First Light

Chapter Ten

First Light

Lyra had called them the Wonder Twins of Stupidity before they left Sandgem.

Gray had objected to the phrasing on several grounds, most of them scientific. There were no twins involved, the term wonder was imprecise, and neither of them was stupid in any measurable academic sense.

Roark, standing beside the ranch gate with two packs, a mining helmet, three rolled maps, and enough enthusiasm to qualify as a workplace hazard, had instead asked which one of them was Wonder and which one was Stupidity.

Lyra had stared at him for several seconds before saying, “You’re making my point for me.”

Now, almost two hours beneath Oreburgh, Gray was beginning to suspect she might have had some evidence.

Not enough to be right.

But evidence.

The natural cave system below the city was cooler than the mine levels above it, though not cold. Damp air settled against Gray’s face and carried the familiar smell of wet stone, mineral dust, old water, and Pokémon. Their headlamps cut pale tunnels through the dark whenever the path narrowed, but larger chambers were lit by old industrial lamps fixed along routes that miners still occasionally used for geological surveys.

Roark moved through it as though the mountain had personally raised him.

He probably knew half the caves better than Gray knew the corridors of his own lab.

That was annoying.

Gray considered himself excellent underground.

He was excellent underground.

Unfortunately, Roark had grown up in Oreburgh, worked in its mines, ran its Gym, knew half the survey crews by name, and seemed capable of identifying a turn by the shape of moisture on the wall.

Gray had spent the last thirty minutes quietly resenting this advantage.

“You’re walking too fast,” he said.

Roark looked over his shoulder. “I’m walking normally.”

“You have local legs.”

Roark stopped.

Gray nearly walked into him.

“What are local legs?”

“You know the terrain.”

“That isn’t legs.”

“It affects how you use them.”

Roark stared at him for a moment, then started walking again. “You could just say you want me to slow down.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you complaining?”

“Observation.”

“Right.”

Gray adjusted the strap across his chest and followed.

Absol moved ahead of them, silent enough that his claws barely seemed to touch the stone. He had been calm since they entered the mine, pausing occasionally to smell the air or look down side passages before continuing. Gray trusted his judgment more than either human’s.

Roark’s Onix had remained several levels above with a mine crew at the last large access point. The deeper route was too narrow in places for him to travel without doing significant damage, and they had no intention of creating another tunnel by accident.

That was called learning.

Lyra should have been proud.

Gray had told her so over the radio during their first check-in.

She had not sounded proud.

The cave bent sharply to the west, opening into a chamber where stalactites hung overhead in uneven rows. Moisture dripped somewhere beyond their lights with enough consistency that Gray had been counting the interval unconsciously for nearly a minute before noticing.

Roark stepped over a low ridge of stone.

Gray followed and nearly placed his boot on a Geodude.

The Pokémon’s eyes opened.

Gray stopped with one foot in the air.

Geodude stared.

Gray slowly lowered his boot somewhere else.

“Morning.”

Roark looked back.

The Geodude remained perfectly still except for its eyes.

Gray crouched a little, keeping several feet between them. “Didn’t see you.”

Geodude lifted one arm.

Gray wasn't entirely sure whether the gesture was greeting or warning.

Probably warning.

He backed away.

Roark waited until they were moving again before saying, “Very dignified.”

“I didn’t step on him.”

“You almost did.”

“Almost is the difference between success and a reportable incident.”

“I’m telling Lyra that.”

“She already assumes worse.”

Roark laughed.

The Geodude disappeared behind them.

Wild Pokémon had become more frequent as they moved away from the active mine. Most gave the humans a wide berth. Zubat hung in clusters from high sections of the ceiling, wings folded close around their bodies until movement or sound disturbed them. One group stirred as Gray and Roark passed beneath, filling the chamber briefly with leathery movement before settling again.

Gray stopped once to take a photograph.

Not of the Zubat themselves.

The roost.

There were mineral deposits around the ceiling shelf, guano accumulated beneath, small fungal growths along the dampest section of wall, and claw marks that suggested the site had been in use for some time.

Roark noticed Gray lingering.

“You are going to document every cave we pass before we reach the thing we actually came to see, aren’t you?”

Gray took another picture. “No.”

Roark waited.

Gray made a note.

Roark sighed. “That was a lie.”

“I am not documenting every cave.”

“You just photographed Zubat shit.”

“Ecological evidence.”

“It is shit.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Roark laughed despite himself and leaned against the wall while Gray finished.

This was another reason the trip had already taken longer than Roark predicted.

Gray liked caves.

Not merely in the way Roark liked caves, though there was overlap.

Roark looked at rock and saw formation, pressure, mineral structure, fault lines, ore, extraction history, human labor, and how the mountain fit together physically.

Gray looked at the same wall and saw who might have passed it.

What lived there.

What used to live there.

Whether water had once flowed differently.

Whether the marks on the stone were natural, Pokémon-made, or human.

A cave was never empty.

Even when no one stood inside it, something had happened there.

He found that difficult to ignore.

They continued downward.

Twenty minutes later, the route narrowed enough that they had to move single file along a ledge above a shallow underground stream. Gray stopped at one point to test the stone with his boot.

Roark, ahead of him, glanced back. “Stable.”

“I know.”

“You checked.”

“Yes.”

“I already checked.”

“Yes.”

Roark smiled. “Trust issues?”

“Redundancy.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gray looked toward the water instead of answering.

Something moved beneath the surface.

Small.

Gone too quickly to identify.

He made a note.

