DARWIN

Saturday, March 31, 2018

"The SS Cactus," Lyle Vega said on the loudspeaker. "It was once a naval hospital ship, and went down in an ugly storm in the summer of 1987. Afterwards, a recovery effort was considered exorbitantly expensive and impractical, due to the wreck being so close to the Petalburg Microisles, so it was left to be reclaimed by the sea. Now, the Cactus is the home to more than a dozen kinds of water-type Pokémon." He pointed. "If you take a look to the north, put on your sunglasses, and squint, you might be able to make it out. We should be there in about twenty minutes."

The small crowd moved to the railings to take a look, but all I could do was stifle a groan. Twenty more minutes of this? I was having enough trouble as it was not pooling to the steaming surface of the deck in a puddle.

And it was a pity too, because if I could actually concentrate, this all would've been fascinating, exciting even: it was my first time on a ferry and my first time being out at sea. The ship was cool, and the view up here on the deck was incredible: on all sides there was nothing but water, turning my surroundings into a wet blue alien world glittering in the burning glare of the sun. I should've been lined up at the railing with the rest of the crowd, soaking in the majesty of it...

...But Arceus, the heat. It was boiling out here today, and the pits of my brand-new Seawatchers T-shirt were already soaked through with body fluid, which was only slightly less uncomfortable than my hair, which had turned into a damp, itchy mop. I leaned back against the railing enclosing the prow, gazing down at the blue blackness churning beneath the ferry. Lyle had just started his presentation, and I was already feeling drained. I wished I could go into the galley: they had AC there, and food too. Unfortunately, I was stuck out in the sun "volunteering" until we reached the Microisles.

"...rwin? Darwin?"

I jerked — Lyle was calling me. "Sorry," I said, straightening and swerving around. "What did you say?" Heat flushed my face when I realized that the crowd had reassembled into the chairs on the deck, and they were all staring at me.

Lyle looked amused. "I was saying, can you pass out those pamphlets while I go into this next part?"

Pamphlets, right — that's why I was here. The "props guy", as Lyle put it, who handed out stuff while the other one gave the presentation. Thank Arceus they didn't ask me to speak! I hurried around the crowd, handing out handfuls of them — each one labeled "Fun! Food! Events! The SS Cactus has it all!" — to the rest of the passengers.

Including Grandpa Jon — he sat in the furthest row of metal seats, legs crossed, his cane propped against the arm of his chair. He was petting a wild Wingull — who'd come down and perched on the seat beside him — when I came up.

"Thank you," he said when I gave him a pamphlet. "Good work so far. It doesn't look like the sun is treating you well, though. Would you like my hat?"

"That's okay." Grandpa was bald; I, at least, had a gnarled nest of gray to protect my scalp from UV rays.

"Take some sunscreen, then." Grandpa handed me a bottle. "That should keep you from getting baked all the way through."

Gratefully, I took it, and lathered some onto my face. "How long do these usually last?"

"A good fifteen minutes. Don't worry, you'll be done soon."

I stifled another groan, and took up my position back behind Lyle again. He was talking about the layout of the Abandoned Ship now, but I quickly tuned him out, focusing my energies on not sweating out all my body fluids and thinking about other stuff to distract me from the heat. Like school. Depressingly, that was more interesting to me right now.

The week passed fairly quickly, and in a fog. Not a bad kind of fog, though — now that I had an straightforward solution to getting rid of Magdalene the Sharpedo, it had been much easier to breathe and get through my classes, and not stress so much about whether or not my days in those halls were numbered.

At the same time, the goings-on in school still seemed insignificant compared to the Seawatchers, to the extent that I couldn't remember what I'd actually done in the past five days. I vaguely recalled finishing up those damn essays and submitting them to a glowering Sergeant Marshall. There'd been a quiz in chemistry on...electron configurations. No, formal charge. No, Lewis structures! I'd gone to the library several times. Lunch I'd eaten outside all week. And Training Hall... Yeah, going through stuff with Don. Was he getting better? Couldn't remember. Thomas and Brick had been there too, but Thomas had focused less on training and more on complaining. About? Generally, the Seawatcher sh*t.

"You know I actually called the sonofabitch last night?" I remembered him saying.

"Berechiah? Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

So he'd tried to tell someone again. "Did he answer?"

"Yeah, the second ring."

"What did you—"

"I hung up. Hadn't meant to call him in the first f*cking place." He'd groaned, dropped into a squat. "Snowman, I can't take much more of this."

I'd spared him a look, over from where I was sniffing Don's tail. Not for no reason: at my request, he had excreted paint, and the smell was about as sour as actual paint. It had given me a sudden idea of how to tackle Jamie at Midterm. If you're still there!

"Sounds like you need a break," I'd told him.

"Yeah..."

