Chapter 45

Beginning

Quil lent a forepaw to hoist Wartortle out of the crater, though Quil was certainly even more worn out than him after being on the receiving end of Zapdos' beak. They exchanged a joyful look at the excellent results of their Springboard Boost combination, and Wartortle patted his friend on the back.

The hail had stopped. The clouds were back to their wispy consistency. The sky was growing lighter from the coming of the dawn, making the glows given off by Chando's and especially Moltres' fires less pronounced. As he watched, Moltres began to toss and turn. She was waking up very quickly after being defeated by Piora, which did not surprise Wartortle one bit. He'd seen her swift recovery time on Iyrodenin.

"We'd better keep them all unconscious until the rest of the Resistance is awake. We can decide what to do from here," said Wartortle to Quil, Viper, Piora, and the nameless Beartic.

If any of them found his request strange or not-Pokémon, they did not show it. He joined them in spreading across the shattered battlefield to deliver additional attacks to Chando and the three Legendary Birds. It was grisly work, but necessary. Wartortle cut off his Water Gun against Moltres' face a few seconds after she'd stopped moving, just in case, and he encouraged the others to overdo it too. Then he repeated the process on Victini.

One by one, the members of the Resistance roused themselves and slowly made their way over to Quil and Wartortle. When Hayzin awoke, he had the smart idea to drag the bodies of their opponents together near the middle of the icy bowl so that everyone could keep an eye on them. Half an hour later, everyone in the Resistance was up, though Wartortle knew that every conscious Pokémon was feeling at least as tired and achy as he was. Except, perhaps, the talisman-bearers.

"What do we do with these?" growled Beartic of the Twins. He sounded reluctant to give up his talisman, and Wartortle could not blame him.

"Eh, feel free to hold onto them. They'll run out of power before too long, especially Zapdos' since she was the first to get one. Maybe we'll use them later to take care of any lingering issues from the time of the boosts." He cocked his head. "The Boosted Era? That has a nice ring to it."

"Oh, how about the Month of Power!" Quil chimed in.

Bein shook his head. "Been a bit more than a month since that first storm."

"I'd say it's close enough, Bein," said Hayzin, smiling, as one of his hooves idly brushed against the icy ground.

Quil was exhaling a flurry of embers into the air. Now they were paltry specimens, dull red motes compared to the vivacious white to which Wartortle had become accustomed.

The Quilava chuckled. "It was great while it lasted!"

The dawn broke as the embers dissipated. Orange light streamed over the edge of Articuno's ice bowl. The members of the Resistance gathered along the misty edge to bathe in the day's first rays. The first day without any boosted Types. The first day of normalcy.

Viper inched up beside Wartortle. "That was a bligging nice job you did, Wartortle. I guess your organization, and your tactics, and all that jimby-wimby is useful after all."

Wartortle turned to her, unsure of what to say. She looked almost bashful, and began to inch away. "Thank you," he said with a grateful smile.

She hissed, her tongue flicking out into the air briefly. Then, smiling, she gently shoved his shell with the flat of her bladed tail and looked to the sunrise once more.

Wartortle basked in the moment. With all of the Resistance by his side, the movement that he'd brought into being with Quil, he wondered if he'd ever seen a sunrise as beautiful as this one. At last there would be peace. The refugees could return home. The once-boosted bullies would receive their just desserts. Battles everywhere would be balanced once again in the natural order. The Resistance had fulfilled its purpose more completely than Wartortle had ever hoped.

It did not evade his notice that many of the Pokémon around him remained close to their team members. Team Articuno, Team Zapdos, and Team Moltres stuck together even now for the most part. The camaraderie of battle, it seemed, was a powerful force. They chatted about highlights in the dawn's light, laughing and joking about the details of the battle. Wartortle mentioned his observation to Quil, who stood on his hind legs on Wartortle's right.

The Quilava nodded. "Fighting in that battle as part of Team Articuno was really enjoyable, even if it was against a scary Legendary. Knowing that everyone around me felt the same way about the boosts, about the Resistance, knowing they were all fighting with me for the same reason...there's something special about that."