Roark sighed theatrically.

Gray ignored him.

The ledge widened again after another hundred feet. Ahead, a large shape shifted near the wall.

Graveler.

Gray raised one hand.

Roark stopped.

The Graveler was eating.

Or possibly licking the wall.

With Rock-types it could be difficult to distinguish the two.

It scraped mineral deposits away with its fingers, examined them, then put some into its mouth.

Gray watched.

Roark watched too.

For once, neither spoke immediately.

The Graveler turned.

Saw them.

Its posture changed.

Not aggressive.

Alert.

Roark slowly moved one hand away from the pick attached to his belt. Gray approved. Sudden reaching around territorial wild Pokémon was how people became cautionary anecdotes.

They waited.

The Graveler looked at Absol.

Absol looked back.

Several seconds passed.

Then Graveler resumed eating.

Gray smiled faintly.

“Good.”

Roark whispered, “You know whispering doesn’t matter much when it probably heard us twenty yards ago.”

Gray kept his voice low anyway. “Politeness.”

They gave the Pokémon a wide path.

Once they were beyond the chamber, Roark looked toward Gray. “That’s the thing I never get about tourists underground.”

“What?”

“They see a Graveler and walk toward it.”

Gray frowned. “Why?”

“Pictures.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yes.”

“It’s a large territorial rock with arms.”

“Yes.”

“It can explode.”

“Yes.”

Gray looked back down the passage as though offended on Graveler’s behalf. “People are fucking weird.”

Roark nodded. “Finally, something we agree on.”

“We agree on many things.”

“Name five.”

“Fossils.”

“That’s one.”

“Rocks.”

“Too broad.”

“Mining history.”

“Fine.”

“Lyra is terrifying.”

Roark stumbled slightly.

Gray smiled.

Roark recovered and pointed ahead. “Keep walking.”

“That’s three.”

“You are a bad person.”

Gray laughed.

Their route dipped again.

The mine sounds had long since disappeared. No distant machinery. No metal against stone. No voices over radios except their scheduled check-ins.

The quiet was different from the ranch.

Gray liked both.

The ranch was alive with familiar sound.

This was alive with things he did not know yet.

Better for curiosity.

Worse for self-preservation.

Roark took them through a low passage supported by old mining timbers, then stopped abruptly at the far side.

Gray nearly walked into him again.

“You keep doing that.”

Roark pointed.

Gray followed the gesture.

At first he saw nothing unusual.

Then something red glinted back from the darkness.

Gray frowned.

A squat shape stood several yards away beside a natural stone pillar. Magnet-like arms. Red nose. Dark blue body.

Gray blinked.

“Nosepass?”

Roark grinned.

The Nosepass did not react.

It faced almost perfectly north.

Gray pulled out his notebook.

Roark laughed softly. “There it is.”

“Shut up.”

“Have you never seen one?”

“Of course I’ve seen one.”

“Then why do you look like you found a legendary?”

“Because they’re uncommon in this section of Sinnoh.”

Roark crouched beside him.

Gray ignored the proximity and started writing.

Location.

Approximate depth.

Temperature.

Observed orientation.

Behavior.

The Nosepass remained completely still.

Roark whispered, “We get them sometimes deeper around magnetic deposits, but not usually this far east.”

Gray looked over immediately. “Usually?”

“Occasionally.”

“And you didn't mention this?”

“It didn't seem relevant.”

Gray stared.

Roark frowned. “What?”

“You have local Nosepass observations and don’t consider that relevant?”

“To what?”

“Everything.”

Roark smiled. “There’s the professor.”

Gray pointed the notebook toward him. “I want mine records.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because half of them say things like ‘saw weird red-nosed thing near Shaft Twelve.’”

“Yes.”

“That’s not data.”

“It is absolutely data.”

“That is miner gossip.”

“Repeated observational reports are data.”

“Bad data.”

“Still data.”

Roark sighed. “Fine. I’ll see what exists.”

Gray returned to watching the Nosepass.

After a minute, it shifted slightly.

Not toward them.

Just enough to adjust its orientation.

Gray took another photograph.

Then they left without approaching.

That, Gray thought, was good field practice.

He made sure Roark heard him say this.

Roark told him to enjoy the moral victory while it lasted.

They reached the access point a little over two hours after entering the lower cave system.

Gray knew it immediately.

Partly because Roark slowed.

Partly because the surrounding rock changed.

The natural cave narrowed toward an old mining wall where timber bracing had been installed decades earlier. Much of the original passage was blocked by collapse, but one section had been cleared recently. Fresh scratches marked the stone where debris had been removed, and newer supports had been added alongside the old ones.

Beyond them lay darkness.

Roark stopped beside the opening.

His excitement changed.

Not disappeared.

Focused.

“This is it.”

Gray took off his pack and set it against the wall.

The opening was just wide enough for one person to enter comfortably, though the upper edge remained unstable enough that several pieces of stone had shifted since Roark's first visit.

Gray crouched.

“More settlement than yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“How much?”

“Maybe half an inch here.”

Roark pointed at one support.

Gray examined it.

“Not enough.”

“No.”

“Good.”

Roark looked at him.

Gray smiled.

“If it had moved a lot, we’d leave.”

“That sounded responsible.”

“I am responsible.”

Roark said nothing.

Gray frowned. “Fuck you.”

Roark laughed and started unloading support equipment.

They had planned for this.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Which meant Lyra would technically have no grounds for complaint.

This was important.

They worked for nearly an hour.

Roark took the lead.

