Uninvited Excavation

Chapter Five

Uninvited Excavation

The morning was peaceful enough that Gray immediately assumed something was wrong.

Nothing in particular supported that conclusion. No alarms had gone off, no trainer had arrived before intake, and no one from the League had called him before breakfast to ask a “quick question” that would somehow require forty-five minutes and three attached forms. The western water line Marcus had repaired was holding pressure, Aerodactyl was still obeying his temporary restriction on hard flight with only moderate resentment, and nobody had reported any new injuries among the rehabilitation Pokémon.

Even the pond was quiet.

That, more than anything else, bothered him.

Gray sat sideways across Bastiodon’s broad back with a cereal bowl balanced against one knee and a spoon in his right hand while the old Pokémon wandered slowly through the ranch. The morning was cool enough that Gray had pulled on an old sweater over his shirt, but not cold enough for a coat. Dew clung to the grass, and the early sunlight came in low over the trees, turning the edges of everything gold.

He took another bite of cereal and looked around.

The staff were already working.

That remained strange.

Marcus was near the western fence, kneeling beside one of the environmental sensors with a toolkit open in the grass. Mira was inside the rehabilitation enclosure taking notes on the injured Staravia’s wing movement. Tessa had several younger Pokémon gathered near one of the feeding stations and appeared to be distracting them with berries while she checked something on a clipboard. Elias was moving sealed sample crates from one storage building to another.

No one was waiting for Gray.

No one was asking what needed to be done.

Things were simply being done.

Gray frowned around his spoon. “I’m not sure I like this.”

Bastiodon gave a quiet rumble beneath him and continued walking.

“You don’t understand. I hired people and now they’re doing their jobs without me. It feels suspicious.”

Another rumble vibrated through Bastiodon’s armor.

Gray narrowed his eyes. “That sounded judgmental.”

Bastiodon angled toward the pond, forcing Gray to shift the cereal bowl before milk sloshed over the side. “Easy, old man. Some of us are trying to eat.”

Bastiodon ignored him.

This was not a new development.

They had known each other for twenty-two years. At this point Gray could usually tell what Bastiodon was thinking from posture alone, and Bastiodon had long ago learned which of Gray’s instructions were actual instructions and which were meaningless commentary.

This one had been commentary.

The old Pokémon took them past the pond at a steady pace. One of the Gyarados surfaced near the dock, rising only far enough for its eyes and the top of its head to break the water. Gray lifted his spoon in greeting.

“Morning.”

The Gyarados sank again.

A Magikarp launched itself from the water a few yards away and hit the surface with a loud slap.

Gray stopped chewing and watched the ripples.

Not Seventeen.

Good.

Number Seventeen was either asleep or conserving energy for future crimes.

Both were preferable before breakfast.

Bastiodon turned toward the gentle rise overlooking the center of the property. Gray leaned back slightly against the old Pokémon’s armor and looked over the ranch.

He was getting used to the place now.

Not completely.

But enough that it no longer felt like Rowan’s laboratory every time he walked through the door.

The house felt like his. The ranch was becoming familiar in the way habitats did after enough observation. He knew where Kangaskhan tended to sleep in the afternoon, where Absol preferred to cross the tree line, where Cradily became almost impossible to see once the shadows fell across the wetland section.

The laboratory itself was slower.

There were still moments when Gray opened a cabinet and found something arranged according to someone else’s logic, or discovered an old note in Rowan’s handwriting tucked into a file. It did not bother him exactly. It was simply evidence that places retained people after those people left.

Gray understood that.

He ate another spoonful of cereal.

Across the ranch, Donphan was near the equipment shed doing something with a wheelbarrow. Gray watched long enough to determine that Donphan was probably moving it rather than attacking it, which made the situation Marcus’s problem rather than his.

The realization was deeply satisfying.

Delegation had advantages.

Gray smiled faintly and looked toward the lab again. “You know, I think I finally understand management.”

Bastiodon rumbled.

“It’s when other people fix things while you eat cereal.”

The old Pokémon continued walking.

Gray took that as agreement.

The rise gave them a good view over almost the entire property. Aggron was asleep near one of the stone shelters, sprawled in a patch of sunlight with his head resting on his front legs. Venusaur was farther east beneath the trees, nearly blending into the surrounding vegetation except for the enormous flower across his back. Absol moved briefly through the edge of the woods and disappeared again.

Everything looked normal.

Quiet.

Good.

Gray took another bite and said, “This might actually be a good day.”

Bastiodon stopped.

Gray frowned. “What?”

The old Pokémon’s head lifted slightly.

A second later, Gray felt it.

Not sound.

Movement.

A faint vibration under the soil.

The spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.

For a moment he did nothing.

Then another tremor moved through the ground.

This one was stronger.

Bastiodon gave a low, alert rumble.

