I woke up expecting things to feel different.
I felt different, at least. Unfortunately, I quickly learned that this feeling wasn’t reflected in my waking reality. Things were, ultimately, the same as they’d been yesterday. The world spun on. Anyone who saw me wouldn’t notice any difference between the girl of today, and the one they’d know last week.
That disconnect in perception brewed a simmering discontentment in me.
That feeling, that unease, the bubbling in my gut, it followed me. Haunted me.
All while I got ready in the morning. All while trekking over to the ranger outpost. All while greeting my coworkers and introducing them to my new partner. All while getting back into the swing of learning how to be a steward of both people and Pokémon.
It was there. Festering.
But for all my malcontent, things were still, painfully, the very same. Each day, learning a little bit more, earning a little bit more. Soon enough, a week had come and gone, and nothing had changed.
A week ago, I’d made up with my best friend, welcomed a new member into my family, and witnessed the most incredible sights in my life so far.
And now it was back to work, trying to find my place at a ranger station that definitely didn’t need me. It’s not like I suddenly grew to hate learning about how to be a ranger. It just felt… empty, or vapid, compared to my experiences a week prior. It felt like the days didn’t matter in the same way.
Which then made me feeling guilty, since the work rangers did most definitely did matter, and learning their craft was setting me up to do something that mattered as well.
And yet.
And yet, the feeling persisted, of time purposelessly slipping away from me.
And that wasn’t to mention the issues that began to arise while training my team. Without guidance or battles, it felt like our progress stagnated. I threw myself into lesson plans and exercise routines, trying to help Mana and my knights recapture some of that immense progress we’d seen under Drake’s tutelage, but it just wasn’t the same.
The improvements we made in a day up at the Nest were taking weeks down here, in Techne. I tried to go back to the Battle Warehouse for practical experience, but found my way into the harbor district barred, without explanation.
It wasn’t until I talked to Janine that I heard about it. Apparently, a pretty gruesome pair of murders had occurred over the last week, both near the harbor. One a foreigner who was apparently important enough that this was sort of a big deal, and the other a local. City-security thought that the same culprit was responsible for both killings.
Janine spared me the details, and the expression on her face when we talked about the incidents inspired me to avoid looking deeper.
So I focused on the training that we could do. For the first couple of weeks, I had kept my team and I on the same schedule with the outpost as before my week away, spending hours to the allowed maximum (and over) at the station each week. But eventually, I started spending less and less time with the rangers as I focused more and more on trying to recapture some of that fervor we’d had under Drake.
I’d been anticipating some criticism for tapering off my time spent at the station, but if anything, my coworkers encouraged me to take things even slower. After all, I still had almost two full years before my battle break was over. Plenty of time to get my thousand hours in.
I prioritized the list of moves Abigail, the former Stow-on-Side gym leader, had sent me. We got Assurance down, and my knights were able to train Endure and Reversal together, the synergy between the two moves obvious. I had to recruit Donna’s help to lower their syn enough to train the moves, but she was happy enough to assist. Mitt at least, seemed to be having the time of his life throwing my knights around.
Zen Headbutt was proving more difficult, my knights just couldn’t seem to work out the right mental space to harness the psychic energy required, but I was confident that we’d get it eventually, which sort of left me at a loss about where to take our training next.
Over the next few weeks, we finally reached an equilibrium, where it felt like we were spending enough time training to at least maintain the level of skill we’d obtained at the nest, but without guidance on new moves to practice, and without opponents to regularly sharpen our skills against, it couldn’t last. Mana still had plenty of room to grow, and got a little bit stronger with each passing day, but she was still a far cry from being able to match my knights, and those little Falinks needed something more to keep our progress going. Otherwise, degradation would be inevitable.
I still hadn’t worked out a solution when, six weeks after my screw up under Philip’s watch, Wilson, Janine’s second-in-command, took me out on my second ever mission for Techne Outpost Seven. Unlike when I went out with Philip, however, this mission wasn’t unplanned or spontaneous. Rather, it was part of a routine, something Wilson did by the month.
He went into more detail for me as our trusty steeds tore through the outskirts of Cesnine forest, both Skiddo eager to run and prance to their heart’s content.
Apparently, Wilson had a strong working relationship with many of the conclaves of wild Pokémon living in the forest. He’d visit each of these groups on a regular cadence, ensuring that all was well with these various assemblages, and that the ranger outpost stayed informed about the goings-ons in the forest.
The first group he brought us to was an eclipse of Burmy, Wormadam, and Mothim. The Bagworms moved protectively to cover the sleeping Moth Pokémon, but once they’d recognized exactly who was intruding on their clearing, they visibly relaxed.