Here, the differences between them became obvious.

Gray knew excavation safety.

Roark knew mines.

Those were related but not identical.

Gray watched the stone.

Roark read it.

He checked pressure points, tapped sections with the handle of a hammer, studied where the collapse had distributed weight, and adjusted their portable bracing plan twice before allowing Gray to install anything.

Gray respected this enough not to argue.

Much.

The first disagreement involved placement of a temporary support beam.

Gray thought it would hold.

Roark said it would hold until it didn't.

Gray pointed out that this described every structure ever built.

Roark told him to move it six inches.

Gray moved it six inches.

The second disagreement concerned whether they needed to clear a loose slab near the top of the opening.

Gray wanted it removed.

Roark wanted it stabilized in place.

That argument lasted ten minutes.

Roark won.

Gray still thought he was right.

Neither mentioned it afterward.

At one point, Roark had half his body inside the gap while Gray held a portable lamp over his shoulder.

“Left.”

“My left?”

“Yes.”

“You said left yesterday and meant your left.”

“I meant geological left.”

Gray stared at the back of his helmet. “There is no geological left.”

“There should be.”

“Move your hand.”

Roark adjusted.

Gray watched the support settle.

“Good.”

Roark backed out.

They checked everything again.

Then again.

Redundancy.

Good underground practice.

Gray made Roark explain the load distribution one final time, not because he doubted him but because saying a plan aloud exposed stupid assumptions.

Roark understood that.

When they finished, he sat on a stone and drank water.

Gray did the same.

Their helmets rested beside them.

Both were sweaty.

Dust coated Roark's hair.

Gray had dirt across one knee and both palms.

Absol lay near the opening, apparently bored by human engineering.

Gray looked at the reinforced passage.

“Lyra is going to be unbearable when she finds out we did this correctly.”

Roark drank.

“She’ll probably still complain.”

“Yes.”

“She’s good at it.”

Gray glanced sideways.

There it was.

Very subtle.

Not really.

Roark realized.

“Don't.”

Gray smiled.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“No.”

“Your face did.”

Gray took another drink.

After a moment, he said, “You know, you could just ask her out.”

Roark nearly choked.

Gray waited patiently.

Roark coughed, wiped his mouth, and stared. “Why are we doing this underground?”

“Privacy.”

“I hate you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Roark shook his head.

Gray leaned back against the wall.

“Seriously.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because we're going into the weird cave.”

“That is unrelated.”

“It is extremely related. I would like one problem at a time.”

Gray laughed.

Roark put his helmet back on. “Are we going or are you starting a relationship seminar?”

“Going.”

“Good.”

Gray reached for his own helmet.

Then paused.

He checked the time.

Their next scheduled radio contact was in twenty minutes.

“Check in first.”

Roark looked surprised.

Gray frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You did the face.”

“I am proud of you.”

“Shut up.”

They radioed.

Signal crackled but held.

Lyra answered.

“Sandgem Lab.”

Gray smiled. “You sound official.”

A pause.

“Gray?”

“Yes.”

“You’re alive.”

“Obviously.”

Roark leaned toward the radio. “He almost stepped on a Geodude.”

Gray shoved him away.

Lyra's voice immediately sharpened. “What?”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“I nearly stepped near a Geodude.”

“That is not what happened.”

Gray held the radio farther away from Roark.

“Everything is fine. Access point stabilized. We’re going through now.”

“Any injuries?”

“No.”

“Equipment?”

“Fine.”

“Absol?”

Gray looked down.

Absol opened one eye.

“Judgmental.”

Lyra sighed. “That means fine?”

“Yes.”

“Next check-in in two hours.”

“Probably.”

“Not probably.”

“Signal may not carry.”

“That’s why you have repeaters.”

Roark whispered, “She’s right.”

Gray covered the radio.

“Traitor.”

Lyra said, “I heard that.”

Gray looked at the device.

“Unfortunate.”

“Two hours.”

“Fine.”

“Gray?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t touch anything you don’t understand.”

Gray looked toward the unknown passage.

“That’s an unreasonable standard.”

Roark laughed.

Lyra sighed.

The radio clicked off.

Gray looked at Roark. “She worries too much.”

Roark adjusted his pack.

“She knows you.”

“That is not evidence.”

“It kind of is.”

Gray put the radio away.

Then they entered.

The passage beyond the collapsed wall was older than the mine.

That became obvious almost immediately.

Not human-old.

Geological.

The rock changed from worked stone to an uneven natural channel, the walls rounded in places by ancient water flow. There were no supports, no tool marks, no remnants of timber or metal, nothing to suggest anyone had deliberately created it.

Gray ran one gloved hand near the wall without touching.

Roark noticed.

“You want to.”

“Yes.”

“Lyra said not to touch things.”

“She said things I don't understand.”

“You understand rock.”

“Exactly.”

Roark shook his head.

They moved carefully.

The passage sloped down for almost two hundred feet before leveling out.

The air changed first.

Warmer.

Wetter.

Gray felt moisture settle against his skin.

Absol's ears lifted.

He stopped.

Gray immediately stopped too.

Roark looked over.

“What?”

Gray crouched beside Absol.

The Dark-type stared ahead.

Not alarmed.

Interested.

Gray scratched lightly along his neck.

“Something?”

Absol sniffed.

Then kept walking.

Gray stood.

“Fine.”

Roark smiled. “Useful conversation.”

“We understand each other.”

“You asked one word.”

“And got an answer.”

“I get more from my Onix.”

