One
D.E.V.A. CLEARANCE LEVEL 5
CLEARANCE ACCEPTED.
DOCUMENT TYPE: TRANSCRIPT
DESCRIPTION: TRANSCRIPTION OF RADIO MESSAGE INTERCEPTED BY D.E.V.A. TEAM DELTA. LAST KNOWN TRANSMISSION SENT BY PROFESSOR MARSHALL BIRCH FROM RESEARCH POINT ZERO, COORDINATES 31°59’40"N 130°57’6"E.
DATE-TIME: 16/12/00, 04:37
BIRCH
Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? I repeat! Can anyone hear me? If you can hear this, this is Professor Marshall Birch of the Hoenn Pokémon Symposium. I’m here with nine other people and sixteen pokémon. We need help! Do you copy?
[BACKGROUND NOISE: POOCHYENA USING ROAR. DURATION: SIX SECONDS.]
BIRCH
Please! Please, we’re at the ruins of Fortree City. Coordinates are—
[BACKGROUND NOISE: HUMAN SCREAMS. DURATION: FOURTEEN SECONDS.]
BIRCH
Oh gods, they’re getting closer. I don’t have much time! Those things, the pokémon that appeared in this area. They’re—
[BACKGROUND NOISE: GUNSHOTS. DURATION: SIX SHOTS FROM ONE FIREARM, THREE SHOTS FROM A SECOND.]
BIRCH
Oh gods. Oh gods, they’re here! Can anyone hear me? Is anyone out there?
[UNIDENTIFIED NOISE. BIRCH SCREAMS BUT IS CUT OFF BY STATIC AFTER FOUR SECONDS. TRANSMISSION ENDS.]
—
Polaris Institute. At one time, it was at the forefront of pokémon medical technology, a beacon of light for the future. For the past forty years, it had been responsible for everything from the full restore to the healing system used by every Nurse Joy in existence. Young graduates of the top universities in Kanto and Johto dreamed of one day entering the fortress-like complex and joining the ranks of the most elite medical researchers across the world.
And then, the Fortree meteorite fell from the sky.
Two months after the meteor strike, reports of strange creatures emerged from the heart of Hoenn. Seas of red lights. Humanoids with powerful abilities. Some stories said that almost all of the people who volunteered to clean up Fortree were devoured by the creatures. Others said strange things happened to them, that they became zombies or monsters. The government—with assistance from the Pokémon Symposium, the foremost international organization of pokémologists on the planet—sent out a team of officials led by Professor Birch to uncover the truth to these reports, but after several days, Japanese intelligence and the Symposium simply lost contact with them. They weren’t the only ones to disappear, either. All along the routes between Mauville and Lilycove, trainers vanished one by one, and communications to the Safari Zone and Mt. Pyre ceased.
After half a month of disappearances and rumors, Hoenn descended into a full-blown panic. The government began more evacuations as the military attempted to enter Point Zero, the mysterious dark zone at the center of the region. While trained military professionals proved luckier in terms of returning than the intelligence officers, the scientists, and the trainers, a significant number of soldiers vanished, and those who came back did so with incoherent reports about demons. When the government got wind of what they had to say, they couldn’t herd the people of Hoenn to other regions quickly enough. Over the course of those next few weeks, dozens of ferries packed with refugees cut through Hoenn’s seas to the outlying islands and mainland Japan. And for those few weeks, the evacuation went smoothly.
Then one day, something changed. Out of nowhere, the Japanese defense forces set up a quarantine on Hoenn. No one could move into or out of the region without proper clearance, which meant that countless civilians were trapped within the regional borders. Even stranger, the government offered very little answers as to why, other than a vague story about an incident on one of the ferries. No statements. No proposals to transfer those trapped by the quarantine to safer regions. Nothing.
Ten months after that, Polaris Institute was still a research institute, but it wasn’t just dedicated to researching full restores or medical equipment. It, alongside other institutions in Kanto’s neighboring regions, had been commandeered by the Japanese government for Project Stardust, a top-secret government operation dedicated to the research of the ixodida parasite. At the helm of Polaris, the government had placed one of the finest researchers they could persuade.
