Home Between Catastrophes

Chapter Thirty-Six

Home Between Catastrophes

By the time the fight ended, neither Legendary looked victorious.

Gray and Cynthia had retreated far enough from the shattered volcanic chamber that they were no longer in immediate danger of being crushed by falling stone, but not so far that the cameras and suit feeds lost everything. Most of the direct visual coverage had failed during the final phase of the battle. Two cameras were gone entirely, one had been buried beneath rubble, and another had been reduced to a tilted view of molten stone and a single broken crystal vein. What remained came from intermittent helmet footage, distant thermal sensors, and brief glimpses through the damaged opening whenever the dust thinned enough to see across the chamber.

Heatran was still standing.

Barely.

Darkrai hovered opposite it near the far wall, lower than Gray had ever seen it, its trailing body almost touching the ground. The two Legendaries had spent what felt like hours turning the chamber into something that no longer resembled the geological map Roark had started with. Basalt columns had been shattered. Several crystal shelves were gone. Fresh lava cut across parts of the floor where Heatran’s attacks had reopened ancient fractures. Darkrai’s repeated Dark Pulses had blasted broad sections of stone apart and left blackened impact marks along the walls.

Neither attacked immediately.

That absence of movement felt stranger than the fighting had.

Gray stood behind Garchomp near the retreat passage while Cynthia watched the feed from the surviving camera. Dust moved through the air in slow sheets. Heat distortion made the far end of the chamber ripple.

Heatran’s breathing was visible from fifty meters away.

Its head hung lower than normal. One foreleg dragged slightly when it adjusted position, and fresh marks crossed the armor along its flank. The seams between several plates glowed brighter than usual, not with the controlled heat Gray had seen when it comforted the sleepers but with the uncontrolled overflow of a body that had been pushed too far.

Darkrai looked no better.

Its outline flickered.

The black lower body did not hold a stable shape anymore. The ragged edges distorted intermittently, as though portions of it were slipping into shadow and failing to remain there. The white structure over its head was scorched along one side, and the red collar around its upper body had been torn open in two places by Heatran’s attacks.

They stared at each other across the wreckage.

Gray had seen exhausted Pokémon before.

League battles produced exhaustion.

Field rescues produced exhaustion.

Old Pokémon sometimes reached a point where simply standing became effort.

This looked different.

Both Legendaries appeared capable of continuing because neither had accepted the idea of stopping, not because either body had much left to give.

Cynthia spoke quietly. “They’re waiting for the other one to move.”

“Yeah.”

“Heatran’s worse.”

Gray studied the huge body. “Physically?”

“I think so.”

Darkrai had taken brutal hits, but avoiding attacks had cost less energy than producing Heatran’s repeated area attacks and physically tearing the cavern apart. Heatran had also entered the fight already exhausted from weeks—possibly far longer—of patrolling the sleepers.

Gray looked toward the deeper fracture in the ruined chamber.

The crystal veins around it had stopped glowing.

Whatever had answered Darkrai’s Dark Void from below was quiet again.

That did not make Gray feel better.

Darkrai looked at the fracture.

Heatran noticed.

Its head rose.

Even now, even barely standing, the reaction was immediate.

Heatran moved between Darkrai and the opening.

Darkrai did not attack.

Instead it drifted sideways.

Heatran shifted with it.

The same pattern as before.

Darkrai tried another angle.

Heatran blocked it.

The hostility between them had not changed.

The shape of the conflict had.

Gray no longer saw one Pokémon defending itself from an attacker.

He saw Darkrai trying to get somewhere and Heatran refusing to let it pass.

That distinction had been growing throughout the fight, and now there was no spectacle left to distract from it.

Darkrai raised one arm.

Heatran’s mouth opened.

A weak orange glow gathered between its teeth.

Gray tensed.

Darkrai did not form an attack.

It pointed downward.

Toward the fracture.

Heatran’s glow intensified.

Darkrai held the gesture.

Heatran gave a low roar.

Not the explosive fury from earlier.

A hoarse sound now.

Warning.

Refusal.

Darkrai lowered its arm.

The two remained facing each other.

Then Darkrai moved.