"Maybe a trip or something. Like to the Abandoned—"

"Shut the hell up." That had launched him to his feet and planted a harsh scowl on his face. "F*ck that ship, and your grandpa. They can threaten me with that guy all they want, but I ain't dancin' around for them like a puppet." I'd said nothing, waiting for him to finish, and he'd taken several steps forward, glaring down at me with an incredulous kind of dismay. "What's the matter with you, Darwin? I thought we were pissed. As in both of us. Why are you acting like this is all suddenly fine?"

I'd sighed, scrubbing a hand down my face. "It's not," I grunted. "But what can we do? It's not like we—"

"How about not swallow the crap they heap on our plates?" At that, he'd stormed off without another word, leaving Brick behind again. I'd been unable to get ahold of him for the rest of the week.

Including today: on the drive to the Petalburg City Port Authority, Grandpa Jon had asked me to text Thomas once more and extend the offer to join us at the wreck. I'd complied, only to get a single response that contained a picture link. I'd followed the link to a browser page and found that it was a middle-finger emoji.

I sighed, hooking the front of my T-shirt and pulling it from my neck, hoping that would cool me down. Thomas was more heated than I was at the moment, and I wondered how the Seawatchers were going to handle this...him if he continued to be an asshole and duck the volunteer requirement. Probably they'd never had to deal with someone who'd been wrangled into their society against their will. And certainly not someone who could be as temperamental as Thomas.

Lyle called my name, and I distributed the second hand-out — a comprehensive list of water-types native to the Abandoned Ship — and then the presentation was over. Out in the distance, the Petalburg Microisles swelled in size, appearing as brown-green strips of land floating atop the water. The crowd broke up, and Lyle and I joined Grandpa Jon.

"Good work, Darwin," Lyle said, patting my shoulder. "Bring yourself a sun hat next time, though—there was a moment where I thought you were going to pass out."

"Sorry," I muttered.

"No problem. So what do you think? You ready to give the prez next time?"

The heat in my face drained away sharply. "I'm...not really good with public speaking."

"He knows that," Grandpa Jon said with an admonishing look at Lyle. "He's joking. You'll be able to choose what activities you do at the orientation."

"Oh yeah!" Lyle said excitedly. "I can't wait for you to come down and meet the rest of the volunteers. You'll love it, Darwin — there aren't many of us, so we're like a big family."

"When is it?" I asked nervously.

Lyle exchanged a look with Grandpa Jon and shrugged. "I don't think a date's been chosen yet," he said. "I think Ms. Gray's working on it right now. But don't look so nervous! It's gonna be a lot of fun, especially with some younger blood around!" He slapped my shoulder playfully, and I tried to smile.

Then, the ferry's speaker system came to life: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are around five minutes from our docking point in the Greater Microisle, so we please ask that you report to Landing Three for faster unloading."

"There it is," Lyle said with a grin. He turned to me. "Well, Darwin? You ready to find a new friend?"

***

Lyle called the Petalburg Microisles Hoenn's "sand spits", and he was kind of right: the cluster of islands was so tiny that you could walk from one end of the biggest — the Greater Microisle — to the other in under thirty minutes. According to Lyle, the other six were little more than sandy stepping stones, and one or two were privately owned and boasted expensive beach houses.

The SS Cactus was pretty monstrous in comparison — I could see it clearly on the horizon as we disembarked with the rest of the tourists, three decks and a blue-and-black hull sitting heavily in the ocean, half-submerged. There was a huge hole on the starboard side, and in the middle it sported a tilted chimney that looked seconds away from crashing to the rusted deck. I tried to gauge its full length, but couldn't — from the docks, my view was cut off by a glut of woodland that rose in the middle of the island, but it had to be five hundred feet at least.

"Darwin, did you want to pick up some water before we go?" Mae Baldwin asked. She and another Seawatcher, Pedro Lowe, had joined us on this trip, and had given the same presentation as Lyle in two other gathering areas of the ferry. We'd joined up in the Microisle Welcome Center after, and now were back outside, facing a hot climb up a sun-burnt hill; I must have had a desperate look on my face.

"We'd better," Lyle said, shielding his eyes from the glare. "I'm sure you two wanna quench your thirst before you head off for the tours."

Tours, gross. I didn't envy Mae and Pedro their volunteer work for the day — it was one thing to stand on the deck of a boat and give a short speech. But having to actually move around in the heat and talk to people? For certain that was not a box I was checking on the volunteer activity list when the time came.

We hiked up the hill, following the rest of the tourists on a well-worn dirt track and through a screen of palm trees. On the other side, we found ourselves on a sandy fairgrounds of sorts, lined with shops on one side, a boardwalk, piers, and crystal-blue water on the other. Visitors mingled in the space in between, taking pictures, toting swim gear, and waiting in lines spanning out and around the tiny shops.

Among the attractions was the SANDFORD SURF SHOP: CUSTOM-PRINT BOARDS AND SWIMWEAR; Salty and Sweet: Ice Cream, Funnel Cakes, Popsicles, and More!; and MICROISLE TOURS (12 PM Wartortle Spotting; 1:30 PM Aipom Feeding; 3:45 PM Coral Reef Snorkeling Adventure!).