Presently, this scientist sat in his office with his hands around his coffee cup. It had been a long ten months for him, and if his hair hadn’t been completely gray already, it surely would have been by then from the stress. As it stood, he could feel the creases in his face deepen with each passing day, and his bones felt heavier and weaker. He thought he could do it; he thought he could handle the weight of what the government asked of him. But it had been almost a year since the sample had been brought into Polaris’s fortress-like complex, and all he had to show for it was that he couldn’t even fathom what had happened to the majority of Hoenn.
His name was Professor Samuel Oak. And he was tired.
On the other side of his desk, a woman sat with a file in her thin hands. She flicked her hazel eyes from line to line on the first page, but otherwise, she sat in cold, expressionless silence. After a long while, she spoke, breaking the cold hush of the office.
“Is this an error?”
Oak resisted his urge to react, either with a sigh or a grin. He knew she was going to ask about that—about one particular piece of information on the first page. The subject of the file was an unusual individual to say the least, and not all of the Symposium scientists were open-minded.
“No, Professor Nettle,” he said. “Everything you see there is accurate.”
She looked up from the folder, peering at Oak over the top rim of her oval glasses. “According to this, he would be … nineteen?”
He nodded. “Yes. Made quite a commotion in the media when he was inducted into the Symposium.”
Straightening, she rested the folder on her lap and gave Oak a discerning glare. “Remember, professor, that I have spent these past few years in the Baffin Region. We don’t get much news that far north. I’d heard of this young man, but I never bothered with trivial details such as his age. Nonetheless, seeing as he would be our new arrival, I have to ask a question in light of this information. Is he qualified?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t recommend him if I didn’t think he was.”
Professor Nettle peered down at the data on the first page of the file again. “Forgive me. Normally, I wouldn’t be so rude as to question your judgment, professor, but I have my doubts about this candidate.” She lifted the file and adjusted her glasses. “His official credentials are quite impressive, I will say that. Degrees from Kanto and Johto’s elite universities. A doctorate in pokémon ethology by the age of fourteen. Employment with the Pokémon Cutting-Edge Technology Research Center and Celadon University. Never mind tutelage and a recommendation letter from you.” She pulled her glasses down the bridge of her nose and peered over their rim at Professor Oak. “However, you of all people know that degrees don’t always serve as an adequate indicator for a researcher’s overall ability, and it takes years—perhaps even decades—for one to cultivate the level of experience needed to be a truly great scientist. What could he possibly bring to the team?”
Although Oak couldn’t argue with her reasoning, he didn’t flinch from it either. Instead, he shrugged and responded, “A new perspective.”
Nettle gave her superior another curious glance. “Professor Oak, forgive me, but how? My team consists of some of the top names in pokémon ethology and comparative psychology. All of my researchers have years of experience handling and understanding pokémon. Many of them were regional professors before your student was even born. What perspective could he possibly lend that seasoned researchers cannot achieve?”
He grinned. “Don’t be fooled by his age, Professor Nettle. It’s true that having credentials from top-notch institutions isn’t everything in our profession, but that’s exactly why you shouldn’t judge him so quickly. Even if he’s young, he’s capable of coming up with solutions to problems no one else would even dream of trying.”
“Even with as little information as we have to go on?”
“He’s worked with less. Take his theories on amaura herding behaviors.”
“Oh yes. I’ve read that paper,” she said in an almost deadpan manner. “As an expert in the matter of ice-type pokémon behavior, I found his paper to be questionable speculation. At best.”
“Ah, but he was right, wasn’t he? You’ve heard about the amaura footprints discovered in Utah, haven’t you?”
Nettle clicked her tongue. “Lucky speculation. The point is that it’s been ten months since we’ve gathered here, and in that time, the topmost scientists in the region have made very little progress in understanding what the ixodida are, what they want, or what happened to Hoenn. In response, you’ve brought into this facility a nineteen-year-old who has, by comparison with anyone else at this facility, only recently become a researcher, and you’re telling me that I should rely on his speculations, many of which are the products of pure imagination?”
