Chapter X: Wheeled Vehicles?
Later on, Jak walked into a metal door that he had never been inside before. He had seen several men and women, obviously warriors, go in and out.
Inside was a garage of sorts, which was full of the strangest vehicles that Jak had ever seen.
"Wow! Wheeled vehicles!" Daxter exclaimed. "These things must be ancient!"
"I've never seen a wheeled vehicle before." Jak said admiringly. He walked up to the closest one, which seemed to be made for jumping, but there were about five others spread around in a semi-circle. "Keira would probably give up her racing team to study these things for an hour." Jak said.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the newbies." Jak looked up from the vehicle, it was Kleiver.
Jak was less than happy to see him. "It's you."
"Checking out my garage?" Kleiver asked. "I run this place, you know."
"These are some sweet rides you've got here." Jak said. "I've got a mechanic…"
"Girl!" Daxter interjected quickly so it fit in with Jak's next word.
"…Friend that would love to get her hands on one of these." Jak finished with a slight glare at Daxter.
"So, ya like what ya see?" Kleiver asked. "We use these babies to make runs into the deep desert… tough wheels for tough work."
"You said we could use one." Jak said, reminding Kleiver of his earlier promise.
"I did, didn't I? But not one of those!" Kleiver gestured toward the large, weapon-covered, armored vehicles. "Those are for the… big boys." Kleiver looked down at Jak, noting that he was shorter than the average elf of about twenty. "You can use that one." Kleiver pointed at a little runt of a buggy that Jak hadn't even noticed. It had no weapons and had light armor. It was a glorified go-cart. "The Tough Puppy!" The fat man announced.
"Ha! What a runt!" Daxter commented.
"Seems to fit you." Kleiver said.
"Get in, Dax." Jak said. "I'll drive." Jak walked over to the buggy.
"Care to wager something on a race through the desert?" Kleiver asked. "If you win, I'll let you keep that little buggy for as long as you live. And if I win…" Kleiver paused.
Jak shook his head. "I don't have anything."
Kleiver suddenly pointed… at Daxter. "I'd say that yappy rodent of yours is a bit bony, but skinned and buttered, he'd make a nice treat." Kleiver patted his enormous stomach. "My vehicle against him."
Daxter, it seemed, had finally reached his limit. "Forget it, buddy! Jak would never…"
"Deal." Jak said. Daxter blinked in surprise and then glared at Jak. "What?" Jak asked, noticing the look on Daxter's face. "Don't worry, Dax, if there's one thing I can do, it's race!"
"Jak… do you realize if you lose, I'll be eaten by a… a Krew-wannabe!" Daxter shrieked.
"Don't worry." Jak said. "I'll win."
"You'd better win." Daxter grumbled. "Or I'm gonna haunt you for the rest of your life!"
"Is that any different from now?" Jak asked quietly.
'I don't want the fat man to eat him.' Dark stated matter-of-factly.
Jak blinked at Dark's comment. It was by far the nicest thing that ever came out of his mouth. Usually, he just spoke about how much he wanted to kill random people. That's the weirdest thing that you've ever said. Jak thought to it. But it's a good thing you've gotten over your rivalry. Jak remembered well the time that Daxter had accused Dark of being homosexual. Dark hated Daxter ever since.
'What are you talking about?' Dark asked. 'I want to eat him!'
Jak sighed. Well… it was too much to hope for.
"Whoa, are ya slippin' off into another world?" Daxter asked, noticing Jak's face, as it went strangely blank.
"What? Oh, no. Dark says he still wants to eat you." Jak said.
"Tell him I love him too." Daxter teased.
Dark grumbled vague threats and insults.
"Let's just go." Jak jumped into the driver's seat of the Tough Puppy and turned on the engine. The doors to the vast Wasteland desert opened and Jak was welcomed back into the desert by a blast of burning sand to the face.
