Lane fell.
She hurt everywhere—burns down her back, fur singed from blows that would've taken a human being and vaporized them instantly.
But the deeper pain didn't come from any Pokémon attack, that would all heal. There was agony that went deeper, of factors beyond her control, and mistakes she should've seen coming.
Somewhere safe. Maybe Korina will notice. The familiar warmth and humidity of the jungle was waiting below—and the Nursery, she would find healing supplies. She wasn't hurt bad enough to climb back into that awful digital healing machine, was she?
It's my fault, Elisa. I should've been able to protect you.
Another smell reached her nose, powerful enough to cut through the pain of memory—smoke.
What was going on? She gritted her teeth, focusing her powers and slowing her fall. She reached out into the jungle, feeling its thousands and thousands of minds. It was normally a diffuse fog, without much of interest to catch her attention. Pokémon were not terribly complex creatures.
There were humans down below—at least a dozen of them, maybe more. She couldn't peel apart their intentions and memories the way Korina could. Even when she wasn't barely staying in the air, she couldn't handle groups.
But she could feel emotions—their hostility, fear, and greed. Something was wrong.
Lane angled straight down through the constant clouds and fog, focusing what remained of her attention on them. Her body might be bruised and broken, but the damage was mechanical. Flesh was only a vessel of the will—flesh that was broken could be mended.
The sky was drawn towards her, clouds kilometers across rushing from all sides of the jungle at once. Mist twisted upward in a Fibonacci spiral, condensing in concentric rings, darkening.
She splashed through, into an ocean suspended in the air. Life Dew condensed around her, filling into the tears and the burns and broken parts. She was not wholly mended—Elisa was still gone.
Seconds later, the clouds dissolved, their strength expended. Liquid dribbled from her, the amniotic fluid of a Pokémon newly hatched from the egg.
More importantly, her move cleared the jungle of obscuring mist, and let her see what had happened to her Nursery.
There was nothing left—a smoldering crater in the ground, stinking with chemical fumes. That meant they had breached the interior, not just burned some wood from the outside.
A pair of ornithopters soared away from the site. One flew low, shining a pair of bright spotlights into the jungle. The other was much higher, remaining far away in a support position.
My kittens. That was what she missed from her first observation of the nursery—she didn't feel them. There was only a faint echo of something from ahead, the same direction of the ornithopters.
Gravity twisted and curved, and Lane shot after them. She chose the highest of the two, the support craft. In a second she was there, tracing a glowing path behind its curved metal fuselage. She couldn't get close, not without letting the rapidly beating wings chop her to pieces.
She vanished from outside, reappearing in the fuselage. Heavy seats ran along either side, with armored soldiers in full kit in each one. Most carried no weapons, though they wore belts of poké balls across their chests.
One looked up, eyes fixed on her. He opened his mouth to scream—and Lane gripped his mind, silencing him. "There were mew in the underground building. What did you do with them?"
His mouth worked, straining against her powers. In vain. But beneath a deep layer of resistance and fear, she felt the truth. He had no idea. He had been brought here to help capture legendaries, but knew nothing about the plan.
"Who knows?"
"Lieutenant... Sophia," he thought, involuntarily. One hand shook, fighting her control—slowly drawing the handgun on his belt.
Lane changed him first, leaving a fluff of yellow fur in his uniform. She changed the others too, ignoring their screams. They had come hunting her—they would not hunt another Pokémon again.
"Something's on the VTOL!" shouted the pilot's voice, just through the door. "Sophia, what do we do?"
Lane was not healed, she was not healthy. But rage burned hotter than any pain. She had already lost one Pokémon today, she wouldn't let them take away any more.
"Lord Ghetsis, this is retrieval Overwatch Actual," someone else said, panicked. "Intrusion aboard. Penetrated our armor. No, I don't know what happened to the drop team! They're not responding!"
Lane reached the door, settling pale fingers around the metal security lock. She felt through it with her mind, found the wires running to servos, and energized them. She twisted the knob, and opened the door.
Behind her, the fuselage was chaos. Armor and weapons fell in their bays, with a smattering of little figures falling around them. The ignorant might guess she'd released some of their Pokémon. She had not.
"I'm here for my daughters," she said, voice flat. "Where are they?"
There were two people in the cockpit—a pilot, his face obscured by a total-immersion VR helmet, and arms settled into controls. Sophia sat beside him, wearing the same uniform as the soldiers. She struggled with the fastener on her rifle, scrambling to detach it from her pack.
Lane gestured, and the magazine soared across the room, settling into her hands. She snapped it in half, and bullets trickled down around her.
She hadn't even thought about what kind of human form to take. From her height, she guessed she was older than usual, anger for her kittens channeled into motherly protective instinct. "Tell me where to find them."
A voice came on over the ornithopter radio. Every screen filled with the same face. Male, lined, with a red AR display grafted right into the skin above his right eye.
"Did Sabrina send you?" he asked, without any of the fear she sensed from the terrified crew. But then, this man was outside her reach. "What does the old witch want with these?"
