Jak sat in the back of the transport vehicle that was taking him to Spargus. On the bench beside him, Daxter had long fallen asleep, and this had given him some time to think in peace about everything that had happened today.
Right after the attack on Haven City had come to an end, he and Daxter had headed straight to the Naughty Ottsel. There they found that it had somehow, miraculously, survived undamaged, and so had Tess, who had taken shelter in the basement with a few other citizens. She seemed frightened but calm as she asked them just what had happened out there, for she and all the others had yet to be informed about the ill-fated discovery of the people of Idandi.
After what little there was to be understood was made clear, Jak had gone searching for Keira, and found her alive and safe too inside Freedom HQ. But no sooner had they been reunited with each other, Ashelin had sent him the order to fly out to Spargus and requisition whatever help he could from Sig and his Wastelanders. He understood the urgency and why he was the man best suited for this task, and he accepted, but it felt traitorous to be leaving the city and the people he most cared about just when they needed him the most.
He sat and shivered in the back of the vehicle, remembering the sight of melting buildings and the countless pillars of black smoke rising from the streets. Hardened warrior though he was, he had never seen anything as bad as what he had seen today, even having fought on the frontline of battle that had taken place on the city streets themselves. He thought, after all of the physical and emotional turmoil he had been through, that he would be able to shrug off any terror, but even he could not ignore the painful feeling that now developed inside him. Usually, he felt little during times of conflict, just keeping his head down and focussing on the job at hand, terrible though it may be, and getting it done. In fact, sadly, it had come to the point where he now felt more comfortable in a warzone than in times of peace. At least he was never sitting around getting bored when there was fighting to be done. But this... this was something else entirely...
Haven had taken its worst hammering yet, and would not be able to survive this by herself, that much was clear. Calling on the Wastelanders for help was a sensible call, but it would be a risky endeavour that might lead to nothing. The Wastelanders of Spargus were tough, resourceful and independent, but did not like involving themselves in the affairs of Haven City, the city that had once been home to many of them before they were banished unceremoniously from its walls. People in Spargus rarely spoke of the other city, and when they did, it was not with kind tones.
Jak understood this better than anyone, and he remembered his own banishment with bitterness. He too had felt resentment towards Haven and the previous incarnation of the city council, spearheaded by the cunning and manipulative Count Veger, and for a short while at least, he felt no intention to ever return and lend them his help again. They threw him out, why should he go back? He'd found a new home in Spargus after being picked up by the Wastelanders, earned his citizenship there, and identified with its people, who actually appreciated his talents and abilities once they had warmed to him.
But things were different now; those who had enforced his banishment were no longer in power, and Spargus had a king with whom he shared reciprocal trust and respect. There may still be hope for them, and he was going to be the bridge between the two cities.
The sounds of the engine began to whir down, and Jak broke his thoughts as he knew that they were coming in to a landing outside the walls of Spargus. The vehicle came down at an angle that was steep enough to slide Daxter out of his seat, and he crashed to the floor, waking up immediately with a yelp.
"Come on, Dax, we're here," said Jak, getting up.
Rubbing his backside, Daxter climbed up to Jak's shoulder, and they stepped out together into the familiar but hostile desert. It was windless and intensely hot, and the beaten walls of Spargus were standing just a few metres away, reflecting the powerful sunlight onto the already searing sand. In the opposite direction lay the open plains of the Wasteland, vast and barren and scorched, and a mirage made the horizon shimmer. The very air sizzled against the skin.
"This place hasn't changed much," mused Daxter, shielding his eyes with a hand.
"Come on, let's get to the city before any Marauders show up," said Jak, and he began to trek through the sand towards the mighty gates of the Spargus garage, now wishing he had remembered to bring his JetBoard with him to make the travelling quicker.
The doors hissed open heavily as they approached them, welcoming them into the slightly cooler and protected interior of the garage. It was bare and basic, wide-open and empty save for the line of rough-ridden desert vehicles parked in their respective places along the curving inner wall. Jak looked across them fondly, feeling like he had returned to a second home. He had driven them all at one point or another, but he took a lingering glance at one in particular: the monstrous Ram Rod sitting in the corner, the vehicle he had been driving when Damas, the past king of Spargus, had been killed. Jak felt a stab of grief as he looked upon it, reliving the painful moment. In the immediate wake of the tragedy, Jak unexpectedly discovered with soul-crushing sorrow that Damas had in fact also been his long-lost father, but fate was cruel that day, and the king died in his arms before either of them could realise their relation. It was one of the great what-ifs of his life as to what might have happened if he had lived. Though the vehicle was now repaired and operable again, Jak felt no wish to sit behind the wheel of it anymore. The very sound of its engine still haunted him, reminding him of Damas's last moments alive.