Oak’s smile faded slightly. “He’s observant, Professor Nettle. He has a knack for spotting things no one else would, and he’s here to spot whatever it is the rest of us, myself included, couldn’t pick up on.”
“And you believe he can actually do it?”
He shrugged. “Of course. I have a feeling we’re close to a breakthrough as it is. We just need someone to push us the rest of the way.”
At that, Nettle furrowed her eyebrows. “Are you saying that no one else but a nineteen-year-old can do that?”
Despite her apparent discomfort, Oak maintained his composure. He folded his hands in front of his coffee cup and stared steadily at his colleague. “No. I’m saying that no one but
him can do that. If it was any other circumstance, I’m sure we could rely on another researcher, but I know it’s his specific skill set that we need right now. So regardless of how old he is, we need him, Professor Nettle. It would be wise to judge him for what he can do, not what he is.”
The cold silence returned. For that brief moment, Oak regretted what he had said. It wasn’t like him to be so serious, and even he felt uncomfortable with how he phrased things. It was the job, though. The job got to him so very easily. Just the thought of an entire region desperately relying on what he did at Polaris kept him up at nights and made it harder for him to be cheerful and optimistic.
Still, he didn’t care for the thought of defusing an argument. Professor Nettle wasn’t the most stubborn person he had ever worked with, but she certainly wasn’t the easiest.
That was why he was so surprised when he saw her sigh and slump her shoulders.
“Very well, then,” she replied. “If you’re that convinced, then I’ll trust your judgment. I just hope he won’t interfere.”
Relief over how easily she took his comment washed over Oak, and he too relaxed at her words. “Oh, don’t worry. He won’t be a burden at all to you, I can tell you that. He takes his job very seriously.”
She smiled wryly. “I have no doubt. Shall I go prepare for his arrival, then?”
A broad smile crossed Oak’s face once more as he replied, “Yes! And let him know I’m sorry for not meeting him at the gate. In fact, be sure to welcome him to Polaris on my behalf!”
Standing, Nettle bowed her head and held the folder to her chest. As she turned to leave, she answered, “I’ll give him the most appropriate welcome Polaris Institute can offer, professor.”
—
Less than an hour later, in the cold, sterile corridor of the innermost ring of Polaris Institute, a young man inhaled deeply and suppressed the urge to cough. His muscles tensed as the security officers on both sides of him stepped back. He felt exposed, standing in front of the most intimidating woman he had ever met. Professor Nettle’s lips puckered slightly as she stared from the file in her hands to her subordinate. At once, he shivered but swallowed as much of his nervousness as he could in an attempt to look confident.
“Professor William Henry McKenzie,” she read. Then, peering over the rim of her glasses, she stared him down and coldly added, “Welcome to Polaris Institute.”
“You must be Professor Nettle,” he said, his voice lilting in a light accent. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
He extended his hand for her to shake, but this only prompted her to frown at it in length. Sensing that he might have made the wrong move for his first impression, the young man swung his hand back. It snaked around to his back, where he clasped it in his other hand. All the while, he remained completely silent.
To him, it felt like an eternity before Professor Nettle turned and began walking down the corridor. Her heels clacked like the legs of a crawdaunt across the smooth vinyl floor.
“You’ll do. Come with me,” she replied.
Seeing no other choice, her companion scrambled forward and fell into step beside Nettle.
“Have you been briefed?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“I’m sorry?”
She glared at him from the corner of her eye. “I need to know that you understand what we’re studying. Tell me what you know.”
He exhaled. “Pokémon 2000KH, known tentatively as ixodida. The Symposium isn’t quite sure where it came from, but the current prevailing theory is that it’s connected to the meteor shower that occurred over Fortree City a year ago, thanks to the timing and location of the first ixodida sightings. Very little else is known about it, except that it’s exclusively carnivorous—and a highly aggressive predator at that. No one is even sure what it looks like. Its aggression and speed practically guarantee that anyone who has a clear view of it also has very little chance of surviving the attack that inevitably ensues. That would explain why there haven’t been that many reports that describe it.”
As soon as he finished, there was a brief pause in their conversation.
“Is that it?” Nettle said after a few seconds.
“Yes, it is, I’m afraid.”
