Julian raised his eyebrows. “What makes you certain of that?”
Professor Sycamore began to pace. “What, you think he left while no one was looking, without bothering to tell anyone where he had gone?”
“It’s not a possibility we can ignore, is it?” said Julian. “Fylon said he had noticed that Ryan was suspicious.”
“Suspicious enough to desert us?” said the professor, getting more and more agitated. “In the village, he was perfectly ready to help me. Even if he had misgivings then, he followed me. Why stop now?”
“Perhaps he decided that in the face of Team Flare, he wasn’t as ready to help after all?” said Julian, now crossing his arms.
Professor Sycamore stopped pacing. “Do not accuse him of such a thing as cowardice, Julian. Do you truly believe that one who, like only seventeen others in the region, agreed to help me stop an organization as evil as this would not be brave? No, he did not leave under his own power. And besides that, there’s only one way out of the Pokémon Center, unless he jumped, which is unlikely. Aira or one of the guests would have seen him leave.”
Julian nodded. “So he’s captured. What do we do now?”
Professor Sycamore sighed and ran a hand through his wild hair. “I don’t know. I need time to think. Put out the fire, would you?”
Julian nodded again. He and Morgan ran back to the rest of the Spectrum. The professor watched them exchange a few words with Fylon. Seconds later, Fylon sprang to his feet, and gestured to the others to do the same. They called out their Pokémon and set to work extinguishing the flames.
Professor Sycamore sat and rubbed his forehead. He had to work under the assumption that Team Flare was still using Lysandre’s laboratories for their headquarters. He still did not know the identity of their leader, but that didn’t matter for Ryan.
The professor tried to recall what he could of Team Flare and their workings. He had never been inside Lysandre’s laboratories, and the whereabouts of the only one who had - Calem - were unknown. Their hierarchy consisted - or had consisted, before the Geosenge disaster - of the leader, who was advised by the four Scientists, who were also the topmost administrators. There were also perhaps ten lesser administrators, the names of whom Professor Sycamore didn’t know. The rest of Team Flare was made up of Grunts, maybe fifty or so. And, of course, two enigmas. Malva, once part of the Kalos Elite Four, and a famous news reporter for the Holo Caster. Her role in Team Flare had been exposed nearly ten years ago, and from what Drasna had said, she hadn’t been seen since. The other mystery was Xerosic, who had been one of Team Flare’s most powerful executives. He had been largely in control of the restoration and activation of the weapon that had destroyed Geosenge Town. After Lysandre’s defeat at Calem’s hands, Xerosic had gone into hiding, only emerging a year later with a new project he had been secretly working on. He had called it the Expansion Suit, a suit that literally expanded all the capabilities and functions of the wearer. He hadn’t worn it himself - it was still just a prototype - so he had used Emma, a sixteen-year-old orphan, as a test subject. Unconscious inside the suit while Xerosic controlled it remotely, Emma, under the code name Essentia, had committed various crimes throughout the city, eventually being stopped by a member of the International Police. Xerosic was captured and brought to the Shalour prison. According to Fylon, however, Team Flare was trying to recruit Xerosic, but had failed. Professor Sycamore was still mystified as to how they had failed. Could it be that Xerosic felt remorse for his actions?
At any rate, that was irrelevant, and would not help save Ryan. Professor Sycamore shook his head to clear it. Even if he worked under the assumption that Malva was now the leader, it wouldn’t make a difference; he had no idea how Malva operated. He would have to determine where prisoners were kept, and break in there, without attracting the attention of the leader, whoever that may be.
But where were prisoners kept? Professor Sycamore’s eyes closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. He considered for a few more minutes before deciding that it was no use; he couldn’t figure out on his own without sending Fylon, Nika or Erell for reconnaissance, and that was too risky. He didn’t want to lose two members of the Spectrum.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Of course. Calem wasn’t the only one who might help him that had been inside Lysandre’s laboratories. Serena had, too. While Calem had actually taken down Lysandre and the ultimate weapon, Serena had helped him get inside, defeat the administrators, and navigate the twists and turns of the laboratories.
The decision from here was obvious. Professor Sycamore stood up quickly and hastened over to Aira, where she still was passing water out to the guests. “Aira,” he said. “May I borrow your computer a few minutes more? I fear it’s urgent.”
Aira looked to see who was talking, and then sniffed. “Fine,” she said, handing it to him.
Professor Sycamore bowed and went back to where he had sat before as he debated how best to rescue Ryan. He opened the laptop and called the Pokémon League.
Siebold answered. “Professor? What happened?”
“Siebold,” said the professor. “Please call Serena. I must speak with her.”