Jak growled as he hurriedly closed his eyes to avoid getting sand in them. One cannot race with sand in your eyes. Jak pulled his goggles down from his forehead so they protected his eyes. "I knew… ACK!" What Jak meant to say was 'I knew these goggles would come in handy someday.' But as soon as he opened his mouth he got a mouthful of sand. Every breath he took coated his mouth and throat with sand. So he pulled the red scarf at his neck up over his nose and mouth, so that his face was now fully protected.
Daxter looked jealous. The only thing he had were the small goggles on his forehead and fur. "Lucky bastard." Daxter gasped, pulling the goggles down over his eyes.
Jak ignored Daxter's comment and floored it. Driving a vehicle like this was very different than the zoomers he had driven back in Haven City. On a zoomer, you rode on air and the time you bounced around was if you hit something. These vehicles were firmly attached to the ground, so that meant he could feel every dip and bump.
Also, being attached the ground did not make it easy to control, and the loose sand only seemed to complicate matters. The vehicle seemed ready to flip or skid at any moment.
Jak floored the brakes and slid to a stop. Kleiver drove up and skidded expertly to a stop not two inches from Jak's buggy. "What's the matter? Don't know how to drive?"
"I know how to drive!" Jak grumbled. "I've been driving since I was fifteen! I'm the Racing Champion of Haven City! But I've never driven anything like this."
"Jak!" Daxter suddenly yelled. "You bet my life on a race where you're racing in something that you don't even know how to drive! I hate you, Jak. I really do."
"Just give me two laps around these plains and I'll get it down." Jak said.
"Never even seen a car before and you think you'll learn how to drive one after just two laps around these plains?" Kleiver asked.
"I'm a fast learner." Jak said simply as he took off across the plains to learn how to control the little vehicle better.
Two laps later and Jak was fairly confident that he could at least race across the sands without flipping over, and that he could win the upcoming race.
Although it was different from the Class Races which seemed ages ago, Jak did not doubt his ability to out-race any competition. He then drove over to where Kleiver was waiting.
"Are you ready?" Kleiver asked.
"To race?"
"To lose." Kleiver said. "I know your type. I've seen it all the time. Young cocky boys who think they can fight. What you all need is a good ass-kicking." Jak frowned, but he was far too used to insults by now. "You may be a quick learner, mate, but I've been racing since before you were born!"
"That would be embarrassing then." Jak said. "To lose to a man with twenty years less experience than you."
Kleiver seemed to ignore Jak's comment. "The track is simple." He said, he pointed to a small track that was laid out by some cliffs that dropped straight into the sea. "Just stay on the track, three laps, idiot-proof. Oh, and if you fall into the water, you won't be coming back to tell the tale."
"Stay on the track, don't fall into the water. Got it." Jak said, mainly to himself.
"And don't even think that you can climb out of a sinking buggy either!" Kleiver said. "These things float like rocks."
Kleiver moved his vehicle, which was larger than the Tough Puppy and had weapons on it, to the starting line. Jak maneuvered the Tough Puppy next to him. "Let's get this over with." Jak said with the air of someone who just wanted to get the race over because he had far more important things to do.
"Ready…" Kleiver said. "Go!" The two racers took off in a flurry of loose sand and dust.
Three laps later and Jak proved that he really was a quick learner. He crossed the finish line first with a considerable lead. He stopped the vehicle and grinned cockily at Daxter. "See? What did I tell you? No one is a better racer than me!"
"Yay!" Daxter celebrated. "I'm not going to get eaten!"
Kleiver drove up and growled. "Beginner's luck." He said. "The Tough Puppy is yours, but I'll be getting it back from you."
"Hey! You said…" Daxter began.
"I said that ya could keep that vehicle as long as ya live." Kleiver said. "Well, we'll see how long that is, mates." Kleiver drove off like the sore loser he is.
Jak put the Tough Puppy into gear and drove off after him, back to Spargus.
Jak pulled into the garage. Damas stood by the door with Pecker perched on his shoulder. Jak drove up and skidded to a halt about half a foot from where Damas stood.