Nettle arched an eyebrow at his file again. “Dramatically delivered but nearly correct. It shows that you’ve read up on the ixodida, but it also shows how terribly in the dark you had been before your recruitment.” She opened the file once again. “My team will have to postpone any further experiments until you’re properly briefed.”
The young man stopped in the hallway and waited for Nettle to turn to him.
“If I may,” he said, “I’d like to say I’m looking forward to working on your team, Professor Nettle. I’ve read your papers on jynx communication, and I thought your theory of the Rosetta String was particularly enlightening. I’ve found your method of decoding a pokemon’s call more than useful in my own work.”
She eyed him skeptically. What she said to Professor Oak was true. The Canadian media didn’t care much about a Japanese researcher, but even then, she had seen his picture and read his work. Yet, he was more or less a surprise to her if only because his papers gave her the impression that he would be far older. Even looking at him right then, he seemed slightly older than the age given in his file, what with the determined glint in his dark eyes, the proud smile crossing his heart-shaped face, and the way he stood with his back straight and his broad hands shoved casually into his lab coat pockets. There was something about him, something about the way he carried himself that made him seem full of enthusiasm and energy. Or more accurately, there was something about the way he carried himself that, to Professor Nettle, made him seem full of the cockiness of an overly ambitious graduate student.
Nettle couldn’t help but think it was entirely because he hadn’t yet become bitter and cynical thanks to the research community. He probably never had to fight for years for a scrap of funding, and given his reputation and how much Professor Oak praised him, she knew he probably never would. In that sense, she almost admired him.
Still, there was something about his last statement that didn’t sit well with her.
“I published that paper in 1979,” she said dryly.
“Yes,” he replied. “Celadon University has a copy on file. I read it for my senior thesis.”
“Your senior thesis? Would you have written that in 1993, then?”
“Yes.”
“You were born two years after I published that paper, and you read it for your senior thesis when you were twelve.”
“Eleven. I turned twelve later that year.”
Nettle turned and continued walking. The last thing she needed was to feel as old as he made her feel, but she didn’t dare voice that. They were professionals, after all, regardless of her own vanity and his … flamboyant nature. Instead, she focused on leading him directly to a single nondescript door along the hallway.
“This,” she said as she gripped the knob, “is laboratory D. Consider it our base of operations. While we will be using larger facilities to observe the ixodida, this is where we analyze our data and compile our findings.”
As Nettle swiped her ID badge on the lock next to the door, her companion reeled back and allowed his eyes to widen slightly.
“Observe the ixodida?” he asked. “Do you mean to say we actually have a specimen?”
“Yes.”
“But no one has been able to approach an ixodida and make it back alive!”
Nettle smirked. “As far as the public is concerned, yes. There is a lot about the situation in Hoenn no one has told you, Professor McKenzie. Welcome to government work.” She opened the door roughly. “By the way. I found your father’s paper on pokémon genetics in relation to special abilities particularly enlightening. I read it the year it was published. I was fourteen at the time.”
As she walked through the door, she didn’t bother to look back. If she had, she might have enjoyed the uncomfortable look on her companion’s face.
—
Elsewhere in the complex, a young blonde woman inhaled deeply and scrunched her dainty nose. She crossed her long legs as she sat on a desk next to a laptop computer. On the screen, a window was open, and within that window was the shot of a figure sitting in shadow. At the blonde’s feet knelt three tall men in the similar red scrubs to what she was wearing—scrubs that identified all of them as research assistants according to the institute’s hierarchy of staff.
“Polaris Institute. I hate this place. It reminds me of your laboratories,” the blonde grumbled.
“You’re not there to enjoy yourself,” the figure responded curtly. “Have you contacted our chief agent?”
The blonde narrowed her purple eyes and rested her pointed chin on a hand. Her other hand reached out as one of the three men produced a manila envelope.
“I did. She says she’s selected a suitable target for us,” she replied. “She didn’t tell me much else besides that.”
“Then you have your orders.”
The assistant opened the envelope and slid its contents into her hand. She stared at the stack of papers carefully as her look of boredom dissolved into a cold glare.
