth without even looking around.

"Let me handle this. Anybody saw how many there were left?"

Sig raised an eyebrow, but did not hesitate further than that.

"Think I saw at least four," he said.

Shadowing his eyes with a huge palm, Kleiver squinted upwards at the offending ledge.

"I think it's five," the bigger man said.

"Lemme have a look."

With those words, Daxter slid down from Sig's shoulder and down his arm. His eyebrow rising higher, the dark-skinned wastelander let go of the Peace Maker with the corresponding hand and turned his palm upwards for the small creature. Daxter's claws scratched his skin as the ottsel stopped and looked around, giving Sig a weak grin.

"Okay, hurl," Daxter said.

Even Torn turned around. Sig studied the animal for a moment.

"What?" he finally said.

"Come on, throw me upwards so I can check what's up there!" Daxter clarified, impatiently waving his arms.

When Sig still did not move, the ottsel's ears drooped slightly as he added:

"Jak does it all the time."

"Ah."

Not feeling quite inclined to argue that logic Sig bowed down slightly, lowering his burdened arm. Then in a swift movement he flung his arm upwards, catapulting Daxter into the air.

The ottsel went up with a "whooaaa!" and down with something more akin to "aaaaaah!". Sig had no trouble catching him again however, following the smack in another bow to make the impact lighter.

Pressing one hand to his chest and gasping for air, Daxter raised his other hand with five fingers stretched out. Torn merely grunted something that sounded like an order to wait, and headed for the nearest ledge. Without any visible trouble he swiftly crossed and leaped up the natural stair.

After he reached the last shelf before he would have had to climb onto the dangerous platform, he stood still for a moment. Then suddenly he sprinted forwards. He leaped, smacking his hands onto the edge of the ledge and somersaulted onto the upper platform in one fluid motion, worthy of a gymnastics champion. Sig felt an inclination to clap as Torn continued to work the momentum by spinning around on his heel while reaching back to pull his curved dagger from its sheath. In the next moment the commander was out of sight, flinging himself towards the roars coming from the obscured area.

Even low whistles sound terrible when they are surrounded by static lines, but it did not seem to bother the Guards. Had they been a few years younger they would probably have harassed their leader for an autograph later.

Sig did not quite rule out the possibility that they still would try to get a paper signed so that they later on could give it to their grandchildren as a heirloom.

However he did not get much time to muse about this since the roars remained surprised only for a second – then there was a "chink!", a heavy crash, and the roars became quite furious instead. It all became a cacophony of snarling, claws against rock, metallic smashes of steel tipped boot crunching a bone-hard face, and general mayhem.

Goddammit, the rest of them were missing a good show.

They did, however, see the muscular, black hunk of living armor and claws that charged towards the edge of the platform only to be sidestepped and finding itself grasping nothing but hot, empty air. Calloused laughter erupted from the warriors at the morbidly clumsy act, but Daxter turned away as the beast's furious roar grew more distant until it snapped dead in a loud, fizzling splash. It never sounded scared, only furious that it had failed to bring another flimsy little elf to his death.

Not horrified, like Jak. The difference was still not enough for Daxter.

The silence did not come too suddenly, but fading from a dying growl. A boot clattered against the rock above, and the dreadlock-crowned head of Torn came into view. He raised an empty hand and waved at the two groups to get a move on.

As soon as he saw them start to walk – after the Blue Guards had saluted – Torn stepped back and leant against the warm wall, gulping down deep breaths. Not to say it ever would have been easy to face a group of metal heads with a dagger, but in the stiff, smoldering air it had been a real stretch. He glared at the remaining skull gems and black bones littering the ledge, surrounded by dark clouds of eco.

Pests.

Thankfully slow pests, but still pests.

He straightened up and left the wall just when the footsteps from below risked getting too close, nodding recognition when Sig's head and Daxter's small orange frame came into view. The giant easily heaved himself onto the ledge and stepped closer, reaching down with the hand not holding the Peace Maker. For the first time Torn took proper note of the two flasks made from precursor metal that hung by the wastelander's belt.

"Need some refueling?" Sig asked.

Torn waved his hand in a dismissal move, but still watched the containers.

