Conditions of Entry

Chapter Twenty-Three

Conditions of Entry

Lyra did not yell.

Gray had expected yelling.

Not because Lyra yelled often—she usually did not—but because the proposal deserved at least a raised voice. Instead, she stood on the other side of his desk with one hand resting against the back of the visitor chair and read the first page twice.

That was worse.

Gray waited.

Cynthia sat to his right, composed in the way she became when she had already decided to let someone finish being angry before responding. Morning light came through the office window and caught the stack of field reports on Gray's filing cabinet. Outside, somewhere beyond the trees, Aggron bellowed at something with enough enthusiasm to suggest nobody was actually in danger.

Lyra turned the page.

Then the next.

Finally she set the proposal down.

“You want to enter Heatran's chamber again.”

Gray nodded. “Under controlled conditions.”

“With Cynthia.”

“Yes.”

“Alone.”

“With our teams and two League Alakazam.”

“That is still two humans.”

“Yes.”

Lyra pulled out the chair and sat.

Gray did not like that either.

She folded her hands over the proposal.

“Explain why two.”

Cynthia answered first.

“Because ten was too many.”

Lyra looked at her.

Cynthia continued. “The original expedition occupied the chamber for hours. Multiple people, multiple Pokémon, equipment, repeated movement through what we now have reason to believe is part of Heatran's core territory. The passive monitoring shows Heatran does not behave aggressively toward the resident Pokémon or the equipment we’ve placed remotely.”

“Equipment doesn’t smell like a person.”

“No.”

“And it doesn’t walk around.”

“No.”

Lyra shifted her attention back to Gray.

“So this is a behavioral test.”

“Observation.”

“That’s softer wording.”

“More accurate wording.”

She stared at him.

Gray stopped correcting terminology.

Lyra tapped the paper. “What happens if Heatran positions itself between you and the tunnel?”

Gray opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

He had an answer.

Not a good one.

Cynthia leaned forward slightly. “We withdraw before that becomes possible.”

“How?”

“By establishing a maximum approach threshold. Heatran crosses it, we leave immediately.”

“That assumes it approaches from in front of you.”

Good point.

Gray looked at the chamber map.

Lyra noticed.

“Exactly.”

She stood, walked around the desk, and took the map from the top of the file stack without asking. Gray let her.

She spread it flat.

“The chamber has at least three routes you haven't mapped fully, including the passage behind the lava fall. You've already seen Heatran come out of places you didn't know were entrances.”

“Yes.”

“So your retreat plan cannot depend on Heatran being visible in front of you.”

Gray nodded slowly.

Cynthia looked at the map too.

Lyra pointed to the approved observation ledge near the chamber entrance.

“You need a zone where Heatran cannot circle behind you without entering your sightline first.”

Gray followed the contours.

There was one.

A raised shelf with exposed sightlines across most of the near chamber, backed directly by the tunnel wall and the retreat passage.

It was not the best place for data.

It was the best place for not getting trapped.

Gray circled it.

“There.”

Cynthia nodded. “That’s better.”

Lyra looked at both of them.

“And if either one of you says leave, both leave.”

Gray frowned. “Obviously.”

“No discussion.”

“I said obviously.”

“No 'give me thirty seconds.' No 'the reading is almost complete.' No 'it's not actually displaying aggression.' One person says withdraw, you withdraw.”

Gray started to object to the implication.

Then remembered himself in the field.

Fair.

“Fine.”

Lyra turned to Cynthia. “And you don’t let him turn one more minute into twelve.”

Cynthia smiled faintly. “Agreed.”

Gray looked betrayed.

“You're supposed to be on my side.”

“I am.”

“That did not sound like it.”

“It is.”

Lyra sat again.

“Next problem. Teleport.”

Gray expected that one.

“Both Alakazam establish independent anchor chains during descent.”

“And inside the chamber?”

“Unreliable.”

Lyra's expression hardened.

“Then why are they going?”