One tiny store close to a giant billboard cut the crap and just named itself "Shop", and here Grandpa Jon bought Lyle a water bottle, me two. Mae got some lemonade, and Pedro bought a packet of cookies, which he began consuming like it was perfectly normal to eat a hyper-sweet snack in ninety-degree heat. I don't know what the f*ck was wrong with the guy.

"Will you guys be done by three?" Mae asked. "That's when our last tour ends."

"That'll all depend on Darwin," Lyle said. "But I'll be optimistic and say yes. Meet you guys back at the Welcome Center?"

We parted ways with Mae and Pedro, both of which gave me encouraging waves, and after I splashed cold water on my face and rehydrated, we started off towards the dive shop, which was on the other side of the island. We followed another dirt trail that took us straight into the woods. No roads in this exotic place, but that was fine — it was blessedly cool beneath the trees, and I could finally focus on and enjoy my surroundings.

The jungle was pretty energetic too: Aipoms wriggled up and down the trees, peeking down at us curiously from high branches, and after a few minutes we came upon a tour group offering them bananas and mangos. There were also a lot of Chatots about, singing to each other and flashing their colorful wings at us. A few Swablus perched in the branches too, and I lamented the fact that I didn't have more than one Pokéball. Flying-types were a senior year project, and I dreamed of adding an Altaria to my team.

Get the water-type first, Blakesley, so that you're actually here at senior year.

Lyle was right — twenty-five minutes later, we emerged from the green, back into the heat once again. This side of the Greater Microisle was mostly beach, dotted by sunbathers, umbrellas, two ice cream stands, and surfers coming in and out of the waves. In the distance, the SS Cactus sat in the water like a whole other island, and between here and there was a long pier and a vibrantly-colored dock house. DIVE SHOP was painted across the roof in giant blue letters.

Inside was an old man Grandpa Jon fondly referred to as "Little Jimmy". Grandpa Jon passed Jimmy his credit card, and in exchange Jimmy passed me an oxygen tank, rebreather, goggles, flippers, a pressure gauge, and a swim jacket. He also handed me a SS Cactus pamphlet. "Take a look at the back page," he told me. "The diving sites are listed there. What kinda Pokémon are you after, son?"

I thought about the Water Safari Zone, and the original chase that had led me to disaster: "A Corphish."

"Corphish..." Little Jimmy considered. "Might wanna try inside then, one of the submerged rooms. I've sometimes seen them crawling around in there. If not, the reef on the port side."

There was a changing booth outside, and Lyle and Grandpa Jon waited while I suited up in the swim trunks I'd brought along for the trip. They were...a little tight, probably because I hadn't been to a public pool in something like three years, and I hadn't bothered to buy another pair. The swim jacket fit pretty nicely though. I stuffed the rest of the gear in my pack, leaving it for when we got to the ship, and slipped my tennis shoes back on.

I woke up a little on the long walk down the boardwalk: it was almost like walking the plank, a super-long plank that for some reason didn't have any goddamn railings on either side and made me nervous when I had to pass people coming from the other way. It cut straight up to the side of the ship, which went from monstrous to titanic in size. Where the pier ended, there was a ragged hole in the hull, punched right through the a in SS Cactus. An attendant in in a striped blue tank top and a blue bandanna stood here, an official-looking lanyard hanging from around her neck. She held up her hand as we approached.

"Wait please," she said. There was a rope ladder running out of the hole in the hull, and several people were climbing down slowly, an elderly couple and their granddaughter. When they had their sandals firmly on the pier, the attendant said, "All right, go ahead. Please enjoy your visit."

I blinked: We have to climb inside? I peered along the length of the boat, but saw no other way in — this place really was a wreck.

Seeing that I was uncertain, Lyle went first, climbing the rope with a swiftness that told me this wasn't his first or even his tenth time climbing into this place. He peered down at me when he reached the top. "Come on, Darwin, it's safe, trust me."

A little nervously, I went, wedging the soles of my shoes firmly in the lanky rungs of the ladder and slowly ascending, stopping every now and then to make sure it would take my weight. A few moments later, I was inside, and Grandpa came right up behind me. After dusting myself off, Lyle spun me around and gestured.

"Well?" he said. "Take a look. What do you think?"

My head started hurting: we stood in the lower deck of the Cactus, some kind of giant lobby. Or barracks? I couldn't tell: the remnants of old metal dividers cut the chamber into regularly-spaced segments, and I wondered if this was where they'd put the bulk of the beds when the Cactus had been a hospital ship. Whatever the case, everything — floor, ceiling, the dividers, the faded signs on the walls, the patches of mold growing in corners — was at an slant, a forward slant such that I had to lean back to keep from losing my balance.