"What is it, white eco?" he said.

"Yeah, Seem gave 'em to me before we left, said something about 'a need to bring purity for the darkness'."

Torn would have rolled his eyes in disbelief if he had not long since grown used to Onin and her jabbering sidekick.

Behind Sig, the wastelanders were making their way onto the new level with the Guards just half a step behind. While he was just about done with catching his breath Torn did feel grateful for the small wait this whole action required, and his focus remained on the minor discussion instead of barking orders at people to move their asses.

"Another visionary?" he said.

Sig nodded, then shrugged. Despite the careless motion his fingertips violently rapped against the smooth, orange surface of the flasks.

"I didn't mind much but… guess our chili pepper might need healing after this round," he said after a moment.

Glances flew around.

Yes, healing. Healing sounded good. Very good.

This was all fine and dandy until Daxter's shrill voice disturbed the artificial peace.

"Why are ya'll still standing around here? Move it, people!"

Torn and Sig threw a glance at the ottsel before turning towards the next step of the way. They would definitely never get used to Daxter wanting to face off with the danger.

The plateau grew ever closer as they continued to make their way upwards-

There was a beep. Feet halted in mid step as the first sound was followed by a twin, and another in a rapid motion.

A curse which did not sound quite angry escaped Kleiver's thick lips as he ripped the receiver from his belt and tilted the artifact to check the signal. Veger bent down towards the screen, narrowing his eyes at it in a warning glare. The machine did not seem to care.

"Jak?" Daxter flung out.

Up until the moment that Kleiver's yellow teeth became visible in a grin, the only sound heard was Daxter's claws scraping against Sig's shoulder panzer. Veger would have cursed under his breath if he had not regarded himself as above such things. His day was not getting better.

"Guess there's still some guts left in the nipper," Kleiver concluded, "hang on…"

He pushed a couple of buttons and squinted at the item in his hand, finally pointing a thick finger towards the volcano wall behind them.

"Beats me what he's doin' half a mile in that direction, though."

Like one person the group turned to look.

Solid, burnt wall.

There was a pause.

After a moment Daxter reached upwards and pointed at the plateau.

"The big missus creep went down on the other side of that," he said.

Torn grunted.

"We should have a look," he said and motioned at his troops, "there'll probably be some trail up there."

"This is suicide, and for what?" somebody shrieked.

"Shaddup," Kleiver absentmindedly muttered, still studying the receiver.

"Choke on it, Vulgar, that's my line," Daxter snarled.

He straightened up, frown evaporating as he gave Sig's jaw line a light shove – enough to be persuasive, careful enough not to irritate too much.

"Now stop standing around like lollipops, people. Jak expects us to save his sorry ass for once!"

The ottsel's drooping ears were starting to perk up again, for the first time since he had seen Jak fall towards the lava. It was a relief to hear the nasal voice speak with something less than panic, too. Sig gave the rodent a brief grin as the wastelander continued forwards, following Torn's continued climb.

We'll find you.

'-'

Seconds trickled into minutes. Jak breathed deeply, forcing himself to continue taking in gulps of air through his mouth even when the smell of dark eco coated his tongue like a layer of slimy metal.

His insistent attempts to move slowly began to yield results as the pathetic twitching of his fingers evolved into clenching of hands. Soon he could move his arms a bit again, even if the motions were sluggish and clumsy. Every muscle seemed to weigh three times as much as they should. Maybe though, if just given a little more time, he would be able to drag himself away.

The mere idea touching his brain made him want to chuckle again, no amusement in the laugh this time either.

'Oh yeah, drag yourself away with a broken leg, at the speed of a swampslug. You're a real winner,' he thought.

The numbness still kept the worst pain away, yet he was fully aware of his state.

But he would rather be eaten alive by a centipede metal head before just giving up. Maia could break every damn bone he had and he would still not take it lying down. Gritting his teeth he fumbled across the cracks in the ground, seeking support to move his unwilling body.

Sadly he never did get much farther than that. The silence did not last as long as he would have preferred. Far too soon he heard the raspy thunder of a huge, long body slithering across the uneven ground and he turned his head with a growl passing between his teeth.