“Because unreliable isn't useless. They can support navigation and may still be able to make short emergency jumps within sections of the tunnel.”

“May.”

“Yes.”

There it was.

A word Gray had been using less lately because too much of his life currently depended on things nobody could guarantee.

Lyra exhaled.

“So the actual evacuation plan is walking.”

“Yes.”

“In protective suits.”

“Yes.”

“Through the hottest place any of you have willingly entered.”

“Yes.”

“With Heatran potentially following.”

“Yes.”

Lyra leaned back.

Gray could see her organizing the problem rather than emotionally reacting to it. That was part of why he trusted her.

She picked up the proposal again.

“Medical cutoff thresholds?”

“In appendix C.”

“Who wrote them?”

“League thermal-response unit.”

“Good.”

“Gas exposure thresholds?”

“Same.”

“Pokémon heat monitoring?”

“Appendix E.”

“Who decides if a Pokémon is recalled?”

“The trainer, based on preset temperature and stress indicators.”

Lyra looked at him.

Gray sighed.

“Or the medical observer outside the chamber if they see something we don't.”

“Better.”

Cynthia nodded.

Lyra turned another page.

“Communication failure?”

Gray pointed to the radio section.

“Primary suit comms, secondary short-range units, hand signals if both fail.”

“You practiced?”

“Yes.”

“Together?”

“Yes.”

Cynthia answered that one.

Lyra looked between them for several seconds.

Finally she closed the document.

“I hate this.”

Gray nodded.

“I know.”

“That doesn't mean I think the plan is stupid.”

That surprised him.

He said nothing.

Lyra continued. “I think going back into that chamber is dangerous enough that if you do it, you should be obsessive about every detail. And I think both of you are capable of convincing yourselves that curiosity is a good reason to accept one more risk than you planned for.”

Cynthia considered that without offense.

Gray did too.

Lyra pushed the document back toward him.

“So fix the observation zone. Add line-of-sight requirements. Add explicit flank risk. Make the withdrawal rule mutual and automatic. And I want a written rule that neither of you moves deeper into the chamber for any reason.”

Gray nodded.

“Fine.”

She looked at Cynthia.

“Actually fine?”

“Yes.”

Then at Gray.

“Actually fine?”

Gray sighed. “Yes.”

Lyra stood.

“Good.”

She reached the door.

Gray looked down at the marked-up proposal.

“Were you expecting to stop us?”

Lyra paused.

“No.”

That answer caught him off guard.

She looked back.

“If I thought you were going no matter what, I'd be wasting time trying to forbid it. I'd rather make it harder for you to die.”

Then she left.

Cynthia waited until the door closed.

“She’s very good.”

Gray looked at the map.

“Yeah.”

He smiled despite himself.

NovelPhoenix is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“She is.”

The League review took four hours.

Nobody enjoyed it.

That was probably a good sign.

Rhea sat at one end of the long conference table with a stack of printed documents she had annotated so heavily that entire margins disappeared beneath red ink. Beside her sat Dr. Neris Hall from the League's thermal medicine unit, one representative from emergency Psychic operations, a structural safety engineer from Oreburgh, and Colin Voss, who had somehow become involved in every bureaucratic stage of the underground project despite claiming repeatedly that he had other responsibilities.

Roark attended for geology and route safety.

Byron attended because Roark asked him to review the mine-transition sections and then, according to Roark, refused to leave once he learned what Gray and Cynthia were proposing.

Gray did not mind.

Byron understood underground hazards better than almost anyone in the room.

The meeting began with Rhea saying, “This is not approval.”

Gray had not said anything yet.

“I know.”

“Good.”

She looked toward Cynthia.

“This is not approval even though one of you is Champion.”

Cynthia nodded. “Understood.”

Rhea looked irritated that nobody was arguing.

Gray suspected she had prepared for an argument.

Colin opened the formal review.

The proposal appeared on the wall display.

