Chapter 4 – Start
Eight years after Earth's assimilation into the Digimon Empire.
"Your attention please – the next station is Canalave City. End of the line. All passengers are to disembark."
It was none other than that very announcement which woke me up from my half-hearted sleep. Looking back, I recall that when I woke up the train was over what seemed like a perfectly calm expanse of water. The horizon appeared to vanish beneath a curtain of fog with Mount Coronet's southern peaks rising out of it, and so the mountains looked as if they were floating in mid-air as opposed to being one with the ground.
"Canalave City," declared the train's computerized PA system. "All passengers are to disembark and register with the customs officials for inspection. Any goods to be declared are to be brought to the designated areas."
With that, the train stopped. We had arrived at Canalave City – end of the Pan-Sinnoh train line.
As I got out of the train, slinging my small backpack over my shoulders, I noticed that the train terminal itself was not on land, but had been built above the waters of Route 218. From what I knew about it, Canalave never really had much land to its name, and so most of its recent developments had been done over the waters that surrounded it. It still retained the canal which it was named after, but otherwise, most people were quite aware that when you strolled about on the streets of Canalave, more often than not you were actually walking on a floating portion of the city.
For a moment, I tried to see if I could still make out the outlines of Jubilife in the distance. Alas, all I could see was a faint, rugged outline that suggested the presence of land on the other end of the route.
I quickly suppressed the tell-tale signs that homesickness was welling up inside me, and turned my back on the city I once called home.
xxx
"- everything is in order, then," declared the elderly customs official as he stamped the papers which granted me access to Canalave. "Is it your first visit to Canalave, young man?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Heh, gathered as much from your papers. Which division did they assign you to?"
"Port control, sir!"
"At ease, soldier," laughed the official. "Well, you're a brave young man, making your way in a world that requires bravery for survival. I wish you all the best."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now fly away, young man – there's a line forming here."
As I walked away from the customs counter, I swallowed hard, ignoring the manner in which my stomach seemed to be tying all sorts of complicated knots. The old officer had mentioned that I was now in a world that required bravery for survival, and I now found myself wondering if I really had what it took to make it here.
I guess it was time to see if Canalave would make or break my military career.
xxx
The people who claimed that Canalave was a small city had clearly been mistaken. To be specific, I thought that they had been mistaken when they said that it didn't have much land to call its own.
Anyone stepping out of the train terminal would probably have noticed that the ground in Canalave seemed to be divided into two distinct types – tarmac and cobblestone. Tarmac was what the terminal was located on, whereas cobblestone roads were visible in the distance, where 'new' Canalave ended and the 'old' Canalave began.
Those cobblestone paths seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see, like grey snakes whose bodies had no end. Up ahead in the distance, I saw what looked like the deck of a cargo ship at the end of the main street which extended directly from the canal to the train terminal.
I hadn't even been in Canalave for an hour, and already I'd run into my first problem – where the heck was port control? By the looks of it, the city was huge, and so finding port control wouldn't be a straightforward task. For those of you who assumed that it would be by the canal, well... the canal ran through the whole city. Asking for directions seemed to be my only option, so I did. It was a decision that I ended up regretting in the extreme. Why, you might ask?
Let's just say that in Canalave, even old ladies drive like maniacs. And on hindsight, I probably shouldn't have trusted an old lady that drove a military-grade jeep.
xxx
"MY HOLY-"
"Language, young man!" chided the old lady who'd offered me a lift to port control. "We're just round the corner- AHA!"
With that, she floored the brakes, bringing the car to a jolting stop. Something behind us fell to the floor with a crash, sounding very much like the industrial-size toolbox I had seen in the back of the jeep. We had stopped in front of a rather modern-looking building with a facade made entirely out of glass, through which various people, digimon, and pokemon could be seen busily moving about.
"Here we are!" She chirped happily. "I do hope you know where to go?"
"Umm, no I don't, ma'am. I'll ask around."
"You'd better! Otherwise, those security goons would get you and do all sorts of unpleasant crap to you!"
"... I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the... ride."