Only, it wasn't enough of an angle to put me in danger of falling — something about the room's layout and tilt made everything look more steeper than it actually was, which screwed with my eyeballs and made me feel a little ill. And I wasn't the only one: the room was filled with tourists, and every one of them was hanging onto something, whether it be the dividers, each other, or protrusions from the walls. There were also several signs hanging about saying, PLEASE HANG ON TO THE RAILS FOR YOUR OWN PROTECTION. THE WORLDWATERS FOUNDATION IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY INJURIES OR ACCIDENTS. ROAM FREELY AT YOUR OWN RISK.

"Are you sure this is...okay?" I asked, blinking to stave off a headache.

Lyle nodded. "It just takes a moment to find your sea legs in this place." He pointed to my pamphlet, which I crushed in one hand; the other was clutching the rim of a nearby window. "If you want to go to more level ground, though, I think one of the submerged rooms is a little flatter. And that's where Jimmy said you might find Corphish."

With one hand, I worked the pamphlet open, and found that it unfolded into a giant map of the place. I scanned it a moment, and then handed it to Lyle. "It says there are four underwater rooms," I said.

"The surgery on B Deck is closest," Lyle observed. "And I think I've been there before." He grinned, folded the pamphlet. "Follow me. And try not to fall."

It was easier said than done — navigating the tilted ship was almost like walking over crushed glass with bare feet, only not as painful. Again, the slope was not so acute that I was in danger of hurting myself if I fell, but try telling my body that — I kept feeling that the slightest misstep and I would go careening into the far wall.

We reached the other side of the room, and it was easier to get through the hallway beyond, but then we reached a f*cking stairwell, and I had to take them one painful step at a time, for fear of breaking my neck. A group of tourists going up seemed to be having just as much trouble.

At the next landing ("B Deck", said the sign), the tilt really was severe: this level was one long hall of quarantine rooms and surgeries, and the whole thing was cocked heavily to the side, such that one half of the corridor was swamped with water, while the well-worn carpet on the other was high and dry. There were fewer tourists down here, but more Pokémon: Grandpa Jon tapped my shoulder and pointed out the curious face of a Luvdisc peering out of one of the rooms before vanishing inside, and Goldeens swam up and down the hall-turned-trough, disappearing under broken doors or through the holes punched through the far wall by spears of rebar.

There were more inside the rooms we passed: several were underwater, and Feebas and Magikarp circled through them like they were miniature ponds. In others, Wingulls came in through broken windows or holes in the ceiling, perching on tables and cabinets and preening.

The surgery Lyle had spoken of earlier was near the end of the hall. The door was open, nothing but rusting hinges left behind, and the inside was mostly dark, save for two yellow electrical lights that must've been installed by the WorldWaters Foundation after the wreck had gone to the Pokémon. The space, indeed, had once been an operating room, and some of the furniture was still there: a heavy light apparatus hung down from the ceiling like an arm, shelves were nailed to the walls, and some metal tables and trays were still standing about.

But the bulk of it had been swallowed up by a deep pool of black water. And I did mean deep: Grandpa Jon turned on my flashlight and peered into the water, but all any of us could see was blackness. I frowned.

"Corphish live here?" I asked.

"Apparently." Lyle was still studying the pamphlet. "According to this, this part of the ship makes direct contact with the seafloor: in four feet, there's the hole that's letting all of this water in. Beyond that, sand, and darkness for about twelve feet, and then you reach the outside again, and the portside reef. There have been confirmed sightings of Corphish between here and there, looking for shells, digging and foraging."

If you say so. To me this looked like nothing short of a dark, watery grave, or the hideout of some predatory Pokémon that liked striking from the shadows.

"Perhaps we should try a spot that's a bit sunnier," Grandpa suggested.

Suddenly, something appeared out of the water, popping up through the surface like a Diglett: the head of a Corphish, one that clearly hadn't expected to see humans when he'd surfaced. For a moment, he stared at us, and we stared at him. Then he dove in a hurry.

"There you go," Lyle said. He laughed. "Darwin with the poor reflexes, though."

I flushed — he was right, if I'd thrown the Great Ball just then, we probably would've been going home already. I shrugged off my pack, then paused, caught in indecision again.

"It's fine if you aren't comfortable, son," Grandpa Jon said. "We can go to the reef dive site, if you prefer."

I considered. He was right, I was a little uncomfortable with diving in the dark all alone, with no classmates beside me or patrol Pokémon watching over me. But the Seawatchers had gone out of their way to set up this venture for me, and I didn't want to waste their time. "Did you say the reef was in twelve feet?"

"That's what it says," Lyle said.

I took a breath. "Okay, then I'll swim towards that. If I don't see a Corphish on the way, I'll go outside, try to find one there."

"Are you sure?" Grandpa Jon didn't look convinced, and I tried to make my smile reassuring.

"I think I can do it." I began fishing the gear out of my pack. "If I run into trouble, I'll come right back."

I started putting everything on before I could chicken out, and Lyle and Grandpa Jon helped me, situating my oxygen tank into place, and making sure my goggles were on tight enough. Then I was ready, and they watched silently as I faced the dark blue hole consuming the middle of the operating room. I knelt and cast out a hand — cold. Good. I put a leg in, then two, and kind of...slid in, my heels riding down the room's tilt.

