Haven City, against everything it had hoped, found itself unwillingly sucked into yet another conflict against a powerful and destructive enemy, and nobody could understand why. It had all happened so suddenly, and the cause of it all still remained elusive and unexplained. The instigating incident had claimed the lives of those who had clearly witnessed it, and the constant defence that needed to be maintained around the city meant that there was little time to properly investigate, for the mysterious jets continued to return, apparently now intent on finishing what they had started. All attempts to signal for a ceasefire or to come to a diplomatic solution were ignored, answered only with violence and destruction, and the people of Haven had no choice but to fight back and defend themselves.
Every battle played out in the same way. The jets would teleport in from out of nowhere and commence their onslaught without any warning at all, concentrating their fire on the defence batteries and the Hellcats that engaged them in the air. Freedom HQ often came under heavy attack too, as well as other tall buildings which looked important. Haven defended itself valiantly, downing many of the hostile aircraft but suffering much damage in the process. When the jets' numbers became too few to be effective anymore, the survivors would teleport away, abandoning their dead and leaving the city to burn and stew in its own blood. A desperate rush then ensued to save what could be saved and rebuild the defences in time for the next attack; sometimes there would be several days between them, and sometimes only a few hours, there was no way of predicting.
It was a dire situation, a re-awakening of the city's darkest nightmares. Once again they were trapped within their own walls, which were no longer enough to protect them, a sitting target just waiting for the inevitable coming of death that lurked outside. It was a grim outlook, and only the undying spirit of Mar that remained alive in every citizen kept Haven from accepting defeat.
What pained everyone the most, however, was the apparent futility of it all, and none of Haven's leaders understood the true motivations of their enemy. Had they really wanted to start a bountiful alliance, as they had proffered? Or had it been a lie, and had they been planning on this right from the start, as many in the city now believed? If so, then what was the point of it all? What did they possibly hope to achieve by attacking on sight like that?
As incomprehensible as their reasons were, the people of Haven were all too familiar with their consequences and implications. After all, the Metal Heads, an embodiment of heartless hate and mindless destruction, had besieged the city for as long as anyone could remember. Therefore, the general citizenry, who had not been made aware of the initial meeting over the faraway ocean or the potential for an alliance, had no difficulty in applying the same mentality to this new foe. It was the only rationalisation they could come to.
Haven's leaders had a difficult and stressful job on their hands, knowing that their every defence may be their last. Effective communication and co-ordination throughout the city was paramount, as was the minimisation of human casualty, and already they had employed several beneficial tactics to achieve these goals.
First, control of the defensive weaponry throughout the city was handed over to Vin, who in his digital form, wired in to the city grid, could tirelessly monitor the systems and have them constantly running automatically and at peak efficiency. This alleviated a great amount of dangerous work required of the Freedom League, as soldiers no longer needed to be manually operating the defences and could be put to greater, safer use elsewhere.
The Freedom League itself had taken severe losses in the very first attack, and demoralisation had become a major, constant risk. Many of the citizens volunteered themselves to replenish the gaps in the forces once they knew what was going on, spurred on by anger and the thirst for vengeance against those who sought their destruction. However, it was not that simple. The Freedom League could not just accept untrained civilians into their ranks like that, as desperate as the situation was, and training them up would take time that they did not have. In these urgent circumstances, only the most able-bodied individuals were accepted, but they much preferred to keep the civilians safe at all costs.
Instead, they sought the help of the Wastelanders of Spargus. On the day that Jak brought the news to them, they despatched a shipload of extra weaponry and all the emergency supplies they could spare, which Haven was grateful for. On the following day, Sig himself turned up in the city, accompanied by Kleiver and twelve other equally large and fierce-looking Wastelanders, the only ones who had voluntarily answered the call for help. Few though they were, Sig's presence was a great morale boost for everyone who knew him, and during attacks he shot down many jets from the ground with his mighty Peace Maker. The others were promised to be rewarded for their efforts, but they showed no interest in the re-instatement of their Haven citizenship that was initially offered. They made clear that they were here purely because they believed it was the right thing to do.