A quick check-in revealed nothing of note, so Wilson introduced me to the group’s leader, a particularly wizened-looking Wormadam covered in autumn leaves, and then we moved on, pushing deeper into the forest.
The next conclave was a Clutter of Galvantula. The looping ropes of their yellow silk clogged the treetops and fogged our vision of the sun, and the rampant chittering of those webs’ inhabitants put a shiver down my spine. The voices calmed, and the forest stilled, however, once the inhabitants above got a good view of Wilson. A particularly large specimen descended from the branches above, spinnerets sparkling and crackling as it dropped, head first, towards the ground, coming to rest right next to the seated ranger.
The massive arachnid put my hair on end, and not just because of the ambient electricity it was off putting, but Wilson didn’t seem to mind the creature. He ran a friendly hand over its thorax as he chatted amicably with the huge Galvantula.
This time, their conversation took longer. Apparently the Bug-types had some problem they needed resolved, and after Wilson introduced me, we set off once again, promising to help with their issue. The spiders waved their legs in a genial goodbye behind us.
The next group ended up being the target of our new errand, a newly-settled flock of Fletchling and their evolutions. They weren’t as familiar with Wilson, apparently this was his second time meeting them since they’d settled here, but the fiery birds mulled over the senior ranger’s words all the same. Eventually, the largest Talonflame cawed out something that sounded to me like agreement, and after I made my greetings to the nest, we departed.
As we continued on, Wilson explained that the Galvantula had offered to free any Fletchling caught in their webs in return for the older members of the flock being careful not to set the silk bindings alight. Apparently, that sort of deal was common in the forest, when groups that could seriously harm each other were involved. The Electric-types probably wouldn’t have afforded the same benefits to most Flying-types, but the flames of the Fletchlings and their evolutions were dangerous enough that the Galvantula sought a deal over eventual conflict.
So not only was Wilson responsible for keeping us humans appraised of the goings ons in the forest, he also acted as an intermediary for the various groups of Pokémon that called these woods their home.
We pushed deeper and deeper into the trees, meeting and greeting more and more Pokémon in turn. A hive of Beedrill, a den of Furrets, a small troop of Gossifleur, and even a singular Bewear, which we communed with from a distance.
Each encounter played out much like the last, with surprising regularity. The Pokémon would appear defensive, and then relax once they recognized Wilson. He’d have a quick conversation with them, introduce me, and then we’d push further into the forest, towards the next group.
Sometimes there would be small errands to take care of, negotiations to make, or lost younglings to return, but by and large, things in the forest seemed to be running smoothly.
After we repeated this process with a parliament of Hoothoots, who had spent a particularly long amount of time after our introductions staring at me, I questioned Wilson about the consistent pattern of behavior demonstrated by the various groups of Pokémon we’d encountered thus far.
His answer was as enlightening as it was alarming. Apparently, barely any humans ever visited the depths of Cesnine forest. This much I did know. What I hadn’t ever heard, however, was that the people who did show up around here tended to be poachers. They weren’t super common, but the incidence rate was high enough that the local Pokémon were always on their guard around people. Even our red uniforms weren’t proof against suspicion, since nefarious groups had used ranger uniforms before to lull the locals into a false sense of security.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Hence it was so important that Wilson cultivated a personal relationship with the local Pokémon, and that he introduced any prospective rangers to them.
All was well as the day wore on, right up until about when we were supposed to break for lunch. It was the last meeting before we returned to the station, and I was a bit distracted thinking about what I’d be feeding my partners today. Consequently, I didn’t fully catch the hurried exchange between my current mentor and the elderly Lombre presiding over the chorus of Lotad in this woodland stream, but whatever the Water-type had told the older ranger, it made his shoulders tense.
Our leisurely pace through the forest took on a more harried tempo as we pushed northwards. Apparently, everything past this point was another station’s jurisdiction, so Wilson kept the next few meetings brief. The Pokémon still called out to him, however, now seeking us out instead of the other way around. Whatever they were communicating to the senior ranger, it made his countenance grow grimmer and grimmer.
His face was practically thunderous as we broke out of the forest, into a huge break in the trees. The massive clearing must have been at least a kilometer across, and almost as long, before the treeline picked up again. A series of huge hills dominated the clearing, stripped bare of all grass and vegetation..
