Chapter 26: To Boldly Go in Circles

Noctum kept his eyes squeezed shut. The charjabus’ rattling was enough for him. He was nauseous all over again. He didn’t need another wall of eyes staring at him from the rift or Eternatus’ innards or whatever he was supposed to call this.

He thought about Yuna. Noctum promised he’d be there for her after the trial. A promise fate chose to break. Baraz picked up the slack, fortunately, but he saw how shaken she was in the video. And there was nothing he could do, because some crazy psychic cat was dragging him off to God knows where.

The rumbling came to a stop. Noctum opened an eye. Rainbow light rippled in the distance out Valkyrie’s window. Massive rocks— no, asteroids floated all around them. Pulsating with distorted energy. Noctum’s stomach gurgled. Was the crystal reacting to the asteroids?

“Space.” Gene thrust his arms apart. His tone was quiet, yet mischievous. “The final frontier. These are the voyages of the Stolen Charjabus. Its continuing mission? To hide from the long arm of the law while the rebellion plots its next m—”

“Will you shut up?” Valkyrie got to her feet and brandished her claws at Gene. “I ought to remove your head from your shoulders. Where the hell have you taken us?”

“The Bergammula Asteroid Belt,” Fenrir responded, paws firmly gripping the steering wheel. “See, those asteroids emit a powerful EMP.”

“EMP?” Noctum tilted his head.

“Pulsations of electromagnetic energy.” Fenrir waved his right arm about. Noctum got the sense his answer was deliberately vague. “Any Eternatus Troopers that try and go here get their circuits fried.” He pushed his white, red-tipped mane out of his face. “It’s the perfect place for anyone who’s crossed the archbishop to lay low.”

Seifer’s brow furrowed. “So, it’s a gathering spot for lawless types?”

“Yeah, sure.” Scowling, Gene flopped into the seat next to Noctum. “My spiel sounded way cooler, though.”

Noctum looked the mewtwo over. This was the guy at the top of Paradox’s hit list? He sounded more like someone Yuna’s little brothers and sisters would fawn over. Well, aside from the Malice Crystal jammed into his shoulder. How could Gene even move his right arm like that?

“Hey, Zardy, my eyes are up here.” Gene flicked the brim of Noctum’s snout. He covered his nostrils and looked away.

“I want a better explanation,” Valkyrie growled, still standing. “Why did you bring us here? We’re trying to get home, not more lost.”

“You are home,” Fenrir responded. Valkyrie was about to stomp up to him, when he held up an arm. “Lemme land first. Then we can talk.”

Noctum mouthed “Land?” before looking where Fenrir pointed. There were dozens of metal platforms bolted to flattened asteroids, most connected by metal bridges. Behind all the asteroids was a massive glass dome with a big, white zoroark perched atop it, holding a burger in one paw and a bottle of soda in another.

Valkyrie’s shoulders sagged. “This outpost… you wouldn’t happen to be its owner, would you?”

Fenrir smirked. “What gave that away?”

She slouched into her seat. “Just land the damn charjabus.”

The white-furred zoroark steered the bus past several landing platforms. Noctum turned in his seat to look out a window. There were people walking across the glass bridges, but he didn’t recognize some of the species.

“What’s with these two-legged folks who only have fur on their heads?” The charizard saw a guy and a girl leaning against a metal signpost. Both had sunglasses and purple jumpsuits on. The metal rods beside them that looked like blastoise cannons threw Noctum off.

“You mean the humans?” Gene chuckled. “Right, right. Your planet must not have any.” He pet Noctum’s right shoulder. “Relax, you’ll get used to them.”

“Are you sure?” Noctum frowned. “It looks like they hunted a blastoise for its cannons.”

“Pfbt.” Gene sputtered. “No, no.” He held his hands up. “Those are blasters. They probably bought ’em from Cyril. Y’know, to defend themselves?”

Noctum stared blankly.

“Well, not every human that gets schlurped up by Eternatus chooses to turn into a pokémon.” Gene shrugged. “I’d say most don’t. For the ones that oppose the archbishop, Cyril makes sure they have something to work with.”

