~.~.~

Chapter 4: Target

Having rushed Wattson to a hospital in Mauville City, there was little else Steven could do except wait. Retreating to a corner of the waiting room, he settled for giving the Skarmory the polishing he'd promised, since he suspected he'd need its services again soon.

His strokes with the polishing cloth remained firm, but Skarmory easily noticed his lack of focus. It nudged him carefully with the dull edge of one wing. "Kaaar!" it drew out and, rustling its feathers, folded its wings.

"Sorry, sorry," Steven chuckled. "A half-hearted effort isn't worth the effort, I suppose. I'm just... worried."

That was not the right word for it. He'd passed worried a while back — for Wattson, and especially for his father.

Wattson had been poisoned, possibly by a Pokemon in battle. Most Pokemon would avoid attacking a human directly, especially a trainer with their own Pokemon present, but there could be accidents and some wild Pokemon could lash out indiscriminately. And New Mauville was normally populated only by electric types, but something else could wander in...

But it all seemed rather farfetched. No, Steven didn't think this was some unfortunate accident with coincidental timing. At this point, he could only suspect foul play.

Someone had intentionally attacked Wattson — had probably set off the alarms in New Mauville specifically to draw him out. And that someone was trying to cover their tracks, hiding whatever it was Mr. Stone and Wattson had met regarding.

Steven's head snapped up when the door to the private waiting room finally opened, and he stood quickly, returning Skarmory to its Poke Ball. Slipping inside, Wattson's wife took a moment to gather herself — sighing and dragging a hand over her face as if trying to wipe away her exhaustion — before turning to him.

"The doctors said Wattson... should recover, eventually," she said quietly, both of them letting out a quiet breath of relief. "It's poisoning, Seviper venom, they already applied the anti-venom. But he's not as young as he used to be, so they don't know when he'll wake up."

"I... see," Steven said. "That's... good to hear. I'm glad he'll be alright."

This was true. He was glad — he wasn't lying. But at the same time, it was frustrating. He wanted, needed Wattson to wake up and answer his questions. Shifting from foot to foot, he reached up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, his need for information warring with his basic decency.

Watching him for a moment, Wattson's wife finally took pity. "I'm surprised you came," she said, "instead of your father."

Of course she would have noticed her husband suddenly being in contact with the Devon president so often. Steven frozen and met her gaze slowly. He could tell, she had already guessed that he hadn't come by just because. "...That's because my father is missing," he admitted quietly. "I thought Wattson might know something, that's why I wanted to speak with him."

"It looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" she said, smiling mirthlessly. "A disappearance, and now this... Sorry, but Wattson didn't tell me what it was all about. But... I know someone else you could try. Your father isn't the only one Wattson spent a lot of time talking to recently. He started calling Stern a lot too, always being very shady about it and looking very serious. You should try him next."

"Stern... the master of the shipyard in Slateport?"

"That's the one," she confirmed. "Those two are old coworkers, from decades ago. Maybe he knows something."

Nodding sharply, Steven turned to go — to Slateport, before something else happened — only to hesitate. "You should stay close to him," he said, "to your husband. Just in case."

"Yeah, I know," Wattson's wife said, her expression grim.

Just in case. Just in case...

~.~.~

Slateport City was just down Route 110 from Mauville, only a short flight for Skarmory. But still felt like entirely too long before they finally landed in the open square in front of the Pokemon Center, just a few blocks away from the shipyard.

Sensing his agitation and impatience, Skarmory had put its all into the flight and it didn't protest when he only gave it a distracted pat before returning it again. Later, Steven would have to make it up to his Pokemon, to Skarmory and to Metagross too, which had helped transport Wattson.

But not right now. Now, he needed to hurry.

He had been to Slateport a few times in the past, but the shipyard would have been easy to find anyway — one of the three largest buildings along the harbor, sitting between the Oceanic Museum and the long, winding path to the lighthouse. Even from the distance, Steven could see people moving in and out, hurrying on with their daily lives. It looked completely normal and peaceful...

Maybe here he'd actually be in time.

The workers rushing back and forth paid him no attention when he stepped into the shipyard, just dodging around him and continuing on their way. There didn't seem to be any reception desk either, leaving Steven just hovering uncertainly by the door, trying not to get too underfoot.