The Water specialist looked at him searchingly a moment or two longer, and then turned his head and called, “Serena!”
Professor Sycamore heard a muffled shout from some part of the castle, and moments later, Serena came into view. “Professor Sycamore? What is it?”
“Serena. Ten years ago, when Calem stopped Lysandre’s weapon from destroying the world, you helped him find the way through the laboratories,” said Professor Sycamore.
“Yes,” said Serena cautiously.
“Do you think you can find the way again?” said Professor Sycamore.
Serena looked doubtful. “I could … yes, I’m sure I could. But Professor, I don’t ever want to see that place again. It was horrible.”
“I know, Serena,” said Professor Sycamore soothingly. “But tonight, Team Flare attacked the Pokémon Center and kidnapped one of the members of my Elemental Spectrum. I need to navigate the laboratories and rescue him. Will you please help?”
Serena sighed. She seemed to harden her resolve, and then said, “Alright. I’ll help you.”
“Thank you, Serena,” said the professor, inclining his head. “Please meet us at the Magenta Plaza Pokémon Center in Lumiose City.”
Serena nodded, her face still set resolutely, and ended the call.
Professor Sycamore closed the computer and sighed with relief. With Serena’s help, this mission was as good as completed.
He went over to where the Elemental Spectrum sat, still recovering from the toughest fight they had ever been in. As he approached, a few of them - the least exhausted - stood. Julian was among them. Fylon, curiously, was not.
“I know you’re all tired,” began Professor Sycamore, but Fylon cut him off.
“What happened?” he asked sharply.
Professor Sycamore sighed. Had Julian and Morgan really not told them? “Ryan has been captured by Team Flare. We need to–”
“We know that,” said Fylon, cutting him off again. “Even if Morgan hadn’t told us, it’s obvious from the length and quantity of your calls to the Pokémon League, and the…”
Fylon trailed off, looking around at the others: clearly it hadn’t been obvious to all of them. “Never mind,” he said. “I mean, why have you come over, Professor? Shouldn’t you be helping the guests from the Pokémon Center?”
“At the moment, my priority is Ryan,” said the professor, now mildly annoyed. “If he is not there to help us against Team Flare when this conflict comes to a head, or if - Order forbid it - he is against us, all will be lost, and I don’t mean just the Kalos region.”
“We’re exhausted, sir,” said Fylon. “I–”
Now Nika interrupted, “We’re fit for travel, if not for a battle, Professor.” She shot Fylon a warning glare.
“That’s good,” said Professor Sycamore. “Especially because travel’s what we need right now. We’re going to Magenta Plaza. There’s another Pokémon Center there.”
“With all due respect, Professor,” said Julian, his deep, clear voice resonating, “what makes you think we’ll be safer at that Pokémon Center than we were at this one? We don’t want to lay waste to Lumiose City.”
Fylon looked up expectantly, and a bit defiantly, as if to say, “There. Answer that.”
“They can’t burn down that Pokémon Center,” said the professor with a smile; he had already thought of this. “Not unless they want the flames to spread, building by building, to their headquarters. And it puts us in perfect position to infiltrate the laboratories whenever we see fit, as they won’t have the warning of fifteen Pokémon Trainers running down North Boulevard.
“And,” he added significantly, “Serena of the Elite Four is meeting us there.”
This met with general approval from the Spectrum. Even Fylon finally relaxed, put at ease by the knowledge that they would have an expert Pokémon Trainer assisting them.
Nika jumped up. “What are we waiting for, then?”
*
At the Magenta Plaza Pokémon Center, Fylon sat back in a comfortable chair in the largest room the Center had. The Spectrum and Professor Sycamore had arrived less than an hour before, and had proceeded directly to the room to discuss their plan to rescue Ryan. Serena had not yet arrived, and Professor Sycamore was reluctant to start speaking until she had.
Fylon was just about to fall asleep - according to his watch, it was nearly eleven o’clock, and they had already had a trying day - when the door opened and Serena of the Elite Four walked in. Fylon knew her by reputation only; the Elite Four lived a secluded life. She was nearly as tall as the professor, and wore mostly black and red. Her hair was somewhere between blond and brown, not unlike Morgan’s. She had an air of confidence, and even Fylon, exhausted as he was, felt sure of their success in the mission to come.
“Serena, good,” said the professor. “Now we can begin.”
And he went to the center of the room, where, in place of the bed that had been moved by Julian and Peter earlier, stood a short, wide table. He sat on a wooden chair, pulled up to the table.