“I see,” was all Noctum could manage. The explanation left him with more questions than answers. And here he thought his headache was finally fading.

The charjabus buckled. As it landed on a black platform, hydraulics hissed loudly. The engine’s whirrs died down. Fenrir pivoted in his seat.

“Nothing motivates you to build weapons quite like losing your ability to use your own attacks.” Though Fenrir’s mane obscured his face, the fatigue in his voice couldn’t be clearer.

Valkyrie looked as if she finally put missing pieces together. Standing up, she quickly collected herself. “Hold on. Why does this clown keep calling you Cyril?” She stepped in front of Fenrir. “You’re Fenrir. That ninetales thing is, like, your cover or something. Has to be.”

A bitter laugh shook the zoroark’s mane. “Boy, I wish.” He shuffled past Valkyrie. “But it’s the opposite. I am Cyril. Fenrir is a codename I use for my rebellion work.” He paused. “And the jobs I take in Scale City, I s’pose.”

Scale City? Noctum had never heard of such a place. Before he could ask, though, Cyril hopped off the charjabus, Valkyrie followed. Noctum stumbled out behind her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she growled. “And why do you look like someone bleached your fur?”

“This is what I usually look like,” Cyril responded. He trudged forward, posture slouched. It was a stark contrast to the swagger he displayed as a ninetales. “When I go to Scale City, I use fur dye and hair products to pass as a normal zoroark.” Cyril held up his right arm, which had an oval disc with a blinking red light on it. “And for Eterna City, I’ve got my Morph-O-Tron. Lets me go back to the good old days.” He sighed. “Or some facsimile thereof.”

Noctum was torn between watching Cyril and examining his surroundings. The aurora looked nice in the charjabus, but now Noctum saw several of them. All converging toward a white sphere surrounded by sparkling stars. It was hauntingly beautiful, though he failed to understand how or why this was all inside Eternatus.

“I don’t understand,” Seifer asked from the back of the group. He was helping Quetzal, who still seemed a bit out of it. “Are you a ninetales, a zoroark, or some lovechild of the two?”

“I’m—” There was a brief crimson flicker in Cyril’s lone visible eye. “I’m just another casualty of Malice. Like so many others.”

Cyril lazily lifted his right arm and pointed ahead. There, two seismitoad walked past. Only their bulbous, wart-covered arms were instead red, armored pincers, like Noctum would find on a crawdaunt. And behind them was a tympole with an arrokuda’s backside instead of its proper tail.

“I was a happy ice ninetales, living on Planet Blizzak.” Cyril trudged toward a glass bridge leading to another asteroid. “Then Eternatus showed up and absorbed it. The old archbishop — the one in charge before Paradox — wanted to funnel our snowy weather to other parts of the Qliphoth. I tried to fight against her with the other ice-types in our city.”

Noctum raised a brow. Her?

Valkyrie huffed. “Lemme guess: it went poorly?”

“When I woke up, I was the only one left.” Cyril’s yellow eye brought a shiver to Noctum’s spine. “And this was what I looked like. Couldn’t use a single attack… or do those fancy illusions I’d later learn zoroark are known for.” He looked at his white-furred arms. “I was stuck like this.”

Gene yawned loudly. “Yeah, this pity party ain’t my thing. Besides, we got a message that Gilbert’s causing a ruckus inside.” He floated into the air, saluting the group. “You have fun with Mr. Sunshine, here.” Gene flew off toward the outpost’s front entrance a couple of asteroids away. A moving walkway headed into the glass dome, which reflected the stars and auroras to hide whatever lay inside.

Silence fell over the group. Noctum shuffled toward Cyril. “I’m, um, sorry you had to deal with… all of that.” It was the best he could come up with.

“Yeah, you and me both.” Cyril continued forward. They reached an asteroid with several fueling stations planted into the landing pad. Large gray canisters each held three long hoses. A few were attached to circular and rectangular ships.

