It Likes Me

Chapter Twenty-Five

It Likes Me

By the fourth visit, Gray had developed a theory.

It was not yet written anywhere.

That was important.

There were standards.

Gray had published enough questionable preliminary interpretations in field notebooks over the years to understand that some thoughts deserved a period of containment before being exposed to other scientists. This particular idea had survived three days, two additional Heatran observations, several hours of reviewing footage, and one extremely skeptical conversation with Cynthia.

Gray considered that meaningful.

Cynthia considered it evidence of stubbornness.

They stood together on the now-familiar observation shelf in the geothermal cavern, reflective suits glowing orange beneath the lava light while Heatran rested perhaps a hundred feet away in one of the broad molten pools.

Gray watched the Legendary through his visor.

“I think it likes me.”

Cynthia did not immediately answer.

That was rude.

Heat rolled continuously through the cavern, enough that their suit cooling systems had remained near maximum output since entering. The air above the nearest lava channel twisted violently, bending the black ridges behind it until they seemed to move. Slugma occupied several warm shelves. Farther along the western wall, two Salandit moved through cracks in the basalt before disappearing from sight.

Heatran lay almost motionless in the lava.

Most of its lower body had disappeared beneath the molten surface. The armored plates across its back seemed less like something grown by a Pokémon than sections of the mountain itself forced upward into shape. Lava lapped against those plates and parted around them. Every few breaths, the fluid surface near Heatran's body brightened, as though whatever heat existed in the pool had encountered something hotter.

The sight had not become ordinary.

Gray had wondered whether it would.

It had not.

The first few minutes of every visit still stripped language down to basic concepts.

Large.

Hot.

Old.

Dangerous.

Magnificent.

The word had survived too.

Gray would never put that one in a formal behavioral report either.

Cynthia finally spoke through the radio.

“No.”

Gray glanced toward her.

“No what?”

“It does not like you.”

“That conclusion is unsupported.”

“I have watched it try to hit you with molten rock twice.”

“Warning shots.”

Cynthia slowly turned her helmet toward him.

The reflective gold visor obscured most of her expression, but Gray had become good enough at reading the angle of her head to understand disbelief.

“Gray.”

“Neither hit me.”

“The second one melted part of the ledge.”

“Aimed away from me.”

“It landed six feet from you.”

“Exactly.”

Cynthia stared.

Gray returned his attention to Heatran.

Case made.

The fourth observation visit had been easier to authorize than the first. Not easy. Rhea would probably never make anything involving Heatran easy, which Gray considered one of her stronger professional qualities. But repeated observations had established a pattern. Two stationary humans at the chamber edge did not automatically trigger territorial aggression. Heatran noticed them, sometimes approached, frequently ignored them, and had thus far allowed every controlled observation to end without pursuit.

That did not mean the rules had relaxed.

The observation zone remained fixed. Time remained limited. Both Alakazam waited near the retreat tunnel. Full teams stayed available. Suit limits remained absolute.

The only significant change was that Gray and Cynthia had begun conducting slightly more active behavioral observation.

Slightly.

This was how Gray had discovered Heatran liked him.

Cynthia insisted that was not what they had discovered.

Gray thought the disagreement was healthy.

The first incident had occurred on their second return to the chamber, two days after the initial successful observation.

A Quilava had approached the shelf.

Not Heatran.

Quilava.

Gray had been fascinated because the resident Quilava generally stayed farther inside the geothermal habitat, close to the heated stone ridges where vents emerged through fractures. This one had wandered toward the humans with no obvious concern, nose low to the ground as it investigated unfamiliar scent.

Gray had remained still.

Good science.

The Quilava came closer.

Gray watched.

Closer still.

Eventually the Pokémon reached the base of the observation shelf and stopped within fifteen feet of him.

Heatran had been near the far lava pool.

Gray had looked between them.

Heatran had been watching.

That should, in retrospect, have been more important.

The Quilava approached another few feet.

Gray crouched.

Slowly.

No reaching.

No contact.

Simply reducing his height to observe at a better angle.

Heatran stood.

Cynthia saw it immediately.

Gray did too.

The cavern changed whenever Heatran rose.