“You talk too much.”

Roark laughed quietly.

Then the passage began to brighten.

At first Gray assumed it was their lamps reflecting from something ahead.

He switched his off.

The light remained.

Roark noticed and switched his off too.

Darkness did not return.

A pale glow touched the walls.

Not blue.

Not green.

White.

Soft enough that Gray initially thought of moonlight, though they were hundreds of feet beneath Oreburgh and there was no sky anywhere near them.

He stopped walking.

Roark had seen this before.

He still stopped too.

The light came from ahead, diffused around a bend in the passage.

Gray could see their shadows now.

Faint.

But real.

He looked at Roark.

Roark was grinning.

“You undersold it.”

“I know.”

Gray started moving faster.

“Careful.”

“I am careful.”

“You’re literally speeding up.”

“Efficiently.”

The passage widened.

The light grew stronger.

Then the wall on Gray's right fell away.

He stepped through the opening.

And stopped.

For several seconds, the notebook hanging from his belt remained untouched.

That was how Roark knew he'd actually surprised him.

The cavern beyond was enormous.

Not impossibly enormous.

Not some endless subterranean void.

But large enough that their voices would carry.

The ceiling rose perhaps sixty or seventy feet in places, broken by irregular stone formations and broad shelves where pale mineral deposits clustered. The ground spread into a shallow basin covered in dark soil, low vegetation, stone outcroppings, patches of moss, and several small pools fed by water trickling down one wall.

And everywhere there were crystals.

White mineral growths pushed from the cavern walls and ceiling in clusters ranging from finger-length points to formations taller than Gray. They were not transparent. Their surfaces had a cloudy, opalescent quality, catching and dispersing whatever energy moved through them until the entire cavern glowed.

Not brightly enough to hurt.

Brightly enough to forget how far underground they were.

Gray stared upward.

“This is fucking impossible.”

Roark smiled. “I said that.”

“No, I mean physically.”

“I know.”

Gray finally reached for the notebook.

Roark laughed.

“Back to normal.”

Gray ignored him.

He wrote quickly.

Estimated dimensions.

Humidity.

Temperature.

Light.

Crystal distribution.

Vegetation density.

Water source.

He stopped halfway through a sentence because movement crossed the far side of the cavern.

Combee.

Three of them.

They floated lazily between clusters of small yellow flowers near the central basin.

Gray's pen stopped.

Roark followed his gaze.

“They were here yesterday.”

Gray took out the camera.

“Flowers support them.”

“Probably.”

“Where are they nesting?”

“Didn't see.”

Gray zoomed carefully.

He took several photographs.

Combee moving between flowers.

Flower clusters.

Nearby vegetation.

A broad shot of the entire area.

Roark had already started walking toward one crystal formation.

Gray noticed without looking away from the camera.

“Don't lick it.”

Roark turned.

“I wasn't going to lick it.”

“You're getting close.”

“I’m looking.”

“You're sniffing.”

Roark leaned away from the crystal.

“I was not sniffing.”

Gray lowered the camera.

“You absolutely were.”

“It smells different over here.”

“That is sniffing.”

“It was observation.”

Gray smiled. “Academic vocabulary.”

Roark pointed at him. “Fuck you.”

Gray returned to photographing the Combee.

The Pokémon had noticed them but seemed unconcerned.

Good.

Gray made no attempt to approach.

That was important.

Unknown habitat.

Unknown level of human contact.

Potentially isolated population.

Their job was observation first.

Interaction only if necessary.

The irony was that Roark understood this perfectly.

Until he became excited.

Then he occasionally turned into a twelve-year-old with mining credentials.

A Geodude sat half-buried near one pool.

Gray nearly missed it.

He photographed that too.

Different coloration?

Maybe.

The light made judgment difficult.

He wrote a note rather than pretending certainty.

Possible lighter mineral staining. Need actual sample only if non-invasive opportunity presents.

Good.

They moved deeper into the cavern.

Absol stayed close now.

Not nervous.

Alert.

Gray liked that.

There were tracks everywhere.

Small.

Large.

Some familiar.

Some less obvious.

Gray crouched several times to photograph them.

Buneary prints.

Stunky.

Possibly Onix farther near the wall.

Something small and serpentine.

Roark pointed toward a low stone shelf.

“Ekans.”

Gray looked.

There.

A purple shape curled in the warmth beneath a crystal outcropping.

The Ekans had its head raised.

Watching them.

Gray slowly lifted his camera.

One photograph.

Then another.

The Ekans flicked its tongue.

Gray stayed where he was.

Roark whispered, “You want to get closer.”

“Yes.”

“But you're not.”

“No.”

“Growth.”

Gray looked at him.

Roark smiled.

Gray resumed writing.

The Ekans eventually relaxed.

Good.

They moved away.

About twenty minutes into the cavern, Roark found the Stunky.

Or the Stunky found Roark.

There were four.

Two near a patch of low vegetation, one digging at something beneath a root, and another sitting on a flat stone with the self-confidence of an animal that knew exactly what biological weapon it possessed.

Gray saw them first.

He stopped.

Roark stopped beside him.

“Stunky.”

“Yes.”

“Four.”

“I can count.”

Gray photographed them.

The nearest Stunky looked toward the camera.

Gray lowered it slightly.

No aggression.

Curiosity.

He waited.

The Stunky went back to digging.

Roark reached into his side pouch.

Gray heard the zipper.

He turned.

“No.”

Roark looked at him.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You opened food.”