“At least I found a new purpose for myself.” Cyril didn’t sound too happy about it, however. “If I didn’t have my tinkering to keep me grounded, I’d erode in an instant.”

Noctum’s tail flame shrank. He was conflicted between pressing further and staying quiet.

Valkyrie made the decision for him. “Erode? You’re not a pot of soil.”

Cyril looked at Valkyrie. There was newfound fatigue in his yellow, beady eye. “Here in the Qliphoth, you either find something to anchor your soul… or you lose yourself.”

“Tch. Don’t get poetic on me.” The garchomp jabbed Cyril’s shoulder.

“What you guys call ‘Phantoms’… are the eroded souls of people who’ve lost themselves trying to live in the Qliphoth.”

Cyril turned away and headed for another glass bridge, leaving Valkyrie to stare blankly at his messy hair as it fluttered despite the lack of wind.

“H-Hang on!” Seifer almost tripped trotting after Cyril. “Are you saying the Phantoms I’ve fought my entire career—”

“— were once people like you and me? Yeah.” Cyril kept walking. “The archbishop and his predecessor sold this realm on the promise of infinite possibilities. You could do anything. Be anyone. Go anywhere.” He shook his head. “For example… if you got tired of being a charizard, you could just… use Eterna energy to turn into a different pokémon.” Cyril pointed at Noctum, smirking.

“Th… that’s absurd,” he sputtered.

“Not for Eternatus. A being that defies nature itself,” Cyril countered. “‘An eternity where the only limits are your imagination.’ That’s how they phrase it. Sounds sweet on the surface, right?”

The white zoroark hopped off the bridge onto the largest asteroid in the nearby field. The moving walkway was directly to the group’s left. Cyril beckoned them toward it and stepped on. Noctum was hesitant, but swallowed his fear as the walkway carried the others toward a spiral-shaped metal door.

“But it’s a damn lie. There are some things no amount of Eterna energy can change,” Cyril continued, expression darkening. “If you were a dunce in your old life, you don’t get to magically turn book smart. If you were a selfish asshole, you’ll still be a selfish asshole unless you choose to wipe your memories clean.

“And some people… they can’t handle the truth. That they’re stuck here. That the choices they make don’t really matter.”

Valkyrie crossed her arms. “So, what? They go mad?”

Cyril nodded. “They go so mad, their bodies and souls wither away until there’s nothing left but empty shells with varying degrees of Malice.” With a wince, Cyril plucked a few of his white hairs and dropped them. They fell into the vast expanse below the moving walkway. “Thus, Phantoms are born.”

A chill ran down Noctum’s spine. He struggled thinking how long he’d be able to last in this place. How long had it even been since he ended up in Eterna City? What was going on back at Horizon? Was Yuna okay?

“Hang on.” Valkyrie cautiously moved toward Cyril. “But I’ve met you plenty of times in Radiance. How can you show up there if you’re part of this hellhole?”

“I stash a Malice Crystal in my mane,” Cyril responded. Valkyrie wasn’t convinced, but he held up a paw. “Enough. If I shove any more down your throats, I bet Charizard will keel over again.”

Noctum winced at the verbal jab. However, Cyril had a point. Noctum’s head was spinning. It was a lot to try and make sense of. Even Cyril’s change and demeanor didn’t sit well with Noctum.

The spiral door opened and the moving walkway deposited them in a lobby. Despite the glass dome hanging high above them, Noctum couldn’t see back out into the asteroid belt. Instead, there were moving staircases all around the circular platform, leading to gray tunnels heading deeper into the facility.

“Middle path will take you to the Rebel Grill.” Cyril jerked his head toward the opposite side of the lobby. “Gene took off there. Hopefully he got Gilbert’s cronies to settle down so you guys can grab a bite.”

“What, so that’s it?” Valkyrie stomped her right foot down. “You just drop an information bomb like that and then ditch us?”

Cyril slouched over. “I’ve got work to do.” He narrowed his yellow eye. “Besides, I’m not ditching all of you. I need you two.” He pointed to Noctum and Seifer.