That phenomenon had become one of the most difficult parts of describing it scientifically. Heatran was not physically enormous enough to dominate the space by ordinary measurements, yet its movement reorganized attention. Resident Pokémon noticed. Humans noticed. Even the sounds of lava and cracking stone seemed temporarily demoted behind the impact of those heavy feet.

Heatran had taken three steps toward them.

Gray remained crouched.

Cynthia had said, “Stand up.”

“I’m not approaching.”

“Gray.”

“The Quilava approached me.”

Heatran's mouth glowed.

Gray stood up.

Immediately.

He had learned.

The blast struck the lava channel six feet to his left.

It was not fire in the ordinary sense.

A violent stream of incandescent molten material crossed the chamber and hit the stone with enough force to burst outward in a fan of orange-white droplets. Gray felt the impact through his suit even at that distance. The outer temperature alarm screamed briefly.

The Quilava fled.

Gray and Cynthia withdrew.

Rhea had been furious.

Reasonably.

Gray's interpretation afterward had been that Heatran deliberately missed him.

Cynthia's interpretation had been that Gray was an idiot.

Both could be true.

The third observation produced a remarkably similar event.

Different Quilava.

Possibly.

The individual markings had not been clear enough to confirm.

This one passed alongside Gray while he and Cynthia stood within the approved zone. It remained farther away than the first, perhaps twenty feet, but Gray turned his body to keep it in view.

Heatran had been standing near the mineral wall.

The Legendary immediately oriented toward Gray.

Gray stopped moving.

The Quilava stopped too.

Heatran's mouth brightened.

Cynthia said, “Do not.”

Gray said, “I’m not doing anything.”

The second blast struck the ledge below him.

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Not six feet away this time.

Closer to eight.

Which Gray considered supporting evidence.

Cynthia did not.

Now, on observation four, Gray had been instructed not to interact with Quilava.

A rule that had not existed before him.

He was strangely proud of that.

Cynthia was not.

Heatran opened one eye.

Gray stopped talking.

The humor disappeared as easily as a light switching off.

Heatran raised its head from the lava.

Molten material poured from the underside of its jaw in bright streams before dripping back into the pool. The huge crossed plates over its face caught the cavern light, their edges distorted by radiating heat. For several seconds the Legendary remained mostly submerged, watching the humans from across the chamber.

Gray felt the same pressure he had during every direct look.

Being noticed by Heatran was physically different from being watched by another Pokémon.

Perhaps entirely psychological.

That did not make it weaker.

Bastiodon could stare him down when irritated.

Aggron could fill a room simply by being enthusiastic.

Aerodactyl could look at someone in a way that made evolutionary history seem personally threatening.

Heatran's attention carried something beyond those experiences.

Age, perhaps.

Power.

The knowledge that the creature could turn a significant portion of the chamber lethal without appearing to exert itself.

Gray had seen extraordinary Pokémon before.

Heatran made the word extraordinary feel insufficient.

It stood.

The lava level dropped away from its body as it rose, cascading from armored legs and underbelly. Heatran stepped onto solid stone and shook once.

Molten droplets scattered.

Several remained bright after landing.

Gray watched through the visor without moving.

Cynthia did the same.

Heatran began walking.

Not toward them.

Parallel.

Good.

Its steps carried through the cavern floor as low vibrations. Gray had become more sensitive to them over repeated visits, enough that he occasionally felt Heatran before hearing it.

The Legendary approached the mineral wall.

Paused.

Rubbed one armored shoulder against the rock.

Gray smiled.

“That might be my favorite discovery.”

Cynthia's voice came over the radio. “The volcanic Legendary gets itchy?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad your standards are high.”

“It humanizes it.”

“Pokémonizes it.”

Gray looked at her.

“That sounds worse.”

“It does.”

Heatran scraped backward again.

A piece of loose basalt broke free and shattered beneath one rear foot.

Heatran did not react.

Gray watched the motion carefully.

The behavioral pattern was becoming consistent. Heatran favored the same section of mineralized wall repeatedly, particularly after spending extended periods submerged in lava. Possible removal of cooled deposits between armor plates had become the current leading explanation.

Soren wanted to examine the wall.

Soren was not being allowed near the wall.

Everyone was happier this way except Soren.

Heatran finished rubbing against the stone and stood motionless.

Then its head turned.

Toward Gray.

He raised one hand slowly.

Cynthia's voice sharpened.

“Don't wave.”

“I wasn't.”