“I have dried berries.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because we are documenting an unknown isolated habitat.”

“They know what berries are.”

“That is not the problem.”

Roark held one between two fingers.

“They're native fruit.”

“You don't know whether these Pokémon have ever been fed by humans.”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly.”

Roark looked toward the nearest Stunky.

Gray looked at Roark.

“No.”

Roark sighed.

“Fine.”

He put the berry away.

Gray nodded approvingly.

Then one of the Stunky walked toward them.

Roark's eyes lit up.

Gray immediately knew this was going to become stupid.

“Don't.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“That sentence has history.”

The Stunky came closer.

Ten feet.

Eight.

Gray took one slow step backward.

Roark stayed.

The Stunky sniffed.

Roark crouched.

Gray stared.

“Roark.”

“I'm just letting it smell me.”

“That is fine.”

The Stunky came closer.

Roark remained still.

Also fine.

Gray relaxed slightly.

Then Roark slowly reached into the food pouch.

Gray's eyes narrowed.

“Roark.”

“It came to me.”

“That does not change what I said.”

Roark took out one berry.

“Just one.”

“No.”

The Stunky sniffed the air.

Roark smiled.

Gray closed his eyes.

“Do what you want. You're an adult.”

That sentence had been a mistake.

Roark interpreted it as permission.

Gray heard the soft shuffle of movement.

Then Roark said, “Hey, buddy.”

Gray opened his eyes.

Roark held the berry on his palm.

The Stunky approached.

It sniffed his hand.

Took the berry.

Roark looked delighted.

Gray had just enough time to think that perhaps nothing terrible would happen.

The Stunky turned around.

Gray's brain processed the posture immediately.

“Oh, fuck.”

Roark looked up.

“What?”

Gray stepped backward.

Fast.

Roark finally understood.

“No, no, no—”

The spray hit him almost point-blank.

Roark made a sound Gray had never heard a human being make before.

He fell backward.

The Stunky ran.

The other three scattered.

Gray stood twenty feet away with one hand over his nose.

For several seconds he was too stunned to laugh.

Then the smell reached him.

He gagged.

“Holy shit.”

Roark rolled onto one side.

“Help.”

Gray started laughing.

“I told you.”

“Help me!”

“I specifically told you.”

“I know!”

The smell became worse.

Gray backed farther away.

Absol had already retreated to the opposite side of the cavern.

Smart.

Gray laughed so hard he had to bend over.

Roark glared from the ground.

“This isn't funny.”

“It is extremely funny.”

“I've been sprayed before.”

“That makes it worse.”

“How?”

“You knew.”

Roark sat up.

His face was a mixture of betrayal and disgust.

“I thought it liked me.”

Gray wiped at his eyes.

“It did.”

“Then why?”

“Because it is a Stunky.”

Roark stared.

Gray started laughing again.

Then something touched Gray's boot.

He froze.

Slowly, he looked down.

A Buneary stood beside him.

Gray had no idea how long it had been there.

The little Normal-type looked up.

Gray looked back.

Neither moved.

Then both turned toward Roark.

Roark was sitting in the dirt, trying to wipe his jacket with one of the emergency cloths.

The attempt was useless.

The Buneary's ears lowered slightly.

Gray looked down at it.

The Buneary looked at him.

There was something in the expression.

Not human.

Gray did not anthropomorphize Pokémon more than necessary.

But he knew sympathy when he saw it.

Or maybe shared exhaustion.

Gray nodded toward Roark.

“I know.”

The Buneary looked at Roark again.

Roark heard him.

“Are you talking shit about me with the Buneary?”

Gray tried not to laugh.

“No.”

The Buneary looked back at Gray.

Gray looked at the Buneary.

Both remained silent.

Roark pointed.

“You are.”

Gray finally lost it again.

The Buneary startled slightly at the laughter but did not run.

Gray controlled himself.

“Sorry.”

The Buneary sniffed his leg.

Gray did not reach down.

Not yet.

He simply stood.

After a moment, the Buneary sat beside his boot.

Roark looked wounded.

“It likes you.”

“I didn't feed it.”

“Fuck you.”

Gray smiled.

The Buneary's ears twitched.

Gray crouched slowly, leaving enough distance that it could retreat.

It stayed.

Interesting.

He took one photograph, careful not to use flash.

The Buneary watched the camera.

Then looked at him.

Gray made a note.

Adult? Appears healthy. Minimal fear response to human presence. Unknown prior exposure.

Roark had moved farther away from the main habitat to deal with the Stunky problem.

Gray called, “Do not wash that in the pools.”

Roark looked offended.

“I know!”

“Just checking.”

“I run a mine!”

“You fed a wild Stunky.”

“That was unrelated.”

Gray looked at the Buneary.

The Buneary looked at Gray.

Gray whispered, “See?”

Roark heard.

“I hate both of you.”

The emergency odor neutralizer helped.

Not enough.

Roark still smelled like a chemical weapon had developed mining interests.

Gray refused to let him remove the jacket and leave it behind because introducing contaminated human material into the environment was irresponsible.

Roark accused him of enjoying this.

Gray admitted nothing.

They continued exploring.

The Buneary followed for a while.

Not closely.

It moved through the vegetation parallel to them, sometimes disappearing behind rocks and returning several yards later.

Gray did not feed it.

Did not touch it.

Did not try to capture it.

He simply observed.

That seemed to be enough.

Eventually it lost interest and wandered toward a patch of low grass.

Gray watched until it disappeared.

Roark looked over.

“You want it.”