“He’ll do,” she said. “We’ll have him gift-wrapped for you in less than five hours.”
“The process will take up to two weeks. You’re to watch over him and transport him only after it has completed.”
His subordinate started. “Wouldn’t it be easier to transport him immediately and let the process happen in one of our own laboratories?”
“It could be a liability to us,” the man explained. “Besides, perhaps the process will coax more information from our friends on the Committee.”
“So you’re willing to risk our lives to blackmail a government body and capture one monster.”
The figure shifted, leaning back in his chair. “I have no doubt you’ll hold your own against him, 009. Send your next report after the completion of phase two. Understood?”
At his response, the agent sighed. Part of her wanted to say something about the implication that she was dispensable, but she knew how her superior would respond. Instead, her hands gripped the edge of the desk, and she mentally reminded herself why she had to be so obedient this time. Failing again wasn’t an option.
“Understood, sir,” she answered.
Her finger tapped a key to end the call. As the window vanished, she transferred her gaze back to the papers in her lap. Her eyes narrowed once again as she stared hard at the name and photo her contact had given her.
“Anderson.” She flashed the photo at her grunts. “Listen up. Our target is an assistant, J. Anderson. Tallish. Dark green hair. Dark eyes. You’ll find him with the behaviorists in Laboratory D at this hour. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am!” all three of them barked in unison.
“Good.”
She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them again. Slowly. Sensually. Rubbing the calf of one against the thigh of the other in just the way she hoped would get them wrapped around her finger. She had already conditioned them with the idea that she could kill them using one of thirty-six different methods, but having more power over them never hurt. Judging by their expressions and the way they looked at her legs, it certainly worked.
“Now go fetch,” she drawled.
They were out the door in seconds.
—
As it turned out, Laboratory D was more or less a closet full of computers. Cubicles lined one side of the room while a bank of machinery lined the other, so the only blank space was the white wall at the far end of the room. Scientist and assistants occupied each cubicle, poring over print-outs or watching flickering computer screens. The buzz of their whispered conversations came at intermittent bursts over the hum of their equipment around them.
It wasn’t exactly what Professor McKenzie considered an ideal work environment, in other words.
However, this was the place that he was supposed to call home for the foreseeable future according to Professor Nettle. That was shortly before she introduced him to an awkward-looking assistant with slicked-back, dark-green hair. The assistant in question fidgeted and clenched his square jaw as he approached, and there was a sheen on his pale skin from sweat as he stood in front of the two researchers. His large, dark eyes stared at Professor McKenzie from behind a pair of oversized glasses, and the expression on his face was one of awe—the kind of awe that looked at McKenzie as if he was a shiny ho-oh. Given how nervous he looked, the professor almost felt sorry for him.
“McKenzie,” Nettle drawled, “meet Joel Anderson, your assistant.” The deliberate lack of a title did not escape her colleague, and she did her best not to react to his tense expression.
“It’s such an honor to meet you, Professor McKenzie!” Joel exclaimed as he eagerly extended a hand.
“Bill. It’s … it’s just Bill.” He reached out and let Joel shake his hand vigorously. Then, he sent an uneasy look towards Nettle. “I wasn’t expecting an assistant.”
“You’re working on a team,” she answered. “Mr. Anderson and assistants like him are a shared resource, so if you don’t require his help, you are perfectly welcome to allow your teammates to use him instead.”
Bill raised his eyebrows and pulled his hand away from Joel’s. Although Bill had plenty of opinions about that kind of arrangement, he still held his tongue, opting instead to shift his glance from a content Joel to the expressionless Nettle.
“If you have no further questions, then as team leader, I am required to report to the director after every successful arrival and briefing.” Nettle nodded to both the scientist and his new assistant. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“The director?” Bill’s uneasy glance softened into a grin. “Professor Oak, yes? I received a personal invitation from him. Tell him I said thank y—”
“Professor Oak is an incredibly busy figure here at Polaris,” Nettle interrupted. “I’ll mention that you’ve arrived safely.”
On the last syllable, she turned and stalked off, straight through the lab door. As soon as she was gone, Bill sighed and moved towards the cubicles.