Despite the help they were receiving from Spargus, sending the civilians of Haven there for refuge sadly proved not to be possible; Spargus did not have the resources to accommodate so many, and relations between the two cities were still too fragile. The citizens had no choice but to stay confined within their homes for the most part, or head for the most protected places in the city when an attack came. Many of the buildings in the New Haven district were well-built and had secure underground basements, and friends and families came together to help each other as much as possible. Fortunately, since the enemy was so focussed on taking out the Freedom defences and aircraft, the residential areas were largely spared, but they still came under stray fire now and then, and there was little control over where downed aircraft would fall, so safety was never guaranteed.
As a result of all of these measures, though, none of the attacks had been worse than the very first. There were still unfortunate, unavoidable casualties, of course, but Haven was putting up such a great defence, that the death count was soon overturned.
The enemy jets kept on returning, seemingly inexhaustible in number, but they just could not claim a substantial victory. They tried adapting their methods, first approaching the city from alternate directions, or sometimes even teleporting in directly above the city airspace to catch them off guard, but they were repelled every time by Haven's superior defences, which were repaired as quickly as they were being destroyed. When they tried attacking the city from a greater distance, out of range of the defences, they were intercepted by Hellcats.
Haven, meanwhile, had no way of bringing the fight to their enemy's homeland, having never learned where it was in the first place and having no easy way of finding it; their mysterious enemy had always been the ones dictating the conflict ever since it began. They were the ones who decided when to fight, and all Haven could do was react to their moves. Though the streets and the areas outside the city walls were frequently strewn with the pieces of the jets that fell, none of their pilots were ever found alive, so there was nobody even to take prisoner or interrogate. Therefore, in order to learn more about their foe, they had to rely on assumptions, deductions and examinations of the wreckage and other things they left behind, and the scientists studied their unique materials and weaponry, hoping to harness some of their technology for their own use, or learn how to best repel its force.
This destructive cycle continued for weeks, which turned into months, with no foreseeable end. All through the cold winter months, the city was beset, and the war became an uncomfortable stalemate, with no side able to gain the upper hand. Gradually however, as winter's shadow was giving way to the warmer spring, the attacks began to peter out, coming with reduced numbers and with increasingly longer periods of time between each.
In one of these tenuous reprieves which had so far lasted a week, Ashelin gathered the city's most important people for another meeting in the Freedom HQ boardroom to assess the situation and discuss their next options.
"This has been going on for months now," said Ashelin, leaning heavily upon the tabletop, her voice laden with regret and fatigue, "And it's clear that neither of us are going to back down. But we can't keep going on like this."
Nobody could disagree with her on that. The war had taken a lot out of both sides, the streets of Haven bore a permanent stench of fire and death, and everyone was weary from the stress, lack of sleep, and the pain of the loss of so many people. Even around this very meeting table, there were empty seats. Ashelin looked the worst; she was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes, making her look much older than she truly was. But then her voice rose.
"This has to end," she said conclusively, thumping her fist on the table in a momentary flash of strength.
"But how?" asked someone at the other end. "The enemy have us pinned down in our own city, they keep sending wave after wave of attacks on us, and we are powerless to stop them. What more can we do?"
"That's what we are here to decide," Samos spoke up. "It is true that there is little we can do right now but to keep defending ourselves as we have always done, but enemy tactics are changing, and we have to understand what this means and how we shall react to them."
"Samos is right," continued Ashelin, grateful that the wise sage was here to offer his perspicacity. "We've seen a decrease in the number of enemy attacks as of late," she said, now looking over the charts she had on the table. "The last one was about a week ago, and they've been nowhere near as devastating as the ones before. If I wasn't any the wiser, I'd say they're finally starting to lose strength."
"They must be running out of men by now, surely," said Jak, a few seats away. "We've taken down so many."
He spoke with the knowledge that he himself had claimed a great number of the enemy jets that had been destroyed; in every battle, he had been up in his cruiser and fighting valiantly, proving himself once again to be an indispensable figure in the city's defence.
"If that's the case," said Torn bravely, "Do you think they'd be open to negotiations now?"
"Maybe," said Ashelin, hoping that it was true, however unlikely it now felt. "We don't know their true numbers. Hell, we still don't even know why they attacked us in the first place. But if I were in their position, I think I would have realised by now that these attacks aren't getting them anywhere, and would try a different tack... that is, if I was really set on destroying who I was fighting against."
