It was time. Matthew looked to his left and right, to the other young men in his unit. They were called the lucky ones, the ones who had something—the reflexes, the nerve, something—to ride a gyarados. They were lucky to be in this unit, the one with the greatest chance to survive. Matthew adjusted the saddle, somewhere between the gyarados's neck and body. He was never entirely sure where one ended and the other began. All he knew about the placement of the saddle was that it was the perfect position to keep him on its back at all times, as safely as the military could make it.
Seeing his comrades mount their gyarados, he began to do the same. "Allison," he called softly to her, just to get her attention. He had been warned not to name it, not to get attached, but after hundreds of hours of harsh training, there was no way he could not love the sea monster.
Allison knew the preparation ritual all too well by this point. She lowered her head just enough that Matthew would be able to climb on as easily as possible. His gear was heavy, and even climbing a few feet could be a burden. It was times like these he almost thought that Allison cared for him too, the way a pet might. When he looked at her, though, he saw scales that could cut through clothing and flesh—and had. Her teeth were knives, and her eyes shone with barely contained rage. She wouldn't care if Matthew was carrying more than his own weight on his back. She lowered her head because she was trained do. She had been raised in captivity, and spent many long days with Matthew before. Still, he knew. If she got the chance, nothing would stop her from ripping him to shreds, and anything else that got in her way. He loved her, but he could never forget that she was a living weapon.
The oxygen tank on Matthew's back clanged against his other equipment: a week's worth of rations, kept safely in a waterproof container (or so he was told); the gun, which was supposedly able to be completely emerged in fluid and still be operational; a knife and tool set; a phrase book…. The only gear Matthew felt comfortable enough using was the oxygen tank, and only because his life depended on it. The gun was a last resort weapon. He'd been trained with it, he could be deadly with it, but he would only need to use it if the mission went horribly wrong.
He adjusted himself in the saddle, strapping his legs down. Being unable to remove himself from Allison's back in a hurry was a risk, but a necessary one if he wanted to stay on. He took the reins in both hands, holding her in the 'wait' position. Gyarados reins focused on controlling the pokémon's head and neck, controlling its upper body, and taking its free will. Perhaps cruel, but again, necessary if this unit was to succeed.
Which they were. Who were men to stand up to an army of dragons?
They had not been scheduled to leave for another two days, but the storm had moved faster than anyone anticipated. They had to leave with it now, or risk not reaching their target in time. The sky was covered with an inky blackness, alluding to the foul weather they would have to ride in. The smell of rain and electricity was thick in the air.
"Gentlemen." Their commanding officer's voice boomed above the sound of distant thunder. "You will ride this storm as far as it will take you. One hour before approaching the target, you will dive. You will attack with the precision you have been taught and move up the inlet to the supply depot."
The wind picked up. Raindrops hit Matthew's face.
"And you will. Not. Fail!" The commander raised one fist into the air. "For the glory of your homeland! You will be victorious!"
Matthew put his goggles on.
"Hey, Matt." Next to him, Jeremiah winked. This was his second campaign, and he had made a point to take Matthew under his wing. "Nothing to worry about, okay?"
Matthew nodded. His grip tightened on the reins.
"For your parents, Matt. For your folks. Keep their faces in your mind." Jeremiah pulled his own goggles down over his eyes. "That's what I always do."
The sky opened above them. Allison strained against her reins. Matthew loosened them as the wind picked up, along with all the other gyarados riders. The beasts charged out into open ocean, gaining speed. Their fins fanned out in front of them. Matthew's stomach lurched as he felt Allison rising into the air, moving into the wind. Take off was almost painful to watch, how long it actually took the gyarados to get their entire selves into the air. He felt a great rush, and it was suddenly over. They were both in the air, ascending towards the clouds.
It was a long night riding on the storm. The saddle and the constant motion beneath Matthew were the least of his discomforts. The uniforms were water-resistant, but they could not block out the cold wind. He held onto Allison's reins with frozen hands. Thunder deafened them, lightning blinded them. His legs ached, and he had no way to relieve them. At times, hail even struck them. Allison shook off the hard balls of ice, but Matthew knew he would have an uncountable number of bruises once he peeled off his skin-tight suit.