LIMITED HUMAN-PRESENCE OBSERVATION: GEOTHERMAL HABITAT C

Gray liked that title.

Boring titles frightened fewer administrators.

Colin read the purpose statement aloud: controlled observation of Heatran's behavioral response to minimal human presence from a predetermined boundary zone under non-interference conditions.

Nobody objected to the wording.

The objections began with the map.

The structural engineer enlarged the route.

“Your proposed observation shelf is stable according to the last survey, but I want another scan before entry.”

Roark nodded. “Already scheduled.”

“The retreat tunnel narrows here.”

“I know.”

“If one person goes down, the other cannot easily pass.”

Gray looked at the highlighted section.

That was true.

Byron leaned forward.

“Then they don’t run side by side.”

Everyone looked at him.

He pointed at the map.

“Single file through the narrow section. Distance between them. If the first falls, the second has room to stop instead of piling on top.”

Roark nodded immediately.

“Five meters?”

“Too much if visibility goes bad.”

“Three.”

Byron considered.

“Three.”

Added.

Dr. Hall took over next.

She was small, gray-haired, and had the expression of someone who had spent her career watching intelligent people make heatstroke seem innovative.

“These suits are protective equipment, not permission to remain in hazardous conditions.”

Gray nodded.

“I know.”

“I’m saying it because people wearing expensive protection reliably overestimate themselves.”

“I know.”

She looked at him.

Gray stopped saying that.

Dr. Hall brought up internal suit temperatures from the training sessions.

“You both performed adequately. Neither of you has exceptional heat tolerance.”

Gray glanced at Cynthia.

Cynthia glanced back.

Good.

He had not expected to win a special heat-resistance prize.

Hall continued. “The cooling systems buy time. They do not cancel metabolic heat. Once suit internal temperature crosses the cutoff, you leave regardless of Heatran's behavior or data value.”

“Yes.”

“Either of you becomes confused, sluggish, nauseated, or stops responding normally, the other terminates the observation.”

“Yes.”

“Pokémon are not exempt. Battle endurance is irrelevant to prolonged environmental stress.”

Gray liked her.

That was exactly right.

Hall moved through each member of Gray's proposed team.

Bastiodon.

Cradily.

Absol.

Aerodactyl.

Blissey.

Aggron.

Then Cynthia's six.

Garchomp.

Lucario.

Milotic.

Roserade.

Togekiss.

Spiritomb.

The discussion took nearly half an hour.

Some Pokémon would tolerate the heat better than others.

None would be released without a reason.

Milotic became a particular concern.

Cynthia had already planned for that.

“She remains recalled unless we need her.”

Hall nodded. “Good.”

Roserade received the same restriction.

Aerodactyl could tolerate a range of harsh environments but wing membranes created additional heat-loss complications.

Absol would need close monitoring.

Blissey would probably spend more energy monitoring Gray than herself.

Dr. Hall did not say that last part.

Gray thought it.

The emergency Psychic representative was next.

Orison would accompany Cynthia.

Gray's assigned Alakazam was named Meridian.

Gray had met her only twice.

She was older than Orison, physically leaner, and had a habit of holding one spoon against her chest while using the other normally. Her handler claimed nobody knew why.

Gray liked her.

The representative projected the latest teleport stability tests.

“As of the last run, both Orison and Meridian can reliably teleport from the upper system to the established Oreburgh anchor. They can also make short hops within mapped corridors below the beach chamber.”

“Geothermal boundary?” Cynthia asked.

“Short-range only, and even those are degraded.”

“Inside?”

“We're not testing inside until this expedition is approved.”

Good.

Gray had worried someone might have gotten enthusiastic.

The representative continued. “You should treat the Alakazam as navigation and emergency assistance, not guaranteed extraction once you cross the chamber threshold.”

Everyone looked toward Gray and Cynthia.

Gray nodded.

“We already do.”

Rhea tapped her pen.

“Say it more clearly.”

Cynthia answered. “We assume we leave on foot.”

“Good.”