"My advisor here tells me you have vehicle skills." Damas said.
Jak stood up in the Tough Puppy. "I can hold my own." He said.
"Why being so modest?" Daxter asked. Everyone ignored him.
"This one will be of use to us." Pecker said in a stage whisper to Damas. "I think you should keep him for now."
"Can it, Pecker!" Daxter hissed angrily.
"Enough!" Damas ordered. "I have another task for you. Artifact duty."
"Artifact duty? What's that?" Jak asked.
"There are a number of Ancient Precursor artifacts that can be found in the Wasteland." Damas explained. "The storms churn the sands and reveal artifacts that have been buried for centuries. These artifacts are very valuable. I want you to drive out into the deep Wasteland and bring back as many as you can find. There's a radar in all the buggies that will lead you to each one. And watch out for the Marauders that patrol the deep desert for they want those artifacts too. Oh, and another thing… there's a storm coming in about ten minutes and if you get caught in the sandstorms… it will tear the flesh from your very bones!"
"Great, thanks for the pep-talk." Daxter said sarcastically.
"What are you waiting for?" Damas asked. "Go!"
Jak settled into the seat again and turned the vehicle around and shot out the door, back out into the Wasteland.
"Here's that radar thing!" Daxter called over the rumble of the engine. He turned on the radar and a blinking light appeared just to the left and ahead, the location of the first artifact. Jak adjusted their coarse and began to head in that direction.
Suddenly, something red shot right past the vehicle and past Jak's peripheral vision. He knew that he was under fire. He looked around and saw a strange vehicle pursuing him. It was covered with spiked armor and a weapon that fired Red Eco-powered bullets as far as Jak could tell. And here he was, in a lightly armored Tough Puppy with no long-range weapons. He only had melee weapons at his disposal, which was useless in the situation. "Shit!" Jak swore, the only thing for it was to try to lose him, and running away from a fight is a practical disgrace in the Dark Elf's opinion. He floored the accelerator and concentrated solely on the task at hand, namely finding those artifacts before the sand storm came.
They reached the place and Jak jumped out to the buggy and started digging frantically in the sand. A bullet hit the ground about an inch from his hand and he sped up. Finally, he uncovered a… something. It was made out of the orange Precursor Metal, so it had to be what he was looking for. He tossed it in the buggy, hopped in, and took off for the next artifact.
Eight artifacts later, and things were really looking bad. At least Jak's face was protected from the sand that was the precursor to the deadly sandstorm. Poor Daxter was heavily exposed to the elements. He was covering his face with the last artifacts that Jak had found in the sand. At least those he recognized. They were bracers, a type of armor that protected your arms from attack. This armor was made from Precursor metal so it was indestructible, and Jak coveted the armor desperately.
Anyway, he was driving back to Spargus full speed because of the huge sandstorm the loomed behind. It was now a race against the sand to reach the gates of Spargus before the monster storm caught up.
The gates were in sight now, but the sand seemed to move like it had a cold-blooded mind that knew there was a victim within its grasp. It moved with unnatural speed, a speed that made it seem more than simple sand.
The gates opened when Jak was ten feet away, with the sand right behind. Daxter was screaming incoherent words about being dead.
Then Jak shot through the doors. The Spargus gate closed instantly, a few wisps of sand got through, but the bulk of the storm was kept outside. Jak skidded to a halt and let out a quiet sigh of relief, which was drowned out by Daxter, who gasped. "I'm still alive! I'm still alive!"
Damas walked up and eyed the artifacts in the vehicle. He smiled slight. "Good work. That was… close." A look of concern passed over his face for just a split second.
"Aww! Are you beginning to care?" Pecker asked. He turned to Jak. "Damas says…"
Suddenly, Damas lashed at Pecker with the swiftness of a true warrior and forcibly held his mouth shut. Pecker fought against the warrior King's grip, but it was no use. "My concern was for the artifacts only." Damas said. "You are not a true citizen of Spargus yet, so I could care less if you died in a sandstorm. Those artifacts… we will use them well." Jak jumped out of the vehicle and began to get the artifacts out of the buggy, and lastly the Precursor armor. "Ah." Damas said, eying the armor. "That armor has a colorful history, you know."