Matthew lost track of time after the first hour riding the miserable storm, but Allison loved every second of the flight. Raindrops slid off her scales, and the strong winds kept her afloat among the dark clouds. Powerful storms like these were the only time gyarados could fly, and one of the main reasons the gyarados unit was rarely sent on missions. A storm could move them along faster than any ship could, but that also meant there had to be one.
Matthew felt the pokégear on his wrist vibrate. He held it closer to his face to get a better look at the streaming video. The screen was fuzzy, and the orders he heard through his headset were difficult to make out. "Storm heading southward," their squad commander was saying. That wasn't good. They needed to continue east. "Drop in ten. Restrain mounts. End." The video at his wrist cut off, and the voice in his ear disappeared.
Matthew felt relief wash over him. He had no love of riding storms as Allison did. He pulled on the reins, instructing her to dive toward the ocean. Her forefins flattened against her head, just to show him that she did not approve of his decision. She moved downward steadily as she had been trained to, furious all the while.
They descended from the clouds, down into the warm, dark air and then into the ocean. Even the sea felt warmer than the storm they had just left. Allison flattened out, swimming like a snake. She strained against the reins. Gyarados almost never swam with their heads above water. She wanted to dive deep under, and they would, but not yet.
Matthew exchanged a look with Jeremiah. Both young men were glad to be out of the air. Matthew wished they could talk, but anything they had to say would be over their headsets and could be heard by the rest of the platoon. It was one way they kept the troops silent, and it stopped them from spreading fear among the men. The only human voice they heard was coming from their commander, trying to get in touch with any ships from their navy. The storm was supposed to carry them most of the way, and changing its direction was one of the worst possible things that could have happened. They would not be able to reach their target as fast as they were expected, but more pressing than that was the exhaustion both the gyarados and their riders would face.
The commander gave an order to slow their pace to conserve energy. It was crazy, but Matthew actually wished he was back in that storm. Should their mounts get too tired to continue swimming, they could become stranded. The military was good at efficiency, it was good at preparation and attacking. It was not so good with back-up plans. An agonizing half hour in limbo passed by before the call went out: a friendly ship had been found, moreover, one that had the capabilities to help them.
After the better part of an hour, the troops were pulled on board. Gyarados were tucked away in their pokéballs and sent to the PHE, the pokémon healing engineer. It was an overly long title for someone who had basic training in running the medical equipment for pokémon. Apparently the term "nurse" was not complicated enough for the navy.
Matthew was more than a little grateful for the chance to stretch his legs, get away from the salt water, sit comfortably, and eat a hot meal. He had a bow-legged walk already, and even though he had not yet completed his first gyarados mission, he already felt like a hardened veteran. His lips were chapped and bleeding, blisters sprang up on his legs, and he was sure that so much cold wind and water was not doing any favors for his health. And he was tired, a bone-deep ache that he felt wouldn't go away, even if he slept for days.
Taking a tray of food, Matthew sat next to Jeremiah, the closest thing he had to a friend. He hardly tasted his meal, but it was hot, and warmed him considerably. "This is an unexpected turn," Jeremiah said, cutting into something that was assumed to be meat.
Matthew nodded. "I just wish we could get there already."
Jeremiah grinned. "It's just first time jitters. You'll be all right. We'll have lots to brag about when we get home." Sometimes Matthew really wanted to smack the upbeat attitude right out of him. "Just get some rest. You'll feel better when you wake up."
Matthew nodded. He didn't want to argue, and sleep would do him some good. Jeremiah made it seem so easy.
The respite from the wind and waves ended too soon, but by the time it did, Matthew was feeling much better about what was to come. Maybe Jeremiah had been right. They were called together shortly before leaving the ship. They had only been on board a few hours, and in that time, the captain of the ship had agreed to take them closer to their destination. Matthew didn't know if words or money were exchanged, but he was glad that he could ride out at least a few hours of the journey in comfort.