The rest of the meeting became a controlled dismantling of every comfortable assumption.

What if one cooling pack failed?

They carried two.

What if both failed?

Immediate withdrawal.

What if the chamber gases changed?

Continuous monitoring.

What if volcanic movement blocked the return route?

Secondary mapped refuge shelf and Alakazam short-range repositioning if stable.

What if Heatran approached from the lava fall?

Withdraw.

From the side tunnel?

Withdraw.

From above?

Immediate withdrawal.

Roark looked at Gray after that one.

Neither mentioned the first encounter.

What if Heatran simply watched?

Remain in place until ten minutes elapsed.

What if it ignored them entirely?

Still ten minutes.

What if it showed curiosity without aggression?

No approach.

What if it vocalized?

Gray hesitated.

Rhea saw.

“Why did you hesitate?”

“Because vocalization alone isn't necessarily threat behavior.”

“Correct.”

Cynthia leaned forward.

“We should define the posture rather than sound.”

That became another fifteen-minute discussion.

They used the first encounter footage.

Heatran's threatening behavior had included direct body orientation, lowered posture, forward movement, increased oral glow, and persistent pursuit.

Any two of those together would trigger automatic withdrawal.

One, depending on context, would raise alert status.

Gray hated simplifying behavior into a checklist.

He also understood why the checklist existed.

In a crisis, nuance killed people.

Byron spoke rarely.

When he did, everyone listened.

Near the end of the third hour, he pointed at Gray.

“Question.”

Gray looked over.

“If Cynthia tells you to leave and you think she's wrong, what do you do?”

“Leave.”

“If Heatran does something you've never seen before and you want thirty seconds?”

“Leave.”

“If a sensor gives the best reading you've ever had?”

“Leave.”

“If Bastiodon doesn't want to?”

Gray paused.

Byron's eyes narrowed.

“Recall him and leave.”

“Good.”

Then Byron looked at Cynthia.

“Same questions.”

“Same answers.”

He nodded.

That was all.

Roark sat beside him, unusually quiet.

Gray noticed.

The first Heatran encounter had frightened Roark too.

He had joked about the scream afterward because jokes were easier.

This was different.

He was watching two people he cared about plan to walk back into the same chamber deliberately.

Gray understood why he had little to say.

Finally Colin closed the review packet.

“Pending successful field verification of all safety equipment and final structural scan, the League can grant conditional authorization.”

Gray sat straighter.

Rhea raised one hand.

“Conditional.”

“Yes.”

She looked at Gray.

“No improvisation.”

“Yes.”

“At all.”

Gray frowned.

“Some improvisation is unavoidable in fieldwork.”

Rhea stared.

Cynthia put one hand over her mouth.

Roark looked down at the table.

Byron sighed.

Gray reconsidered.

“Operational improvisation only where required for immediate safety.”

Rhea continued staring.

“Fine.”

Good.

That counted.

The authorization was scheduled for forty-eight hours later.

Gray felt something in his chest settle.

Not relief.

Not excitement.

Something narrower.

A plan had become real.

Team preparation began that afternoon.

Gray started with Bastiodon.

The old Pokémon stood near the western fence, chewing slowly through a patch of tough grass while three younger Rock-types wandered nearby. Gray approached carrying the thermal-monitor harness.

Bastiodon looked up.

Gray stopped in front of him.

“You're not going to like this.”

Bastiodon continued chewing.

“Excellent feedback.”

Gray unfolded the harness.

It was not armor.

He had refused armor.

The design used reflective straps across areas unlikely to interfere with movement, a small temperature sensor near the shoulder, and a detachable cooling pack that could be activated during rest or retreat.

Bastiodon sniffed it.

Then Gray.

Then the harness again.

“Yeah.”

Gray fitted the first strap.

Bastiodon stood still.

The old Pokémon had tolerated equipment his entire life. Battle harnesses. Research sensors. medical monitors. Protective wraps after injuries.

This was nothing new.