"They must be!" said an aggressive commander, almost in automatic response. "Why else would they keep coming back? All they want is to wipe us out!"
"There is no way that we can confirm that," Samos cautioned. He felt as if he had said this at least once in nearly every meeting he had attended, for the attitude of the commander was widely shared by nearly everyone else in the whole city. "For all we know, they might be as confused and guideless as we are. There has been so little communication between us, and neither of us knows for sure how the other thinks."
"Well spoken," said Ashelin. "Until we can actually speak with them directly, we don't have their side of the story. But that won't do us any good right now anyway. Let's get back on track here, and try and come to a decision about what we'll do next. We need to address our next moves. What's everyone's first impressions?"
There was a moment's silence as everyone tried to gather their thoughts and conjure ideas, but it was a difficult exercise. Torn was the first to voice his.
"I'm still in favour of trying to get through to them," he said, and all heads turned to him. He noticed the alienating looks from many of them, as if they neither desired nor valued his further input, because even though it was unproven, many in the council still held him at least partly responsible for all of this fighting. It had been like this for months, but he had been doing his utmost to redeem himself. "I know they can be reasoned with," he persisted against their accusatory and mistrusting glares. "I spoke with them before this all started, after all. I only hope they'll exhaust themselves soon, and finally open up negotiations."
Jak supported this with an agreeing nod of his head, for he had been there too when first contact had been made. It remained the only time when the two opposing forces had ever actually spoken to each other.
"I can understand why you would suggest that, commander," said Ashelin, and Torn internally flinched when she addressed him by his rank rather than his name. She had taken to doing that more and more regularly, he had noticed, treating him more like a soldier than the close and trusting friend that he was to her, as if she desired to maintain only the professional relationship between them that was necessary. Ever since that first battle, she had not looked at him in the same way, and they hadn't had a personal conversation, just the two of them, for weeks.
"If they do, then I will gladly accept them," she continued. "It's the one thing I've wanted ever since this all began, to speak with some of their representatives and come to an understanding with each other, to end this pointless war. I hope that this will still be possible. But if they don't decide to try and talk, then we need to consider the alternatives. For example, like I said, they may see now that their attacks aren't working, so they might try something else that would give them the upper hand somehow. I think that's the possibility we should be most anticipating."
"But what could they possibly be planning?" asked a councillor nearby, as Torn felt put out.
"I don't know," said Ashelin, "But that's why we need to keep a vigilant eye open, and just be ready for anything. Any other thoughts?"
"I say we should try attacking them for once!" said the aggressive commander after another few moments of silence.
"And just how do you propose we do that when we don't even know the location of their homeland?" Samos asked with mildly suppressed frustration. He was getting rather annoyed with this particular commander and his brashness.
"We should start sending patrols out beyond the city walls and try and find where they live," retorted the commander. "Every moment we spend sitting here gives them more time to find a better way of destroying us. Bringing the fight to them might be the only way to stop this once and for all. Violence and deceit is clearly the only language they understand. I say it's either us or them that has to fall, and I'd make damned sure it's not us."
Many of the others in the room made concordant noises and gestures.
"I don't want to have to destroy them completely unless I have no other choice," said Ashelin firmly. "My hopes are still for a peaceful resolution, however unlikely it may now seem, and if the option presents itself, then I'll do whatever I can to take it.
"You raise a good point but it's not tenable," she continued, looking directly at the commander (something which Torn noticed she had not done with him). "Knowing where their own city is would definitely even the playing field, so to speak, but we have no idea how far away they are. It would be a misallocation of men that would serve better here in the city, and we might be searching for months and never find them."
"Yeah, they always teleport in and out," said Jak. "Who knows how far they've come from?"
That reminded Ashelin of something. "How much have we learned about their teleportation technology?" she asked, now turning to the head scientist who was present in the room.
"It's slow progress, governor," answered the scientist contritely. "We haven't yet salvaged an intact fully-working system."
"But are you any closer to understanding how it works?" Ashelin pressed on. "We could really use that technology to our own benefit."
"A little, but it's mostly guessing, and we're still a long way off from building one ourselves."
Ashelin looked disappointed. Though Haven did possess teleportation technology of its own, it was limited to the few warp gates that were located in static positions around the city, and even they were not fully understood, being of ancient Precursor origin. Implementing such technology into vehicles was beyond their current capability.