I turned on my flashlight; it was super dark. I was looking at the other side of the room, the one claimed by the water: two walls met in what used to be a corner but was now a crumbling hole. Spreading my arms, I stroked forward and stopped at the ruined plaster. Through it, I could see a maze of jagged, bent, and twisted metal, and beyond that, sand, as promised...and that Corphish, probably the same one who'd surprised us a moment earlier. It disappeared as I turned my light on it, and I reached into my belt, unstrapping the Great Ball that had gotten us evicted from the rental house. Here we go. You'd better be worth all the trouble you've caused.

I started forward, using the various spikes and twisted ends of wreckage as handholds to push myself along. A bed of sand ran below me, and I also saw a lot of rock and wave-worn stone: the storm that Lyle had talked about must've driven the Cactus into rocky shallows, which had effectively disemboweled the ship.

The Corphish kept flitting in and out of my vision, fleeing the ranging glare of my flashlight. I tried to follow it, rationalizing that it would probably run towards the reef for better cover, but I made a turn in the dark and was abruptly cut off: ahead was a mass of tangled rebar, blocking the way more effectively than an Ariados's web. I searched around for the Corphish and took a frustrated breath on my tank—he'd disappeared, where, I had no idea. I cast the light around. Didn't Lyle say just twelve feet? I felt that I'd crawled through the guts of the wreck far longer than that. Had I gotten lost?

I kept searching. No. Probably because it's so dark, I can't—

Suddenly, my light landed on a face in the blackness, a white, monstrous face with blue eyes, lined with white spikes.

An underwater scream left my lips: lots of bubbles, little sound. I went back, nearly impaling myself on a pike of metal, and scrambled madly back through a gap in the mess. I banged my knee on something, hit my elbow on something else, and for a freakish moment I misinterpreted the pain and thought that I'd gotten bitten. I screamed again, blinding myself with my own bubbles, and a squick of water got past my lips. Panic swelled inside my head and chest, on the verge of popping my heart.

Then light appeared, and not from my torch: the hole in the wall, leading back to the submerged surgery. I fought my way through and surfaced with a strangled cry. Grandpa Jon and Lyle were still there — they came forward and dragged me onto higher, drier ground.

"Great Arceus!" Grandpa Jon cried. "What happened? Are you hurt? Speak to me, son!"

He pulled the mask from my mouth, and I wheezed, water dripping from my lips. "Down there, I..." I stopped, the air in my lungs rattling desperately like a stone in a tin can. "Monster," I managed after a moment. "I think I... S-saw a monster..."

Grandpa Jon and Lyle exchanged a bewildered look. Then, splashing behind me, and something suddenly seized my ankle: "Who the hell are you calling a monster?"

Another scream came up, but I still had so little breath that I actually gagged on it. In the grip of terror, I yanked myself free and twisted to my back. I didn't know exactly what I expected to see... But certainly it hadn't been an extremely pissed off Nero.

What the hell? The panic drained out of me all at once, leaving me hugely baffled. I blinked several times, but he did not disappear like a figment of my imagination. In fact, his scowl only seemed to grow more pointed as I stared blankly down at him.

The faces of my companions mirrored my disbelief. "What are you doing here, Nero?" Lyle asked. "I thought you went back to Delphirius."

The merman shrugged. "I did." I stiffened as a lance of pain went between my ears; behind me, the window in the wall splintered as though hit by a gunshot. Nero frowned at the cracked glass, and when he next spoke, it was in a decidedly lower register: "I wanted to see how things were going."

Fine, until you showed up! I got to my feet, and Grandpa Jon said, "I think we've got things under control here, son."

Nero ignored him, pinned me under a stare that was almost a glare. "Did you catch your Pokémon yet?" he asked.

I finally got my breathing under control. "No. I was trying to get outside..." Feeling f*cking weird for actually talking to Nero, I turned to Lyle and Grandpa. "I ran into some blockage and was trying to find my way around, and then..." I trailed off, heat sweeping across my face as I gestured to Nero, who didn't look nearly so monstrous in the half-light. Had I seriously thought that his hair looked like spikes?

"Blocked?" Grandpa Jon shook of his head. "Seems they need to update that map."

"One of the rooms on the other side of this level should have easier access to the outside," Lyles said after consulting the pamphlet again. "Do you want to try that, Darwin?"

"It's fine," Nero growled before I could respond. "If you're trying to get him to the reef, I can take him there, back through the same way I came in."

Huh?

"Ah, I see." Lyle smiled when he said this, but he didn't look too pleased. Neither was I—in fact, I was actually flabbergasted. What's happening? Hadn't he made my eyes bleed the last time we'd been in close proximity? And tried to drown me the time before that? Now, quite randomly, he was here under the auspices of charity, when he'd never previously shown an interest in giving me the time of day—

"What?" Nero snapped.