But then, Jak and Daxter realised that they were not alone here in the garage. Someone was standing close by the door leading into the city watching them, someone very familiar and very large. It was unmistakeably Kleiver, senior Wastelander and the keeper of the Spargus garage.
"'Ello mates!" he growled in his same old gruff tone, bouncing his weapon-staff in his hands. "Fancy seein' you nippers out 'ere again. I thought you'd wussed out and gone back to the big smoke for good. Can't say I missed ya."
"Nice to see you too, lizard breath!" Daxter said sarcastically to Kleiver, who responded with a nasty scowl that revealed his terrible teeth. He was a man with a very short fuse, and none could light it better than Daxter.
But Jak was not intimidated at all as he came to stand in the big man's shadow. He knew how to contend with Kleiver, and showing weakness was a sure-fire way to being walked over, perhaps even literally, given Kleiver's size and temperament. Despite being more than double Jak's age, Kleiver was still an opponent to be reckoned with, and very strong; his arm was as thick as Jak's entire body. He wore the durable leather and cloth trappings typical to all Wastelanders, bulging over his impressively wide belly, with armoured plates made of salvaged metal strapped to the shoulder and elbows. But Jak noticed a new addition to his gear: perched atop his armoured shoulder, sticking out like a sore thumb and looking very miserable and victimised, was none other than Count Veger in ottsel form, ex-chancellor of Haven City and the man chiefly responsible for enforcing Jak's banishment into the Wasteland and so much more emotional suffering thereafter.
Jak spared him only one glance. He remembered at the end of their last great adventure witnessing Veger suffer his unfortunate transformation. He'd believed that he was being granted the gift to evolve into a powerful and advanced Precursor being, but he had been tricked and was instead reduced to nothing more than a three-foot tall, flea-ridden animal, much to his shock and disappointment. Then Kleiver had picked him up and decided to make him an unwilling sidekick; indeed, the only reason he was on Kleiver's shoulder right now was because his feet had been lashed there with a tight leather strap.
"Kleiver, we need to see Sig," explained Jak quickly, pressing on with business before Daxter said anything else that was unwise. "It's important."
"The king? And I thought you'd come all the way out here just to see me!" replied Kleiver, smiling that horrible smile of his again. Evidently this was his idea of a joke, but nobody was laughing. "Yeah, you can see 'im," he said after a moment. "He's up in the palace, usual spot. Give 'im a kiss from me, why don't ya?"
"Thanks Kleiver," said Jak, and he continued past him towards the door that led into the city.
As they went by, Veger from atop Kleiver's shoulder tried to gesture desperately at them, mouthing 'help me!'. However, Jak did not even deem him worthy of the attention, cruelly satisfied that he was suffering an unpleasant fate, and just strode on by. Daxter returned Veger's gesture for help with a very rude one of his own, feeling very content with himself.
Spargus was quiet and calm, and everything was exactly how Jak remembered it. The bleached buildings still stood strong, the dusty streets were still alive with lizards and rats, and over on the far side was the great staircase that led up to the battle arena, where he once had to prove his right to be allowed to stay here. It felt strange to be standing on these streets again, so peaceful, especially knowing what terror Haven was going through at this very moment. Nobody here even knew about the attack yet, and were obliviously going about their daily duties. A few Wastelanders tersely nodded at him as they passed by. They knew he was one of them, and he fit in here naturally, just like Ashelin had predicted.
"Come on, let's find Sig," said Daxter on Jak's shoulder. "It'll be good to see that old lug again."
"I sure hope he can help us," said Jak earnestly. "Haven needs it."
"I'll say," said Daxter in agreement. "If those guys ever come back for a second round, the city's toast."
Jak marched along the roads, making for the spire of the palace. It was the tallest building in the city, carved upon the very summit of a red cliff that divided the two main districts of Spargus, and its great tower bore an ever-burning fire, a guiding beacon of safety that could be seen from almost anywhere in the surrounding Wasteland, even through a thick dust storm.
Very soon, they were standing at the palace gate. As Jak stepped through and onto the wooden lift that would take him up, memories rushed back to meet him again. He realised this was the first time he had properly returned to the throne room since Damas had died, and this would also be the first he would not be there waiting for him with some urgent mission that required completing, or to lecture him on how to be a fine warrior. Once again Jak felt the sense of loss and the enduring mystery of what could have been had he lived; there was probably much they could have learned from each other and achieved together… as a family.
But that did not sadden him too much, for another old friend would be waiting there in his place. A friend who had accompanied him countless times into situations of extreme peril, and had bravely battled by his side on their way to victory. Someone who was not easily turned down from a challenge, and would always step in to protect his friends, Sig was exactly the kind of person Haven City needed right now.