Gray lowered the spoon back into the bowl. “Yeah. Felt it.”

He shifted and slid off Bastiodon’s back, setting the bowl carefully on the flatter armor between the old Pokémon’s shoulders. Bastiodon remained still while Gray put both feet on the grass.

The sensation was clearer from the ground.

Deep movement.

Underground.

Gray’s body reacted before his mind did.

His chest tightened.

His shoulders went rigid.

For a fraction of a second, the ranch disappeared.

The memory never came cleanly.

It came in pieces.

Wood splitting.

A low crack through the structure of a house.

Something heavy moving where nothing should have moved.

Dust.

His mother shouting from somewhere he could not see.

His father—

Gray took a slow breath.

Bastiodon moved closer until the broad edge of his face shield touched Gray’s arm.

Gray put a hand against the cool armor.

“I’m fine.”

Bastiodon did not move away.

Gray could not blame him.

The ground trembled again.

Interest arrived next.

That was better.

Interest was useful.

Interest gave him something to do.

Gray looked across the ranch and immediately started assessing reactions. Aggron was awake now, head raised toward the center paddock. Venusaur had shifted. The younger Pokémon around Tessa had stopped eating.

“Everybody away from the center field,” Gray called. “Move the younger ones toward the lab.”

Marcus looked up from the fence and reacted without asking questions. Tessa began guiding the smaller Pokémon away from the feeding station. Mira shut the rehabilitation enclosure and moved toward the building. Elias appeared from around one of the storage structures carrying a crate, saw the activity, and set it down immediately.

Good.

Gray turned back toward the tremor.

The grass shifted.

A narrow crack formed through the soil.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Bastiodon moved in front of him.

Gray stepped sideways.

The old Pokémon blocked him again.

Gray looked at him. “Don’t start.”

Bastiodon stared back.

“I am not ten.”

The expression did not change.

Gray sighed. “That argument really doesn’t help, does it?”

Another violent tremor cut through the field.

The crack widened.

Grass tore apart.

Then the ground bulged and split open.

Stone drove upward through the soil.

An enormous segmented body burst from the earth in a shower of dirt and torn roots.

Gray stopped breathing for half a second.

Onix.

Of course it was an Onix.

Apparently the universe had decided subtlety was for cowards.

The massive Rock-type rose higher, shaking dirt from its body as the edges of the new tunnel collapsed around it.

Gray stared.

The old fear hit again.

Not as hard.

Enough.

Onix underground.

Ground collapsing.

For an instant he could smell dust that wasn't there.

Then something metallic caught the morning light.

Gray focused.

A harness.

Protective fittings.

Work equipment.

Not wild.

His eyes moved upward.

A person was attached to the harness near the base of the Onix’s neck.

Hard mining helmet.

Work jacket.

Heavy pants.

Boots.

The Onix rose until its head towered above the paddock, then stopped.

The man looked around.

His gaze passed over the ranch, the laboratory, the staff, and Bastiodon.

Then he saw Gray.

Gray saw him.

They stared at each other.

Gray slowly raised one hand and pointed toward the hole.

“You have made a tunnel in my ranch.”

The stranger looked down.

Then back at Gray.

“Technically, the Onix made the tunnel.”

Gray stared.

The man winced. “Bad answer.”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

“Better.”

The Onix lowered itself far enough for the man to unhook from the harness and slide down. He landed in the torn grass beside the opening, removed his helmet, and looked at the damage.

Up close, he was younger than Gray had first thought. Late twenties, maybe. Dark hair flattened beneath the helmet, glasses dusted with soil, a streak of dirt across one cheek. His jacket had been repaired several times, and his boots looked like they had spent most of their existence underground.

Gray approved of that part.

He did not approve of the hole.

The stranger looked at the torn field again. “I can fix this.”

“You will.”

“Fair.”

Gray glanced toward the Onix.

The Pokémon looked calm.

Healthy.

No visible stress.

The harness fit properly and showed signs of regular use.

Good.

At least the situation was not irresponsible.

Gray looked back at the man. “You came underground onto League research property.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The stranger hesitated.

“That part is going to sound weird.”

Gray folded his arms. “You arrived through the ground riding an Onix. The threshold for weird is already high.”

That got a genuine laugh.

The man held out his hand. “Roark.”

Gray knew the name.

Somewhere.

He couldn't place it immediately.

He shook anyway.

“Gray.”

Roark smiled. “I know.”

“I assumed.”

Before Gray could ask anything else, Lyra’s voice carried across the paddock.

“What happened?”

Gray closed his eyes briefly.

Naturally.

Lyra was jogging toward them from the laboratory with her tablet in one hand. Marcus and Elias were approaching from the other direction. Tessa remained near the younger Pokémon while Mira stayed closer to the rehabilitation enclosure.

Lyra slowed when she saw the Onix.

Then the tunnel.

Then Roark.