Wartortle folded his arms. "The boosts might be gone, but we have some nice teamwork going. Maybe the Resistance could live on. We could keep Team Base running, keep that request board in use." His gaze unfocused as he looked to the horizon. "A dedicated organization that helps Pokémon in need through the use of well-practiced and well-equipped teams. I could see it happening. Though we'll need a new name, I suppose."

Quil smiled. "That's something I'd be interested in. Maybe Loria too, oh, and Viper. I bet lots of Resistance 'mon would join!"

The sun finally escaped the horizon. Wartortle glanced at the pile containing Articuno, Zapdos, Moltres, Chando, and Victini as Rook the Frogadier blasted the group with a pulse of water from her hands.

Time to figure out where to go from here, thought Wartortle. It doesn't much matter what happens to the Legendary Birds, so long as Victini and his power never see the light of day again. By his own admission back when he wasn't having one of his fits, Chando will have to be locked up again too.

A strange sound reached his ears. A thrumming in the air. One that he had not heard in a long time, and then only in films he'd seen as a human. The Pokémon around him by the edge of the bowl hurriedly backed away from the source of the unknown noise. It was coming from the air beyond the plateau, above the sea at the end of the peninsula.

Three large machines hovered toward the lip of the plateau. As he watched, they appeared to grow more solid as their visual cloaking technology was disengaged. They each resembled a hybrid of a helicopter and a dropship made for transporting personnel in military operations. Each had a glossy black exterior, with multiple sets of whirling rotor blades that produced that steady thrum. The vessels were equipped with six-barreled machine guns that were pointed at the Pokémon of the Resistance.

Wartortle found himself questioning the decision for the aircraft to be equipped with guns. Pokémon constitutions can rapidly heal through being roasted, electrocuted, frozen, cut, poisoned, and a million other forms of harm that would kill a human. We can certainly deal with the impacts of high-energy ballistics from those guns. Especially Legendary Pokémon. Though, I suppose they'd certainly serve as useful noisemakers to deter Pokémon who have never seen them before.

The human aircraft did not belong here. Seeing the machines in such a setting felt profoundly wrong. Why were humans here? Why now? Were they friend or foe? He backed up with the rest of the Pokémon toward the center of the plateau as the three black ships landed near the edge. The wind they generated rippled against the morning mist, dispersing it.

The Resistance was puzzled, frightened. He could sense it, just as he could sense his own instincts to unleash his battling techniques against the threat. He knew he'd better say something to them. He was the only one who knew what the machines were.

"Don't attack!" He raised his arms to them in a pacifying gesture. "Please stay calm everyone. Just keep the Charizard and the Legendaries subdued back there, and I'll do the talking."

The rear doors of each ship swung downward to become ramps. Human men and women in uniformed military combat garb filed out, each holding rifles, though Wartortle also spotted the red and white of Poké Balls on some of their belts for easy access. The humans spread along the rim with practiced movements, keeping their barrels trained on the Resistance.

Rigorous discipline. This must be an elite strike force of some kind. Perhaps the famous Unova Delta Operations. But for what purpose?

A tense moment passed before the man in the center, apparently the leader, raised a hand and made a curt gesture. Though the woman that emerged from the center aircraft was obviously out of her element, wearing armor and walking with cautious steps, Wartortle would have known that face anywhere. That wavy brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders. That thoughtful cast to her brow.

It was Kathleen, from his lab. Sweet, sensitive, but highly focused and critical when immersed in her work. She'd been on Wartortle's consciousness research team since its inception. Other than Tristan, she was the one who knew the most about the project. Suddenly the reason for her presence here became evident. She knew all about him and Tristan, and probably what had brought them to Preserve Alpha. Any human expedition would want to bring her along.

Wartortle smiled at seeing a familiar face after so long. He stepped away from the bulk of the Resistance. The military man who'd done the gesture was saying something to Kathleen, but Wartortle didn't understand. It must have been some code for use in their operation. Kathleen responded in kind, her hair glistening in the light as she shook her head.