Not toward Heatran.

Away.

Slowly at first.

Heatran followed several steps, suspicious even of retreat.

Darkrai reached the shadow beneath a broken basalt overhang and stopped.

Its blue eye remained on Heatran.

Then it looked once more toward the deeper crack.

Heatran roared again.

Darkrai disappeared.

There was no dramatic explosion.

No final attack.

One moment it hovered beneath the overhang.

The next its body flattened into the surrounding darkness and simply ceased to be visible.

Heatran lunged toward the spot anyway.

Too late.

It struck the wall with Metal Claw, tearing loose another section of stone.

Nothing emerged.

Heatran turned sharply.

Searched.

Its head moved toward every shadow, every fracture, every black space between ruined columns.

Darkrai was gone.

Gray waited for Heatran to roar.

Instead, the Legendary stood completely still.

The fight had ended.

Not because Heatran had defeated Darkrai.

Not because Darkrai had defeated Heatran.

Darkrai had left.

For several seconds Heatran seemed unwilling to accept that.

Then the body sagged.

One foreleg bent.

Heatran caught itself.

Gray’s chest tightened.

The fury had been holding it upright.

Now that there was nothing left to fight, exhaustion returned all at once.

Heatran lowered itself onto the shattered stone.

Not carefully.

Its body simply came down.

The impact sent a dull vibration through the floor.

Cynthia took one step forward before stopping herself.

Gray understood the impulse.

Neither moved closer.

Heatran’s head remained raised for several seconds. Its eyes stayed fixed on the place where Darkrai had disappeared.

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Then the head lowered.

Slowly.

The great chin touched the stone.

Gray had never seen Heatran look small.

It did not look small now.

It looked spent.

A legendary force of volcanic heat lay amid a chamber it had nearly destroyed, armor scraped and glowing, breath moving raggedly through its body. Molten stone cooled around it. Steam rose from fractured rock.

Heatran stayed there.

Watching the shadows.

Gray touched his headset.

“Rhea.”

Her reply came immediately. “I’m here.”

“Darkrai withdrew.”

“I saw what we could.”

“Heatran’s down.”

“Down as in injured?”

“Down as in exhausted. Still conscious.”

A pause.

“Are you approaching?”

“No.”

Cynthia nodded beside him.

Rhea exhaled. “Good.”

Gray kept watching.

Heatran’s eyes closed.

Opened again.

Closed.

This time they remained shut longer.

The chamber finally became quiet.

Gray looked toward Cynthia.

“We should go.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Neither sounded enthusiastic about leaving.

That was probably another reason they needed to.

They recalled Garchomp once they reached stable tunnel.

Cynthia thanked her partner before the Poké Ball closed. The gesture was quiet and automatic.

Gray had always liked that about her.

They moved back through the broken passage toward the sleeping cavern.

The contrast was immediate.

The battle chamber behind them smelled of scorched stone, psychic discharge, and newly exposed magma. The lower habitat ahead remained warm, dim, and filled with hundreds of quiet flames.

Most of the sleepers had settled again.

Not all.

A Typhlosion twitched near the wall.

One Charmeleon gave a low sound in its sleep.

Several awake Quilava moved between groups, visibly exhausted but still functioning.

Gray stopped near the threshold.

No Heatran.

For the first time since learning what the lower cavern truly was, the sleepers were without it.

The thought made him uneasy.

One of the awake Quilava looked toward the passage where Heatran had vanished.

Then toward Gray.

Gray did not know whether that meant anything.

He wanted it to.

That was exactly why he refused to interpret it.

“We’re leaving,” he said quietly.

The Quilava watched.

Gray and Cynthia continued upward.

They emerged into the snow chamber almost four hours later.

Gray had never been so happy to see underground snow.

The geothermal heat clung to his body even after the suit cooling system reduced output, and the first cold air that reached his face after he removed the helmet felt almost painful.

Cynthia sat down on a rock.

Gray considered doing the same.

Instead he stood there breathing for several seconds.

Then his knees made the decision for him.

He sat beside her.

Neither spoke immediately.

The snow chamber looked absurdly normal.