I stiffened — he'd caught me staring again. "Nothing, I—"

"Then hurry up. You're wasting my time." He disappeared, diving into the shadowy water. We all stared at the ripples he left behind for a moment. Then I put my mask back on.

Grandpa Jon grabbed my shoulder. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Perhaps we'd better just head back up and meet him at the reef."

I paused, considering it as I remembered Nero's fierce glower and the feeling of his voice being nailed between my ears. And there was all that dark water between here and the reef. "But...He wouldn't...hurt me...would he?" I sounded stupid and unconvinced. "Not now. Right?"

Grandpa Jon was silent; Lyle snorted and said, "I think that if he wants his Sharpedo back anytime soon, he'll keep his hands to himself, Darwin."

Exactly. That's why he'd shown up, right? To see where I was in the process of getting another water-type? That made me feel a little better about spelunking in the dark with the guy. Still, I hesitated as I looked back at the dark water. Forget spelunking: doing anything with this guy, this merman...was surreal in the extreme.

A sudden thought occurred to me: what if that was intentional? We were getting to the end of this mess, after all: maybe the knowledge that Magdalene the Sharpedo was all but his once again had induced a change in heart? After all, I was cooperating, despite the fact that this merman had upended my life and had tried to take it on multiple occasions. Maybe he wanted to mend fences...?

My mouth twisted. Yeah, right — let's not kid ourselves here, Blakesley.

"Darwin?" Grandpa Jon said.

I shook my head and knelt. "It's fine, Grandpa. Let's just get this over with."

***

NERO

Hovering over the twisted jam that Darwin had encountered was a spiky ceiling of broken hull that looked a little like serrated canines. There was a gap in the middle of the mess, and I pointed it out to the boy, making sure that he spotted it with his flashlight before stroking up and through the opening, carefully — I'd tagged the base of my tail on the way in, and it had reopened a few of my scabbing Carvanha bites.

On the other side, I watched as he carefully maneuvered his way through, and then I continued on, pawing through the dark, which steadily grew less dense as we worked our way back to the outside. Eventually, the sandy floor became illuminated by a blue-white light, and we were back to the cavernous hole I'd come in through after finding my way to the wreck this morning, by way of Kuma's directions.

It was pretty lucky that some of the rooms in this Pokémon preserve were underwater — I hadn't really thought about how I would get inside the place and find Darwin and Briney until I'd reached the atoll, and if I'd tried to go in some other way, it might have involved interacting with humans, maybe using Pitch, stunning someone, and having a painful repeat of last weekend. I could imagine the fury on Simeon's face when he found out, him and Ms. Gray both; I wondered what kind of punishment they would've lined up for me if the day had gone that way.

Or tried to line up for me, insofar as they could. Kicked off the reservation? Probably — they had enough to worry about at the Sea House without a troublemaker in their midst. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway, would it? Because we weren't going to be staying at the Sea House or Delphirius for much longer...

Jude's face flashed in my mind's eye, hurt and upset, and I shook my head. A problem for another time.

I swam to the edge of the hole and peered out, checking for humans. There were some, where the reef was thickest: the seafloor wrinkled into dunes a quarter of a mile east, and the reef carpeted the sand and rocks in a colorful splendor there, teeming with water-type Pokémon. Some of the humans among them were feeding the wildlife, while others were prospecting for a catch. They were too far away to be able to make me out clearly, but I considered spinning up a Blend anyway.

I pushed out into the water and waited for Darwin. He emerged a moment later, arms pinwheeling so idiotically that I wondered if he was actually trying to juggle. A line of Luvdisc trying to pass by parted around him, but not fast enough — one bumped right into his face, giving him an accidental kiss and knocking his goggles loose; he fumbled as salt water flooded his eyes, and a distressed cloud of bubbles left his mouth. My teeth ground in exasperation. Kicking over, I grabbed one of his flailing hands before shooting up, towing him to the surface.

"Sh*t!" he spat once we were above water; he scrubbed furiously at his eyes, but that only seemed to make it worse, and within moments they were red. Is he going to be able to continue like that? I didn't care — I shoved his goggles into his hands.

"Thanks," he groaned. One more scrub, and he stuck them back on. He was blinking rapidly.

"Can you see?" I asked bluntly.

He screwed up his face. "Yeah, I'm okay." It was an obvious lie, but he didn't say anything more about it, and neither did I — I wasn't interested in helping him with itchy eyes.

"What Pokémon are you trying to catch?" I said.

The question surprised him: "What?" When I didn't repeat myself, he said, "Corphish...?"

I peered down into the water, past his swaying legs. "There are rocks nearby — we'll check there."

"We?" His brow was furrowed heavily, and his sudden resemblance to Briney was uncanny. He said nothing else, but I could hear the question all the same. And while I didn't want to waste any more time...

Yes, I also wanted this fight. My lip curled.

"Yes, we. Unless you don't need me to help you catch your Pokémon?" I sneered. "You had no trouble with Mag, after all."