"Kathleen, it's me, Brayden!" he called out to her. With a frown, she advanced to speaking distance with two armed personnel flanking her. She spoke a short sentence in the voice that Wartortle could recall so well, but he didn't understand the words. Still, their rhythm sounded familiar. Like a foreign language he'd once learned, but had not heard spoken in many years. He mirrored her frown as the words continue to ring in his mind. His eyes widened as the meaning of Kathleen's words clicked. He could understand them! They were his language!

"This Wartortle must be some sort of leader," Kathleen had said.

Wartortle started to respond, but his words were different than hers. They were not in the language that Wartortle had grown up speaking. They were not Kathleen's language. His mind raced with the revelation. All this time, he hadn't been speaking a human language. Ever since he'd woken up as a Squirtle and talked with a Pokémon for the first time, Quil, he'd been speaking a different language. The language of Pokémon, apparently. The transferal of his consciousness into the brain of a Squirtle must have allowed him to comprehend Pokémon and communicate as they did. He recalled his most vivid memories of Pokémon vocalizations as a human, how they'd been bestial, crude noises. Now his brain perceived those noises with meaning attached.

Wartortle shook his head in wonder. So perfect had his acquisition of Pokémon language been, that he'd never once noticed that the sounds his throat and lips had been forming all this time had not correlated with the words of his original, human language. Looking back, he realized he'd been making the same sort of vocalizations that Pokémon made when they cheered, yelled, or made other wordless noises. Perhaps his initial disorientation and shock on that first day had helped to mask the strangeness of hearing and speaking words of the language that all Pokémon shared. After all, he'd woken up in an unknown forest in the middle of a storm to see a talking Cyndaquil. It had been a lot to take in. Still, he marveled that he'd never noticed the switch in languages after all this time. It had felt so natural. He could add language acquisition onto the many uses of the brainstate transferal process.

He tried again to speak to Kathleen, this time with a conscious effort to make his mouth form the words of the language that she would understand. It was remarkably difficult. His mouth was not made to form the sounds of any human language. He thoroughly mangled them. His form was much better suited to snarls, gurgles, and other guttural noises. With great effort, he managed to say, "Understand me?"

She drew back in shock, a hand flying to her lips. The man and woman carrying rifles on either side looked at each other. "You speak our language!" Kathleen said.

"I'm Brayden," he forced his unruly mouth to pronounce, in order to clarify.

"Oh my gosh!" She took another step back. "Brayden! It's you! I can't believe it. You're a Wartortle now; you must have evolved! How did it feel? Who are all those Pokémon behind you? How did you learn to communicate with them? Oh, forget that, how are you doing? How has it been, living as a Pokémon? Did the transferal go well?"

Wartortle grinned, saying nothing. Sometimes when Kathleen grew excited, she gushed whatever was on her mind. Kathleen must have recognized his expression, even on a Wartortle, as she pinched her nose with a smile of her own.

"It's alright," she said to the lead military man behind her. "This Wartortle is Brayden. It's safe to say we can relax, I think. I'll get to the bottom of what's been going on."

"Understood, doctor," the man said. "Team, stand down."

Wartortle could tell by the blank expressions on the Pokémon behind him that they had no idea what was happening. They'd never seen humans before. He raised his voice to them, switching languages with only minor difficulty.

"This is an old friend of mine. We're going to talk for a little bit." What were they going to make of that? He felt as if he were being selfish, but what else could he do at the moment? "Er, sorry for the wait."

"Why are you here?" Wartortle asked Kathleen. "Why is humanity only arriving now?"

Kathleen's expression softened. "Sorry. We came here specifically because the ship's sensors indicated absolutely massive energy spikes here a few minutes ago. We thought it was a good place to start our search. We lifted off about forty minutes ago, when the fluctuations in the current and voltage outputs of Electric-type Pokémon suddenly stabilized."

That's when we defeated Zapdos and took her talisman, Wartortle thought.