“Our plan,” he said, “is essentially to divide into two groups. One will create some sort of diversion, the details of which we will work out later, and the other will, with Serena, navigate through the laboratories to the prison cells, and free Ryan. Are there any objections to this?”
Fylon, who had used the last few moments to mentally divide the entire Spectrum into the two groups and run them through Professor Sycamore’s plan, suddenly noticed a flaw. “How does the diversion group get back out?”
Professor Sycamore sighed. “To be honest,” he said, “I’m counting on your nearly perfect memory, Fylon. If you don’t think you can memorize a series of perhaps a dozen or so warp panels, now is the time to tell me.”
Fylon had no idea what a warp panel was, but he figured it was reasonable enough to assume that Professor Sycamore meant he would have to choose the correct object out of an assortment of identical ones, and do that at least ten times. He was hesitant about agreeing to this, because a single mistake could likely send his half of the Spectrum even further into the depths of Team Flare’s laboratories. Some of his hesitation must have shown in his expression, because Serena hurriedly said, “And if you can’t find the way back out, I’m sure the leader won’t mind a gaping hole in his roof.”
The rest of the Spectrum roared with laughter, and even Fylon was amused. When this had subsided, the professor held up a red suit and tossed it to Fylon. “I have a few of those,” he said. “You’ll need that to get far enough for the diversion.”
Fylon stared at the suit for a moment. He didn’t want any part of anything that smacked of Team Flare. But he nodded grimly, accepting it.
“What if the diversion doesn’t work?” asked Nika. “Aren’t there enough Grunts for the leader to send a few to see to the diversion, and the rest intercept the rescue team?”
Now Fylon saw, for the first time, a flash of uncertainty cross Professor Sycamore’s face. “I don’t know how big Team Flare is,” he said, “but I doubt there would be so many that half the Spectrum can’t hold off half of them.”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” said Serena. “Now, before I left, I searched the archives in the Pokémon League for any building plans for the laboratories. I found this.”
And she brought out a device from her pocket, which she put on the table before pressing a button. The device projected a three-dimensional model of what Fylon assumed was Team Flare’s headquarters. The model was translucent, but color was still evident - the walls and floor were red on each of the three stories. The top one appeared to be primarily a maze of walls and small floor tiles in different colors. Perhaps they were warp panels?
At the entrance to the top floor was an elevator, which also seemed to be the only way to access the lower floors. The middle floor was apparently made up of the prison cells that Ryan would likely be contained in, but there weren’t a lot of them. In fact, this floor and the floor below it, which seemed to be just an engine room, were positively small. It didn’t look nearly big enough to house all the Grunts Team Flare would need to take over the region.
Professor Sycamore had clearly noticed this, too, as he said, “Is this the entire laboratory? There’s no way a hundred people could fit in there.”
“There’s a hidden floor, too, that doesn’t appear on any map, and of course they’ve branched out a bit since then,” said Serena. “But Lysandre had another laboratory, too.”
Professor Sycamore looked puzzled for only a moment before understanding dawned. “Ah, of course.”
“Geosenge Town,” Serena confirmed. “Where the ultimate weapon used to stand. I’ve guessed for years that the two laboratories have some kind of passageway between them. It didn’t fit that Lysandre was able to get to Geosenge Town so quickly.”
“But even secret passageways would have to … unless …” said the professor, pacing now, as he always did when agitated. “You don’t think … warp panels?”
“That’s exactly what I think,” said Serena. “Warp panels aren’t meant for long distances - only for travel within a building. But Lysandre had five of the most brilliant scientific minds in the world at his disposal. Who knows what they may have come up with?
“Geosenge Town,” Serena continued in a murmur. “Where no one would ever go to look … It’s brilliant.”
“But then,” said the professor, becoming increasingly frantic, “how do we know Ryan isn’t under Geosenge Town at this very moment? This changes everything!”
“Professor Sycamore, please calm yourself,” said Serena. “I don’t believe Ryan is in that laboratory, for the same reason that AZ was not imprisoned there when Lysandre needed his key ten years ago. There are no cells in the Geosenge laboratory. Rather hard to be imprisoned without a prison, professor.”
Professor Sycamore took a deep breath and sat down again.
“Now then,” said Serena, “when do we intend to do this?”
“As soon as we possibly can,” said the professor immediately. “Team Flare could attack at any moment. Ryan must become a Pokémon Trainer before that happens.”
Serena’s hands flew to her mouth. “He’s untrained?” she cried. “Why in the name of Order didn’t you mention that before! I thought it was a full Trainer they had kidnapped!”
“Yes, he’s untrained, but there’s no point in shouting about it now,” said Professor Sycamore. Fylon suppressed a smile; the professor himself had been shouting just moments before. “It just means we need to rescue him quickly.”