Then Gray.

Her face took on the exact expression of someone who had been hoping for a normal morning and had made the mistake of hoping near Gray Linden.

“What happened?”

Gray pointed at Roark. “He tunneled into the ranch.”

Roark raised one finger. “Technically—”

Gray looked at him.

Roark lowered the finger again. “Never mind.”

Lyra stepped closer to the opening and peered down. “How deep?”

“About twelve feet here,” Roark said. “More where the branch slopes.”

Gray immediately looked at him. “Branch?”

Roark crouched near the opening. “There’s an older tunnel system under this area.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit NovelPhoenix for the authentic version.

Gray’s irritation weakened instantly.

“How old?”

Roark glanced up.

There was a small smile on his face.

Gray frowned. “What?”

“You changed completely.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

Lyra covered her mouth.

Gray ignored her. “How old is the tunnel?”

Roark brushed loose dirt from one exposed edge of the opening. “That's what I was trying to work out. There are several old survey maps around Sandgem that don't agree with each other. One shows an exploratory branch running northeast through this area. Another says it ended half a kilometer south. A third doesn’t show the branch at all.”

Gray moved closer despite himself.

Roark continued. “I was checking where it actually went.”

“You were verifying historical mining records by following abandoned tunnels.”

“When you say it that way, it sounds slightly less stupid.”

“It sounds interesting.”

Roark grinned.

Lyra looked between them.

“No.”

Gray turned his head. “No what?”

“You are not going down there.”

“I did not say I was.”

“You asked how old the tunnel was.”

“That is called conversation.”

“You have a specific voice when something is about to become a problem.”

Gray stared at her. “I do not.”

“You do.”

Roark nodded. “You kind of do.”

Gray looked at him in disbelief. “You have known me for maybe three minutes.”

“Long three minutes.”

Gray decided he might be annoying.

That was not necessarily bad.

He turned back toward the Onix instead.

“Yours?”

Roark nodded. “Yeah.”

“How long?”

“About twelve years.”

“Wild catch?”

“No. He was already working around Oreburgh when I was younger. Different handler at the time. We started working together later.”

Gray moved closer.

He stopped several feet away and let the Onix decide whether to lower its head.

The Pokémon did.

“Temperament?”

“Gentle, mostly. Protective around work crews.”

Gray lifted his hand.

The Onix sniffed him first, then allowed Gray to touch the stone beneath its jaw.

Cool.

Dry.

No visible damage.

“Handsome.”

The Onix rumbled.

Roark smiled. “He likes that.”

“Most Pokémon appreciate accurate statements.”

A heavier sound came from behind them.

Gray turned.

Aggron had crossed the paddock.

Roark saw him and stopped.

“That is a very large Aggron.”

Gray smiled. “He knows.”

Aggron approached Roark slowly.

Gray watched.

Roark did not reach out.

Good.

He stayed where he was and let Aggron investigate first.

Better.

Aggron sniffed his helmet.

Then his jacket.

Then his face.

Roark smiled slightly. “Hey there.”

Gray recognized the posture that followed.

He started to say something.

Too late.

Aggron’s tongue dragged from Roark’s helmet, down the side of his face, and across one shoulder in a single wet pass.

Roark froze.

Marcus turned away, shoulders shaking.

Elias said, “There it is.”

Lyra put one hand over her mouth.

Gray laughed.

Roark slowly removed his glasses.

They were covered in saliva.

Gray offered him the bottom edge of his sweater.

“He likes you.”

Roark wiped the lenses. “I was afraid that was the explanation.”

Aggron moved closer again.

Roark put one hand up. “Okay, big guy. We have established friendship.”

Aggron licked the hand.

Gray laughed harder.

Roark looked at him. “You are enjoying this way too much.”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.”

Aggron rumbled happily and tried again.

Roark stepped aside.

Gray wasn't entirely sure why that was the moment he began liking him.

Maybe because Roark didn't get angry.

Maybe because he laughed.

Maybe because anyone who accepted being assaulted by affection from an Aggron with that much grace earned something.

Whatever the reason, Gray’s opinion shifted.

Small.

Not important.

Yet.

The damage to the field had to come first.

Gray expected Roark to apologize, offer to return with equipment, and leave.

Instead, Roark took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and started examining the edge of the tunnel.

Marcus joined him.

Within fifteen minutes, they were both crouched beside the opening discussing soil compaction.

Gray stood nearby with the cereal bowl he had recovered from Bastiodon.

Lyra looked at it.

Then at him.

“You are still eating that.”

Gray looked down at the bowl. “Yes.”

“There is dirt in it.”

He inspected the cereal.

There was a small amount of dirt in it.

“Minerals.”

Lyra stared.

Gray took another bite.

She walked away.

Roark glanced up from the edge of the tunnel. “Does she always look at you like that?”

“Yes.”

“Fair.”