“Your hand is up.”

“I’m checking the wrist display.”

“Your wrist display is on the other hand.”

Gray lowered it.

Heatran continued staring.

Cynthia made a quiet sound over the radio.

Gray ignored her.

After several seconds Heatran looked away.

“See?”

“No.”

“It knows me.”

“It knows there are two recurring silver objects standing in the same place every few days.”

“That is significantly less romanticized wording for what I said.”

“You said it likes you.”

“I stand by that.”

Cynthia turned slightly.

“Would you like me to list the attempted lava incidents again?”

Gray looked across the cavern.

“Attempted is prejudicial language.”

“Heatran opened its mouth and fired molten rock toward your body.”

“Near.”

“Toward.”

“Near.”

Cynthia sighed.

Gray smiled.

This was fun.

He had not expected Heatran research to become fun.

Terrifying, yes.

Scientifically valuable.

Historically significant.

Potentially fatal.

Fun had not been part of the initial proposal.

Repeated observation changed things.

Fear remained.

It should remain.

But fear no longer filled every available space. Familiarity had created room around it for curiosity, routine, and occasionally Cynthia making the same argument about lava twice.

Gray liked that.

At fourteen minutes into the session, the Quilava appeared.

Gray saw it before Cynthia did.

The Pokémon emerged from behind a low basalt ridge on their right, orange-red markings bright against dark stone. Flames along its back burned low and steady, hardly noticeable against the greater brightness of the lava pools.

Gray's immediate reaction was interest.

His second was to look at Heatran.

Cynthia saw the movement.

“No.”

“I haven't done anything.”

“I know that look now.”

“What look?”

“The Quilava look.”

Gray frowned.

“I don't have a Quilava look.”

“You absolutely do.”

The Quilava continued toward them.

Not directly.

Its route followed the edge of a narrow heated crack, which happened to pass near the observation shelf.

Gray remained upright.

Hands down.

Very compliant.

Cynthia watched him rather than the Quilava.

“That feels insulting.”

“It’s preventative.”

Gray checked Heatran again.

The Legendary stood near the mineral wall.

Watching.

Of course.

Gray pointed with one finger.

“See? It’s worried.”

Cynthia stared at him.

“About the Quilava.”

“About what I might do.”

“Yes.”

“That means it pays attention to me.”

“That is not affection.”

“Attention is foundational.”

Cynthia became silent.

Gray knew he had won.

Probably.

The Quilava approached within thirty feet.

Gray did nothing.

Heatran did nothing.

Twenty-five.

Gray stayed still.

Twenty.

The Quilava stopped.

It sniffed the ground.

Gray watched.

Heatran's posture changed almost imperceptibly.

Head higher.

Body oriented slightly more toward the observation shelf.

Cynthia saw it too.

Her humor vanished.

“So it is the Quilava.”

“Looks like.”

That was useful.

Very useful.

The first two events had been too few to interpret confidently.

Now the pattern was repeating.

Quilava near humans.

Heatran heightened attention.

Gray kept his posture neutral.

The Quilava looked up.

Their eyes met.

Gray did not crouch.

He was learning.

The Pokémon took another step.

Heatran moved.

One step.

Heavy enough that Gray felt it.

The Quilava froze.

Gray froze.

Cynthia did too.

Heatran's head lowered.

Not toward the humans.

Toward the Quilava.

A deep sound rolled out of its chest.

Not the cavern-shaking roar Gray remembered from the first expedition.

Lower.

Controlled.

The Quilava's ears flattened.

It backed away.

Heatran stopped vocalizing.

The Quilava retreated several more feet.

Then turned and moved quickly back toward the basalt ridge.

Gray watched until it disappeared.

Heatran's posture relaxed.

Cynthia said nothing.

Gray looked at her.

She looked back.

He smiled.

“Protective.”

“That appears to be the stronger interpretation.”

Gray's smile widened.

“Of me.”

“Of the Quilava.”

“Could be mutual.”

“No.”

“You don't know.”

“I have evidence.”

“So do I.”

“You have survived being shot at.”

“Twice.”

“That is not the argument you think it is.”

Gray considered.

Still.

Heatran watched him.

He looked back.

“I think we're bonding.”

Cynthia laughed hard enough that her suit microphone crackled.

Heatran lifted its head.