"Um... excuse me, I'm—" he tried to ask a dock worker, only to be unceremoniously ignored. "I'm looking for—"

He jumped back just in time to avoid a team of Machoke that thundered past, carrying several steel beams. That put him in the path of a sprinting courier with an armful of scroll tubes, and they knocked shoulders, making the boy spin around once before regaining his balance, all without stopping.

"S-sorry!" Steven called after to him. He backed up until his shoulder blades pressed against a wall, out of everyone's way.

"Dock!" someone called out, finally taking notice of him. "There's some rich guy here! Dock!"

"I-I'm coming! One moment!" someone else called back. And, in a somewhat feeble attempt at a stern tone, hissed, "How many times do I have to tell you, don't call important visitors 'some rich guy!'"

A smattering of laughter followed a stout, balding man as he pushed and dodged his way to the front of the building, where Steven was waiting. Wiping sweat off his forehead, he tried to smile winning, despite the nervousness showing through.

"Welcome to Stern's Shipyard!" he greeted. "I'm Dock, the floor manager. How can I help you?"

"I'm, um, looking for Stern," Steven said, still a little off balance. He jumped a little at a loud crash from somewhere deeper in the building, followed by a lot of angry shouting.

"Do you have an appointment?" Dock asked.

"No. It's... about Wattson."

The name was clearly familiar to Dock, an expression of discomfort crossing his face. "Ah... Mr. Wattson," he muttered. "Right, of course. Captain Stern should be on the second floor. Please follow me."

Hesitating, Steven looked between him and the bustling front room of the shipyard. It was a long way to the stairs in the back, and a lot of people, Pokemon, and accidents waiting to happen in between. 'Do... I really have to...?' he wondered dubiously. He'd feel more comfortable facing a Lairon stampede.

Unfortunately, he really had to.

~.~.~

It was quieter upstairs and thankfully less hectic, despite being no less busy. Heads bend over their work, the shipwrights and construction crews poured over blueprints around heavy steel tables, their voices too low to make out clearly.

Speaking to one of them, Dock turned back to Steven and gestured toward an open doorway that led onto a catwalk in the massive enclosed drydock where the ships were being assembled. "Captain Stern should be over there," he said. "Holler if you need anything."

The hangar-like drydock was large enough to hold several ships, as it did at the moment — a half-finished skeleton of a future vessel, a ferry that had been pulled up for repairs, and space to spare besides. The sound of tools against metal echoed through the cavernous building, mixing with yells from the crews and the occasional roar of an assisting Pokemon. The ceiling-mounted crates groaned as they crisscrossed the chamber.

A man was observing the hubbub from further down the catwalk. He glanced at Steven curiously as he approached but had to wait until they were nearly side by side before saying anything.

"This area is a bit dangerous, so we usually don't let visitors in here," he noted, raising his voice to be heard, despite their proximity. "So I'm guessing this is something pretty urgent."

"Yes, it is," Steven said. His expression grew serious as he remembered just how urgent things truly was. "I'm looking for Captain Stern. My name is Steven Stone."

"I'm Stern," the man confirmed. "What does Devon need?"

"It's not about Devon. Well, not precisely," Steven corrected him. "I came here to ask you about Wattson. Something happened... he might have been attacked. And I think you might know why."

Even as he said it, Steven could see that Stern indeed knew something. His brow furrowed at the mention of Wattson's name, some complicated emotion passing over his face, and he looked away, hands tightening around the safety railing. "Attacked... They're going that far?" he murmured. "Is Wattson alright?"

"He should fine," Steven said. "But there's no telling how long before he wakes up. You're the only one who knows what's going on. Please — tell me."

"I... yes. Yes, of course," Stern muttered. "There's no other choice now. We spent so long trying to bury all of it, but... if it's already gone this far..."

Bury what? What had gone this far? Steven tried to rein in his growing impatience as Stern stalled, wringing his heads and glancing down at his bustling shipyard. "Captain Stern," he prompted finally.

"Yes, of course. Right," Stern said, swallowing heavily. "I don't know the details, but I'm sure, it must have been—"

With a bang, smoke suddenly flooded the drydock below.

There didn't seem to be any sign of a fire, but the noxious smoke billowed up from somewhere on the first floor, quickly filling the air. The workers scrambled, yelling and trying to figure out what was going on.

"What the—"

"Hey, who did that?! Watch it!"

"Where's it coming from?"

"Everyone, stay calm!" Stern shouted, leaving over the railing. In the confusion, it was only natural that his conversation with Steven was completely forgotten. "Head outside! Someone, hit the kill switch! And call the fire department!"