Snorunt moved along the far wall.

A Delibird wandered between crystal outcrops carrying something Gray could not identify.

Water dripped from the ceiling and froze along one edge of a pale formation.

No Legendary Pokémon were trying to kill each other.

No ancient psychic phenomenon was pulsing through stone.

Gray looked toward the Delibird.

It stopped.

Looked back.

Gray narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t.”

The Delibird tilted its head.

Cynthia turned toward him. “What exactly do you think it’s going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

The Delibird waddled closer.

Gray pointed.

“No.”

It continued.

Cynthia laughed quietly.

Not hard.

Not theatrically.

Just enough that Gray looked toward her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s twice today.”

“Apparently I’m developing a habit.”

The Delibird stopped several feet away and placed the object it was carrying on the snow.

A pebble.

Then it walked away.

Gray stared at the pebble.

Cynthia stared at the pebble.

Gray finally said, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Maybe it likes you.”

“Heatran likes me too.”

Cynthia’s smile disappeared.

“No.”

Gray nodded.

“Fair.”

That joke had not aged well.

They sat for another five minutes before continuing.

The climb through the lush cavern felt longer than usual.

Gray noticed things he normally would have documented.

A new Combee cluster near flowering vines.

Fresh Geodude tracks along the water.

A Buneary sleeping beneath a white crystal shelf.

He did not stop.

The surface could wait.

The lab could not.

Lyra was waiting when they reached Sandgem.

So were Marcus, Mira, Elias, Tessa, and half the League research group via remote screens.

Gray walked into the analysis room still carrying his damaged helmet.

Lyra looked at Cynthia.

Then at Gray.

Then at the helmet.

“You both have all your limbs.”

Gray checked.

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t a request for verification.”

He set the helmet on the table.

A long scorched line crossed one side.

Cynthia sat near the central display and began removing the outer layer of her field gloves. “Heatran and Darkrai did most of the damage to each other.”

Lyra stared.

“That sentence is not reassuring.”

“No,” Cynthia said. “It isn’t.”

The debrief began immediately.

Gray hated immediate debriefs.

He also understood them.

Memory degraded quickly after high-stress events, and their suit recordings had gaps.

So they reconstructed the battle.

Heatran’s opening Crunch.

The breach into the empty volcanic chamber.

Darkrai’s repeated attempts to disengage.

Heatran’s environmental attacks.

Hypnosis.

Dream Eater.

The psychic response beneath the chamber.

Darkrai’s Dark Void into the fracture.

The massive answering pulse.

The final disengagement.

Moriyama joined remotely.

So did Rhea.

Roark arrived in person halfway through, still wearing mine gear and carrying updated structural maps.

Nobody tried to explain everything.

That helped.

Several facts survived the debrief.

Darkrai was confirmed.

Heatran treated it as an ancient enemy.

Darkrai repeatedly attempted to reach deeper sections of the underground system.

Heatran repeatedly blocked it.

Darkrai used sleep- and dream-associated attacks during the fight.

Darkrai also appeared to reduce at least one sleeper’s distress episode.

The largest psychic response came after Darkrai directed Dark Void into a deeper fracture.

Something below responded.

None of them knew what.

Gray sat back after nearly three hours and rubbed his eyes.

Lyra saw.

“You’re done.”

Gray looked at her.

“We’re not.”

“You are.”

“Technically—”

“Gray.”

Rhea’s voice came from the wall screen. “She’s right.”

Gray stared at the screen.

“Traitor.”

“I’m conservation. I have no loyalty to your work schedule.”

Cynthia was already standing.

Gray looked toward her.

“You’re leaving too?”

“Yes.”

“Coward.”

“I slept four hours last night.”

Gray considered that.

“Show-off.”

She gathered her things.

Before leaving, she stopped beside his chair.

“Go home.”

“I live here.”

“You know what I mean.”

Gray looked toward the ranch windows.

The afternoon light had begun turning warmer.

He realized suddenly that he had not done a proper ranch round in almost two weeks.

Not personally.

Staff had handled everything.

Tessa sent reports.

Marcus checked fencing.

The feeding schedules continued.

Nothing required Gray.