“Be that as it may, you need an alternative plan,” said Serena. “I know what the legends say, but an untrained Spectrum is no better than eighteen inexperienced ordinary Pokémon Trainers.”
“I contacted Diantha–”
“No, you didn’t,” Serena contradicted him. “Diantha hasn’t been seen for nearly a month. The reporter from the Lumiose Press came straight to the castle, but the letter reached no one but us.”
“Well, then how about the Elite Four?” said the professor. “Could you join us against Team Flare?”
“Not easily,” said Serena. “We’ve kept up the art of battle, but only practiced against each other. None of us have seen a real opponent in years. I think in our present state, we could barely hold off the Team Flare Scientists, let alone whoever the leader is.”
Professor Sycamore sighed in exasperation. “Do you have other ideas?”
“Only one,” said Serena. “The Gym Leaders. They haven’t been in practice either, but each could likely take on ten Team Flare Grunts in combat and come out ahead. The problem is finding them. They’ve been in exile for ten years. Who knows where they are now?”
“We could find them,” Fylon spoke up. “There are seventeen of us, plus the professor. We could track down the Gym Leaders.”
“That raises a problem,” said the professor. “Are we tracking down the Gym Leaders, or are we rescuing Ryan?”
“We can do both,” said Fylon. “I’ll take Arin and whoever else wants to go to find the Gym Leaders, and then once you’ve rescued Ryan, you’ll join us.”
“I admire your optimism, Fylon,” said Professor Sycamore, “but we’ll need all the help we can get to infiltrate Team Flare’s base. I’m not sure it’s good to divide like this.”
“But we don’t mean to fight them,” said Fylon. “It won’t be like it was back at the laboratory. We just need to hold them off long enough to free Ryan, then escape.”
Professor Sycamore looked thoughtful. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “All right, then, Fylon. In the morning, you and Arin shall leave to track down the Gym Leaders and persuade them to join us.”
Arin clapped his hands from his spot on the floor. He had always been the sort of wild one in the Spectrum. He hadn’t had a home in the town where Professor Sycamore had found him. Now, he trained Dragon-type Pokémon, and his Noivern would be second fastest only to Fylon’s own Braviary in flight.
“Where would we go first?” asked Arin, practically jumping. “There are eight Gym Leaders, right? And we don’t know where they would be.”
“Well, a good place to start would probably be the Gym they had once led,” said Professor Sycamore, amused by Arin’s enthusiasm. “As for which to locate first …”
Now Ani spoke up. She and the other one from the village had been very quiet since Team Flare’s attack on the Pokémon Center. Fylon had nearly forgotten that she was there. “How about Korrina?” she said. “The books I’ve read say that Korrina knew about a special kind of transformation that some Pokémon could undergo to push the bounds of their power. That power would probably help against Team Flare.”
“The books speak of Mega Evolution,” said Serena, a faraway, reminiscent look in her eyes. “An evolution that transcends all other evolution.”
“Many Pokémon can evolve, enhancing their physical attributes and raw power,” explained Professor Sycamore for the benefit of the ones from the village. Fylon, naturally, knew about all this; it was one of the basic lessons Professor Sycamore taught all the members of the Spectrum upon their initiation.
“Yes,” continued Serena, “but Mega Evolution goes beyond that. It is a special kind of evolution that can only be obtained from an exceptionally strong bond between Trainer and Pokémon. There are also stones involved - a Key Stone, worn by the Trainer, and a Mega Stone, held by the Pokémon.”
“You sound like you know a lot about it,” said Ani.
“I used it myself, once,” said Serena. “But Korrina knows much more about it than I do. She is the Successor, the one who inherited the vast stores of knowledge from her grandfather when he passed away. She is probably the only practitioner left in Kalos today, save perhaps Diantha, and Calem, if he’s still in the region.”
“Korrina’s the one we have to find, then?” asked Arin.
Professor Sycamore nodded. “Her Gym was in Shalour City. That should give you a chance to check on Xerosic in the prison, too. Make sure he’s still behind bars and that Team Flare hasn’t come to call again.
“The fastest way there would be through the Lumiose Badlands, to the west. They lead to Coumarine City, and from there you can cross the river to Shalour City. I would caution you from flying too much, however - I know that was your reason for bringing Arin, but we can’t have Team Flare knowing what you’re up to.”
“Understood,” said Fylon. “And I will still bring Arin.”
“Fair enough,” said the professor, “but we have another problem, now. You were supposed to memorize the way through the headquarters. What do we do without you?”