He silently tread water a moment, looking this way and that, clearly wanting a way out of this conversation. But something on my face kept him pinned in place. Taking a breath, he said, "I'm sorry about—"

Wrong answer. "If I want a half-baked apology, I'll ask for it. And we both know you don't mean it."

His face tightened, but his words were mild: "Okay. I just... I want to get her back to you as soon as possible, too." He grimaced. "She doesn't like me very much."

"And why the hell would she? You put her in that damn Pokéball. You think she wanted that?"

He winced and rubbed his temples—my Pitch was going up. "I was trying to help her. She was caught in a net—"

I remembered. "Only because you put her there."

"No I didn't." He looked frustrated. "She was caught when I found her. I almost ran, but the net was digging into her skin, and she was losing a lot of blood. I wanted to take her to the Pokémon Center and get her healed."

"What a saint. Except then you decided to make her your battle slave. Right?"

Darwin's lips pressed into a guilty line. "Yeah... But I didn't have a choice. I didn't have another Pokémon to replace her, and if I'd let her go, I would've lost my place at school."

"Poor boy," I said, moving in a seething circle around him. "I had it all wrong: you're the victim here, not a selfish idiot trying to force his will on another Pokémon. Propriety dictates I forgive you for your mistake... But you're going to have to forgive me, because I still want to drag to the seabed without your mask and see how well you breathe water."

He watched me worriedly, his tanned face somehow pale in the warm light. "I'm sorry," he said again. His voice broke in the middle.

I reached out and seized him by the front of his swim jacket, and he jumped as I dragged him close. "Shut the hell up," I hissed. "And choke on your damn apology, because you still don't mean it. All you care about is me not breaking your neck and finding another water-type to replace Mag, so stop pretending otherwise. It makes me sick."

Shakily, his hand came up, grasping mine. "That hurts," he said weakly.

"Good." I tightened my fingers into his flesh, and the color leached out of his cheeks. "Considering what you've put me and Mag through, this is long overdue."

His face hardened, but abruptly he dropped his hand, and I felt a disgust so strong that I actually shoved him away — clearly, this was a boy who followed the path of least resistance out of an argument, even if that meant subjecting himself to pain. It was pathetic, and unsatisfying; I turned away, suddenly done with this conversation.

"Move," I said. "Before I drown you for real this time."

I dove, and he followed me at a distance, slowly churning his way beneath the water. Trying to swallow the taste of acid in my mouth, I crept along the seabed, looking for Darwin's new Pokémon. There were rocks about a dozen yards away from the hull of the ship, and there I spotted a Corphish digging in the silt, either trying to unearth prey or carving out a new, temporary shelter. I pulled up, digging my tail into the sand to anchor myself, and then waved widely and pointed.

It took a little while for Darwin to get over to the rocks with his poor swimming form. In the meantime, I circled around the Corphish, walling him off to the north in case he decided to run. There was some thick seaweed here, but I didn't bother hiding in the waving stalks — the humans deeper in the reef were beginning to edge this way, so I whipped up a Blend, effectively vanishing from sight.

Darwin finally made his way over, and when he was close enough, he unstrapped a minimized Pokéball from his belt, this one blue with red stripes. But the current carried him a little too far forward, and before he could act, his shadow fell across the Corphish, who scuttled away, right to me. I swept my tail, and he froze — quickly, he came about, his tiny legs pushing him in the other direction, only to halt again when he realized he was facing Darwin. The boy cracked open the Pokéball, releasing a burst of red light, but the Corphish spurred into action, ducking beneath it, and peddling madly towards the ship. My scorn was strong.

Try aiming, I wanted to say, but before I could, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye; swiveling, I spotted a lithe shape disappearing into the clump of seaweed bedded on a low slope behind me. I stiffened, coiling tight like a rubber band: Is that...? Leaving Darwin to the Corphish, I moved into the weeds, scanning the shadows swarming their stalks. There... A Huntail? It disappeared a moment later, and my face fell into a scowl. No. Those red lines—

I reached out and seized seemingly nothing, only my fingers closed around rugged flesh. "Drop it, Jude," I hissed.

Since the Tentacruel, his Blends had been patchy and scattered at best: that's why I always hid him in caves and crannies when me or Mag had to leave his side in the past. Now, the poor camouflage scattered like sunlit mist, leaving behind a Jude that looked torn between anger and sheer embarrassment. My fingers tightened on his tail, and I reeled him in until I could grab him under the arm.

"Jude." That's all I said — that's all I had to say. He looked away from me, the meager muscles in his arm tightening, like he intended to pull away, and I tightened my grip on him, full of fury. This wreck was a good fifteen nautical miles from Delphirius. There was no explanation good enough for why the hell he was out here by himself when I'd told him this morning—in no uncertain terms—that he wasn't to leave the Manor unless he was with Kuma. And I didn't see the old maid out here anywhere.

Or did I? I felt my lateral lines vibrate, and whipped around, searching for movement. A ways away, I saw a slight distortion in the water. And then another. And another. And—

"Come out," I commanded.