"Remember how all of our electrical systems started to go on the fritz, right as we initiated your brainstate transferal on that morning? Tristan's first act must have been to do something to Electric Pokémon. Our operating hypothesis, based on the word of historians and Pokéscience experts in Castelia, is that Zapdos is involved. Though that sounds far-fetched, huh?" She shook her head. "I guess that's what we get for having so much of our technology reliant on, and calibrated to, the normal output of Electric Pokémon in power plants. We never worried about what would happen if all of their outputs suddenly increased."

Even Victini going for Zapdos first was calculated. He wanted to crush any fast-response resistance from humanity by tampering with one of the foundations of almost all modern technology. Electricity. While Kathleen's words answered some questions, they raised others. What she said about problems with the lab's electrical systems did not match Victini's story. And she talked as if Wartortle's memory was intact. Another disconnect. His mood darkened.

I was right. Victini was lying to me.

"Kathleen, I lost almost all of my memories of the incident at the lab, as well as the events leading up to it. Could you please explain from the beginning what happened?"

Her look of sorrow transformed into one of regret. "So the brainstate transferal was affected by the electrical energy fluctuations. We all thought the process was completed without a hitch, other than the Squirtle mistake. I'm so sorry, Brayden." She reached out as if to give his head a rub, but he raised a hand.

"Please," he said. "From the beginning. Tell me what happened." Kathleen sighed and related a tale that was similar to Victini's version in some details, but completely different in others.

The research had indeed been about transferring brainstates between bodies. The project had indeed had a breakthrough overnight. However, Brayden had arrived on site early in the morning with Kathleen and many other lab personnel. They had soon been joined by government officials, and then military forces. The transferal machinery's logs indicated that Tristan had already used it many hours previously in order to perform an unauthorized transfer of his consciousness into the body of the Legendary Victini. This was an unprecedented threat to society. A human in the body of a Legendary, vanished to parts unknown? What was going to happen?

The government had wanted to dispatch elite military forces to take Tristan down, but no one had known where he went. They'd eventually managed to track a Victini heading for Preserve Alpha, but electricity had gone haywire shortly thereafter. Just as the forces were mobilizing, the change in Electric-type Pokémon stopped everything, preventing any military response. It had been chaos. Most technology wouldn't work correctly.

Meanwhile, the personnel in the lab had been convening in secret. They'd decided that the best option was to fight fire with fire. To get someone to the reserve quickly who could fit in, gather information, and beat Tristan at his own game. Tristan might have been enacting a catastrophic plan even as they spoke. Who knew what damage Tristan could do with Victini's abilities? Speed was of the essence.

They had gone to the transferal machinery, and had been surprised to find that Tristan had deliberately changed the passwords and hastily reprogrammed the software to slow them down. Finally, they'd calibrated and fixed up the machinery as best they could, given the malfunctioning electrical systems, and prepared to send someone's brainstate into a Mewtwo. They had chosen Mewtwo because of the artificial species' mobility and power. They had figured that the subject would have a good chance of finding and capturing Tristan as a Mewtwo.

Brayden had been the one to volunteer for the risky venture. Apparently, he'd seen it as his responsibility as the other co-lead. He hadn't wanted anyone else to take the risk on his behalf. Plus, he'd argued that he knew better than anyone else how Tristan thought, so he'd have a good chance of predicting him.

Brayden, Kathleen, and the others involved in the brainstate project had worked in tandem with a bio lab to prepare an empty Mewtwo shell to place on Preserve Alpha. But after initiating the process, they'd found that a critical malfunction had occurred. That had been around the time that the power grid had gone crazy. The hardware in one of the machines involved had defaulted thanks to the electrical fluctuations. The default selection was Squirtle, a model organism among Pokémon that was often used in all sorts of studies due to how well science understood the species. Instead of a Mewtwo, Brayden had been transferred into an empty Squirtle body. Everyone in the lab had been filled with bitter guilt at the error, but there had been no immediate way to take it back. To reverse the mistake.

After that last transfer, the machine had been put off-limits. It had been impossible to tell if using it would have more disastrous results, causing more harm than good. Ever since that dreadful day, the team had instead tried to save face by providing information to the military and government about Tristan in order to build a profile. They'd wanted to know why he had become a Victini, and what he was trying to accomplish.