“Well,” said Fylon, “the leader’s not going to mind a gaping hole in his roof, will he?”
*
The next morning, Fylon awoke early. The rest of the previous night had passed without incident, from Team Flare or otherwise. It seemed that the professor had been right: Team Flare had no desire to attack them this close to their base.
Fylon hadn’t bothered to change his clothes before falling asleep. He figured he had better get used to a lack of comforts and luxuries in preparation for the journey ahead of him. Looking out the window, he saw that the sun was already up, despite the short daylight of winter. Even so, he threw on a coat and grabbed his bag before leaving the room.
He found Arin already awake and full of energy as usual. They ate a quick meal in silence in the Pokémon Center lobby, and then went to find the professor, who proved to be still asleep. Arin promptly found a cup, filled it with water from a sink in the bathroom, and emptied it over the professor’s head. He woke immediately, sitting bolt upright with a shout.
“What was that for?” he demanded.
“We needed to talk with you,” said Arin with a shrug.
“You didn’t have to drown me!”
“Professor, it was a cup of water,” said Arin. “You weren’t drowning. And we needed your focus.”
The professor nodded grudgingly and waved a hand for Fylon to speak.
“We intend to leave today. We seek your counsel before we depart,” said Fylon.
Professor Sycamore stood, and, fetching a towel from the bathroom, dried his face. “Very well,” he said. “Perhaps we had better take this downstairs.”
“I don’t fancy being overheard,” said Arin. “We should stay here.”
Professor Sycamore paused, then nodded. “What do you wish to speak about?”
“You said last night that we would take the route through the Lumiose Badlands until we reach Coumarine City,” said Fylon, “and then from there to Shalour. But we also can’t fly, or Team Flare will know what we’re up to.”
“Yes,” said the professor. “You should be able to make it through the Badlands safely. If a sandstorm whips up, you can shelter in the power plant until it subsides. They should let you in. Hopefully.
“As for food,” he went on, “we can get enough from the Pokémon Center to last you a day or two if you need it, until you get to Coumarine. There you’ll be able to get more.”
Fylon nodded, mentally recording the information.
“And one last thing,” said the professor. “Coumarine used to have a Gym Leader by the name of Ramos. See if you can learn anything about his whereabouts while you’re at it.”
Fylon nodded again. Professor Sycamore smiled, and, walking over to the door, he held it open, gesturing for Fylon and Arin to follow him. They walked down the stairs at the end of the corridor, and through the lobby to the entrance. Coming out into the sunshine, Fylon blinked.
Professor Sycamore turned to them, bowed, and held out a bag. “This,” he said, “is all the food you’ll need to get you to Coumarine City. Farewell, Fylon and Arin. Until we meet again.”
Fylon bowed in return, and used the customary response. “So shall it be.”
He and Arin turned and, without another word, began their journey through the streets of Lumiose City, leaving the professor waving a hand in farewell.
*
It was nearly midday by the time Fylon and Arin made it to the Route 13 gate. After having traversed half the city in less than an hour by way of the sewers, Fylon was surprised that it had taken them so long to reach the gate. But then, he hadn’t known what time it was when they had left.
Arin barely came up to his shoulder, and he was several years younger than Fylon, and yet he spoke with confidence, not subservience. That was as it should be. An Elemental Spectrum left no room for a hierarchy of any sort, even an unspoken one. All the Spectrum members were equal.
“Are we going to reach Coumarine City by dark?” asked Arin. Fylon noted the questioning tone, but Arin had merely been asking Fylon’s opinion, not looking to him for a decision.
“It’s possible,” said Fylon. “But we’ll not get used to the idea.”
Arin nodded. They passed through the Route 13 gate and into Route 13.
Route 13 ran straight through the Lumiose Badlands, a wide desert with no evident life save a complex network of structures that Fylon knew made up the power plant. The plant had fallen to Team Flare ten years ago, which would likely make the workers more accommodating to Fylon and Arin, who intended to stop the villainous organization.
Fylon knew of a pit of molten rock near the power plant, which supposedly they got some of their power from. He knew its existence to be true; he had seen it while flying over the desert on reconnaissance, but he hadn’t any idea how electricity could be harnessed from magma.
Arin started making his way down the sandy road, and Fylon quickly fell into step beside him. The badlands were truly vast – Fylon couldn’t see beyond it. He now began to doubt the possibility of reaching Coumarine before dark.
Arin drew a Poké Ball from his belt. Fylon quickly put his hand over Arin’s, keeping him from opening it. “We can’t fly,” said Fylon. “Team Flare can’t know what we’re up to.”