Jak looked up from the armor. "Really?"
"Yes." Damas said. "Have a closer look."
Jak looked down at the armor. He didn't really have time to examine them before, but now that he looked at them, he noticed that there was a seal carved into the metal. "Mar's Seal." Jak said.
"Correct. That armor once belonged to Mar himself, he wore it in his battles for this planet long ago. However, near his death, Mar hid the armor across the continent to await the day when a true warrior would wear it."
Jak felt even worse about handing the armor over now. Armor that belonged to his own legendary ancestor? That was something that was worth keeping. Never the less, he handed the bracers to Damas.
"Why don't you try them on?" Damas suggested suddenly.
Jak blinked. "Really?"
"Sure." Damas said seriously.
Jak began to put the bracers on. It took a minute, for he was unfamiliar with armor of any type except for his shoulder guard. Finally, the bracers were in place on his lower arms. He was surprised to find that Mar's armor was a perfect fit. "It's… it's a perfect fit." Jak gasped.
"Yes." Damas said thoughtfully. "It's almost as if that armor was… made for you."
"This… it can't be right." Jak said, mainly to himself. "Mar was the greatest hero that ever lived and I'm…" Jak paused. "I'm a freak who happened to kill the Metal-Head Leader through sheer dumb luck."
"It would take a certain amount of sheer dumb luck to defeat the Metal-Head Leader." Damas said. "There are few who could have survived long in a fight like that. Some of the greatest warriors in the world have fallen to that beast."
At the mention of great warriors, Jak's thoughts turned to his unknown father. The Metal-Head Leader had told him his father fought him and got beaten badly. Kor said that his father crawled away like a coward. Jak didn't believe that his father was a coward at all; it would take unnatural courage to face the Metal-Head Leader without the abilities that Jak had at his fist. Once again he wondered to himself, silently, if his father was still alive and, if so, where he was.
Everything got quiet as everyone was absorbed in their own thoughts. Finally, Damas spoke again, drawing everyone's attention back to the real world where it belonged. "Why don't you keep that armor." Damas suggested.
"But… don't you want it?" Jak asked.
"It won't fit me." Damas said. He was right. He towered over Jak by a considerable amount, the armor wouldn't fit him in a million years. "And I don't think I'll find anyone else in Spargus who it fits. Why take it away from the one person who could actually put that armor to good use? Armor's for wearing, not for staring at. You should wear it." Then Damas thought about the breastplate that he already had in his protection. Then he pushed it back out of his mind. He had not given up hope of finding his son. But, then again, his son would only be seven years old right now, far too young to wear the armor. He decided that he would give Jak the breastplate when he won the third battle amulet and became a true Wastelander and citizen of Spargus.
"Thanks." Jak said. He really didn't know what to say. He wasn't used to getting anything other than hate mail and death threats. Death threats, he could handle, but not actual nice gifts.
"Now go." Damas said. "I have no more jobs for you right now."
Jak nodded, the closest he had come yet to a bow, and left. Daxter stared down at the bracers. "Wow. Imagine! I bet that you could practically block the most crushing blows with those things! Precursor armor! You realize that those babies are indestructible!"
"And they fit me perfectly." Jak said, amazed. "Mar couldn't have been any older than I am when he wore this."
"Mar was short too!" Daxter said. "He was a shorty, just like you!"
"Who're you calling 'shorty', shorty?" Jak demanded.
Back in Haven City, things were chaotic, to say the least. In fact, 'chaotic' is a bit of an understatement. 'Completely disastrous' or 'going to hell in a hand basket' would have been more appropriate.
And, to top it all off, Ashelin was pissed off at a certain ugly old councilman. "Don't you see what you have done?" She demanded. "In banishing Jak, you threw our greatest weapon away!"