Gray frowned. “What?”

“You do.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

“I have no reason to remove it from here.”

“That is not what I said.”

Gray looked toward where the Buneary had gone.

“No.”

Roark smiled.

Gray ignored him.

The cavern deserved attention.

They began a more systematic survey.

Roark mapped.

Gray documented ecology.

The division happened naturally.

Roark paced distances, marked stone formations, checked the walls, studied crystal distribution, and tried to determine whether the chamber was part of a larger network.

Gray recorded Pokémon sightings, vegetation, water, tracks, temperature, humidity, and possible evidence of stable food webs.

The Combee interested him most at first.

They implied flowering plants.

Flowering plants required light.

The light came from the crystals.

Probably.

But light alone wasn't enough.

Pollination.

Water.

Nutrients.

Seasonality, if there was any.

How long had the ecosystem existed?

How isolated was it?

Were there other openings?

Had the Pokémon entered from surface caves over generations?

Was the habitat connected to multiple subterranean chambers large enough to support migration?

Gray's handwriting deteriorated as his excitement increased.

Roark noticed.

“You know no one can read that.”

“I can.”

“Lyra says you can’t.”

“Lyra exaggerates.”

“Your assistant has asked you to dictate notes.”

“That is for efficiency.”

Roark leaned over Gray's shoulder.

He stared at the page.

“What does that say?”

Gray looked.

“Substrate composition may differ along northern drainage.”

“That says ‘sub composer northern dragon.’”

Gray frowned.

“It does not.”

Roark laughed.

Gray closed the notebook.

“Focus on your rocks.”

“I am.”

Roark pointed toward the nearest crystal formation.

They had avoided touching the larger ones so far.

Now Roark studied one closely enough that his nose was perhaps two inches from the surface.

Gray watched.

“You're doing it again.”

Roark didn't look away.

“Doing what?”

“Sniffing the crystals.”

“I am smelling the air around the crystal.”

“That is the definition of sniffing.”

“There’s an odor.”

Gray moved closer.

Not too close.

“What?”

“Metallic.”

Gray sniffed from several feet away.

He smelled damp stone.

Vegetation.

Roark.

Unfortunately.

“Hard to tell through the Stunky.”

Roark glared.

“Fuck you.”

Gray smiled.

Roark took out a handheld scanner.

Good.

Actual methodology.

He passed it near the crystal without making contact.

The readings fluctuated.

Mineral composition uncertain.

Energy output detectable.

Roark frowned.

“That’s weird.”

Gray immediately forgot the joke.

“How weird?”

“Not dangerous weird.”

“That is not a unit.”

Roark adjusted.

“There's energy coming off it.”

“Thermal?”

“Some, but not enough to explain the light.”

“Electrical?”

“Not exactly.”

Gray crouched.

The crystal gave off a steady white glow.

No visible pulse.

No heat shimmer.

Nothing obvious.

He took photographs from multiple angles.

“Could be interaction with ambient mineral energy.”

Roark nodded slowly.

“Maybe.”

“Pokémon-related?”

“Possible.”

Gray smiled.

Roark looked over.

“Don't.”

“We don't know.”

“Yes, professor.”

Gray stood.

“Sample?”

Roark hesitated.

Both looked at the crystal.

This was where curiosity became ethics.

Taking material from an unknown habitat without understanding its importance would be stupid.

Especially if the crystals were central to the ecology.

Gray decided.

“No.”

Roark nodded immediately.

“Agreed.”

They marked the formation.

Photographed it.

Logged readings.

Left it intact.

Lyra would probably be proud again.

Disturbing trend.

The cavern was larger than Roark's first sketch suggested.

Partly because he had only seen the central section.

The northern side rose into terraced stone shelves where thick moss grew around crystal clusters. The western wall contained several shallow cavities, two occupied by Geodude and one by something they never actually saw but heard moving deeper inside.

They did not investigate.

Gray considered that responsible.

Roark accused him of only mentioning responsibility when he wanted credit.

This was true.

The southern edge contained the water source.

A stream entered through a narrow split in the rock, fell about twelve feet into a clear pool, then flowed through the cavern and disappeared beneath another wall.

Gray crouched near the water.

He used a sterile vial to take a sample from the edge without entering.

Roark watched.

“Finally touching something.”

“Water samples are justified.”

“But rock samples aren't.”

“Not yet.”

Roark smiled.

Gray ignored him.

There were small plants growing along the stream bank.

Some familiar.

Some he couldn't immediately identify.

That bothered him in the best possible way.

He photographed them.

No collection.

Not yet.

He wanted a botanist before removing unknown specimens.

He wrote that down.

Roark looked over.

“We have people for that?”

“The League has people for everything.”

“You complained about bureaucracy for two months.”

“I complain about bureaucracy taking resources. I like resources.”

“Important distinction.”

“Yes.”

Near the stream, they saw the Ekans again.

Or another Ekans.

Gray couldn't be sure.

This one slipped between rocks and vanished.

The Geodude population appeared small.

At least visible population.

Combee moved throughout the habitat.

The Stunky stayed far away from Roark now.

Gray enjoyed that immensely.

Every time one appeared, Roark moved with extreme caution.

At one point a Stunky crossed their path forty feet ahead.

Roark stopped.

Gray looked at him.

“It is forty feet away.”

Roark did not move. “I have learned.”

Gray smiled.

“Growth.”

“Shut up.”

They ate late.

Gray had forgotten lunch.

Roark had also forgotten lunch.