“I wasn’t going to,” replied Arin. “I think it would be good to have Noivern – and Braviary – if we are attacked.”
Do you really expect to be attacked out here? thought Fylon, but something kept him from saying it. Team Flare had been extinct for ten years and was now active again. Pokémon Trainers were all but gone for the same time, but then Professor Sycamore had recruited eighteen. Anything was possible. He lifted his hand from Arin’s.
Arin opened the Poké Ball, Noivern appearing immediately. Its huge batlike wings were a dark purple that was nearly indistinguishable from black, but the undersides were a bright shade of teal. Noivern shaded its sensitive eyes with a wingtip in an almost human gesture until Arin pulled out a cloth and tied it around its head, protecting its eyes. Fylon noticed that he was careful not to double-wrap it, at least not around the eyes.
“Noivern’s natural habitat is caves and other dark places,” explained Arin in response to Fylon’s questioning look. “It doesn’t need the cloth if there’s a cloud cover, but the sun in the badlands hurts it.”
Fylon nodded. He pulled Braviary’s Poké Ball from his own belt and pressed the button to open it. Braviary appeared an instant later. Fylon up with a hand shading his eyes and saw that the sun had reached its zenith.
“Eat now, or keep walking for a while?” he asked Arin.
“I think we should go as far as we can before we eat,” said Arin. “I’m not very hungry anyway.”
Fylon nodded again, and the two set off down Route 13. The sandy earth rose in some places, forming small dunes and hills. These Braviary used to hop from one to the other – its feet weren’t made for walking. Noivern, however, was content to pad on feet and wingtips next to Fylon and Arin.
The road wound through the dunes and hills, never going over one. Here and there they saw some sparse vegetation, but nothing that would nourish them should their food run out before they got to Coumarine City, and certainly nothing that would give them a bit of shady respite from the hot sun.
Eventually, this began to worry Fylon, for their Pokémon would need to eat and rest as well as long as they were kept outside of a Poké Ball, and the desert still stretched as far as they could see. Only one thing had changed since the start of their journey, and that was that they could now see the power plant, spanning huge areas of the badlands to both their left and right. It seemed to be getting hotter, if such a thing was possible, and Fylon had taken off his coat and stowed it in his bag. He supposed that the extreme heat could be coming from the fabled lake of magma, if they were getting nearer to that. All the while, Fylon collected long sticks when he found them, so that they could eat under a makeshift tent when the time came. The sticks’ origin he could not guess, for there were no trees in sight, but he was glad to have them all the same.
It had been nearly two hours when Arin, panting, finally collapsed and asked for lunch. Fylon agreed, and hastened to form his makeshift tent out of the sticks he had found and a large cloth, nearly a blanket, that he had brought in his bags. While he did this, Arin rummaged in another bag for the food they had brought from the Pokémon Center. In less than a minute, they were sitting under Fylon’s tent and eating their lunch – bread, cheese, berries, and water. It was meager fare, but it would suffice. Braviary and Noivern – the latter still blindfolded – munched happily on oran berries and small squares of Pokémon food made from grain and berries.
Berries, while a good source of fruit for humans, did something else entirely for Pokémon. Different berries has different effects, and some scientists dedicated their life to finding new ones. The most common ones, like oran berries, were easily found and kept well, so most establishments had a few on hand even if they weren’t Pokémon Centers. An oran berry, when consumed by a Pokémon, would wipe away a bit of its fatigue, so that it could continue traveling or battling longer. By the end of their meal, Noivern and Braviary were in top form again and ready for travel. However, since Arin and Fylon were still eating, the two Pokémon lay down and rested.
“Do you know anything about any of the Gym Leaders?” asked Arin between bites of bread.
“A bit,” Fylon admitted. “I was eight when the Geosenge disaster struck. I lived in the southeast, around Kiloude City. The closest Gym Leader to Kiloude was Wulfric, the Leader of Snowbelle City.”
“What type did he train?” asked Arin eagerly.
“Ice,” said Fylon. “Fitting, for the Leader of Snowbelle. I don’t know much about him, though. Kiloude’s very isolated–”
“Ice-olated?” asked Arin, raising one eyebrow and smirking. “Fylon, that was almost a joke!”
Fylon shook his head. In the light of what had happened yesterday, he had nearly forgotten Arin’s tendency to play with words. “Kiloude is rather cut off from the rest of the world. There are a few surrounding villages, and Kiloude’s pretty big itself, but the only real way in or out without a flying Pokémon is by train. I’ve been on the train a few times – going to Lumiose City for food, or supplies, or just to see the city, but I used to go a lot more. Before the disaster.