Both of them immediately became quiet.

The Legendary stared.

Cynthia composed herself.

Gray waited.

Heatran looked between them.

Then away.

Gray whispered, “It likes my jokes.”

Cynthia's shoulders shook.

They reviewed the Quilava event immediately after leaving the chamber.

The safe staging tunnel felt almost cold after the geothermal habitat despite being warmer than an ordinary cave. Gray raised his visor once Rhea confirmed external temperatures were acceptable. Cynthia did the same.

Rhea stood beside the monitoring station.

Roark was there too.

He had apparently arrived midway through the observation and watched the live feed.

That was unfortunate.

Gray removed one glove.

Rhea looked at him.

“Good restraint.”

Gray smiled.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn't sarcasm.”

“I know.”

“You did nothing when the Quilava approached.”

“Correct.”

“And Heatran did not fire anything at you.”

Gray looked toward Cynthia.

“Evidence.”

Cynthia removed her helmet.

“Evidence that not approaching the Quilava prevents Heatran from firing molten rock at him.”

Roark looked between them.

“What?”

Gray started removing the cooling pack.

“Heatran likes me.”

Roark stopped.

Rhea closed her eyes.

Cynthia rubbed one hand across her forehead.

Gray continued.

“We've established repeated individual recognition.”

“No,” Cynthia said.

“Probable recurring recognition.”

“Closer.”

“Heatran monitors my interactions with resident Quilava.”

“Yes.”

“It has twice deliberately missed me with warning shots.”

Roark stared.

“Warning shots.”

“Yes.”

“With lava.”

“Molten material, technically.”

“What else would lava be?”

Gray thought.

Not important.

Roark turned toward Cynthia.

“Is he serious?”

“Unfortunately.”

Gray frowned.

“I am developing a hypothesis.”

Rhea began disconnecting one of the monitor cables with more force than necessary.

Roark looked amused now.

“So Heatran likes you because it shoots lava near you when you get too close to Quilava.”

“When stated reductively, any behavioral hypothesis sounds stupid.”

“That is not true.”

“Many.”

Roark laughed.

Cynthia sat on one of the equipment cases.

“The current evidence suggests Heatran is protective of the Quilava, or at minimum regulates human proximity to them.”

Gray nodded.

“That too.”

“That is the entire explanation.”

“Not necessarily.”

Cynthia stared at him.

Gray smiled.

He enjoyed this more than he should.

Rhea pointed toward the suit monitor.

“Temperature.”

Gray checked.

Fine.

She nodded.

Then pointed at him.

“More importantly, nobody is testing your Heatran-affection hypothesis.”

Gray looked offended.

“I wasn't proposing—”

“No feeding it.”

“I know.”

“No approaching it.”

“I know.”

“No offering your hand.”

“I am not an idiot.”

The room went quiet.

Roark looked away.

Cynthia's mouth tightened.

Rhea stared at Gray.

Gray sighed.

“Fine. That statement lacked evidentiary support.”

Roark lost whatever composure remained.

They stayed at the staging point another half hour to cool down, record immediate impressions, and make sure neither human nor Alakazam had accumulated meaningful thermal stress.

Gray dictated his field notes.

Not because his hands were tired.

Because everyone preferred his dictated notes to his handwriting.

“Observation four. Heatran visible for seventeen minutes prior to withdrawal. Subject displayed normal resting behavior, mineral-wall rubbing behavior consistent with prior observations, repeated visual attention toward research position, no direct aggression toward observers.”

Cynthia looked at him.

Gray continued without acknowledging her.

“Resident Quilava approached observation zone to approximately twenty feet. Heatran displayed immediate orientation toward Quilava and researchers, followed by one-step advance and low-frequency vocalization. Quilava withdrew. Heatran returned to baseline posture immediately following increased distance.”

He paused.

“Supports protective or proximity-regulation behavior involving resident Quilava.”

Cynthia nodded.

Good.

Professional.

Gray continued.

“No projectile behavior observed, likely because Professor Linden complied with established non-contact protocol.”

Roark laughed from across the staging room.

Cynthia looked toward the recorder.

“Keep that.”

Gray frowned.

“It is relevant.”

“It is.”

“Good.”

He added several notes about Heatran's wall-rubbing behavior, heat output, and the small but repeated fluctuations in crystal readings when the Legendary moved nearby.