"For Plasma!" Sophia lunged from her seat, officer's dagger extended towards Lane. She made it half a foot before she dropped to the floor, metal clattering uselessly in front of her.
Lane nudged the little minccino out of the way with one bare foot, then rested her fingers on the pilot's shoulder. "Land. Now."
"You think you can intimidate me?" the man asked. "You have no idea what you're tampering with, child. Humanity won't cower before your kind any longer. We've unlocked all the power of the Forerunners, ancient and Firstborn. Crawl back to your mistress."
The screens all went dark.
"Lord Ghetsis!" the pilot shouted, desperate and afraid. He turned towards her, but Lane couldn't see his eyes. Maybe there was a camera in that helmet somewhere to see her face. "What do I do?"
"Land," she commanded. She wasn't subtle this time, taking his mind as Mewtwo had taught. He sat back rigidly, hands locking into flying position. The ornithopter began to descend. "Find a clear spot," she said. "Land your craft. Then call Orre police."
She vanished from the aircraft, leaving it to find its own way down. There was another ornithopter, what was it doing?
Already on the ground, as it turned out. She saw its soldiers spread out across the jungle, weapons in hand and Pokémon beside them.
She appeared inside the second cockpit—and the pilot had a rifle ready, aiming vaguely in her direction. She ripped her seat right out of the steel with psychic powers, pressing her flat against the ceiling. "Airbase!" she screamed, hopping up onto the bench. "Where did you fly from?"
She had removed her helmet, and Lane could see her terror. Terror and fury. She didn't answer—but she wasn't trained to fight psychics, either. Aircraft carrier in the Aurora Sea. Lane saw her memory of flying here, still fresh in her mind.
A few seconds later, she dropped an emolga to the pilot's chair, unconscious.
"I heard reports of this," said a voice, from the control screen. The same face, as impassive as before. "Rumors of a dollhouse, and the imprisoned souls of her defenseless mother. Is this more humane?"
She stared down at the camera. Maybe he thought she was oblivious to the soldiers rushing back up the loading ramp towards her. But their minds were flush with adrenaline, ordered back to this spot—to kill her.
"I had three children in that Nursery," she repeated. "Their names were Miya, Goh, and Aspen. Two kittens, and one shaymin. You will return them, and any other Pokémon you took."
He leaned forward, deliberating. In those few seconds, his soldiers took aim from behind. "And why should I do that?"
Both soldiers dropped limply to the ground, falling out of their uniforms. Their weapons fell, discharging harmlessly into the cabin. "What would you do for your children?" she asked. Obviously that was a gamble—she knew nothing about this man, except maybe his name. And a title—Lord. "What would you do to the ones who tried to hurt them?"
"Oh." He chuckled. "Children. Sabrina did not send you. You're one of them; the Firstborn, stealing humans for your research. That explains your—tactics."
She shook her head once. "I'm making the offer one last time. Give back my kittens, and I'll forget this." There were more important things to worry about than revenge for her stolen home. She had a region to save, and all the Pokémon it had corrupted.
"Your age is over, Firstborn," he said. "Accept your place in the new world, or die in the old one." The screen went dark.
Lane left the ornithopter and her human form behind. She darted through the trees. She found soldiers waiting for her, with teams of skilled Pokémon preparing to battle.
She had the determination only a parent could understand—but confidence did not translate directly into physical strength. Not killing anyone was a costly endeavor. But there were minds this way, not just these brainwashed Team Plasma soldiers. She sensed one familiar mind among many, and another power with her.
They're not out to fight me, they're fighting you.
Instead of driving their attention towards any specific goal, they were split. Most were running away from her, into the jungle. Chasing those other Pokémon. A few fired rifles in her direction. She teleported from their path, left the soldiers unable to keep shooting. Or order their Pokémon around, for that matter.
A little further, and she found the group she was looking for. Two Pokémon backed up against a cliff.
She appeared beside the soldier at the back of the group. She touched two fingers against the back of his neck, sending a simple signal through into his body—pain. "Recall your Pokémon," she ordered. "I might not change you correctly if you attack me. You don't want to see what that looks like."
It would all be so much easier if they just did as they were told—but nothing could be simple. Another attacked, and stopped being a trainer anymore. The other two obeyed, and she let them flee into the forest. Someone had to get away from all this, to tell the tale.
Finally it was done. Lane felt no more humans closing in on her, no more minds filled with hostile intent. Just a few confused Team Plasma Pokémon, unwilling to attack a mew without their trainers to order them. They retreated into the forest, protecting the brand new audino.
She stumbled forward, banishing another human illusion. She dropped to the ground, barely able to hold herself there anymore. Her determination remained—but how much power did one legendary have?
There were only two of them here, cowering and bruised beside the cliff wall. Aspen darted over to her on stubby paws, eyes filling with tears. "Mom? The kittens, they're gone! I tried to fight, but—"
"Hush," she whispered back, embracing her. "You're safe now. That's what matters."
She stumbled to the ground, and suddenly she was human again—the easiest transformation, the one that represented something closer to her true age. A teenager with short pink hair and a trainer's outfit. She lifted the shaymin protectively into her arms, shaking with pain.
They cried together.