“Lumiose City’s Gym Leader was Clemont. He trained the Electric type, before you ask. I knew him much better than I knew Wulfric – he was only about twelve before the disaster, so he didn’t feel quite as distant. He was a brilliant inventor.”
“What did he invent?” asked Arin.
“All sorts of things,” said Fylon. “He had this device that he always wore on his back that functioned as a mechanical arm. And he designed a robot to lead the Gym in his stead while he traveled the region.”
“It sounds amazing,” said Arin. “I’d have liked to meet him.”
“That’s our goal,” said Fylon. “But Shalour first. Then we’ll find Clemont.”
Arin nodded as he piled the rest of his cheese and berries on a slice of bread and shoved it into his mouth. Swallowing with effort, he stood up. Fylon finished his meal and stood as well, disassembling the tent and stowing the blanket in his bag. He passed Arin two of the sticks and they set off again down the road, Noivern and Braviary padding behind.
Shortly, they came to a small building, part of the network of the power plant. It was scarcely more than a guardhouse, but it had the only door they had seen thus far.
“Should we go in?” asked Arin. “They might know something about the Gym Leaders.”
Fylon looked doubtful, but he reasoned that it would be dark in a few hours, and they would need a place to stay for the night if they didn’t come out of the desert soon. He nodded, and they went up to the small building. They returned Noivern and Braviary to their Poké Balls, and then knocked.
“What?” called an irritable voice from inside.
“May we come in?” asked Fylon. “The sun descends in the sky, and we seek shelter for the night.”
There was a long silence, and then the door opened. There stood a tall man, grey of hair and short, scruffy beard, dressed in a worker’s uniform. “Who are you?” he said suspiciously.
“My name is Fylon, and this is Arin,” said Fylon, bowing, “and we are simple travelers, crossing the Lumiose Badlands. We only want a roof for the night.”
He hadn’t told the guard about their true objective in crossing the desert, not wanting to give away too much in case the information reached unfriendly ears, but he did use their names, wanting to give the suspicious guard some truth.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” said the guard. “I’m sorry – you seem like decent enough people – but I can’t let you in.” And he shut the door.
Arin sniffed. “That was positively rude. Positive, get it, Fylon? Because electricity can be positive, and it’s a power plant, and …”
He trailed off. Fylon was looking sadly at the door. Now what were they to do about shelter for the night? He sighed and turned away. He continued making his way down the route, Arin at his side. Time passed in silence for a few more minutes, until ahead, Fylon realized he could see nothing at all. It was just a huge wall of sand. And it was heading right at them.
*
In one of the rooms at the Pokémon Center, Roc sat on one of the beds. He shared the room with Blake, a young man of perhaps eighteen who seemed to flicker in and out of sight at Roc looked at him, and Rosuke, who was tall and bulky, but not fat. He hadn’t spoken a word to either of them except to introduce himself before they left the room, out on some errand or another.
Roc sighed. It was no good worrying about the plan himself. He needed to talk with someone. He stood, and made his way out of his room, and over to the door of the one Ani shared with Nika and another Spectrum member Roc didn’t know.
He knocked, and was immediately answered by a “Come in!” from somewhere inside the room. He opened the door, and, unsurprisingly, saw Ani sitting in a chair, a book in her hands. Nika was sprawled on one of the beds, but was obviously not asleep.
Ani looked up. “Ryan?” she said.
Roc nodded. Ani sighed, set down her book, and folded her hands in her lap. “You’ve told me your views on the matter of the plan, Roc. You’ve pointed out the flaws.”
“But there’s so much that could go wrong,” Roc insisted. “What if they see this coming? What if we all get imprisoned instead?”
“Nothing will go wrong,” said Nika, sitting up, “and that’s not just to boost your confidence. Professor Sycamore is never wrong. He’ll have thought of everything.”
“But, he let Ryan get captured in the first place,” said Roc.
“Don’t lose faith in the professor,” said Nika. “Everything will turn out alright. We’ll rescue Ryan tomorrow and leave the laboratories before Team Flare realizes that Ryan is gone.”
Roc sighed. He had seen the professor defeat four Team Flare Grunts at once with minimal effort, but there would be a lot more than four in the laboratories tomorrow. And from what he had heard from Fylon’s end of the battle, the Scientists were too good. The best hope they had was to lure them away with the diversion. And who knew if that was going to work.
“Thanks,” said Roc, and he turned to go. Ani and Nika nodded as he left the room, Ani returning to her book. Roc sighed again. He didn’t like this at all.
*
“Just what we need,” said Arin grumpily. “A sandstorm.”