The idyllic stillness of the forest we had just exited was contrasted hideously by the frantic movement characterizing the clearing in front of us. What must have been dozens of Flying-type Pokémon darted up and down, swooping into the clearing, before ascending back up with something clutched in beak or claws. The ground itself was covered in hundreds of darting shadows. Maybe even thousands. They flowed this way and that, digging, burrowing, and gnawing on the already-sparse ground cover in the clearing. A roaring crack resounded, and in the distance, I thought I could see one of the trees across the open space falling to the ground, borne down by a swarm of tiny, white shapes.
Wilson actually let out a growl of frustration, before tearing the radio off of his belt and signaling back to the ranger station. “This is Corporal Dollensworth, hailing Techne Outpost Seven. Do you copy?”
Brief static came through the device, for a few seconds, and then Liken’s laconic voice came out of the receiver. “I hear you Wilson. How’s it hanging?”
“I’ve got eyes on a Maus outbreak,” the older ranger replied grimly, his voice startlingly no-nonsense. “By the looks of it, things have either been going on for a few weeks, or we have multiple, full-grown Mausholds on our hands. We need to coordinate an extermination and extraction, immediately. Over.”
Liken’s sharp intake of breath was audible even through the tinny radio. “Copy that,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically alert. “I’ll get everyone mobilized. Where are you? Over.”
Wilson consulted with his Pokégear, and then answered briskly with a set of coordinates. “Tellur Outpost Five should be pretty close, so reach out to them right away for support. Over.”
“Copy that. Outpost Seven, out,” Liken’s voice clicked off along with the crackling from the radio.
Wilson stowed the device, turning his grim mien back on the maelstrom of activity ahead of us. “Ever heard of a Tandemaus, Fe?” The ranger corporal asked me, without looking away from the ongoing frenzy.
I shook my head mutely, and then realized with a start that the older ranger couldn’t see me. “No, never,” I answered. “Is it a Pokémon?”
“Technically,” was Wilson’s confusing reply. “They exist in sort of a gray area,” the older ranger elaborated, after another few tense seconds of silence. “An individual Maus is no more than an animal. And it's not even really that. Hemmer,” Wilson called out to his mount, and nodded towards the ground.
An obliging vine whip shot out, before retracting, now wrapped around a small, white body. The Maus, if that’s what it was, must have been barely two inches in length. The rodent-like animal was almost entirely white, with small, splotchy gray spots in its fur. Its head was almost the same size as the rest of its body, and it had a curlicue tail that terminated in a small puff. For being in a rather dire predicament, the odd creature seemed strangely nonplussed. Indeed, it was so focused on gnawing on what appeared to be a stone that it functionally ignored us and its current situation. Gleaming, razor-sharp incisors removed small chips from the rock, gradually wearing it away, seemingly to no purpose.
Wilson stared at the creature with barely concealed disdain, before grunting. “It looks like a normal animal. It even sort of acts like one, but watch. Hemmer.”
The Skiddo followed the unspoken instruction once again, violently wrenching its vines to crush the small creature.
I let out an involuntary gasp as the sudden display of violence, and I felt my eyes widen at the callous cruelty from my superior. Before I could move to demand an explanation, however, the tiny corpse in Hemmer’s vines crumpled into motes of light and energy that slowly dispersed into the air. It reminded me of watching a Substitute get destroyed, except the sparkling particles didn’t disappear, instead flying off into the distance, towards the middle of the clearing.
“Ninety-nine percent of the Maus in this clearing will be constructs, like that one. They exist only to distract predators from real Mauses, and to consume and shunt the energy from their desperate feedings back to their progenitors,” he gestured meaningfully at the retreating light particles, which I quickly lost sight of amidst the general insanity of the clearing. “They’re incredibly destructive, especially if they don’t have any natural predators around.”
“Are they an invasive species?” I asked, trying to figure out why I’d never heard of these things before.
“Not exactly,” Wilson shook his head. “There are some hordes out to the east, but the local Ghost-types keep them under control. Species like Pumpkaboo specialize in absorbing the power from a dissolving Maus construct, making them ideal for making sure their populations don’t go out of control. But, if a Tandemaus, or Guardians-forbid, a Maushold, makes it out here, nothing is really equipped to deal with it.”
I could see that. The horde of Flying-type Pokémon hardly seemed to be making a dent in the sweeping collection of white rodents gnawing through the clearing. “Just how destructive are they?” I asked, nervous watching the horde in front of us.
“There didn’t use to be a clearing here,” was Wilson’s grim reply.
-
The older ranger released a Pokémon I’d never seen before, a green bird with white wings, and told me to get ready for teleportation.
I recalled Clover, and put my hand on the odd Pokémon’s shoulder like Wilson instructed.