The lift clanked and creaked further upwards until it came to a shuddering stop in the middle of the palace throne room. Jak looked around. The room was large and dome-shaped, and was like an oasis. Streams of water fell from the high ceiling into the rocky pools all around, keeping the air cool and moist, the water wheels they fed grinded and whirred, and a great window looked out over the open desert. The only thing that had changed was the walls, which were now decorated lavishly with Metal Head trophies, and right in the middle of the room, sitting on the throne and polishing his Peace Maker weapon, was the man who was responsible for winning them.
Sig looked up the moment the lift came to a halt. "Hey, chilli peppers!" he called heartily, standing up as he spotted his old friends coming towards him.
He gave Jak a big, manly handshake that almost lifted him right off his feet.
"Good to see you again, Sig," said Jak with a calm smile, shaking the numbness out of his arm.
Like Kleiver, Sig was a tall and beefy man with great strength, but younger and fitter, and with an unrivalled passion for hunting Metal Heads. He always wore a battered suit of armour, seemingly made from the polished exoskeletons of the Metal Heads he had slain, and never went anywhere without his trusty Peace Maker, a monstrous weapon with many notches in its handle. One of his eyes was missing, replaced with a bionic device that sometimes shimmered and contracted like a lens.
"How's ruling Spargus been for ya?" asked Daxter cheerily. "Not been too tough for ya, big guy?"
Sig chuckled deeply. "Nah, it's a breeze! Everyone looks after themselves pretty well, and I get more time to go out Metal Head hunting."
"I like the new trophies," said Jak with a smirk.
Sig looked around proudly but sadly. "Yeah, they're about all that was left out here. They're getting harder and harder to find now. But take a look at this bad boy. He put up a real fight!"
Jak raised a hand just as Sig pointed out a particularly large and impressive one. "Maybe some other time, Sig. We're here because we need to speak to you about something important."
"Fire away, chilli pepper!"
Jak told Sig everything, about how they had discovered the representatives of Idandi, and had agreed to try and start an alliance, only for it all to come crashing down in flames. Sig listened carefully. He was interested to learn about the existence of this new people, but was filled with great anger at what they were now doing to Haven, and this surprised him more than he expected. Personally, he had never thought very highly of the people of Haven; he believed they were rather weak, and had brought most of the terrors they had suffered upon themselves with their poor judgements and planning. It was a widely shared perception among many of the Wastelanders here in Spargus that Haven would eventually crumble under its own self-inflicted wounds. He was partially right, but he was no stranger to its streets either, and over the time he had spent there, he had come to consider it like his second home, and he knew for a fact that Haven's current leaders were far from weak or incompetent. Not to mention, he trusted and respected Jak, and the things he told him now sounded very bad. These new enemies were putting his valued friends in danger, and he would do anything to help them when they were in need.
"Man, these boys sound nasty," he said. "You know I've got your back, Jak, but to be honest, based on what you've just told me, I'm not sure how much of a help I would be."
"Honestly, Sig, we need anything you can give us," said Jak seriously. "Men, weapons, supplies, anything."
"Well, I might be able to get some weapons over to you at least," said Sig, thinking. "We've got quite a stockpile to defend ourselves against the Marauders, but even they've been pretty quiet recently, so our weapons are just sitting around not being used."
"It'd be nice if we could get that big turret down on the beach," said Daxter semi-seriously.
"Sorry cherry, that thing's impossible to move," said Sig.
"Well, some extra weapons are always useful," said Jak. "Thanks, Sig. But what about some extra fighters? We've already lost quite a lot of men as it is. Would any of your Wastelanders be willing to lend us a hand?"
Sig's face became uncertain and he scratched his square chin. "That one's more difficult, chilli pepper. A lot of the Wastelanders here still feel badly about Haven, and I don't know how many of them would want to give their support even now."
"That's what Ashelin feared," said Jak, and his own thoughts were confirmed too, having once been in the same position himself.
"I could try and put the word out for you," said Sig, "But to be honest, I ain't holding much hope."
"And what about yourself, big guy?" asked Daxter.
Sig's face broke into a strong smile. "You know it! You just say the word, cherries, and I'll be right there to cover your butt!"
Both Jak and Daxter smiled back at him thankfully, knowing that they could still count on Sig's support. Perhaps if he was seen to join the fight, then it might encourage the other Wastelanders to do so as well.
"Tell you the truth," Sig continued, "I've missed fighting with you guys. Things have been too quiet here ever since you saved the world again, what with the Marauder attacks dropping off and the Metal Heads dying out one by one."
"Well, there's plenty of action to be had in Haven right now!" Daxter said, perhaps a little more cheerfully than he should have done.
"We really appreciate your help, Sig," said Jak. "But there's one more thing. I think you might've already answered this question for us, but we need to do something to keep the citizens of Haven safe. Ashelin wanted to know if you could perhaps offer them refuge here until the heat dies down."
