Little typically happened during these little days off.
Ghetsis had the freedom to explore out of his seldom-disturbed monitor room, but he rarely took the opportunity. He was content to watch very little unfold across the screens in front of him, idly wondering how late most of his grunts would be in returning to the frigate. A flash of light caught his eye. Mildly unusual, but nothing of note.
He was quick to immerse himself in his thoughts again, pondering the logistics of the attack on Opelucid city. No matter how meticulous his planning, Ghetsis now knew personally that nothing short of expecting the unexpected would suffice—
Another flash. And another.
Scarlet eyes focused on one screen, only to find the flashes spreading across the network of monitors. Mundane explanations were quick to pass through his mind – technical faults, sabotage, his own deteriorating sanity – and dismissed even faster as the first monitor went out.
Static.
His eyes widened as the static spread as the flashes had, and in moments he was sat before a mass of grey screens, the hiss of white noise filling the room. He took a moment to habitually mask his dread, before grasping his cane and rising to his feet. Ghetsis had his suspicions…suspicions so unthinkable he put them out of his mind as he moved to investigate.
His view from the deck shifted his suspicions from fanciful fiction right into the realm of reality.
Ghetsis tried to hide the tremor in his hands as he procured his holocaster from within his robes, though he was confident no-one could see him. He drank in more of the scene before him as it rang, fully expecting the other man not to answer considering the circumstances.
"Allô?" Probably the first time Ghetsis had heard Lysandre so earnestly baffled. It would have been endearing and amusing in any other scenario.
"What have you done?" Ghetsis asked, voice steady and nonchalant. A simple question, with a simple answer the two of them were fully aware of.
So very simple that Lysandre didn't deem it worthy of answering; or in the more likely case, couldn't bring himself to state out loud so soon after the fact.
"I see," Ghetsis confirmed anyway, as if the other man had spoken. He ended the call, took a moment to calm himself(anger was warring with disbelief and disappointment and betrayal and goodness knows what else), and headed to the frigate's cockpit.
Almost as an afterthought, he placed his hand over the oldest pokéball within his robes, and was immensely relieved to feel it respond to him.
Lysandre may well survive his wrath, in that case.