“She’s not always like that, is she?” he asked.
“Like what?” Joel cheerily responded.
Bill cast a brief look his way before sitting down at an unused computer. Raising his chin slightly, Joel darted forward and wrung his hands.
“Uh, is there anything I can do for you right now, professor?”
As soon as he settled into his seat, Bill let his fingers drift to the mouse. The monitor flashed to life, displaying a black login screen with Polaris’s four-pointed star logo floating above the username and password input boxes. Bill ignored both of these and quickly tapped a few keys on the keyboard. In an instant, the login screen vanished, replaced by a full-screen command prompt. Both of Bill’s hands found the keyboard this time, and in a flash, he keyed in line after line of commands, his eyes darting from one result to another.
“Er, professor?” Joel murmured.
“Bill. Not ‘professor.’”
“Right, uh. Professor Nettle should have given you login information.”
Bill shrugged. “It must have slipped her mind. Besides, I find that the backdoor always provides a little more information. Professor Nettle said that there was an ixodida specimen on the premises. Is that true?”
“Absolutely, sir!”
“You realize you can be casual with me, yes?”
“As casual as you want me to be, professor.”
Once again, Bill shot his assistant a look. “I … never mind.” He turned back to the computer and resumed typing. “Where in Polaris is the specimen located?”
“They’re located in Laboratory F, sir. Just five minutes’ walk from here.”
“They?” Bill furrowed his eyebrows. “There are more than one of them?”
“Yes. We accidentally bred them a few months ago. You’ll find the footage in our media library under video file ET650F, which you should have access to if—”
Bill keyed in a few more commands, and the moment he was finished, a barren desktop flashed onto the screen. In the center of it was a single video window flashing a loading status bar.
“—if you were logged in under a scientist-class account,” Joel finished in a mumble.
Ignoring him, Bill watched as the status bar vanished. In its place was a grainy, black-and-white image of a large, concrete room with only two objects inside it: a pair of Plexiglas boxes. Inside one, a rattata darted in tight circles, occasionally pawing at the walls of her cage. The other contained what looked like a speck of light in the furthest corner from the rattata. Leaning in, Bill fiddled with the sound as he sat transfixed, waiting for something—anything—to happen, but for the first thirty seconds, nothing did.
A light flashed offscreen, and one side on both of the boxes slid upwards. The rattata stopped and sat on her haunches as her stubby whiskers twitched. She dropped to all fours and crawled out of the box, her whiskers twitching wildly with each step. As soon as she emerged fully from her cage, she stopped where she was, and her fur stood on end. Her body swept low, paws spread and whiskers pointed straight back. The camera was pointed away from her, straight at her back, but Bill knew that if her face had been visible, he would have seen her teeth bared in a menacing growl.
For a long while, the image stayed like that, with the rattata poised in front of her box and the small dot of light pulsing in the corner of its own. Then, in a split second, the light vanished and reappeared on the rattata’s shoulder. There was no sound, but Bill could practically hear the mouse’s screams as she jerked back and stumbled into her box. Through the Plexiglas, Bill could see the bulb of light crawl up onto the rattata’s skull, and from there, her skin split—neatly, as if a zipper that had been hidden in her scalp was now being pulled across her skull, her neck, and her back. He could see the glistening of her spine, the dull gray of her muscles, the stark white of her cranium. Yet he saw no blood. Not yet.
The split stopped just beyond her shoulders, and the flash of light disappeared under her skin. She convulsed, slamming her sides and her head into the smooth surfaces of the box.
Until Bill’s entire view was obscured by the wet blackness that suddenly burst from the tiny, writhing body within the box. The tape ran for a few more seconds until the rattata’s tail fell limply just beyond the box’s opening. From within its curl, the speck of light emerged and darted across the floor back to its own box, leaving behind a thin, black trail across the cement.
At that point, the video ended, and the window blanked. Bill sat back, his hand on the mouse and his head tilted slightly. He was acutely aware of Joel next to him, hunched over the desk and breathing heavily. Exhaling, Bill closed his eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh, me?” Joel forced a grin. “Y-yeah! It’s just…”
Bill opened one eye. “Your first time watching one pokémon hunt another, I take it.”