The plan was reviewed, but there were no changes to it, and before long, Matthew and the rest of the gyarados unit were out at sea again, watching the ship sail away.
Over his earpiece, he could hear the commander giving orders, but there was only one he waited for, and, with his heart hammering, he finally heard it: "Last movement phase. Prepare to duck."
There was a flurry of motion from the men, getting out oxygen tanks and masks. Once they were ready, the plunged under water. The sky was still dark, and it was black as pitch underneath the waves. It was unnerving, not being able to hear anything, or see anything save Allison's head bobbing in front of him. No matter how many drills he had gone through, the eerie feeling never left him. Humans weren't meant to stay underwater for so long, but technology made it possible.
There was enough oxygen left over for Matthew to be comfortable about making it through the underwater leg of the trip alive. When they were given the ten-minute warning before rising to the surface, though, he felt anxiety clutch at him. They said this was going to be a simple mission, but if that was true, why send the entire platoon? Why did they emphasize its importance so much? He pushed the thoughts away from his mind. Every soldier had doubts and fears before going into battle, but their officers knew what they were doing. There was nothing to be afraid of.
They surfaced at the perfect spot. Matthew thought he could make out the outline of a small coastal town, with a few yellow lights twinkling in the windows of houses. They were still under the cover of darkness, though not for much longer. If they wanted to get to their target before the sun rose, they didn't have time to loiter around here.
And then he realized that the commander was telling them to get into attack formation.
No one questioned the orders, and Matthew certainly had no right to.
Matthew was in the first line, with a breadth of five riders. He ordered Allison to raise most of her body out of the water. The night was silent, dark.
It was interrupted by the shouts of one line of men, issuing the same command to their mounts. Matthew couldn't hear his own voice over the others'. "Hyperbeam!"
White light gathered inside the sea creature's mouth, a glowing ball of pure energy. Its size increased, until Matthew could clearly make out the ridges in Allison's fins, some individual scales…
The ball of light shot out of Allison's mouth, hurtling towards the town. The effects were tremendous.
It passed through a handful of houses, burning itself out after the fourth one. Sparks ignited anywhere it touched. A path scorched on the ground marked its trail through the town. The sleeping village sprang to life. People were screaming, calling out for their loved ones. Some grabbed guns, others, pokéballs. Men lined up on the shore, aiming rifles at enemies they couldn't see.
Matthew heard nor saw any of this. As soon as the blast left Allison's mouth, they ducked under water again, swimming beneath the other soldiers and emerging from the water behind them. By the time they were at the front of the group again, Allison should have recharged enough for another hyperbeam.
The results in town were devastating. A single bell was ringing, loudly. Homes were burning. Matthew had never seen the effects of a hyperbeam on a person, and now tried to stop his imagination from wondering. He heard gunshots, and angry cries from gyarados who had been hit. He doubted that one or two could kill any, but it could slow them down.
The sounds suddenly changed. Guns stopped firing, children stopped crying. Even the gyarados' assault halted, if only for a moment.
In the distance, a dark shape moved.
Matthew didn't want to trust his eyes, but he saw its wings expand.
Finally, a new sound. Another soldier with a scared voice. "Oh, God. Oh God."
"Shut up!" The commander barked over the radio. "We have a new target!"
The dark shape swooped over them, and Matthew could see it clearly: a dragonite. What was a dragonite doing here? He would have loved to ask the question, but there was no time. He stared up at it, watching balls of light shoot up into the sky towards it. The dragonite dodged them all too easily.
"Get in the air! Get in the air!" Jeremiah was screaming beside him. Matthew caught the scent of electricity in the air, and understood. The dragonite was going to try to attack them. Getting in the air—it was a slim chance, but it was better than none.
Matthew yanked on the reins and kicked Allison with his heels. "Jump, you piece of shit, jump!"
Lightning bolts rained down on the ocean. Men had no time to scream, and hardly a second to feel any pain before they were cooked.
Pain arched through Matthew. He felt the lightning rip through his insides, trying to tear him apart. He convulsed once, twice, and salt water washed over him.