"And what about their weapons?" asked Ashelin further.
"They've got us even more stumped," said the scientist. "None of us have ever seen anything like them before, and we can't figure out for the life of us how they work."
Uneasy silence fell in the meeting room. They were going round and round in circles with their discussions, making no progress, unable to arrive at any unanimous or effective decisions. It did all feel like a lost cause.
"What about you, Jak?" Ashelin asked, turning at last to the city's hero. "What are your thoughts on all this?"
Jak shrugged. "Honestly, I'm just hoping they'll eventually give up and go home."
"Yeah, but what are the chances of them doing that after everything they've done so far?" asked someone else sceptically.
"It once again begs the question of why they continue to return every time," said Samos.
Jak could hear in his head what Daxter's answer would be: Maybe they're just stupid. But the ottsel was not here right now, having stayed at home at the bar today.
"I mean, they could just stop attacking us and we'd never see each other again," said Jak. "It's not like we can follow them or anything."
Suddenly, something clicked in Ashelin's mind, the pieces of an idea that could potentially change everything in this war. "Or could we follow them?" she said, slowly and thoughtfully.
Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to elaborate.
"Those jets…" she thought out loud. "When they teleport away… they have to end up somewhere. Well, maybe we could track one. If we can find a way of planting a tracer or something onto one of their vehicles during a battle, we could follow the signal and see where they go."
Across the room, Jak looked up with renewed interest. This was a plan he partially recognised, for it was just what Ashelin had done for him when he had been banished to the Wasteland, slipping him a small hand-held beacon so that he would be found. If it had worked for him, then why not on the enemy too?
The others in the room made interested noises. Then the aggressive commander punched a fist into the palm of his other hand. "And then we can head over there ourselves and attack them for once. Just imagine when we show up there and return every blow they've ever landed against us. It's the last thing they'll expect!"
"Only as a last resort," Ashelin repeated, ending the assenting murmur that was building in the room again. "Remember, I want our priority to be ending the war diplomatically, if we can. Besides, I don't think we've even got enough of a force left to launch our own offensive now."
"We should at least prepare for the eventuality," advised Samos. "I know it is not your preferred choice, governor, but we have to face the fact that they are unlikely to give up without a fight, if their past behaviour serves as any record."
Ashelin had to accept, with a sad sigh, that Samos was once again right. Regardless of their intentions, peaceful or destructive, they had to be well prepared if they were ever to travel to the enemy's homeland, for they did not know what to expect there. But first, they had to find it, and ascertain if it was even within their reach.
They took a vote, and the majority were in favour of this plan.
"Very well," Ashelin said. "In that case, there are two things we need to do. First, we need to make a tracking device. I think we've still got some beacons lying around somewhere, we could modify one of those. What do you think?" she asked the head scientist.
"I think that could be possible," he answered. "Can't imagine it'll be too much trouble either. Beats trying to understand those teleporters."
"Alright, see what you can do," said Ashelin, "But don't give up on those teleporters either. We might need them, if we can get them working. Our second objective should be to start building up our strength again, however we can, but it'll need to be done somewhere safe and preferably secret. Anything we build in the city risks getting destroyed in the next attack."
Everyone now pondered over this new problem, but it was Jak who proposed a solution, drawing on his knowledge of all the places he had visited in and around the city. "What about the old drill platform in the mountains?" he suggested. "It's out of the way, there'll be room to work, and there's probably still a lot of useful supplies and eco left up there."
"Good call," said Ashelin. "That might just do it. But I don't think anyone's been up there since before the war, so we'll have to sweep the place to make sure it's still safe and secure. It's worth a look in any case."
She stood up straight. "Alright, we've made some good decisions today, and we have our next objectives. Torn, I want you to prepare a squad and head up to the drill platform to take a look around. Check its condition and bring back anything useful you can find."
Torn saluted, accepting her order without question.
"Meeting adjourned for today," said Ashelin. "Be safe, everyone, and keep fighting the good fight."
The table emptied as everyone gathered up their things and left the room, all feeling a renewed sense of purpose. At last, here was something productive they could work towards, something that made them feel more in control of their own fate, and could possibly turn the war around in their favour.