I’d never been teleported before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. As it turned out, none of my imaginings could have come close to capturing the real experience.
It felt like… vertigo. Like some great force, hauling me up into the air, ascending higher and higher, until I felt like I might be able to see all of Ferrum in my mind’s eye. And then we were coming down, crashing towards earth like a meteor, descending so rapidly my mind braced for impact.
And then, it was over. With a lurch, I let go off the strange green Pokémon’s shoulder and staggered away, hand over my mouth, trying to keep my breakfast down.
A gentle hand patted me on the back, even as Wilson directed his partner with further instruction. “Go gather the rest,” he told the bird. “Tell them to meet up here.”
I recovered enough to look up, just as the green Pokémon vanished with a flash of light and a small *pop* of displaced air. Wilson’s teleporter had left us in front of the ranger outpost, where Philip was busy loading up a bunch of supplies onto the herd of Skiddo and his Gogoat partner, Pauline. “Sergeant's inside,” he informed us briskly. “Go check in with her.”
Wilson gave a nod, and I did as well, after the bile had receded enough from my throat that I thought I could do so without hurling. We both stepped into the ranger station, which was currently overwhelmed with activity. Mark and Donna were carrying crates of supplies from who-knew-where under Janine’s watchful eye, while Bakiru the Hypno sat behind the main counter, conferring with Liken as the pair worked at a PC. Various Pokémon helped with carrying things around, or just stood protectively to make sure the resident rescues didn’t get underfoot.
“Corporal, report!” Janine demanded as soon as we walked in, voice totally no-nonsense.
“Ma’am.” Wilson straightened his back, and I instinctively copied him. “We received reports from local Pokémon species that a large group of interlopers had destroyed a part of the forest. When we investigated, we found a horde of Maus, at least several-thousand strong. Local populations were combating the expansions, but they’re woefully under-equipped to deal with a Maus bomb. Based on the numbers, and the reports I got from the locals, I suspect we’re dealing with several full-grown Mausholds, not just an individual or small group of Tandemaus. Something must have displaced one of the hordes out east and driven them into the forest.”
Janine nodded along, following the explanation with a stern expression. “Understood. I’ve gotten permission from command to break out Stylers, both for recruiting help, and for dealing with the Maus constructs. We’ve also gotten the capture boxes out of storage. Liken and Bakiru are coordinating with Tellur Five, so we shouldn’t be alone out there. Wilson, go grab some equipment, and then start loading the Skiddo.”
Wilson saluted, and made to follow instructions, which just left me. “What should I do, ma’am?”
The sergeant turned to face me, her expression conciliatory. “Apologies Private, but we’re going to need you to sit this one out.” Her voice softened, “It’s going to be crazy out there, and we can’t risk anything happening to a junior ranger.”
The older woman framed her refusal as a kindness, but I heard the undertone behind her words. ‘We don’t have the bandwidth to watch over a deadweight screw up.’
“I don’t need to help,” I protested. “I could just watch, get an understanding of how these things go. If Maus outbreaks occur often enough that there are all these protocols in place, surely I could benefit from learning how to respond to them.”
Janine’s brow furrowed, and I could read the rejection in her expression before she even opened her mouth. Before I was able to speak up and make my case, however, support came from an unexpected source.
“Aw, c’mon Sarge. Let the newbie tag along.” Donna’s wheedling tone had me whipping my head around, surprised at the volume. Somehow, the green-haired ranger had crept up right behind me, and she reached out a hand to steady me as another wave of nausea rose up in my gut from the fast turn. Apparently, I still wasn’t fully recovered from the teleportation.
“I know she’s green, but a Maus outbreak is a real all-hands sort of situation. We could definitely use the help, and I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Janine stared at the two of us, me staggering upright again, and Donna offering her trademark sardonic grin. Eventually, she let out a sigh. “Alright, the Private can tag along, but she’s your responsibility, Corporal. She can help with light things, but keep her out of trouble.”
“Yes Ma’am,” the green-haired ranger traced an approximation of a salute.
The ranger sergeant just shook her head in return, and went back to organizing the general chaos of the room.
I felt Donna’s hand on my shoulder, clamping down, somewhere between a reassuring squeeze and a crushing grip. “C’mon, Fe. You can help me move some equipment, and I’ll explain what it’s all for. It’ll be fun.”
For some reason, I was suddenly a lot less enthused about the upcoming sortie than I had been moments prior. Still, this was an opportunity to do some good, to prove that I could do more than mess up. I wasn’t going to let a slightly annoying coworker get in the way of that.