Neither could tell Lyra.

They sat on a flat stone shelf near the entrance, far enough from the main Pokémon activity to avoid disturbance.

Gray opened his container of chicken fried rice.

Roark stared.

“You actually brought it.”

“Yes.”

“It is cold.”

“Yes.”

“You planned this.”

“Yes.”

Roark shook his head and opened a preserved sandwich.

Gray took a bite.

Cold fried rice was fine.

Not ideal.

Fine.

Roark smelled terrible.

Less than before.

Still enough.

Gray ate several feet away.

Roark noticed.

“You could sit closer.”

“No.”

“It’s mostly gone.”

“No.”

“Asshole.”

“Stunky feeder.”

Roark sighed.

They ate quietly for a while.

The cavern glowed around them.

White light filled the space so naturally that Gray had to remind himself there was no sun.

Combee drifted above distant flowers.

Water moved.

Somewhere, a Geodude made a grinding sound against stone.

It was peaceful.

Strangely peaceful.

Roark looked out over the chamber.

“Worth it?”

Gray followed his gaze.

“Yes.”

No joke.

Roark smiled faintly.

“Thought so.”

Gray looked toward the crystals.

“How did nobody know?”

Roark shrugged.

“Maybe somebody did.”

“You think?”

“Old miners knew weird things.”

Gray looked at him.

Roark continued.

“You hear stories. Big caverns. Places where you can walk for days. Pokémon living deeper than they should. Crystals. Underground lakes. Most of it gets treated like mine folklore.”

Gray's attention sharpened.

“You never mentioned this.”

Roark laughed. “Because most of it sounds like drunk miners making shit up.”

“That has never stopped folklore from being important.”

“I know that now.”

“Examples.”

Roark sighed.

“Gray.”

“Examples.”

“After we get back.”

“No. Now.”

“We are literally sitting in the thing the stories might be about.”

“Exactly.”

Roark considered.

Then began.

There were old accounts from deep survey crews who claimed they had found chambers with different climates.

Warm caves beneath cold sections.

Vegetation.

Pokémon species that shouldn't have shared habitats.

Huge tunnels continuing farther than anyone had equipment or interest to explore.

Most reports were incomplete.

Mining companies cared about ore, not ecosystems.

Surveyors marked unusable voids and moved on.

Some routes collapsed.

Others were abandoned.

Gray stopped eating.

“This could extend under half of Sinnoh.”

Roark nodded.

“Maybe.”

“More.”

“Maybe.”

Gray's mind accelerated.

Connected habitats.

Subterranean migration.

Isolated populations.

Mineral ecosystems.

Ancient geological routes.

Potential human use?

Possibly not.

Possibly yes.

He put the food down.

Roark immediately said, “Eat.”

Gray frowned.

“What?”

“Eat.”

“I am.”

“You stopped.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Lyra will kill me if I bring you back having forgotten food.”

Gray stared.

Roark held up his sandwich.

“I have accepted my role.”

“Terrible.”

“Eat.”

Gray ate.

Friendship was becoming oppressive.

After lunch they checked the radio.

Weak.

But functional.

One repeater had maintained enough signal.

Lyra answered after several seconds of static.

“Sandgem.”

Gray looked at Roark.

“Why does she keep doing that?”

“She works there.”

Gray pressed the transmitter.

“Still alive.”

Lyra sighed audibly.

“Good. Status?”

“Large stable cavern. Natural crystal illumination. Established ecosystem. Multiple wild Pokémon populations. Water source. Vegetation. Several unexplored exits.”

A pause.

“That sounded much more professional than I expected.”

Gray frowned.

“What did you expect?”

“Something like ‘holy shit, Lyra, there are underground trees.’”

Roark started laughing.

Gray looked at the radio.

“I was going to tell you that later.”

Lyra laughed too.

Traitors.

Gray continued with the actual summary.

No injuries.

No aggressive encounters.

Roark made a face.

Gray ignored him.

Technically Stunky defensive spray was not aggression.

It was defensive behavior provoked by stupid feeding.

Roark reached for the radio.

Gray pulled it away.

Lyra heard movement.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Roark said loudly, “I got sprayed by a Stunky.”

Gray closed his eyes.

There was silence over the radio.

Then Lyra laughed.

Not a polite sound.

A full laugh.

Roark smiled.

Gray saw it.

Despite everything.

He smiled because Lyra laughed.

Hopeless.

Lyra eventually recovered enough to ask, “Why?”

Gray answered.

“He fed it.”

Roark looked betrayed.

Lyra laughed again.

“Roark.”

“It seemed friendly.”

Gray leaned toward the radio.

“I specifically told him not to.”

“Thank you, Gray.”

He smiled.

Roark pointed at him.

“Fuck both of you.”

Lyra was still laughing when the signal cut briefly.

They waited.

It returned.

She told them they had four hours before mandatory return.

Gray objected.

Roark sided with Lyra.

Again.

Gray began to suspect attraction was compromising Roark's judgment.

He made a note to study that later.

They used the remaining time efficiently.

For a generous definition of efficiently.

Gray recorded everything he could without disturbing the habitat.

Roark completed a rough topographic map of the cavern.

They marked six visible exits or passages.

Two were too small for comfortable human entry.

One contained obvious Geodude activity and was left alone.

Three appeared navigable.

The largest continued northward beyond a crystal-lined ridge.

Another descended steeply near the stream.

The third curved east behind a wall formation.

Roark wanted to know where all three went.

Gray also wanted to know.