The reason for it was.

Gray tightened the side strap carefully, avoiding an old sensitive area near the rear plating.

Bastiodon shifted his weight.

Gray noticed.

Age.

Not weakness.

Age.

His partner was still extraordinarily strong.

Still capable of taking impacts that would flatten many Pokémon.

But his rear legs had begun compensating more over the last few years, especially after long days.

Gray rested one hand against the shield.

“You could stay.”

Bastiodon looked at him.

Gray waited.

No mystical understanding.

No human answer.

Just Bastiodon watching him.

Gray continued anyway.

“Aggron can handle field protection. Cradily knows me well enough to listen when I panic. Blissey will probably keep me alive out of spite.”

Bastiodon snorted.

Gray smiled.

“I don't need you there.”

That part was almost true.

Bastiodon turned away.

Gray frowned.

The Pokémon walked several steps.

Then stopped beside the open equipment case Gray had left on the grass.

He lowered his head.

Nudged the case.

Gray stared.

Bastiodon nudged it again.

Then looked back.

Gray laughed quietly.

“Fine.”

Maybe he was projecting.

He did not care.

“Fine.”

He finished fitting the harness.

Bastiodon stood patiently.

Aggron loved his.

Of course he did.

The reflective chest panel covered only a small section of the upper torso, but that was enough.

Aggron saw his reflection in a window.

Stopped.

Turned.

Looked again.

Gray watched.

“You’re unbearable.”

Aggron rumbled happily.

Tessa walked past carrying feed containers.

“He looks handsome.”

Aggron's head turned immediately.

Gray closed his eyes.

“You cannot encourage him.”

Tessa smiled. “Why not?”

Aggron moved closer to the window.

Gray sighed.

Cradily tolerated the cooling monitor after attempting to taste one of the straps.

Absol disliked everything.

Not dramatically.

He simply became very still when Gray brought the reflective material near him and stared with open suspicion.

Gray crouched.

“You don't have to wear the full wrap unless temperatures cross the threshold.”

Absol sniffed the fabric.

Then turned his head away.

“Fair.”

Gray settled for the sensor harness.

Aerodactyl required nearly an hour.

Anything near the wings was unacceptable.

Gray already knew that.

They redesigned the monitor placement around the chest and legs, leaving the wing membranes completely free.

Aerodactyl snapped once at a loose strap.

Gray snapped back verbally.

The argument achieved nothing.

Eventually the harness fit.

Blissey accepted hers immediately.

Then tried to check Gray's temperature.

He had not even put his suit on.

“Not yet.”

Blissey took his wrist anyway.

“I'm fine.”

She stared.

Gray waited.

Blissey released him.

Good.

The team looked ridiculous.

That was fine.

Gray preferred ridiculous and alive.

Cynthia brought her team to Sandgem the next morning.

Not all released simultaneously.

That would have turned the ranch into a traffic problem.

Garchomp came first.

Gray had seen her in training before.

That did not make the Pokémon less impressive.

Garchomp stepped onto the open field and immediately scanned everything around her with the kind of attention that made smaller Pokémon give her space without being asked.

Bastiodon watched from near the fence.

Aggron did too.

Neither reacted aggressively.

Good.

Cynthia fitted Garchomp's heat monitor while Gray adjusted the training projector.

They were not testing battle response.

They were testing behavior around environmental cues.

The Heatran footage appeared on a large portable screen.

Garchomp noticed immediately.

No roar.

No dramatic display.

Her posture simply changed.

Head slightly lower.

Shoulders tighter.

Tail still.

Eyes fixed.

Gray stopped moving.

Cynthia noticed too.

Neither spoke.

The recording showed Heatran walking through the lava fall.

Garchomp tracked it.

Not fear exactly.

Not something Gray could name with confidence.

Recognition of danger, perhaps.

Assessment.

The same focus Gray had seen in experienced Pokémon before difficult battles, but without the anticipatory energy that usually came with wanting to fight.