The keldeo shuffled back. “What’s that supposed to mean? Haven’t I suffered enough already?”

“It means… you two are going to help me clean up the mess you made.”

Nikki had her leather jacket halfway off by the time she walked into her room. With some halfhearted flicks of her right arm, she flung it onto her unmade bed. The toxtricity dropped to her knees and felt around the space under her bed until her fingers grazed hard plastic. Nikki pulled a milkcrate out. She grabbed one of the brown bottles sitting inside, then slid the crate back under the bed.

She had expected to nod off during the trial, but what she saw was so stupid it kept her awake. Even a stiff like Vegna couldn’t get that rich asswipe found guilty. No doubt, if it had been someone from Blightsmuth — hell, from any lousy neighborhood — they would’ve wound up in Citadark for sure.

At least the Reaper got the last laugh.

Nikki found no joy in that thought, however. Seeing reports on the news was one thing. But even after the creepy stuff in Aquardah, watching a swirlix get crushed to death with her own eyes left an awful taste in her mouth. One she needed to wash out. The couple of bars in Horizon Gardens were too rich for her blood. So, she was stuck with warm beer.

She loosened the cap with her teeth and spat it on the floor. Taking a swig, Nikki found the beer wasn’t stale. So, at least she had that going.

The toxtricity set the bottle on the floor and grabbed her acoustic guitar. At times like these, she needed to strum out some blues cords. Nothing fancy. Just enough to get her mind off everything.

Another swig from the bottle. Nikki plucked a guitar string. Then another. Her left hand glided along the guitar shaft. Between strums, she thumped the guitar base like a drum. Nikki opened her mouth and sang softly.

“The chill ain’t gone.
The chill is here to stay.”

“The chill ain’t gone.
It just won’t go away.”

Chiaki staggered into his room, eyes firmly focused on the desk across from him. His legs shook. Cold sweat had left his shirt drenched. The grovyle struggled beside his bed until he got both his jean jacket and t-shirt off. They dropped to the floor as he staggered over to the desk. He shook his right arm out. The Hooker detached with a series of clicks and fell to the floor with a metallic clang.

The pain was back. Why now? It had been so long. He rubbed the air by his stump. The air where his right forearm was supposed to be. Chiaki gritted his teeth. More sweat ran down the back of his neck.

He grabbed an orange pill bottle and twisted the cap off with his mouth. Chiaki stuck his tongue in and lapped up one of the white, circular pills. He dry-swallowed it, almost gagging in the process. The grovyle set the bottle down and sat at the desk.

There was a small mirror sitting beside his lamp. He grabbed it with his left arm. A stand the same size as the mirror swung out. Chiaki pitched the mirror like a tent, then switched the lamp on. He stuck his right arm stump between the mirror and stand.

Slowly, Chiaki took deep breaths. He stared at the mirror; watched the reflection of his left arm. The grovyle curled his claws when he breathed in, then relaxed them when he breathed out.

In. Out. Curl. Uncurl. Again. And again. And again.

Images crept into his mind’s eye. Blood staining his groin and legs. Pained screams from a wide-open mouth. Purple and black footsteps moving away. And those two damned sentences:

“Leave him. He’s just dead weight.”

A shuddering breath. Chiaki curled his claws tight.

In. Out. Trick the mind. Trick the mind.

Bit by bit, the pain faded. Chiaki allowed himself to slouch in his chair. He tucked his head down and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’ll show them.” He turned his head and cracked an eye open. A bulletin board hung over his dresser, filled with newspaper clippings and lines of strings connecting them to a single photo of Starlene surrounded by circles drawn with a thick red marker. Chiaki slowly turned back to his desk and tore open an envelope. A small note fell out, alongside a ticket.

Try not to embarrass me when you show up. And remember: you owe me for this.
~Kyoko

Chiaki took the ticket and held it up to his lamp. It had a small drawing of Starlene on it.

“I’ll figure out what she’s hiding. Then you’ll see I’m not dead weight.”

“Life’s done us wrong, baby.
But I’ll make it pay someday.”