"Ah, it's not problem, sonny! If you ever need a ride, ask them for Aunty Moira – they'll know how to contact me!"
I had just managed to step out of the jeep and close the door before she took off down the street, parting the traffic as easily as a knife through hot butter. Honking and cursing abounded as she made her way to wherever it was she needed to go, and I was astonished to see her actually flipping another driver off as she rounded a corner and vanished from my sight.
Canalave was going to be a rather... interesting place to be, apparently.
xxx
Port control was the headquarters for Canalave's port authorities and also Sinnoh's naval department. Since Canalave was pretty much the only major port which Sinnoh had, the navy was also based there, though the actual military vessels docked off-shore. According to the instructors who handled basic military training, this allowed the naval vessels to double as a screen of sorts that controlled port security. So even troops that were off-rotation could contribute to keeping our largest port safe, it seemed.
That being said and done, I now found myself trying to read through the large list of departments and offices that was displayed above the reception desk at port control. No one was presently behind the desk, which was puzzling, but I wasn't too fussed – that's what signs were for.
If only the sign was not so big...
"Can I help you?"
I jumped, and whirled about to see a rather petite woman sitting behind the desk. She had somehow materialized there, and was regarding me with an expression that seemed divided between curiosity and amusement.
"Umm, yes ma'am. I was told to report here today – naval department."
"Navy's on the third floor, but which office specifically? They've got the whole floor to themselves."
"I have no idea. My orders were just to report here, ma'am."
"Why, aren't you a cute one," she giggled, as she held out a hand to me. "Let's see your orders."
After several seconds of rummaging in my pockets, I found the papers that contained the details of my posting, and handed them to her. She quietly scrutinized them for a bit, before murmuring something to herself and looking back up at me.
"Looks like you're General Harding's new assistant – he's the head of the water pokemon department."
"Ah, I see... Where on the third floor is his office?"
"It's lunchtime, dear. I'll take you there," she said with a laugh. "Follow me!"
She sprang up from her seat, and made her way to the elevators so fast that I almost lost her in the crowds that were constantly moving about the floor. I inwardly let out a relieved sigh as I realized that the crowds wouldn't always be this bad – it probably was the lunch rush, as she had implied.
"Quickly!" She called, as the elevator began protesting against her holding its doors open.
"I'm coming!"
In the – surprisingly empty – elevator, she briefly explained where I needed to go.
"General Harding's office is at the other end of the floor, overlooking the sea. Since he's got the corner office, he also has a view of the train terminal, though."
"Wow..."
"He's a nice guy, though – you're very lucky to be assigned to work with him! We've got five generals working here, and two of them are horrible souls!" She said, lowering her voice for that last bit. "I'd stay clear of the ground and electric heads if I were you... Ah, we're here!"
The elevator doors opened onto a long corridor with numerous doors along both of its walls. As we walked past them, I saw that all the doors were only labelled with the names of the people who presumably worked in there, and not the actual department names.
"Why aren't the department names on the doors?"
"Security purposes – not everyone knows who works in what department. We usually rely on several trained pokemon and digimon to relay memos to the offices."
"Like psychics or something?"
"Well, yes. But we only have three abra and two demidevimon, so we sometimes use a couple of spinarak as well – they're wonderful for delivering small notes."
We approached a junction in the corridor, and she pointed towards the left turning.
"Generals' offices are that way, and the naval science department is to the right. Remember this, since we don't have ANY signage in here."
Once we had taken the left turn, we wound up taking several more. Right, left, straight, and right again. It was almost dizzying, trying to keep up with the twisting and turning corridors.
"General Harding's office is the third door on the right-"
Out of the blue, a muffled exclamation sounding suspiciously like, "MOTHER OF FUCK!" echoed throughout the corridor we were in.
"... Take the second door on the right, then."
"That's his office?"
"No, it's General Fen's office. I'd knock before entering, if I were you."
"But wasn't I supposed to meet with General Harding?"
"He usually eats his lunch out on the field, but sometimes he stays in here. And usually, he spends his lunch hour with his two best buddies, General Fen and General Maine."