Garchomp did not look eager.

That mattered.

Cynthia placed one hand against her shoulder.

Garchomp glanced toward her.

Then back at the screen.

Gray looked toward Bastiodon.

His partner had also turned.

Aggron too.

The three Pokémon watched Heatran.

Gray felt a strange chill despite the warm morning.

These were not inexperienced partners.

Garchomp had stood across from some of the strongest Pokémon in the world.

Bastiodon had carried Gray through League matches.

Aggron treated most threats as invitations.

None of them behaved casually.

Cynthia shut off the screen.

The tension eased.

Gray looked at her.

She nodded once.

Message received.

No need to explain.

The dry run happened that afternoon.

No Heatran observation.

No chamber entry.

Boundary only.

Gray, Cynthia, Orison, Meridian, Roark, Rhea, and two safety specialists descended through the established route.

The larger support team stopped at the upper thermal staging point.

Gray and Cynthia continued with the Alakazam, Roark, and Rhea to the final safe tunnel.

The descent felt different this time.

Not mysterious.

Known.

That was strange.

The temperate cavern no longer stopped Gray in his tracks, though he still looked up at the crystal canopy when they passed through. Researchers had marked safe corridors without changing the habitat. A Combee crossed overhead.

The snow chamber remained beautiful.

Bellyflop was nowhere visible.

Roark seemed disappointed.

The beach chamber smelled like salt before they reached it.

They passed the branching route toward the fossil jungle but did not enter.

Then the air warmed.

Gradually.

The cooling systems came on.

Gray felt chilled fluid move through the underlayer beneath his suit.

The gold visor changed the world.

Stone became darker.

Heat sources brighter.

Every breath sounded slightly louder inside the helmet.

Cynthia walked several feet ahead.

Orison beside her.

Meridian beside Gray.

The Alakazam stopped at each anchor point.

Tested.

Confirmed.

Moved on.

The deeper they went, the longer the confirmations took.

At the final tunnel before the geothermal chamber, Orison stopped.

His spoons trembled.

Meridian closed her eyes.

Gray waited.

No one rushed them.

The crystals here were sparse, embedded in black stone.

Heat rolled through the tunnel in waves.

Finally Orison opened his eyes.

Cynthia looked toward him.

He gave a small shake of the head.

Not stable.

Meridian indicated the same.

Expected.

Still unpleasant.

Gray looked toward Rhea.

She raised one finger.

“One short-range test.”

Orison teleported ten feet forward.

Reappeared.

Stable.

Meridian followed.

Also stable.

Twenty feet.

Both succeeded.

Thirty.

Orison reappeared slightly off position.

Meridian refused before trying.

Good.

That established the limit better than any theory.

Inside the chamber, teleportation would not save them reliably.

Feet.

Always feet.

They continued to the boundary.

Roark stopped first.

The tunnel bent.

Beyond it came orange light.

Gray's body reacted before his thoughts.

Heart faster.

Breathing shallower.

Memory.

Heatran dropping from the ceiling.

Stone shaking.

Roark screaming.

Heat in Gray's face.

The slow retreat.

He stopped.

Cynthia looked back.

“You good?”

“Yes.”

True enough.

Gray moved forward.

They reached the chamber threshold.

No farther.

That was the rule.

The geothermal cavern opened beyond them.

Lava.

Black stone.

Shimmering air.

The distant lava fall.

Gray's eyes went automatically to the ceiling.

Empty.

Good.

Roark saw.

He said nothing.

The sensors showed no immediate Heatran activity.

Gray checked the predetermined observation shelf.

Visible from here.

Backed by stone.

Clear retreat route.

Good.

Cynthia stood beside him.

They stayed for two minutes.

Boundary test only.

Then something struck stone far inside the chamber.

One heavy impact.

Then another.

Gray froze.

Roark did too.

Rhea lifted one hand.

No movement.

A third impact.

Distant.

Slow.

Heavy.

Heatran.

Probably.