Gray ignored the judgment and crouched near them.

Marcus pointed toward one side of the opening. “This section isn't stable. If we just refill everything, it’ll probably settle again.”

Roark nodded. “Onix came through softer ground here. The old tunnel is still open underneath. We’d need to check the branch and see how much of it runs below the ranch.”

Gray looked at the direction.

“Toward the rocky enclosure?”

“Partly.”

That mattered.

Aggron spent time there.

Cradily too.

Several research Pokémon used the area.

Gray looked toward Marcus. “Move everyone out of that section until we know what's underneath.”

Marcus nodded immediately and stood.

Roark looked over. “You probably don't need to clear all of it.”

“I know.”

“Just being careful?”

“Yes.”

Roark nodded.

No argument.

Gray appreciated that.

He looked into the hole.

The fear was still there.

That irritated him.

He had spent years around caves, mines, ruins, and unstable ground. He knew how to read rock. He knew how to move safely in damaged structures. He had crawled through places that made this tunnel look like a children's playhouse.

None of that mattered to the part of his brain that remembered a house dropping into the earth.

Gray hated when biology ignored expertise.

He focused on the visible timber.

Old supports.

Hand-cut.

Probably decades old at minimum.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Roark noticed where he was looking.

“The upper section's safe enough to inspect from the opening.”

Lyra, twenty feet away, said, “No.”

Gray looked over. “You cannot possibly have heard him.”

“I heard the word inspect.”

“That is not illegal.”

“You are not entering the tunnel.”

“I am not entering.”

Gray climbed carefully down into the top of the opening until his boots rested on a stable ledge.

Lyra stared.

“You are in the hole.”

“My feet are above the actual tunnel.”

“That distinction means nothing.”

Roark said, “Technically—”

Lyra turned toward him. “Do not help.”

Roark immediately looked away.

Gray smiled.

“I like her,” Roark said quietly.

“Everyone says that eventually.”

They inspected the exposed timbers.

Gray brushed dirt away from one.

The tool marks were obvious once uncovered.

Hand-shaped.

Old.

Not ancient, but old enough to tell a story.

Roark leaned closer. “See the cut?”

Gray nodded. “Different from the newer braces.”

“Exactly.”

“You've mapped this system before?”

“Parts of it.”

“How much?”

Roark hesitated.

Gray looked at him.

Roark smiled slightly. “We don't know.”

Gray stared for half a second.

Then smiled.

“Good answer.”

Roark laughed. “I thought you might like that.”

That was irritating.

It was also true.

They spent most of the morning around the opening.

Marcus handled the structural side.

Roark knew the mining history.

Gray knew how old construction practices changed over time and what to look for in abandoned human sites.

The three areas overlapped enough to make the work go quickly.

At some point, Tessa passed by with two Pokémon.

She stopped.

Looked at Gray waist-deep in the opening.

Looked at Roark.

Then looked at Lyra.

“New friend?”

Gray said, “No.”

Roark said, “Probably.”

Gray turned. “Excuse me?”

Tessa kept walking.

Lyra smiled.

Gray hated everyone.

By late morning, they had enough information to know the old tunnel probably crossed beneath part of the ranch.

Not deeply enough to ignore.

Not shallow enough to panic.

The branch had likely been exploratory mining from an earlier period of development, abandoned when whatever vein the miners had followed became unproductive.

Roark brushed dirt from an exposed section of rock and pointed to a thin dark stain.

“See that?”

Gray crouched beside him.

“Iron.”

“Mostly.”

Gray looked closer.

Roark handed him a small magnifier.

Gray accepted it and studied the discoloration.

There were traces of something else.

“Copper?”

“Tiny amount.”

Gray smiled. “That would explain why they kept the branch.”

“Probably chasing the vein.”

“Until it thinned.”

“Or collapsed.”

Gray looked deeper into the tunnel.

“How far does it continue?”

Roark sat back.

“No idea.”

Gray grinned.

Roark laughed.

“You really do like that answer.”

“It is the correct answer surprisingly often.”

“Mine supervisors hate it.”

Gray looked over. “Why?”

Roark mimicked a serious voice. “‘Is this wall stable?’”

Gray considered. “That is a poor context for academic uncertainty.”

“Exactly.”

They climbed back out around noon.

Gray was dirty.

Roark was worse.

Elias was passing nearby when they emerged.

He looked at Gray.

Then Roark.

Then the hole.

“You found a friend.”

Gray frowned. “What?”

Elias kept walking.

Roark smiled.

Gray pointed after him. “I don't like the way people keep saying that.”

“Maybe they're noticing something.”

“They're projecting.”

“Sure.”

“You've known me for four hours.”

“Long four hours.”

Gray stared at him.

Roark laughed.

Aggron chose that moment to return.

Elias saw him and increased his walking speed.

Roark noticed.

“Does he lick everyone?”