A muffled, "EAT MY SHIT, COCKSUCKER!" was heard from somewhere within the vicinity of the office in concern.
"Knock before you enter – it's polite, and you wouldn't want to get flashed."
"Umm, flashed?"
"Good luck!" She smirked, before spinning on her heel and dashing out of my sight.
I stood there for a while, not knowing just what to make of her warning of sorts.
"FUCK THE POLICE!"
... Yes, the vulgarities were definitely coming from the second door on the right.
Walking up to the door bearing the label of 'General Fen Siow Loong', I swallowed hard and knocked thrice. Through the door, I could hear some strange noises coming from within the office, though they almost immediately after I had knocked.
"You heard that?" Someone inside the office had heard me, it seemed.
"Yup... WHO IS IT?"
"Umm, I'm General Harding's new assistant?"
Before I could even blink, the door had been yanked open from the inside, and I found myself staring at a man wearing nothing save for a pair of black shorts. A pair of mischievous blue eyes looked at me from beneath of thick mop of black hair, and his smirk was almost carnivorous. He stood slightly taller than me, and had a lanky frame that suggested he spent many hours swimming laps.
Something bugged me about his appearance – I got the impression that I had somehow seen him before somewhere. But I dismissed the thought with a mental shrug, given that military personnel rarely appeared in the media. I must have confused him with someone else.
"Yes?"
"Umm, General Harding?" I asked, trying hard not to stare and blush. They might have had that on file already, but still!
"You're speaking to him, kid. So you're my new assistant?"
"I think so?"
"Great!" He beamed. "Come on in, then!"
Turning around and waking into the office, he called out to his companions, "Fen? Better get your pants on! We've got company!"
As I entered the office, I saw that a partition had been set up that divided the office into two. On our side of the partition was a television set which, surprisingly enough, had an antique PlayStation console hooked up to it. A gigantic man in a military uniform was standing in front of the television, and was staring at it intently.
"Good afternoon-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" thundered the mountain of a man as he grappled with the video game's controller, sending the character on-screen directly into the path of a speeding car. "NO!"
"HAH!" crowed General Harding, as he clapped his hands in delight. "You lost, Gary! Off with them!"
"The tyke distracted me!"
"Ah, excuses! Off with them, or drinks are on you this Friday!"
"FUCK you, Zachary!"
"AHEM," said someone from behind the partition. "We do have a guest here, guys."
"If he's to be my assistant, he'll get used to it. Why are you still there, Fen?"
"It isn't polite for a general to show a private his privates, Zachary," was the flat response.
"Whatever."
"Umm, sir?"
"Yes?"
"Requesting permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted..."
"Why are you stripping in General Fen's office?"
"We do this every time we get to have lunch together! Eat and play video games, that is."
"And the loser has to strip," came the voice from the other side once again. "Zachary, where are my pants?"
"You mean these?" General Harding snickered, nudging a pile of clothes on the floor with his foot, and shoving it under the television's stand.
"... you are so dead, Harding."
xxx
Five minutes later, once he had given up on trying to get his clothes back from General Fen – who was holding them hostage in revenge for the hiding of his clothes – General Harding flippantly strolled out into the corridor, wearing nothing but his shorts.
"Come on, kid – we'll get you sorted out, since that spoilsport Fen insists on me going topless today."
"Won't you get in trouble for that, sir?"
"Nah... Most of the people in this building have seen me like this several times already. Some have even seen me in the buff, so I'm not fussed. Now where did I put that key?"
"Isn't it against the rules or something, sir?"
"Rules, you say? Not that I'm bothered about them... Ah, there it is!"
He opened the door, and stepped into his office.
It was probably the nicest office I had ever seen up till then.
Large windows gave a direct view of the ocean, and also the train terminal, as the receptionist had mentioned earlier. Bookshelves lined the walls, and were so packed that the planks were beginning to sag under the weight of the books. His desk was placed against a wall perpendicular to those with the windows, and was piled high with papers and files.