Gray could not see it.

That made the sound worse.

His curiosity surged immediately.

Where?

Which route?

How far?

He could move three feet and see around more of the wall.

Three feet.

Not far.

The boundary line lay beneath his boots.

Gray stayed where he was.

Cynthia did too.

Another impact.

Then silence.

Rhea checked the time.

“Done.”

Gray turned.

No argument.

They withdrew.

Roark followed.

Only after the chamber light disappeared around the bend did Gray realize how tightly he had been holding one hand.

He opened it.

Sweat inside the glove.

Cynthia looked over.

“You wanted to look.”

“Yes.”

“So did I.”

Gray smiled faintly.

“Good.”

They kept walking.

The final authorization came that evening.

Gray read it twice.

APPROVED — LIMITED ENTRY

Date and time window.

Personnel.

Equipment.

Restrictions.

Withdrawal criteria.

Everything they had argued about.

Everything Lyra, Rhea, Roark, Byron, medical staff, and League safety had added.

Two humans.

Two Alakazam.

Full teams.

No approach.

No interaction.

No deviation.

Ten minutes maximum after Heatran becomes aware of them.

Gray signed.

Cynthia signed after him.

Rhea signed last.

She held the pen over the paper for a second longer than necessary.

Then wrote her name.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

Gray nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

That night, the ranch was quiet.

Not silent.

Never silent.

Something moved near the pond.

Chatot muttered from inside the house.

A Gyarados surfaced once in the distance, creating a broad silver ripple beneath the moon.

Gray sat on the porch steps with Bastiodon beside him.

The packed thermal equipment waited inside.

Everything checked.

Twice.

Then a third time because Gray did not trust twice.

Bastiodon's harness sat near the door.

The old Pokémon breathed slowly.

Gray rested one forearm against the edge of his shield.

“Tomorrow's stupid.”

Bastiodon shifted.

“Not bad stupid.”

Gray looked across the dark ranch.

“Calculated stupid.”

That sounded better.

He had spent years entering caves.

Ruins.

Old settlements.

Unstable ground.

Habitats full of Pokémon capable of hurting him accidentally or deliberately.

This was different.

Heatran had looked at him.

Followed him.

Could have attacked.

Had not.

Gray did not interpret that as mercy.

He did not know what Heatran thought.

That was the reason to go back.

Not to conquer it.

Not to prove bravery.

Not because a Legendary Pokémon represented some prize.

Because human knowledge currently contained one encounter conducted under terrible conditions and centuries of stories layered with reverence, fear, and mythology.

That was not enough.

Bastiodon nudged his shoulder.

Gray looked over.

“Yeah.”

He scratched beneath the shield.

The back door opened.

Chatot came waddling onto the porch rail.

Gray frowned.

“No.”

Chatot stared.

“You're not coming.”

“Bullshit!”

“Correct.”

Chatot flapped onto Gray's shoulder.

Gray removed him.

Chatot returned.

Gray removed him again.

“Heatran.”

Chatot puffed up.

“FUCK!”

Gray smiled.

“Exactly.”

The third time Gray placed him on the porch rail, Chatot stayed.

Good.

Gray's phone buzzed.

Cynthia.

0600. Oreburgh staging post.

Gray replied.

I'll be there.

Three dots appeared.

Early.

Gray frowned.

I'm always early.

Her response came immediately.

You were forty minutes late to the conservation meeting.

Gray typed:

That was paperwork.

Cynthia answered:

Heatran is not paperwork.

Gray looked toward Bastiodon.

Fair.

0550.

A moment later:

Good.

Gray put the phone away.

Tomorrow he would walk back into the hottest room beneath Sinnoh with one of the strongest trainers in the region beside him, twelve of their Pokémon available, and two Psychic-types whose best emergency option was probably to help them run faster.

Not ideal.

Still better than the first time.

He stayed outside with Bastiodon until the air cooled enough that Blissey came looking for him.

Then he went inside to sleep.