That was good.

It was also wrong in a quieter way.

He stood.

“Fine.”

Lyra looked suspicious.

“That was easy.”

“I’m going to the ranch.”

“That is not the same thing as sleeping.”

“No.”

“It is better.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t compliment you.”

Gray left before she changed her mind.

Bastiodon found him first.

Gray had barely crossed the back path behind the lab when the old Pokémon emerged from the grass near the western paddock.

Bastiodon stopped.

Gray stopped.

They looked at each other.

Bastiodon walked forward.

Slowly.

Then shoved the broad front of his face directly into Gray’s chest.

Gray staggered back two steps.

“Hi.”

Bastiodon remained there.

Gray put both hands against the armored face.

Warm.

Solid.

Normal.

He stood like that for several seconds.

Bastiodon snorted.

Gray smiled.

“I know.”

He had not realized how much he needed this.

The lower cavern had filled his head with Pokémon who did not wake.

The battle had filled it with Heatran screaming under Dream Eater and Darkrai vanishing between shadows.

Bastiodon wanted his forehead scratched.

Gray could handle that.

He rubbed along the edge of the armor where Bastiodon preferred.

The old Pokémon leaned harder.

“You’re heavy.”

Bastiodon ignored him.

“Still heavy.”

Nothing changed.

Gray continued scratching.

Eventually Bastiodon stepped away and began walking toward the main field.

Gray followed.

Ranch rounds normally had a structure.

Check water.

Check feeding.

Check fencing.

Check habitat control.

Check anyone recovering from injury.

Check elderly residents.

Check anything staff had flagged.

Gray abandoned the structure within ten minutes.

He wandered.

That was probably healthier.

The eastern pasture held Marowak and Donphan.

Donphan was asleep in the sun.

Gray stopped.

The sleeping Pokémon’s side rose.

Fell.

One ear moved.

Gray watched longer than necessary.

Donphan opened one eye.

Gray exhaled.

“Good.”

Donphan closed it again.

Gray stood there.

Then laughed quietly at himself.

Of course Donphan woke.

That was what sleep did.

He moved on.

Near the breeding enclosure, Tessa was working with a young Sandshrew that disliked having its feet handled.

She saw Gray approaching.

“You look terrible.”

“That’s becoming a theme.”

“You were gone.”

“Yes.”

Tessa looked toward the main lab.

“Heard enough.”

Gray did not ask how much.

Probably everything staff needed to know.

Tessa returned her attention to Sandshrew.

The little Pokémon pulled one foot away when she reached toward it.

Tessa stopped.

Waited.

Offered her hand again.

Sandshrew sniffed.

Allowed contact.

Gray watched.

Simple.

Slow.

Normal.

“Anything happen here?” he asked.

Tessa laughed.

“Plenty.”

“Important?”

“Define important.”

“Anything involving Legendaries, psychic phenomena, archaeological disasters, or lava.”

“No.”

“Excellent.”

“One of the Kangaskhan broke a water valve.”

“That qualifies as manageable.”

“Elias disagreed.”

Gray nodded.

“Where is he?”

“Probably hiding from Aggron.”

Reasonable.

Gray continued.

The older Venusaur rested near the greenhouse shade.

Gray stopped there next.

Venusaur raised its head before Gray reached the enclosure.

Good.

Another sleeper that woke.

Gray hated that he noticed.

He crouched near the fence.

Venusaur blinked slowly.

“You’re getting spoiled.”

The Pokémon made a low sound.

“Yes, I know the greenhouse is warmer.”

Venusaur lowered its head again.

Gray remained several minutes.

He thought about age.

About Bastiodon.

About the sleeping cavern.

About bodies held somewhere between life and time.

The thought threatened to pull him back into analysis.

He refused.

Not tonight.

He stood.

The Magikarp pond waited.

That was always dangerous in a different way.

Gray reached the edge and counted.

Thirty-one.

Still thirty-one.

He counted again.

Thirty-one.

“Suspicious.”

Several Magikarp gathered near him.

One splashed.

Gray looked for #17.

He found it near the far edge.

The asshole stared at him.

Gray stared back.