Neither said this immediately because saying it would create responsibility.

They spent another hour near the flower patches.

The Combee had established at least one small hive within a vertical crack in the southern wall.

Gray photographed from a distance.

He estimated population based on visible movement.

Roark lay on the ground nearby looking at the soil strata.

Gray glanced over.

“What are you doing?”

“Sniffing dirt.”

Gray stared.

Roark looked up and smiled.

Gray laughed.

“Fuck you.”

“Thought you'd appreciate honesty.”

Roark collected no sample.

Good.

They found additional Buneary tracks but only saw the one again near the end.

The same one?

Gray thought so.

Impossible to confirm.

It appeared on a stone shelf about fifteen feet away while Gray was writing.

Roark noticed too.

“Your friend.”

Gray continued writing.

“It is a wild Buneary.”

“It followed you.”

“Temporarily.”

“It judged me.”

“That was independent intelligence.”

Roark looked offended.

The Buneary sat.

Gray looked up.

Their eyes met.

Then, slowly, the Buneary turned its head toward Roark.

Roark stared.

Gray smiled.

“See?”

“You two have a conspiracy.”

The Buneary scratched one ear.

Gray almost laughed.

He took another picture.

Then put the camera away.

The Buneary remained.

No approach.

No interaction.

Good.

Gray liked it that way.

Not every Pokémon he found needed to become his.

People forgot that.

Discovery did not mean possession.

Sometimes the privilege was simply seeing something and leaving it where it belonged.

The Buneary eventually hopped down and disappeared into the grass.

Gray watched.

Roark said, quieter now, “You really don't want to catch it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Gray shrugged.

“It lives here.”

Roark nodded.

That answer was enough.

Near the three-hour mark, they returned to the central crystal field.

Gray wanted one final set of light readings at different distances.

Roark wanted to inspect the northern wall.

They compromised by doing both and pretending it was one plan.

The crystals grew denser there.

Some formed branching structures across the wall.

Others rose from the floor.

Their light overlapped until shadows became faint.

Gray held the environmental meter at several heights.

Roark crouched beside one cluster.

Again.

Too close.

Gray didn't even look up.

“Stop sniffing them.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I’m checking temperature.”

“With your nose?”

“My face is near the scanner.”

Gray looked.

Roark's nose was approximately three inches from the crystal.

Gray stared.

Roark stared back.

Then leaned away.

“Fine.”

Gray returned to his notes.

The light readings were stable.

No obvious flicker.

Minimal thermal output.

That was strange.

The crystals should not have been able to maintain this kind of illumination without a significant energy source.

Unless the energy was not conventional.

Pokémon biology complicated physics enough that Gray had long ago learned not to call things impossible too quickly.

Still.

This was extraordinary.

Roark tapped his scanner.

“I want a specialist down here.”

“Mineralogy?”

“Yeah. Maybe energy systems too.”

“Botany.”

“Ecology.”

“Geology.”

“Obviously.”

“League safety.”

Roark looked at Gray.

Gray sighed.

“Yes.”

Roark smiled.

“Lyra is going to love that.”

“Do not tell her I said it.”

Gray took one final photograph.

Roark looked toward the northern passage.

Gray noticed.

There it was.

The same expression from the first day.

Curiosity sharpened into bad ideas.

Gray followed his gaze.

The passage opened between two massive stone ridges.

Beyond it, faint white light continued.

Not darkness.

Another illuminated space?

Maybe.

Roark stood.

Gray kept writing.

Roark walked several steps closer.

Gray continued writing.

Roark stopped at the tunnel mouth.

Gray closed the notebook.

“Don't.”

Roark looked back.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“You have the face now.”

Gray frowned.

“I do not.”

Roark smiled.

“There’s light down there.”

“I see it.”

“Could be another chamber.”

“Yes.”

“Different one.”

“Maybe.”

Roark looked into the passage.

“We have time.”

Gray stared at him.

They did not have much time.

Lyra had given them a return deadline.

They had enough time to look into the passage.

Not enough time to properly explore another habitat.

Gray knew this.

Roark knew this.

Roark said, “We could just see what’s on the other side.”

Gray gave him a blank look.

Not angry.

Not impressed.

The sort of expression one gave a child who had proposed keeping a live Voltorb beside an electrical panel because nothing bad had happened yet.

Roark waited.

Gray continued staring.

Roark's smile faded slightly.

“Responsible adult?”

Gray stared a second longer.

Then his face changed.

He nodded quickly.

“Yeah.”

Roark blinked.

Gray grabbed the notebook.

“Come on.”

Then he ran past him.

Roark stared after him.

“Gray!”

Gray was already entering the tunnel.

“Just seeing what’s on the other side!”

“You were judging me!”

“I was considering it!”

Roark started after him, laughing.

Absol ran between them with considerably more grace than either.

Behind them, the white crystal cavern remained bright and quiet.

The Combee continued moving between flowers.

The Geodude stayed near their pools.

Four Stunky went about their lives, mercifully uninterested in further human contact.

Somewhere among the grass, a Buneary lifted its head at the sound of two grown men running toward another unexplored tunnel.

It watched until they disappeared.

Then it went back to eating.

Gray reached the bend first.

The light ahead changed.

Still pale.

But not the same.

He slowed just enough for Roark to catch up.

Neither spoke.

They looked at each other.

Gray's notebook was already open in his hand.

Roark smiled.

Gray smiled back.

Then the two Wonder Twins of Stupidity left the first cavern behind and headed deeper beneath Sinnoh.