They did, one by one: five village kids, including a wide-eyed Dinah and the wild-haired Neko. And Cora too: she emerged from the kelp looking surprised to see me, while the other kids had looks of outright horror in their eyes. There must've been thunder on my face.

"Well met," Cora commented, raising a brow. She was in dark red today, and her hair was tamed into a series of neat braids. She was also sporting earrings, heavy silver ones that sparkled in the sunlight. "What brings ye hereabouts, Nero?"

Not the same thing as her, that was for sure. "Are you playing?" I said incredulously. My eyes went from her to Jude and back again, and I felt myself growing more and more heated. "Here? With humans around?"

"Just tag," Neko said, brow crinkling in confusion. "Do it all the time." I turned my glare on him, and he hurriedly glanced at Cora. "Aye?"

"Aye," Dinah said. "If the humans be near, we Blend in. Harmless."

"Cora," I said with quiet fury. "Why is he with you?" My fingers tightened a little more, and Jude squirmed, trying to pry them loose.

"Invi..ted me—" he started.

"I don't give a damn who invited you!" I roared. "I told you to stay at the Manor with Kuma, not go swimming Arceus-knows-where and play hide-and-seek in the kelp."

"Nero, please, I—" A shadow stretched across the sand, and she broke off with a gasp and kicked back into the seaweed; almost reflexively, the rest of the kids followed suit, vanishing into the green. I looked up and saw that Darwin had appeared at the top of the slope. He peered down at us with eyes so huge that I could actually see their color through the goggles.

"Seawatcher," I said impatiently.

"Oh. Ah, yes." Slowly, Cora emerged; she must've seen the shirt. "A fresh face? Don't think I've yet laid eyes on him."

Who gives a— "Cora."

She studied my vicious grip on Jude. "Why don't ye let him go, first?" she said gently.

"I did that this morning, and now look where we are." I glared at her. "Why. Is. He. Here? Did you do this? I told him to stay at the Manor."

Her brow furrowed. "Ye did not tell me."

"I told him. Yet he's out here anyway, an easy snack for any Pokémon willing to put in a breath of effort. Care to explain why, Cora?"

She became uncomfortable; Jude started squirming again, but I only looked at him when he knocked his fist into my shoulder.

"Invited," he snapped. "Wanted to...go..."

"So this is your fault. Even though I told you to stay in Delphirius, you decided to go out and try to get yourself killed anyway. Is that it?"

Cora was incredulous. "He's safe with us, Nero."

I ignored her and pushed up from the seafloor. "You're going back to Delphirius. Let's go."

"No. Let me go." There it was again, that sudden, furious clarity of speech — He glowered back, his one blue eye blazing in the bald sunlight, and both hands came around mine, trying to pull himself free of my grasp.

"What was that?" I said.

My voice was dangerous — behind us, Cora and the merkids looked on with a dreadful fascination, like they were watching the fuse run down on a bomb. Jude faltered for a moment, and then he dug his nails into my flesh.

"I said...let me go," he rasped. "I'm done hiding...in my room—"

"Nobody asked you to hide, you idiot. But I did tell you to stay in the village, and if you don't have enough sense to stay where you're safest, then what the hell business do you think you have running around in the middle of nowhere?"

"Shut up. I'm done taking...orders from you." Nails, digging in tighter. "LET ME...GO. Or—

"Or?" I raised an eyebrow, wondering at the threat I saw in his eye.

I found out a moment later: his long tail twisted, and the barb at the end struck the trunk of my fluke.

Wha— The pain was a fast, shocking bolt – my grip on him slackened, and he wrangled himself free and twisted crookedly away. I stared after him, stunned. "Jude!" I half-shouted, half-croaked.

"Ye all right?" Cora asked mildly. She had appeared at my side, and before I could respond, she faded behind a confusing wash of bleary color, some of it gray, most of it black. I let out a vile curse — that sting had been packed with something to make me sleep, and outrage barely kept me from succumbing to it. It wasn't like this hadn't happened before, but this was one of the few times there had been intent behind the strike.

My jaw ground. "I'll boil him!"

I shot up, speeding up the slope. I was only marginally aware of a slack-faced Darwin staring after me — all thought of helping him catch his damn Corphish were gone, replaced by ones of subjecting Jude to the business end of a whip. Part of me was more stunned than furious, though — Jude had dug in his heels, or fins, before, but not with such angry determination. Not for a while, at least.

I'm done hiding. I tried to bury the guilt that induced in me. I didn't want Jude to hide either. But I also didn't want Titus to find him. Or me.

Ahead, I saw Jude's tail disappear around the bend of the ship. "Jude!" I bellowed, rounding the hull. I stopped quickly: here the sea darkened under a great shadow, and I bristled, swinging my tail and trying to stop. I stared at what lay before me, trying to make sense of it. A range of gooseflesh rippled down my spine before the horrible realization hit me.

Are those...Tentacruels?

--