Yuna wanted to cry. To sob into her pillow. No tears came, however. She stared at her white pillowcase, gripped by an emptiness she hadn’t been faced with in years.

She knew Rayquaza and Reshiram were standing beside her bed. Yuna imagined they were both ready to say something to her. They’d attempt to lift her spirits and they’d fail. She was confident in it.

Nagging thoughts ate away at her mind the entire train ride back. Did Vegna kill Benedict… or was it actually Xeromus? Because Yuna wasn’t buying that it was a freak accident. Someone did something.

Why was Xeromus even there at the end of the trial? He wanted the distortion to swallow up the Crowne Court, but Team Bastion had put a stop to that.

Try as she might, Yuna couldn’t shake the feeling Xeromus set her up. He wanted her in the Qliphoth. What if… he somehow knew she’d never make it back in time for the trial? What if her initial absence was the key to things spiraling out of control? After all, the end result was Xeromus standing in front of dozens of reporters and rambling about Eternatus. And then a chunk of the courthouse killed the corrupt noble who might’ve rigged his trial.

Was that his goal? To get himself more attention? Had Yuna ended up playing into his nonexistent hand?

She kept going back to what Xeromus told her yesterday: “The choices you make don’t matter.”

Yuna dug her arms into her pillow and screamed. The pillow muffled her, of course. But in the absence of any tears, this would have to do.”

“Yuna…”

A fluffy wing draped over her. Yuna turned and swatted Reshiram’s claws. “Don’t touch me!”

Frowning, Reshiram yanked his left wing back. “We’re worried about you.”

“You’re worried about me?” Yuna’s voice cracked. She didn’t care. “If you were really worried about me, you would’ve made sure this stupid thing never bound to me in the first place!” She smacked the Soul Dew with her right arm. Shadows bubbled in her ectoplasm, but she ignored them.

“I—”

“No.” Yuna held her black-spotted arm up. “Shut up and listen. Because there’s nothing you can say to help me in this situation.” Her arms dropped against her blanket. “You two are Sages. You spent your lifetimes working for the greater good. Of course you can handle this stuff!

“But me? Look at me!” Yuna floated up and thrust her arms out. “I’m a tiny, underdeveloped dreepy. I spent over a decade cooped up in bed or not allowed outside my own house because of how sick I was.” Her arms and tail shriveled. “And when I finally started to make a life for myself and get some friends… I get dragged off to this place where people look at me like I’m a plate of grimy food!

“And if that wasn’t enough, now I have to try and be some sort of hero and save the planet from Eternatus’ reawakening? Are you kidding me?!”

Yuna dropped back onto her pillow and screamed into it. “It’s too much! I can’t take it! I… I’m not meant for this!”

Silence followed. Then scales brushed against bedsheets. “Dost thou feel better?”

Maybe a little, Yuna silently acknowledged. She turned her head to meet Rayquaza’s tiny red eyes.

“I am, perhaps, stepping on Sir Reshiram’s toes, but the truth is that… just because I am a sage doesn’t mean I’m magically equipped to handle every problem thrown at me.” Rayquaza leaned over and gently lifted Yuna’s head with the end of his black tail. “Most days I had to patrol the stratosphere I was downright terrified. ‘What if an actual emergency happened? Can I really keep people safe?'”

He shook his head. “To say nothing of the Darkest Day. Thou makes it sound like we sealed Eternatus effortlessly. But we had to sacrifice our very lives! I was mortified! And hesitant, to boot.” Rayquaza looked at Reshiram. “It’s only because I had the other Sages for support that I was able to go through with it.”

Rayquaza backed away. “I do not blame thou for thine frustrations. It is not easy to put others before thineself. That is why we Sages had such long apprenticeships to begin with. Such thinking takes time to cultivate.” He crossed his arms and nodded. “But thou aren’t alone in this endeavor.”

Reshiram vigorously nodded. “Right. And the more Sages you rescue, the more support you’ll get.” He offered a reassuring smile, but frowned when Rayqauza turned a stoic expression on him. Reshiram shuffled back, looking at his feet.