The wall of sand was still a ways off, but Fylon could already feel the winds blowing through his hair. “We have two options,” he said. “One, we could try to fight our way through it. We have two powerful Pokémon that could possibly create a gust of wind strong enough to drive away the sandstorm. Or two, we could go back to the power plant and ask them again to let us in.”
Arin looked at him exasperatedly. “Is it really that tough a decision?”
And they bolted for the power plant, Noivern, Braviary, and the sandstorm on their heels.
They hadn’t gone very far when the sandstorm struck, so running, they made it back to the power plant in less than a minute. After they had each recalled their Pokémon into their Poké Balls, Arin knocked frantically on the door until it opened. There stood the same scruffy-bearded guard, looking at them with an expression of mild annoyance. “I told you kids,” he said, “you can’t–”
He stopped, open-mouthed, as he saw the sandstorm. “Inside, quickly,” he said, waving them in. He shut the door behind them.
The small guard building was dimly lit by a lamp on a table. Every other surface was covered with pages and pages of notes, and several computer monitors, some of which displayed security footage; others showed graphs and charts Fylon did not understand. The guard closed one of the monitors showing graphs before Fylon could get too good a look at it, and turned to them. “Name’s Matt,” he grunted, sticking out a hand.
Fylon and Arin each shook his hand, and introduced themselves again. Matt seemed a bit unsure of what to do with them. He clearly didn’t want them in the small guard building, but Fylon guessed he would also get in trouble if the Spectrum members were found. Eventually, Matt picked up a small phone receiver and spoke into it quietly. He hung up and made his way over to a door at the back of the room that Fylon supposed entered onto a corridor that would take them to the rest of the power plant. Matt opened the door, and gestured into the hallway beyond. Fylon and Arin hastily went into it.
The small corridor sloped downward – apparently most of the plant was underground. As they walked through it, Matt made conversation, though Fylon could tell he was still suspicious.
“You were heading west,” Matt said. “That means you came from Lumiose City. And you’re Pokémon Trainers, which haven’t existed for ten years. I was one myself once. I joined the guard at this power plant after the disaster. No one wanted to train Pokémon anymore. Why shouldn’t I count myself among them?”
“You didn’t have to,” said Fylon. “You could have continued to train Pokémon. It was a way of life for a lot of people. I’d guess it was for you, too.”
Matt looked at him askance. “You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that. Anyway, how is it two Pokémon Trainers are heading down the Lumiose Badlands? It’s a dangerous road you travel.”
“We’re going to find–” said Arin, but he was cut off by a sharp look from Fylon.
“Others who will become Trainers,” said Fylon. Arin nodded vigorously.
“You’re recruiting, then?” said Matt, his eyes narrowing. “You ever hear of an organization called Team Flare? They came recruiting a while back, too. They had some notion we’d want to overthrow the Champion.”
“You can’t possibly believe that we’re part of Team Flare!” Arin cried. “We’re working against them! We’re–”
But apparently Matt didn’t want to hear any more of this conversation, for just then they came to a door, which he opened without waiting for the end of Arin’s sentence.
The door opened onto what appeared to be a sort of conference room. A few people sat around a table, working on computers or in notebooks. They all looked up as Fylon and Arin entered with Matt.
“There’s a sandstorm outside,” said Matt. “I had to let them in.”
The other power plant workers seemed to accept this without further comment. They went back to their notebooks and computers. Matt found a pair of blankets and cushions in a closet, and laid them out on the floor of the conference room. “We’d like you to sleep in here if you’re staying the night,” he said. “We don’t mean offense, but if you’re untrustworthy, we want to keep an eye on you.”
“None taken,” said Fylon. He sat on one of the blankets, while Arin sat on the other. They talked quietly, about their plans for the mission, about the battle against Team Flare, and on and on, for what felt like hours, until the power plant workers finally, one by one, got up and left. At that point, it was late, and Fylon was tired. He yawned, stretched out on the blanket Matt had provided and fell asleep.
*
Matt silently opened the door of the conference room and crept inside, followed by a pair of fellow guards. He noted the two lumps on the floor that were Fylon and Arin, and listened carefully to their breathing to make sure they were asleep. He located their bags and unzipped Fylon’s quietly. He rummaged through it while the other guards checked Arin’s. He found a blanket, some food, a water bottle, and some Pokémon medicine, as well as a few clothes, but nothing out of the ordinary. Except the Pokémon medicine, but that was to be expected in a Trainer’s bag. He was just beginning to feel relieved – these kids weren’t Team Flare after all – when he saw a bright red fabric at the bottom of the bag. He pulled it out, and nearly let out a scream when he saw it.
The uniform of Team Flare.