Joel shot up, his arms stiffly held at his sides. “What?! N-no! Of course not! I mean, I didn’t become a research assistant not knowing how pokémon hunt, if that’s what you’re implying, but—”
“It’s quite all right. Everyone is shocked when they see it for the first time.” Bill struck a few more keys to summon the black command prompt again. “We’re so used to pokémon battles, and those aren’t meant to be lethal. It’s easy to forget that some pokémon are actually born hunters.”
At those words, Joel’s shaking calmed a little, and he leaned over his superior a little. “Did you…?”
“Raticate. That was my first. They eat smaller pokémon when they’re desperate for food. Some might even eat stray snubbull if the snubbull is small enough.”
“Oh.” Joel crossed his arms. “Uh … Professor McKenzie?”
“Bill.”
“R-right. Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“Are you always, uh, this okay with this kind of thing?”
“Are the others?”
Joel shrugged. “Some were shocked, I guess. Others were surprised that it was so fast and clean. You know. Up to the part where it exploded.”
“She, not it. Female rattata have short whiskers.” Bill rubbed his forehead. “To answer your question, I’m not very fond of watching it, no. This will be quite a challenge.” He removed his hand and paused. “You said there were more ixodida?”
“Yeah. After the first one killed that rattata, it laid eggs in its—her, sorry—her body. We got them to hatch, and they’re all located in Laboratory F.”
Bill continued to type. “Is that so? The ixodida fertilized its own eggs? Interesting.”
Joel nodded. “Ixodida are hermaphroditic. Professors Fig and Apple have determined that if it’s pressed enough, it’ll lay eggs and fertilize them itself, but it most likely prefers finding a mate.”
“I see.”
With one last command, the screen blanked completely before fading back into the login screen. Bill pushed his chair back, standing up gingerly as he stared at Polaris’s logo.
“Joel, allow me to answer a question you asked a few minutes ago,” he said. “Yes, you can do something for me. I need you to show me to Laboratory F.”
“Laboratory F?!” Joel exclaimed. “Why do you want to go there?!”
“To see the ixodida of course. I’d like to meet this pokémon before I study it.”
“You’d like to meet it?!”
Bill flashed him a smile. “Yes. Sometimes, I can get along without meeting a pokémon before I study it, but I think in this case, I’ll need to see it for myself first.”
Joel fidgeted. “I … I’m not sure I can help you with that. You need to have special temporary access to get into Laboratory F. And that’s only granted by a team leader. Professor Nettle, in other words.”
“That’s one way to get permission,” Bill responded as he held up his ID badge. “The other, of course, is to give yourself access.”
“Is that what you were doing just now?!” Joel exclaimed.
Bill flinched and quickly covered Joel’s mouth with a hand. He stood on tiptoe to peer over the walls of the cubicle, only to find that his colleagues were hard at work and completely oblivious to Joel’s outburst. Relaxing, Bill let his hand drop to his side as he lowered himself down.
“Careful now. You don’t want to draw unwanted attention to us,” he said.
“Yeah, but … you hacked Polaris’s system?” Joel asked, his voice much quieter than it had been a second ago. “Why would you do that instead of asking Professor Nettle?”
“I must admit, I would have waited for her permission, but I have a distinct feeling that would have been unattainable. Well, that and security confiscated my remote login utility at the first checkpoint,” Bill replied calmly before walking out of the cubicle. “Anyway, shall we? All I need is a peek to get started.”
Joel followed, although he continued to fidget and remained several steps behind Bill. As he cast a glance around at the other scientists and assistants, he muttered, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Shouldn’t we tell someone first?”
Grasping the door handle, Bill flashed one last grin at Joel.
“Come now,” he said. “Polaris Institute is a fortress, its security systems are state-of-the-art, and I would be dreadfully surprised if it didn’t have an exceptionally built storage facility for the ixodida. What’s the worst that could happen?”
With those words, Bill led Joel into the hallway, and once the assistant pointed his superior in the right direction, the two began the trek towards Laboratory F.
They got no further than Laboratory E before three massive assistants approached them from behind and grabbed them.
.