Sending humanity to Preserve Alpha had remained very difficult thanks to the electricity problem. The changes that had eventually come to Ice-type and Fire-type Pokémon had only exacerbated the chaos in Castelia City. Despite the island's very large distance from the mainland, an expedition of Water-type Pokémon pulling primitive boats had been sent out a couple of weeks prior. Once Electric-type Pokémon had abruptly returned to normal just before the dawn, Kathleen and a team standing by from Unova Delta Operations had been sent by aircraft, arriving first. She'd been sent due to her being the person who knew the most about both Tristan and Brayden. Her accomplishments and accolades in science had made her a decent choice for determining the cause of the shift in the elements, as well.

"Now, here we are," Kathleen finished. She appeared rather perplexed by his grin. "Does that explain it all, Brayden?"

Wartortle nodded twice. "Yes, thank you very much. I think I can answer all of your questions, too, but please give me a minute to let this sink in."

Internally, he was squealing in delight. Victini's story had been deceitful in a specific way. It seemed to Wartortle that had been built from the ground up to paint a picture of Wartortle as a selfish, arrogant, careless, and downright evil man. While Victini had been careful to ascertain what Wartortle already knew before making up the story, the fictitious elements were cruel in how misleading they were. It was no wonder Wartortle had been hating himself. That he'd been on a quest for atonement. Those feelings arose from lies concocted by Victini, Wartortle realized, probably for the express purpose of undermining Wartortle' confidence. To prevent him from stopping Victini.

I can't wait to tell Quil! he thought with glee. I was never selfish or arrogant like Victini said. I never agreed to that ridiculous, horrifying bet. Quil's going to be so happy to hear it was all a big lie!

Kathleen's account of events explained the holes in Wartortle's understanding that remained after Victini's deception had been cast away. The reason he'd lost his memory was not because he'd chosen to remove it, but because of the Electric boost. The impact of changing currents and voltages on on the brainstate transferal machinery had resulted in a flawed transferal. His memories had been scattered, necessitating Ralia the Gardevoir's assistance to repair them. Even so, many of his memories had been lost forever in the transferal thanks to the boost. Wartortle guessed that the only pieces of his brainstate that had successfully made it intact to the Squirtle body were his old habits and muscle memory, his strongest personality traits, and scattered context-less memories. Only the most deep-seated pieces. Because Tristan had undergone his own transferal before causing the boost, his transferal had been perfect.

He'd become a Squirtle not because of a desire to disadvantage himself, but again, because of fluctuations in Electric Pokémon outputs at the power plants that powered Castelia City. Wartortle did not blame anyone; the lab staff had been unlucky with timing. Even if the boost had occurred a few minutes earlier than the moment of transfer, the emergency adjustments that would have needed to be performed would have been hastily done. The whole idea of the second transferal had been to immediately get him on Victini's trail. Time had been a precious commodity.

Wartortle had arrived on Preserve Alpha well after Victini not because he'd smugly given his fellow project co-lead a head start, but because Victini had lied about the timing of the events surrounding the breakthrough. Tristan had become Victini sometime in the night before the rest of the lab personnel had arrived on site. Brayden had become a Squirtle sometime around noon the next day. That matched up with his memories of the stormy skies outside of Root Forest. He'd judged the time to be around noon or early afternoon by the amount of illumination through the thick clouds.

Finally, every puzzle had been solved. Every question answered. There were no more loose ends. From beginning to end, it all made sense. Wartortle was content.

"Alright," he said to Kathleen. "Let me fill you in on what happened here on this big island."

And he told her. It felt strange, being the one to provide all the answers for once. To give someone the missing pieces of information that would repair their own worldview to wholeness once again. Making his Wartortle body form human words was difficult, but he improved with time. He told her the timing and circumstances of how he'd awoken in Root Forest. He told her a bit about traveling with Quil, not knowing his role in the Electric boost. He talked briefly about the humble origins of the Resistance, and of regaining some of his memories from Ralia. Then he told how he'd split from the Resistance to find Moltres. He shared the gist of the lies that Victini had told on the slopes of Iyrodenin. Lastly, he told her how Victini had outsmarted him, how he'd brought Articuno, Zapdos, Moltres, and Chando together to fight the Resistance on the plateau on which they both now stood. Kathleen's reaction to the various segments of his narrative ranged from disbelief to joy, from anger to anguish.