"Let's see... my new assistant..." he muttered, rooting through the paper mountain. Grabbing a rather thin file, he threw himself into the chair behind the desk. "Ah, this is it! Take a seat, kid."
Awkwardly, I seated myself on the other side of his desk. Held my breath and watched as he flipped the file open, and began reading the first page. I only managed to exhale when he somehow skipped over the next page, which contained my personal information – I still didn't know how he would take the news if he knew.
"So... You came from Jubilife, and did your basic training at the base of Mount Coronet... High scores in the classroom and also outside... Eh? It says here that you're a horrible marksman?"
"Yes, sir," I nodded – I could never shoot straight with a firearm. "I barely managed to pass basic arms training."
"No problem... we can work on that. Though you're apparently decent in hand-to-hand combat, which somewhat makes up for that... Hmm, you were tested for water affinity after an incident with a goldeen?"
"It was the camp commandant's, sir. I... accidentally fell into its tank, and it tried to gore me. But I told it not to, and it didn't."
"Hmm, impressive – I'll check it out myself, later. But are you aware of just why you were sent here?"
"No, sir."
"An affinity for water pokemon," he said, as he leaned back in his seat and stretched his back, "is one of the rarer affinities out there. To my knowledge, only the steel and poison affinities are about the same in terms of rarity. So when they pick up someone with water affinity, they usually send them to me."
"Okay."
"Now, it says here that your affinity with water is dominant. If that's true, you're an even rarer specimen than the usual affinities I get to see passing through here. So far, I haven't encountered anyone besides myself with a dominant water affinity – all of them had either grass or ground as their dominant affinities."
"Wouldn't that have been workable, sir?"
"It might have... but I prefer to have dominant water in my assistant. Given the nature of our work here, there's little use for grass or ground."
"I see."
"So! Let's get you paired up with a pokemon, then!"
He leapt out of his chair, very nearly knocking it over as he did so. Grabbing a faded T-shirt which had been draped over the back of the chair, he scooped up my file and headed for the door.
"Umm, sir?"
"Eh?"
"Aren't you going to get into your uniform first?"
"Two things, kid; firstly, balls with the uniform, and secondly, stop calling me sir!"
"Yes, sir."
"... This is going to take some time, I see."
xxx
If there is one thing that I have to say about General Zachary Harding, it's that he moves fast. And when I say fast, what I actually mean is that he practically turns into a blur when he gets moving.
"Sorry!" I called out, as I dashed past a machop whose armload of papers had been thrown into the air as General Harding barrelled past it.
"Machop!" Sighed the fighting-type, as it bent over to pick up the mess, shaking its head all the while.
"Hurry up, kid!" For the second time in my first day at port control, the elevator was wailing shrilly thanks to its doors being forced open. "The fucking lift's in a rush!"
Once I had jumped into the elevator – barely making it past the closing doors – he turned to regard me with a wide smile.
"You'll have to learn to move fast if you're going to keep up with me, kid!"
It was then that I realized why his face had seemed so familiar.
"You're Zachary Harding!"
"Glad you noticed," he said, raising an eyebrow. "What was your first clue?"
I drew in a deep breath, and exhaled, "Hoenn League, 2082. You were the youngest contender in a decade to challenge the Hoenn League. You lost only to Champion Steven, and never did beat him despite multiple attempts."
"Whoa!" He exclaimed, eyes wide. "Have you been stalking me or something? That's some seriously old shit you've gone and dug up."
"I saw you on TV! I mean, back before the revolution and all..."
"Bah, I knew I shouldn't have done those interviews," he muttered with a roll of his eyes. "If there's one thing I learned, kid, it's that television cameras always manage to make you look awkward and clueless."
"Wait a minute... You were fourteen when you challenged the league. That would make you... just shy of twenty-four?"
"Shhh! You'll scare the ladies away!" He said, shushing me with an expression of mock horror. "But you sure did your stalking legwork, I must say."
"It's not stalking," I replied, just as the elevator reached one of the basement levels and opened its doors.
"The stalker debate will have to wait – we're here! Now let's see if Babamon is in, and we'll get you your starter."