“We can’t force you to go on with this,” Rayquaza said. “But now that you’ve seen what Eternatus does to people, thou must ask thineself if thou could live with not taking action.”

Yuna looked down guiltily. As bad as things were, the thought of her life becoming remotely like Razim’s terrified her even more. “It’s just,” she rubbed her arms together, “I wish things didn’t have to move so quickly. It’s practically suffocating.”

“Then thou shalt take the time to recuperate.” Rayquaza bobbed his head, pleased with his own suggestion. “When thou feelst ready to venture forth, we will be there to assist you.”

He jabbed Reshiram’s thigh with his tail. The white dragon stood at attention. “Absolutely!” he chirped.

Yuna looked down. It still didn’t sit right with her, but Rayquaza’s offer was better than nothing.

“I… guess.” She hardened her expression. “But if this is going to continue, we need to set ground rules.”

Reshiram raised a brow. “Ground rules?”

“Yes.” Yuna glared at Reshiram. “You need to stop butting in all the time. It’s bad enough hearing you two in my head, but if I don’t get some personal space, I’m going to lose it for sure.” She took a deep breath. “A girl… needs her ‘me time.’ So, you have to figure out a way to stay out of my head. Understand?”

“I, uh— yeah, that’s fair.” Reshiram blushed and poked his claws together.

“Good.” Yuna flopped onto her back. “Now, make yourselves scarce before someone comes knocking.”

Slithering around a room that wasn’t his, Artemis couldn’t shake his guilt.

At first, he figured Seifer got the memo and left with his tail between his legs like he should’ve. But then he heard whispers about an Aeon charizard taking pity on the keldeo… and both of them getting involved in some sort of altercation.

The milotic tried brushing it off. However, as the day went by with no sign of either of them, he got worried. Eventually, he went to the charizard’s room and found it completely empty. The window looked as though someone had jumped through it.

Artemis wanted to believe this was some weird coincidence. But if there was one thing he took away from his parents, it was their firm belief that karma worked in mysterious ways. If he hadn’t gone off on Seifer, would the keldeo be safe? And was something bad going to happen to him as a result? The sentiment ate away at him.

“Damn it, what happened?” Artemis hissed. The room was so uninspired, there was nothing to go off. Black stone floor. Plain brick walls. Bedsheets tossed on the floor with a pillow, likely for Seifer to use. Some belongings stashed in cloth bags under each bed. There wasn’t anything else.

Artemis was ready to leave and throw back some whiskey shots at his room when a flat voice caught his attention. The milotic turned toward the window, then dove for the floor.

It was Vortex and that gardevoir assistant whose name escaped Artemis. He prayed they hadn’t seen him.

“So, clearly, we have to rearrange the schedule,” Vortex said. “If there’s going to be a civil demonstration in Herbrides, I don’t want our students anywhere near it. Get Minister Vincenzo on the phone. We’ll do his leg in Venish instead.”

“And what of the students? How will we tell them?” Gardevoir asked.

“Not a word until Vincenzo okays everything,” Vortex replied. “Then, obviously, we inform His Grace of the change first. Then we’ll tell the others. With any luck, the abrupt change will prove even more fatal for Team Bastion and they’ll be eliminated from the Cup. And a huge weight will be lifted off our collective shoulders.”

Artemis narrowed his eyes. Team Bastion… was the one with the Aeon Princess, wasn’t it? And the toxtricity who’d sometimes smuggle him pastries from the dining hall. They seemed like decent people. So why was Vortex trying to rig things against them?

“Very well, sir. Anything else?” Gardevoir said.

“No. I hear Tesla needs you at Citadark. We both know you shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Understood.”

Staying on his belly, Artemis wormed his way toward the bedroom door. That slimy bastard! He always knew Vortex was a jackass, but the thought of him dicking over his own students like that made Artemis sick.

He was going to have to tell someone.

Perhaps it’s time to pay Toxtricity a visit again.

In case you’re interested, Nikki is spoofing the lyrics to B.B. King’s “The Thrill is Gone.”