"So their hypothesis was correct," she said after absorbing the information. "The energy in Victini's body, indirectly infused into the three Legendary Birds, is what caused the 'boosts' as you call them. Fascinating. I truly cannot believe you accomplished all of this, Brayden. Despite all your troubles and setbacks, even from the moment of transferal, your decision to come here as a Pokémon to chase Tristan paid off in full. These aircraft, of course, wouldn't have been able to come here unless you'd separated that 'talisman' from Zapdos." She blinked. "Wait. That must mean the Legendary Birds are here. Tristan is here!"

Wartortle hesitated, then nodded. This whole disaster was a human problem. To humans, Victini would be returned, so that he could never bring about such a calamity ever again. He turned from Kathleen to the Pokémon of the Resistance. They were talking amongst themselves, being unable to follow the conversation between Wartortle and Kathleen.

He strode through the crowd to where their defeated foes rested, still senseless. Kathleen followed with obvious trepidation, but Wartortle's body language had made it clear to the Resistance that she was not an enemy. The man at Kathleen's side grabbed Victini and began carrying him back to the ships. The Legendary's body looked tiny and harmless in the arms of the six-foot-something man.

Slipping back into the comfortable language of Pokémon, Wartortle addressed the Resistance. "Thank you all for being patient. I'll explain in full later, but these are humans. They are a kind of creature that is not a Pokémon. Victini has...Victini will under be the care of humanity. I apologize, but I have to explain later."

He could not begin to relate why Victini needed to be taken to those ships until the Resistance understood what humanity was. And that would take a long time. Time during which Kathleen and the strike team would likely not be content to wait around. He gave the faces around him an apologetic look as they began talking about the new development, before hastening to catch up to Kathleen and the other humans near the three black ships. Kathleen wore a look of wonder, no doubt not only from finding Victini at last, but at seeing the three Legendary Birds. Gracelessly unconscious though they were.

He approached close to the ships in order to watch as Victini was secured in some kind of high-tech prison cube. It was secured by mechanical and electronic locking devices. The metal cube looked like it weighed about a ton, so Wartortle breathed easily knowing that the Legendary was not going to escape. His invisibility would not help him when he came to. A question formed in Wartortle's mind as his eyes wandered the impressive metal hulls of the ships.

"Kathleen, if the boosts caused such a crisis even on the mainland, why isn't there a vast military presence arriving here to swarm over the island and find Victini? Why only three ships, and why the fancy cloaking technology?"

Kathleen turned away from her discussion with the leader of the strike team to address his question. "You recall that Preserve Alpha is the purest and most protected Pokémon reserve in the world, right? Well, we were only allowed to bring a small team so that we wouldn't cause a big scene. That's also why we had to cloak on the approach. You and your...Resistance, should be the only Pokémon on the reserve who have seen humans or our technology. We've bent enough laws to even set foot on this island, and only because of Tristan's presence here."

"I see." He cracked a humorous smile. "Our lab excels at pushing the limits in all the wrong ways, doesn't it?"

She returned it, but with a wistful tinge. "Yes. We should really be going, then. Technically our team's mission was to covertly locate and secure Tristan with all possible haste. Those are our orders. I'll probably be murdered by all the officials during the debriefing for spending so much time here." She laughed. "Despite not really doing anything, I'd still consider this a 'Mission Success'!" She laughed again and Wartortle joined her. The members of the strike team began filing back into the aircraft.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking down at him.

Wartortle's smile slowly faded.

"What?"

Kathleen's brow wrinkled in thought as she studied his reaction. "Did you expect to stay here, Brayden? This is very, very strictly, a No Humans reserve. Are you ready to go, or did you want to say goodbye?"