“Mostly people he likes.”

“That seems inefficient.”

“It is.”

Aggron headed straight for Gray.

Gray's confidence immediately vanished.

“No.”

Aggron continued.

“Don't.”

Roark started grinning.

Gray backed up.

Aggron accelerated.

Gray put both hands out.

“Absolutely not.”

The first lick hit Gray's forearms instead of his face.

Roark started laughing.

Gray looked at him over Aggron's snout. “This is not funny.”

“It really is.”

Aggron pushed forward.

Gray's boots slid in the dirt.

“You're supposed to help.”

“I've known you for four hours.”

“Long four hours.”

Roark laughed harder.

Gray decided he had created a problem.

Lunch happened on the porch mostly because nobody explicitly decided it shouldn't.

Roark had not left.

The tunnel would need another inspection later.

Gray had food.

Therefore, Roark ate.

Lyra ordered sandwiches from Sandgem after declaring that the kitchen did not contain enough food for “unexpected mining incidents.”

Gray sat on the top porch step with a chicken sandwich.

Roark sat two steps lower with ham.

Bastiodon lay in the grass nearby.

Chatot had returned and was walking back and forth along the porch railing while watching Roark with interest.

Gray did not like that.

Chatot's interest usually ended with property damage or language acquisition.

Roark took a bite and looked toward Bastiodon.

“That really is your first Pokémon?”

Gray followed his gaze. “Yeah.”

“Twenty-two years?”

“Revived twenty-two years ago.”

Roark looked impressed. “That's a long time.”

Gray reached out and scratched the edge of Bastiodon's shield. “He's ancient.”

Bastiodon snorted.

Roark smiled. “My Cranidos would probably love him.”

Gray stopped eating.

“You have a Cranidos?”

Roark saw the immediate change and laughed. “There it is again.”

“Answer.”

“Yeah. Revived.”

“Your fossil?”

“Partly. Found on a sanctioned excavation near Oreburgh when I was younger.”

“How young?”

Roark hesitated.

Gray narrowed his eyes. “That means too young.”

“Probably.”

Gray understood.

“What restoration system?”

Roark answered.

Gray put his sandwich down.

That conversation lasted almost half an hour.

Not polite conversation.

Actual conversation.

Roark had opinions.

Gray liked that.

They argued about older restoration systems, incomplete fossil material, post-revival habitat design, and the stupid tendency of people to treat revival as the end of the process rather than the beginning.

Roark believed fossil quality mattered more than most modern facilities admitted.

Gray agreed, but argued that behavioral care was still the larger neglected problem.

Roark countered that poor restoration could create health problems no amount of good habitat would solve.

Gray countered that poor habitat could ruin an otherwise perfect revival.

Neither convinced the other.

Both enjoyed trying.

Lyra walked behind them at one point carrying a folder.

She stopped.

Looked at Gray.

Looked at Roark.

Then continued.

Gray noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You did the face.”

Lyra paused. “What face?”

“The one where you think something and decide being annoying silently is better.”

Lyra looked at Roark. “Good luck.”

Then she walked into the house.

Roark watched her go.

“I really do like her.”

“You keep saying that.”

“She likes you too.”

Gray looked genuinely offended. “No, she doesn't.”

Roark laughed.

Chatot hopped closer along the railing.

Roark noticed.

“So this is the famous one.”

Gray groaned. “Do not say famous near him.”

Chatot puffed his feathers.

“Famous!”

Gray pointed. “See?”

Roark held out one hand.

Gray immediately said, “Bad idea.”

Chatot flew onto Roark's wrist.

Roark smiled. “He likes me.”

“He likes opportunities.”

Chatot climbed up Roark's sleeve toward his shoulder.

Gray watched carefully.

“Do not teach him anything.”

Roark looked innocent. “Why would I?”

“Because people think it's funny until he remembers something for ten years.”

“That sounds useful.”

“It is not.”

Chatot settled on Roark's shoulder.

Roark looked delighted.

Gray sighed.

“Traitor.”

Chatot leaned toward Gray.

“Fuck off.”

Roark burst out laughing.

Gray rubbed his forehead.

“Every time.”

Roark scratched gently under Chatot's chin. “He's great.”

“You have known him for thirty seconds.”

“Enough.”

Gray did not trust this.

At all.

Eventually the conversation moved toward the article.

Gray would have preferred it didn't.

Roark leaned back against the porch rail and said, “The trainer age thing was brave.”

Gray narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a polite way of saying stupid.”

“No.”

“Bold?”

“Maybe.”

“Also polite.”

Roark shrugged. “I wouldn't have said it publicly.”

“Why?”

“Because half the region would yell at me.”

“Half did.”

“I figured.”

“My inbox was useless for two days.”

Roark laughed. “Still think you're right?”

“Yes.”

The answer came immediately.

Roark nodded.