Then stopped recording.

The moment the device clicked off, Roark said, “So does it like you?”

“Yes.”

Cynthia said, “No.”

Rhea said, “I’m leaving.”

She left.

Gray watched her go.

“She avoided committing.”

“That was not what happened,” Cynthia said.

They began the ascent shortly afterward.

The snow chamber was the first place they removed the last of the thermal gear.

Gray enjoyed the cold more than usual.

He stood near the route junction in ordinary field clothes while Cynthia packed her cooling underlayer into a sealed case.

Several Snorunt watched from the distance.

No Bellyflop.

Gray considered that a successful day.

Cynthia secured the case.

“You genuinely believe Heatran likes you.”

Gray adjusted his pack.

“Like is an imprecise word.”

“You have used it twelve times today.”

“Colloquially.”

“What is the precise version?”

Gray thought while they started across the snow.

The answer mattered more than the joke.

Heatran had become measurably less aggressive across repeated controlled visits. It appeared to recognize recurring human presence, or at least recurring conditions. It tolerated Gray and Cynthia within a known boundary. It responded strongly when Gray approached Quilava, but those responses had been controlled enough that neither blast had directly struck him despite Heatran's obvious destructive capacity.

That last detail mattered.

Heatran could hit him if it wanted.

Gray had little doubt.

The first blast had destroyed stone nearby.

The second had struck an even more precise location.

Those did look like warnings.

Not failed attacks.

That implied behavioral discrimination.

“Heatran recognizes we're not currently threatening it,” Gray said. “Probably. It understands the observation zone as something we're doing repeatedly, or at least hasn't treated repeated visits as escalating intrusion. It responds differently to us when we stay within the pattern.”

Cynthia nodded.

“That I agree with.”

“And it has had multiple opportunities to kill us.”

Cynthia glanced over.

“That is a low standard for friendship.”

“I don't make friends easily.”

Cynthia laughed.

Gray smiled.

There was the joke.

But underneath it, the thought remained genuinely interesting.

Humans had once lived above Heatran.

Perhaps for generations.

They had considered it a protector.

Nobody knew what relationship existed between them.

Maybe none in the human sense.

Maybe those people had simply learned boundaries the same way Gray and Cynthia were learning them now.

Do not enter certain places.

Do not approach certain Pokémon.

Do not mistake tolerance for invitation.

Respect distance.

Leave when warned.

The ancient settlement might have considered Heatran protective not because anyone had ever touched it or fed it or stood beside it, but because coexistence did not require intimacy.

Gray liked that possibility.

It felt more honest.

They crossed beneath drifting snow.

Cynthia walked beside him in comfortable silence.

After several minutes she said, “You realize that if you ever publish ‘Heatran likes me,’ I will personally add a correction.”

Gray nodded.

“I’ll list you as coauthor.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Conflict of interpretation.”

“No.”

“Healthy academic disagreement.”

“You nearly got hit by lava.”

“Near.”

Cynthia laughed again.

Gray decided the distinction remained scientifically important.

Heatran returned to the lava pool after the humans left.

The camera caught it.

Gray watched the footage that evening from his office at the ranch.

Bastiodon rested outside the window.

Chatot had fallen asleep on the top shelf.

The lab had gone quiet.

Heatran crossed the cavern slowly, stepped through molten rock, and lowered itself into the pool until lava surrounded its body.

A Quilava appeared several minutes later.

Possibly the same one from the observation.

It approached the edge.

Heatran raised its head.

The Quilava settled on a warm shelf perhaps fifteen feet away.

No vocalization.

No aggression.

Heatran lowered its head again.

Gray watched.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

He replayed the sequence once.

Then again.

Protective association looked increasingly plausible.

Not parenting.

Not necessarily social bonding.

Maybe tolerance.

Maybe Heatran simply treated the smaller Fire-type Pokémon as established parts of its territory and humans as external variables.

Plenty of possibilities.

Gray saved the clip.

Then looked at the observation footage from earlier.

The frame where Heatran had stared directly at him.

He paused it.

Ancient armored face.

Molten light.

Eyes fixed on the camera position.

Gray smiled.

“It likes me.”

From the dark shelf above him, Chatot stirred.

“Bullshit.”

Gray looked up.

There was a brief silence.

“Traitor.”