Again, Sig looked regretful, and Jak and Daxter already knew what the answer would be. "Ugh, that's a tough one, cherries. Like I said, relations with Haven here ain't good. I don't think the Wastelanders would take kindly to looking after Haven's refugees, even if I ordered them to, and many of them still uphold Damas's rule about proving your right to stay here through combat in the arena. They won't like it if people just turn up and stay without good reason."
"But... you don't still enforce that, do you?" asked Daxter with a gulp, remembering all the scary battles that he and Jak had been forced to face in that arena.
"No," said Sig, "That's one thing I never completely agreed about with Damas. Sure, you need to be tough to live out here, but there are other ways to prove your worth. Besides, we've not had any new exiles since you two turned up, so we've not had the chance to try anything new."
"And Ashelin won't be banishing anyone else out here either," added Jak. "She's better than that."
Sig agreed. "Right. The other thing is if Haven folk did come here, it'd be a huge drain on our reserves. The things we need to survive — water, food, shelter — they don't come easy out here, and everything's carefully rationed. If we suddenly got a large number of newcomers, we might not have enough to share out for everyone. Sorry, cherry."
"That's what we thought," said Jak sadly. "Besides, I don't think most of the citizens even know Spargus exists. I guess we'll have to find some other way to keep them safe."
"I'll put the word out, like I said," said Sig, "But I don't think it'll happen. I'm sorry I can't be of any more help."
"It's OK, Sig," said Jak, "It's good just to know you're with us on this."
With their most pressing business out of the way, the two seasoned warriors continued to chat for a while longer, until Jak had to return to Haven with the news.
"I'll get the first batch of weapons out to you by the end of the day," Sig said, "Then I might drop by tomorrow to see things for myself."
"Thanks again, big guy," said Daxter, and he and Jak departed from the palace, both feeling much more confident about their chances of survival now that Sig was involved.
"I knew we could count on him!" said Daxter proudly as they stepped onto the baked streets of Spargus again.
"Yeah," agreed Jak. "Sig's tougher than tough, and he's a great ally. Come on, let's get back to the city and tell Ashelin."
As they walked through the garage once again, Kleiver was still there. In fact he appeared not to have moved since they arrived; he was standing in exactly the same spot, minding his own business but not really doing anything. Did he really have nothing better to do than stand there all day?
"Hey Kleiver. Bored?" Jak asked, a cunningly playful edge to his voice.
"What's it to ya what I get up to in my spare time?" Kleiver spat back, suddenly paying attention.
"Just wondered if you might want to come and lend a hand in Haven," Jak said casually.
Kleiver puffed out an uncaring breath that ruffled his thick moustache. "Now why would I want to go to that big dump?"
"Just saying, but there's plenty of action going on at the moment, and we could use the extra muscle," Jak explained, slyly appealing to Kleiver's pride in his strength and fortitude. It seemed to work, for Kleiver looked somewhat smug to hear that someone appreciated his abilities.
"Alright, poppy, you've got me interested," he said, "And that doesn't happen very often. What've those drongoes in Haven gone and done to themselves now then?"
"It's complicated, but it looks like there might be another war starting," Jak explained. "Talk to Sig, he's planning how Spargus will respond."
"Well, we don't just dish out help here to those who don't deserve it," said Kleiver menacingly, crossing his thick arms. "Why should I involve myself?"
Jak smirked a little, remembering how difficult it was to convince Kleiver of anything outside of his own interests. "We'd really appreciate the help, and I'm sure Ashelin will want to repay you somehow."
"Yeah, maybe a big tub of ice-cream for ya, jelly boy!" Daxter suddenly cut in.
Kleiver responded to that with another snarl, but the rest of his expression was difficult to read. He really did not think it worth his time to help Haven fight their battles, but then another part of him was looking for something exciting to do. This had to be serious if Sig was going to get involved.
Meanwhile, up on his shoulder, Veger was still hopelessly trying to free his feet from their holdings, but he was failing miserably and went ignored by everyone.
"I'll think about it, nippers," Kleiver said, "But don't get too cosy waiting for me to show up. And don't think it'll square things out between us either. Soon enough, I'm gonna beat all those race records you set, and then I'll be the top guy around here again!"
"Oh, still miffed about that, are we?" said Daxter smarmily.
Jak smiled reminiscently. He and Kleiver had something of an ongoing rivalry here in Spargus, always trying to outdo each other in tests of skill and manliness. So far, Jak had always come out on top, but he was wary that one day Kleiver might just think to challenge him to a wrestling match, and even he doubted whether he would be able to survive that.
"OK, well, hope to have you with us," he said finally.
He shared an awkwardly humorous glance with Daxter, before heading towards the garage door, leaving Kleiver to his thoughts. The huge doors grinded open, but the view outside had changed. By now, the desert winds had kicked up, the early stages of a storm, and sand blew into their faces as it cranked open. Jak once again found himself having to don his goggles and his scarf, as he staggered through the sand back towards the rough shape of the drop ship in the distance.