“I read that section twice.”

Something in his tone made Gray wait.

Roark looked toward the ranch.

“I started young too. Everybody I knew did. It never seemed weird until somebody said it plainly.”

“That's how stupid traditions survive.”

Roark smiled. “You really don't soften anything.”

“Why?”

“Most people would say something like ‘social expectations persist beyond their original context.’”

Gray stared. “That sounds exhausting.”

“Exactly.”

Gray took another bite.

Roark rubbed one thumb over the edge of his sandwich wrapper. “My dad would probably hate that part of the article.”

“Why?”

“He's pretty old-fashioned.”

“How old-fashioned?”

Roark thought.

“Steelix old-fashioned.”

Gray laughed.

“That is not a unit of measurement.”

“It should be.”

“Acceptable.”

They moved naturally into League talk after that.

That was when Gray finally placed the name.

Roark.

Oreburgh.

Mining.

Rock-types.

Gray looked at him.

“You're the Gym Leader.”

Roark stared.

“You seriously didn't know?”

“I knew Oreburgh had one.”

“That is brutal.”

“I haven't followed League appointments in years.”

“I've been Gym Leader for a while.”

Gray shrugged. “I've been doing archaeology.”

Roark looked offended in a theatrical way. “Some of us are important.”

“I'm sure.”

“Wow.”

“You'll recover.”

Roark laughed.

Gray smiled.

“So which one is your actual job? Gym or mining?”

Roark thought about it. “Both, kind of. The mine is what I grew up around. The Gym is League work, but I like it too.”

“Do you like testing new trainers?”

“Most days.”

“Most?”

“Some kids come in convinced Rock-types are easy because they brought a Water-type.”

Gray nodded slowly.

“I hate them already.”

“You'd enjoy watching.”

“Maybe.”

Roark looked pleased. “That is practically an invitation.”

“It wasn't.”

“Close enough.”

Gray rolled his eyes.

The conversation should have become tiring by then.

It didn't.

That was unusual.

Most new people required some amount of translation.

Gray spoke quickly.

His thoughts moved faster than his explanations.

Sometimes he jumped between subjects and only realized afterward that the other person had been left somewhere three steps back.

Roark followed.

Not everything.

Enough.

More importantly, he asked when he didn't.

He didn't pretend.

That was rare.

At one point Gray shifted from discussing starter Pokémon to excavation bracing because something Roark said reminded him of an old Hoenn dig.

Roark followed the jump without asking why.

Gray noticed.

It was deeply inconvenient.

He found himself enjoying the conversation.

The second tunnel inspection happened after lunch.

This time Lyra insisted on actual safety equipment.

Gray objected until she threatened to close the opening and call League facilities.

Then he put on the helmet.

Roark looked at him.

“Looks good.”

“Don't.”

“You look like you belong underground.”

“I look ridiculous.”

“Same thing.”

Gray stared.

Roark grinned.

They descended through the reinforced opening into the upper section.

Roark's Onix remained near the entrance.

Bastiodon stayed outside too.

Gray preferred that.

Large Pokémon in uncertain spaces made him nervous unless necessary.

The tunnel narrowed beyond the opening.

Old timbers supported parts of the ceiling.

Other sections had been carved directly through firmer stone.

Roark carried the main lamp.

Gray carried sample bags.

Roark noticed.

“You're taking samples.”

“Obviously.”

“This is technically League property.”

Gray looked at him.

Roark corrected himself. “Your League property.”

“Better.”

The air cooled as they moved deeper.

Gray’s shoulders tightened slightly.

He hated that.

The cave itself did not frighten him.

The sensation did.

Freshly disturbed earth.

Onix tunnel.

Ground overhead.

It was enough to stir old reflexes.

Roark noticed eventually.

Not dramatically.

He simply looked over and said, “You good?”

Gray met his eyes.

“Yes.”

Roark waited.

Gray appreciated that less.

He sighed. “Yes. Actually.”

“Okay.”

That was it.

No follow-up.

No exaggerated concern.

No attempt to diagnose him.

Gray relaxed.

They continued.

At the first junction, Roark stopped and pointed toward the supports.

“This is where the maps stop agreeing.”

One branch had collapsed long ago.

The other continued farther north.

Gray examined the timber.

Something looked wrong.

Or rather different.

He crouched.

“Different crews.”

Roark looked over. “You think?”

“Look at the cuts.”

Roark moved closer.

Gray pointed to one brace, then another farther along.

“Those were shaped with different tools. Or at least different technique.”

Roark ran his hand along the first timber.

“Huh.”

“Probably not the same construction period.”

“How far apart?”

Gray shrugged. “Could be years. Could be decades. Need samples.”

Roark smiled. “You love samples.”

“I love evidence.”

“Same thing?”

“Not remotely.”

They spent most of the next hour around the junction.

Nothing spectacular appeared.