A speck of dirty light followed by a grey blur sped out of the darkness, hovering far above the ground that the impossibly long body crushed down as it moved forwards. But there was something else.

Jak narrowed his eyes, suspicion through the hatred pulling at him as he glared at Maia's approaching shape. She held something in her right hand, fingers tightly curled around it. Despite this a green glow made it through the cracks between bone and flesh, casting an eerie shimmer over the grey skin.

She hovered above him again, casting another wall of darkness in a circle around the unmoving elf.

"You really are stubborn."

He did not reply. It did not seem to faze her.

"I'm sure your little brain is having a meltdown trying to figure out why I haven't crushed your skull yet."

Gritting teeth. She smiled lazily.

"Gol wanted to kill you, I know," she said, "he sought for a way back to that stone age… I think he found one, but I don't really care."

The rift gate… even that painful memory fell numb now, as Jak kept glaring at Maia. A sickening feeling was growing in his gut, but he had no choice but to wait for her to get to the point.

She reached down with the free hand, still smiling. Ice fingertips touched his jaw and he snarled.

"I too want revenge, but I'm not so blunt. Oops!"

The last comment escaped her lips as she ripped her hand away, Jak's two rows of teeth hitting only each other with a dull clack where her thumb should have been.

"Good boy…"

Her lips stretched far longer than they should be able to.

"It seems that in these days, most other eco has devolved into white eco," Maia said, almost idly, "perhaps in an attempt to create balance. There was still a little left in our robot, however, even if most of it flooded the command bridge when you messed everything up. We were drenched in green and darkness."

She smiled down at him, unclenching her hand. A glass test tube slipped down, being caught between two of her fingers. The glow of green eco shone across Maia's face and illuminated her manic, black eyes as she bent closer and whispered to Jak's face.

"Do you remember the battle on the silos? What happened when green eco mixed with dark?"

Adrenaline born of pure panic ripped through him and Jak's back scraped against the ground – it probably tore up his already badly treated shirt but he had no time to care even if his bare skin would be ripped apart by the sharp cracks below.

Hulking black beasts, far bigger than lurkers – hardly more than muscles, claws and fangs, more frightening than anything he had ever seen. But he still fought them, blasting yellow eco at them and moving too quick for them to catch him, blasting and blasting until they fell over and evaporated…

The green eco in Maia's grip swirled, breaking the non-light so that it took on a sickly olive color, like poison. The cold claws grappling for his insides must have been apparent on his face from the way she smirked. There was nothing he could do about it.

Her other hand shot down and clamped over his throat, pressing him into the cave floor. Hissing, he grasped her arm and tried to break free, but it was like trying to bend an iron bar, stiff fingers slipping from their numb grip.

"What, don't you want to be healed?" she asked, soft as silk.

The eco flared, throwing itself at the wall of glass as she pressed the tube to his cheek. Jak wrung his face away, barring his teeth in an animalistic snarl.

"I cannot vouch for what might happen if you would come in contact with green eco, now that the dark has touched you, actually. It might just heal you like it normally would…"

She lifted her hand and took the metal stopper to the tube between her teeth. A moment later the cork hit the ground beside Jak's head with a sharp ping. It continued to roll away into the darkness, forgotten.

"… or maybe sweet little baby metal heads will come bursting through your flesh. But that'd just be messy, don't you think?"

Her thumb shifted slightly, boring into his thundering pulse. He gasped for air, struggling to wrench himself free to no avail.

"I hope this beat isn't normal, or your heart won't last long."

Her fangs showed between her lips as she smiled, starting to tip the tube a few inches away from Jak's face.

"Regardless, the third possibility seems most realistic, judging from what happened to me and Gol…"

"NO!"

Dark lightning exploded from Jak's body in a massive flare, sending Maia flailing backwards with a sharp hiss. The test tube swung dangerously in her hand, but her thumb clamped down over the opening and the eco remained inside.

For a few moments all he could hear was the blood roaring through his head and the shallow, ragged gasps filling his mouth with a taste of steel and blood. Through the thunder came a whisper, chilling breath running down his face like a filthy river.

"Not yet, Jak. I just wanted you to know, while you wait for your friends to come and find you."