Loud protests drifted up, though it was already hard to make out anything below through the veil of thickening smoke. Stern coughed, his throat closing before he managed to force out a command. "We need to go too!" Steven said, his voice muffled by the handkerchief he was using to cover his nose and mouth. Taking hold of Stern's arm, he pulled the older man toward the doorway back into the workrooms.

The fire alarm still hadn't gone off, he noted. It was strange, he was sure the shipyard would have some. And this smoke... it was hard to tell, but the scent and taste of it was not from something burning.

Steel types were immune, so Steven had almost missed it too. But Wattson had been poisoned, hadn't he?

Next to him, Stern was coughing again much heavier and without respite. The older man stumbled and dropped to his knees, unable to catch his breath. Steven wasn't doing much better. His eyes were watering heavily, and he struggled pull Stern back to his feet.

Groping for a Poke Ball shakily, he finally managed to get hold of the one he needed. "Go, Metagross!" he called out. His ace appeared in a flash of light, tucking its legs in and hovering the air with its psychokinetic power. Despite the chaos, it turned to look at him calmly and waited for his orders.

"Take, take him," Steven commanded, his voice catching as his throat clogged, "and head outside! Break through the wall!"

He gestured toward one section of the wall, a little ways off, where there were no supporting beams. He'd wanted to avoid damaging the building, but it didn't look like there was any choice, and the long windows near the ceiling was just too narrow for Metagross to get through. Hopefully, Stern would forgive him later.

Rumbling shortly in acknowledgement, Metagross tilted its massive body and floated toward them. It extended one leg and drew it back as it prepared to strike.

He had expected Metagross to go past then, and ducked down, covering his head and Stern against any shrapnel just in case. But the Bullet Punch that Metagross threw out was too close — just barely passing over his back, the wind ruffling his hair. Shards of the wall bounced sharply off his jacket.

"Metagross—!" Steven started to call out, reprimanding.

Then, turning, he caught sight of the crater Metagross had left in the wall behind him — and the Pokemon half-driven into the center.

It was a Seviper, its jaw hanging over in unconsciousness and showing its long, dangerous fangs. It must have slithered up silently under the smoke and reared up to strike, unnoticed. Except by Metagross, which intercepted it and now moved to hover protectively in front of Steven and Stern. The large jaw on its underside unhinging, Metagross roared in challenge and warning.

There was no accompanying command, but light flashed in the haze, returning the Seviper to its Poke Ball and its unseen trainer.

No other attack came, but Metagross couldn't carry them and stay on guard at the same time. And most of Steven's team was just too large or heavy to fit on the catwalk with them... There was only one other option. "Go, Claydol!" he called out, throwing out another Poke Ball.

Like Metagross, Claydol materialized in the air and hovered there seamlessly. Its head rotated slowly, its many eyes facing in every direction.

"Claydol, stay on guard! Metagross, let's—" Steven broke off into heavy coughing, "—g-go!"

The two Pokemon gracefully swapped places, Claydol putting itself in front of their trainer, while Metagross shifted to put point its legs forward and reared back. It rammed the wall, where Steven had indicated before, spinning like a drill and knocking a clean hole through to the outside.

Steven gratefully took a deep breath of the fresh air that started blowing through. "Come on," he encouraged Stern, pulling him along toward the opening.

Metagross had circled around after blasting through, drifting up to just below the hole and presenting its flat top as a platform. Stern stumbled through, dropping on all fours on top of Metagross, and Steven followed after him. There was just barely enough room for both of them.

"Claydol!" Steven called out, turning back to peer through the opening. "You too, come on!"

He jumped off as they neared the ground and helped Stern down. Someone had already noticed them — or, more likely, had noticed Metagross ripping its way out — and several of the workers who had evacuated the building were hurrying toward them to check on their boss. Tension radiated from Metagross as it regarded the unknown approaching humans, but Steven laid a calming hand on it, keeping it in place.

"It's okay," he assured it. "I'm okay." As Claydol drifted down as well, he checked it over quickly, trying to see if it had been poisoned by the strange gas.

It seemed they had all made it out alright, but there was no denying it now. This was no accident, or wild Pokemon attack. Someone had target Stern, and Wattson, and Steven's father. Someone with something to hide.

~.~.~

Notes: Less exciting than I'd hoped, but at least we're progressing...?

As always, please review!

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