No hidden temple.

No legendary Pokémon.

No impossible artifact.

Just old mining infrastructure.

Gray loved it.

The branch itself said something.

People had entered this ground before them.

They had followed mineral staining.

Built supports.

Changed methods.

Abandoned sections.

Maybe returned later.

Human history rarely happened in clean chapters.

It layered itself.

Roark understood that instinctively from mining.

Gray understood it from archaeology.

Their knowledge fit together in interesting ways.

Roark could look at stone fracturing and explain why a miner chose one direction.

Gray could look at the remains of old timber and explain why two structures probably did not belong to the same period.

They disagreed often.

It was fun.

Roark found a rusted metal bracket half-buried near one support and held it up.

“How old?”

Gray looked at it. “Old.”

Roark stared.

“Brilliant.”

“You asked before I touched it.”

“You're the archaeologist.”

“I am not a magical dating machine.”

“Try harder.”

Gray took the bracket and turned it over in his hand.

“Late nineteenth-century equivalent, maybe early twentieth, depending on manufacturing.”

Roark smiled. “There we go.”

“You're annoying.”

“So are you.”

Gray considered.

“Fair.”

They kept moving.

When they climbed out again, the sun had dropped noticeably.

Lyra was waiting beside the fence.

Her arms were crossed.

Gray immediately knew something was wrong.

“How long?”

He checked his watch.

“Oh.”

Roark did the same.

Also, “Oh.”

Lyra's expression sharpened.

“How long did you think you were down there?”

Gray thought.

“Maybe two hours.”

“Three and a half.”

Roark winced.

Gray frowned at his watch as if it had committed the error.

“That doesn't seem right.”

“It is literally my job to know where you are.”

“That sounds unhealthy.”

Lyra looked at Roark. “You.”

Roark straightened. “Me?”

“You are encouraging him.”

Roark looked at Gray.

Then back at Lyra.

“Probably.”

Gray felt betrayed.

Lyra pointed toward the laboratory. “Food.”

“I ate lunch.”

“At noon.”

“It is only—”

Gray checked the time.

“Five.”

“Exactly.”

Roark said, “She has a point.”

Gray stared at him. “You have been here one day and already sided against me twice.”

“Three times.”

Gray frowned. “What was the third?”

“The helmet.”

“That does not count.”

“It counts.”

Lyra smiled.

Gray hated both of them.

Which was unfortunate, because he was enjoying himself.

Roark stayed for dinner.

Nobody officially invited him.

He simply had not left when Gray ordered food.

There was enough.

Therefore, he ate.

Gray had chicken fried rice.

Naturally.

Roark accepted a bowl of the same after saying he wasn't picky, which Gray considered a useful personality trait.

Lyra finally went home after announcing that she had a life beyond making sure Gray remained alive.

Gray was skeptical.

He allowed it anyway.

They ate at the kitchen table.

Kangaskhan stood suspiciously near the refrigerator.

Gray noticed immediately.

“Don't.”

Roark looked over.

Kangaskhan froze.

“What is she doing?”

“Crime.”

Kangaskhan looked deeply offended.

Roark smiled. “She looks innocent.”

“That is the mechanism.”

Kangaskhan slowly moved closer.

Gray pointed at Roark. “Do not reward her.”

“I don't have food in my hands.”

“You have a bowl.”

Roark moved it slightly farther away.

Kangaskhan sat beside him.

Roark looked delighted.

Gray sighed. “Great. She likes you too.”

“Is that a problem?”

“For me, apparently.”

They ate.

Conversation drifted away from work.

Mostly.

Pokémon came first.

Roark talked about Cranidos.

Gray talked about Bastiodon.

Then Aggron.

Then fossil Pokémon generally.

At some point they ended up arguing about whether Kabutops would be useful in modern mining operations.

Roark thought yes.

Gray thought this was insane.

“Blades,” Gray said.

“Useful.”

“In tunnels?”

“Controlled environment.”

“Until one slips.”

“You assume poor training.”

“You assume Kabutops understands workplace safety.”

Roark laughed. “That's fair.”

Gray took another bite.

Roark looked toward the window.

Bastiodon was outside near the porch.

“You really keep most of yours out.”

“When I can.”

“Same.”

Gray looked at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Cranidos hates staying in his ball.”

Gray nodded.

Another point in Roark’s favor.

That was becoming annoying.

Roark continued, “My dad does the same with Steelix.”

Gray looked up.

“Steelix?”

“Longtime partner.”

Gray paused.

Then it clicked.

“You're Byron's son.”

Roark stared.

“You just figured that out?”

“I knew Byron had a son.”

“You knew my name. You knew I was Oreburgh Gym Leader. You knew I worked in mining.”

Gray thought about that.

“Yes.”

“And none of that connected?”

“No.”

Roark leaned back and laughed.