“Don’t.”

#17 moved.

Gray narrowed his eyes.

“Absolutely not.”

The Magikarp accelerated.

Gray stepped backward.

Too late.

#17 launched out of the water.

Not high.

High enough.

Gray caught the impact against his shin and stumbled into the grass.

Water splashed across his jeans.

The Magikarp landed beside the pond and flopped aggressively.

Gray lay on the ground staring at the sky.

For several seconds, he did nothing.

Then he began laughing.

Not because it was especially funny.

Because after everything underground, being assaulted by a Magikarp felt impossibly ordinary.

He sat up.

#17 continued flopping.

“You missed me.”

The Magikarp splashed dirt toward him.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Gray pushed it gently back into the pond.

The Magikarp disappeared beneath the surface.

One of the nearby Gyarados raised its head.

Gray pointed toward the water.

“Control your friend.”

The Gyarados looked away.

“Coward.”

He stood and brushed grass from his coat.

The pond remained peaceful.

Mostly.

Gray moved on.

Aggron found him near the equipment shed.

Gray heard the steps first.

Heavy.

Fast.

Then Aggron came around the corner.

Gray barely had time to brace.

Aggron reached him and immediately shoved its head against Gray’s shoulder.

Gray laughed.

“Okay.”

Aggron made a rumbling sound.

“Yes.”

Another shove.

“I was gone.”

Aggron pressed closer.

“I know.”

Then the tongue came out.

Gray saw it.

“No.”

Aggron licked the entire side of his face.

Gray closed his eyes.

Silence.

Aggron looked pleased.

Gray wiped his cheek with one sleeve.

“You are disgusting.”

Aggron rumbled happily.

“Don’t act handsome.”

The Pokémon straightened.

Gray stared.

Aggron clearly believed that was exactly what it should do.

“Unbelievable.”

Elias appeared from the shed carrying a towel.

Gray looked at him.

Elias looked at Gray’s face.

Then at Aggron.

He held out the towel.

Gray accepted it.

“Thanks.”

“I keep several now.”

“That feels accusatory.”

“It is logistical.”

Aggron moved toward Elias.

Elias stepped backward.

“Absolutely not.”

Gray smiled.

Normal.

Again.

Everything here was normal.

Not boring.

Never boring.

But ordinary in the way that mattered.

Problems ended.

Pokémon woke.

Water valves broke.

Aggron licked people.

Magikarp committed crimes.

No ancient curse was required.

Gray continued the round until sunset.

He checked the older Kangaskhan.

Inspected the repaired water valve.

Helped Marcus move a damaged section of fencing.

Spent ten minutes watching two young Geodude argue over the same warm rock despite three identical rocks nearby.

Fed Chatot a piece of fruit and immediately regretted it when Chatot stole the rest.

Eventually the light turned orange across the western field.

Gray found Bastiodon near the house.

The old Pokémon stood beside the porch, facing the horizon.

Gray sat on the bottom step.

Bastiodon moved closer.

Then lowered himself carefully into the grass.

Gray leaned back against the porch support.

Neither needed anything.

The ranch settled around them.

Distant calls.

Grass moving in the evening wind.

Water from the pond.

A Gyarados splashing far away.

Somewhere near the barn, Chatot shouted a word Gray pretended not to hear.

Bastiodon breathed beside him.

In.

Out.

Gray closed his eyes.

Opened them again.

Bastiodon noticed.

The old Pokémon turned his head.

Gray looked toward him.

“What?”

Bastiodon stared.

Gray reached over and rested one hand against the armored cheek.

“You’re fine.”

Bastiodon snorted.

Gray smiled faintly.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Mostly.

The underground problem would still exist tomorrow.

Darkrai would still be real.

Heatran would still be exhausted.

Hundreds of Pokémon would still be sleeping beneath Oreburgh.

Something deeper would still be waiting beyond glowing crystal and stone.

Gray could not solve any of it tonight.

For once, he allowed that to be acceptable.

Bastiodon lowered his head.

Gray stayed on the porch until the sun disappeared completely.

Then he went inside, ate an actual meal, and slept long enough to dream about nothing important.