We walked out of the elevator, and stepped into a massive corridor made entirely out of riveted steel plates. Large blast doors were present along both walls, and were placed about a hundred meters apart from one another. As we came closer to the first door, I saw that a symbol resembling a leaf had been spray-painted onto it with black paint. The next door had a lightning bolt marking, and the third had a marking that resembled a water droplet.
"Here we are – the water pokemon vault... Babamon! BABAMON!"
"What the hell are you hoodlums yelling about?"
I jumped upon hearing the snappish remark come from behind me, but General Harding merely smirked and turned to face the person who had spoken.
"Fresh meat today, Babamon – water dominant!"
The creature that had spoken turned out to be a short, squat digimon resembling an old woman whose face was obscured by its shawl. It seemed to have some smoke trailing out of its face, but then I realized that the digimon was actually smoking a cigarette, upon seeing the packet of Marlboros it was clutching in one of its wrinkled hands.
How it managed to do so without setting its shawl on fire was beyond me.
"Water dominant, you say? That would make you a very happy man, methinks."
"True, true, and true!" He sang, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he gestured to the blast door impatiently. "So hurry up and open the vault already! The faster he gets his starter, the better!"
"And why would that be so?"
"Just do it, you old hag!"
"Hmph!" Huffed the digimon, as she slowly shuffled forward and attempted to put out her cigarette on his leg. "Lost your trousers again?"
"Does it matter?"
"Kids these days," she muttered, even as the door slid upwards without even the slightest of sounds. "Maybe someday I ought to bend you over and give you a good spanking to teach you some manners."
"Do that, Babamon, and you'll have a very horny kid to deal with."
"... I give up."
Once the blast door had opened all the way, my jaw practically hit the ground as I saw what was inside the room. A large pool occupied most of the floor, and it was surrounded on three sides by shelves upon shelves of pokeballs. The room was illuminated by harsh strobe lights that were hung overhead by massive girders, and I could hear a faint humming sound as soon as I stepped into the room.
"Water dominant..." Babamon mused, lighting a fresh cigarette. "It's been a while since I matched one up, so let me think... Squirtle, goldeen, horsea, totodile, and finneon."
"Let's try the goldeen – he's had experience with one."
"Really? That should make our job easier, then."
"Brace yourself, kid!"
"Huh, what?" was all I managed to say before he shoved me into the pool.
xxx
Forty minutes later, I had nearly been gored by a goldeen, been bitten by a hyperactive totodile, had ink spat in my face by a horsea, and gotten head-butted by the squirtle. While at first they found it amusing, both Babamon and General Harding were getting perplexed over trying to determine the species of pokemon that I would be most compatible with.
"Something isn't right, Zachary. He's water dominant, and hasn't returned any favourable results with the usual water dominant species."
"Magikarp or feebas, maybe?"
"Possible, but those would give a positive result with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, anyways. I'm thinking partial-typings."
"His file said he had a minor affinity for ice... maybe spheal?"
"You had a minor water affinity, ice dominant, no?"
"Before Tammy, yes."
"She had a fondness for this shellder I had – let's see how it goes with that one."
For the sixth time that day, a pokemon was let into the pool with me. However, this time, the pokemon involved was a shellder as Babamon had mentioned, and as such it wasn't inclined to moving much.
After about five minutes of me treading water and staring at the pokemon floating in front of me with its shell held firmly shut, Babamon got impatient and splashed water at me.
"Go up to it and talk to it, you nitwit!"
"Its shell is closed!"
"Trust me, it can hear you! Now move your bloody arse!"
Sighing, I swam up to the shellder, and spoke to it.
"... Hi." No response from the shellder. "Are you awake?"
Ever so slowly, the two halves of its shell eased open, revealing a black mass of flesh within the creature's armoured exterior. Two large eyes regarded me with a curious look, as it opened its shell a little wider. A long, pink tongue darted in and out of its shell, as if it was trying to taste the air.
I guessed that a little friendliness wouldn't go amiss, "Hello, there."
And that was when the shellder propelled itself forward and clamped onto my nose.