Gray frowned. “What?”

“Nothing. I just expected the brilliant archaeologist to connect more dots.”

Gray pointed his fork at him. “Never assume you know the full story.”

Roark stopped laughing.

Then groaned.

“Oh, that's cheap.”

Gray smiled. “Effective.”

“Very.”

That became a joke between them almost immediately.

Gray had not agreed to this.

By the time Roark finally prepared to leave, it was fully dark.

His Onix had rested most of the afternoon and was ready to travel.

Gray walked with him toward the reinforced tunnel opening.

The paddock was quiet again.

Marcus had fenced the damaged section temporarily and marked the unstable ground.

The hole looked much less dramatic now.

Roark put his helmet on and adjusted the strap.

Gray looked at the tunnel.

“You are actually going back that way.”

“My Onix is down there.”

“Right.”

“Also faster than walking around.”

Gray nodded.

For the first time all day, the conversation hesitated.

Not badly.

It simply reached the point where normal people apparently said goodbye.

Gray was not especially good at that part.

He usually preferred conversations ending naturally.

Someone left.

Fine.

This felt different.

There were still things they could talk about.

That was inconvenient.

Roark looked toward the lab. “Thanks for not throwing me off the property.”

“You still owe me grass.”

“I'll fix it.”

“Good.”

Roark adjusted one glove. “I can come back tomorrow and help finish the reinforcement.”

Gray's first instinct was to say Marcus could handle it.

Which was true.

He almost did.

Instead, he looked toward the lab.

“There might be older property surveys in Rowan's files.”

Roark looked back at him.

“Yeah?”

“The archives have decades of regional development records. If the maps disagree, we might find something older.”

Roark smiled slowly.

“That sounds interesting.”

“It is.”

“You free tomorrow?”

Gray thought about Lyra's schedule.

Almost certainly not.

“Maybe.”

Roark laughed. “I'll take that.”

Gray nodded toward the tunnel. “Do not make another entrance.”

“No promises.”

Gray stared.

Roark grinned. “Kidding.”

“Good.”

He climbed onto the Onix harness.

The massive Pokémon began lowering into the tunnel.

Roark looked back once.

“Oh.”

Gray waited.

“The interview got one thing exactly right.”

Gray immediately distrusted this.

“What?”

“You really do talk more when it's about research.”

Gray stared.

Roark laughed.

The Onix descended.

Gray called after him, “Fuck off.”

Roark's voice came back from below.

“See you tomorrow!”

Gray stood there until the sound of the Onix moving through the tunnel faded.

Then he turned.

Bastiodon was behind him.

Gray stopped. “How long have you been standing there?”

The old Pokémon rumbled.

Gray narrowed his eyes. “Don't.”

Another rumble.

“I know.”

Bastiodon nudged his shoulder.

Gray started walking toward the house.

Bastiodon came with him.

The night was warm.

One Gyarados surfaced near the pond and disappeared again.

Gray shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Interesting guy.”

Bastiodon rumbled.

“Yes.”

Another rumble.

Gray looked over.

“What?”

Bastiodon said nothing.

Obviously.

Gray somehow knew what the old bastard meant anyway.

“He's a colleague.”

Bastiodon continued walking.

“A professional contact.”

The old Pokémon rumbled again.

Gray frowned. “Fine.”

They reached the porch.

The front door opened.

Lyra stood there holding her tablet.

Gray stared.

“Why are you still here?”

“I forgot this.”

She lifted the tablet.

Then looked past him toward the tunnel.

“Your friend leave?”

Gray's expression changed immediately.

“He is not my friend.”

Lyra smiled.

Gray realized too late that he had made a mistake.

“I met him this morning.”

“Sure.”

“That is objectively true.”

“Good night, Gray.”

She walked down the steps.

Gray turned. “Lyra.”

She kept going.

“Whatever you're thinking, stop.”

She waved without looking back.

Gray stared after her.

Bastiodon rumbled.

Gray looked down.

“You too?”

Another rumble.

Gray sighed.

“Everyone is annoying.”

From inside the house, Chatot shouted, “FRIEND!”

Gray froze.

Slowly, he turned.

Chatot stood on the kitchen counter.

“Friend!”

Gray pointed at him.

“No.”

“FRIEND!”

“Stop.”

Chatot puffed his feathers.

“Roark!”

Gray stared.

There was no way.

Roark had spent maybe a few minutes alone with Chatot during lunch.

Then Gray remembered the bird sitting on Roark's shoulder.

That bastard.

Gray looked toward the dark ranch.

Then started laughing.

Not loudly.

Enough.

“Okay.”

Chatot tilted his head.

Gray shook his.

“Fine.”

Maybe Roark could come back tomorrow.

Somebody needed to explain exactly what he had taught that bird.

Gray had several questions.

And now, unfortunately, he was curious.

That was usually how trouble started.