"A weapon that that could, and has been on several occasions, turned upon us." Vegar hissed. "Besides, you haven't forgotten the heinous crimes for which he was banished, have you?"
"Several people believe that he was set up." Ashelin said. "Jak certainly has enough enemies."
"Why would this be a set up?" Vegar demanded. "Who would have anything to gain from this?"
"Well, you, for one." Ashelin said.
Vegar frowned. "I only have Haven's best interest at heart, governess."
"Perhaps you only thing you know what Haven wants, but you really don't what we want or need."
"I do know what Haven needs!" Vegar spat. "And that list does not include a rampaging Dark Eco demon intent on tearing this City down!"
"You know nothing of Jak!" Ashelin hissed. "He has gone through more pain than any of us could ever imagine! As High Chairman of the Council, you have access to the Dark Warrior Program notes, do you not? And you've gone through them, haven't you?"
"You've got me, governess." Vegar said. "I have gone through those files, and they opened my eyes to just how dangerous he and his extinct kind are! The last three alone killed over a hundred hard working guards in prison! Dark Warriors are a dead race that never should have been created in the first place! There is a reason fourteen out of the original fifteen are dead! Survival of the fittest!"
"I'd say that Jak is fitter than the rest of us." Ashelin said. "He may be the next step in our evolution."
"I would die before I allow our race to be carried down that Dark path!" Vegar hissed.
"Fine. Go ahead and die." Ashelin said.
Vegar growled loudly and stormed off. Torn, who had been watching quietly from the corner, moved forward. "Getting upset, aren't you?" He asked.
Ashelin sighed, releasing the tension in the room. She and Torn stood in the new Freedom League Headquarters in New Haven, the last safe place in Haven. "He just… makes me so mad, sometimes." She admitted. "Every time he talks about Jak like that…"
"Well, there's really nothing we can do about that." Torn said. "The Precursors are his religion and people hold on to their religious beliefs tighter than a Metal-Head bear-hug."
"I know." Ashelin said. "Have you completed the task I gave you?"
"You mean the perilous quest of getting Keira away from the ruined Stadium and back here, then yes, I have." Torn said. "Why does Keira have to stay here in a military base anyway?"
"Because it's safe here." Ashelin said. "If Jak ever heard that we let Keira get ripped to pieces by the Metal-Heads, he'd bring the wrath of hell down on the whole City."
"Good point." Torn said. "He'd go medieval on all our asses and tear the City down around our ears."
"Precursors, what are we going to do?" Ashelin asked. "Even if we had Jak, I don't know how we would win. Jak's very good, but he can't be everywhere at once." She looked down at the map of Haven City in front of her, pointing to the places as she mentioned them. "The Farming District is falling out of our control more and more every day. South Town and the Port is being run over by the old Krimzon Guard bots. The place where the Palace used to stand is now the home of some sort of flying war factory that appeared there over-night."
Torn stood next to her, looking down at the map. "The Stadium is almost completely destroyed." He said. "Main Town has been mostly turned into New Haven, the only safe place left. The only thing that keeps out the Death bots and the Metal-Heads are the force fields at both entrances." Torn sighed and shook his head. "Things are looking very bad for us."
"I've talked to the Council members." Ashelin said. "Some of them believe they have made a mistake in banishing Jak. If we could just get more than half of them on our side, then that should be enough to let Jak back into the City."
"If he's still alive." Torn said. "You forget he's been in the Wasteland for over a week. No one has ever come back from the Wasteland. No one could hope to live for that long in the desert. If the heat doesn't get you, dehydration will."
"Samos believes that Jak is still alive." Ashelin said. "And if Samos says that Jak's alive, then I believe him."
"Why's that?" Torn asked.
"This wouldn't be the first time that Samos was right about Jak." Ashelin said simply. "And I have to believe that he's alive out there… I have to."
LES: Whee!
Muse: 'Whee'?
LES: Yes. Whee!
