It doesn't take me long to return to base even while carrying a pokemon. Though that might be the dead sprint more than anything. Only mildly winded, I open the front doors to see the familiarly empty lobby. Well, it was nice while it lasted but Francios goes back to the academy tomorrow, so it was going to return to this soon anyway.

Still carrying Espeon, I enter the central corridor and move to the radio room. Entering the empty doorframe, I see all three of our current operators seated and at work in front of the large comm-units. And Katie looks like she needs way more sleep with how dark the bags under her eyes are. Also seems like Fran is back to observation only, while Barry, as always, is every bit the professional operator on the job.

Three sets of eyes turn to me for a moment before the people attached to them start having a conversation in signs. After which, I see Katie flip her all-receiving switch.

I have the presence of mind to mute my radio before she starts talking. “This is Katie Vane, hot-swapping operations to Francios Lumio.” She states, before standing and making her way to the door. Though she stops halfway. Turning to sign a question at the other two operators. Barry holds up two fingers before pantomiming taking a drink, continuing to talk the whole time, and Fran does the same after raising one finger, already making sure the sudden changeover is smooth.

Nodding, Katie starts moving for the door again and I step out to make room for her. “I heard you ran into something exciting in town.” She says, heading for the kitchenette. “Best time for it really, while we still have Francios.”

I follow her. "Looks like smuggling, but a big shot is in charge of that now. You doing okay?” I ask the slightly frazzled-looking woman.

“I’m heading to bed again as soon as I finish taking those two their coffee and whatever you came back for.” She tells me as we enter the cooking space. "But that's not all that important right now. What’s with the adorable espeon?” She asks me while rinsing the coffee pot.

“I'm ninety percent sure he bonded with me after I had to use my RED to snap him out of what, I assume, was some kind of feedback loop," I say, setting the espeon in question down on the counter in front of us. “He needs a warm bath, a warm meal, and someplace in the sun to sleep. And I’m going to need whatever we have on espeons, along with the latest research on psychics.” I continue while giving Espeon ear rubs. "Also, this needs to be dealt with," I say, placing the confiscated pokeball on the counter as well. “I checked, and Espeon is linked to it.”

“And you don’t have the time to do all that because you’re headed right back out there.” She finishes my explanation for me. “Yeah, I can do that no problem.” She tells me as she finishes pouring the water into the coffee maker. “Even gives me a good reason to leave Francios back on duty.” Then she looks at Espeon, “You gonna be a good boy for me?” She asks him, then staggers and shakes her head, “Swords, that feels weird.”

“First time's always the worst," I tell her. “Just ride it out. I need to get going, hopefully the rest of the day goes a bit smoother.” I say, turning around and heading for the front entrance.

“You should know better than to say that," She calls after me. And she's right, but I'm pretty sure the worst is over anyway. If it’s not… well I’ll deal anyway, that’s the job.

***

I never did find my grandparents, but I can still try tomorrow. Sometimes there’s just too much to do, be it important, unimportant, an emergency, or…

“I’ll admit, this is a nice change of pace after my last few missions," I tell the wizened old farmer while listening to Weaver mutter about something.

“Hmm?” Asks the farmer, a friendly man named David. “Bob and Phil break somethin’ again?”

“Yep," Is all I say. Although it was technically their partners.

He chuckles, “Yeah, they been rarin’ to go th’last few days.”

We both turn back to the scene in David’s barn. “So, what happened?” I ask the old man.

“Well, we got some new hands last week,” He starts his explanation in entirely the wrong place. “Which is nice, havin’ more young blood around for the new season. And they’re all good kids too, strong arms, listenin’ well enough. But Mr. Kenz- Ah, sorry Mr. Masaki there wanted to play with the newborn pokemon on his break.” David starts stoking his beard at this point, “And to be fair, he’s great with them, and their mothers don’t mind, they’ve been letting him. I think ‘cause he’s got a good heart in him-” I’m starting to tune the old man out. I’ve got a decent idea of what happened now.

I raise a hand to quiet David, “Masaki?” I call into the rafters.

“I’m in here.” Says a slightly pained, despondent voice from the barrel lodged in the roof, eight meters up.

“Do you know the name or number of the tauros that launched you?” I ask him.

“Uh, green tagged, so one of the breeders.” He replies. “Why?”

I whistle. “You weren’t joking about him being new.” I chuckle to David. “Did you warn him, at least?”

“Sure did.” The older man responds. “But like I said, we’ve still been lettin’ him. The mareep especially seem to like him.”

“Okay…” I nod. “But I’m not entirely sure why you called the rangers about this.”

David laughs a bit awkwardly. “Well, when I called, Stamps was still ragin’ around, I think he’s calmed down now though.” He says apologetically. “Can you at least help get Mr. Masaki down?”

I shrug, this was the last call from the civilian line today. “Do you have a ladder anywhere?”

“Hmm, I think there’s one over at building C, might be one at the property-house, too. …No, that's it, they're all at Bob's ranch. I loaned 'em to him 'cause his old wooden one was too rotten. And I’d bet you know how he gets with his aviary.” David over-explains.

I can only shake my head, then check my rope and start searching for a good way to climb. It’s an old wooden barn, so there are plenty of hand and foot holds to reach the joists with.

Sighing, I make my way to the best spot I see and start climbing. It’s easy enough for me, and I’m stepping along the joist beams shortly.

“Mr. Masaki?” I ask as I reach the barrel. “Are you able to climb down a rope?"

“I… I don't think so," He says, prompting me to take a look into his hiding spot.

“Ooh.” I wince, “Yeah, I don’t think you are either.” He’s got a nasty bruise on his entire right side. “Can you hold a rope with your left hand?” I ask.

“I think so…” He says tentatively.

I nod, hitting a switch on my radio before starting to tie handholds into my rope. “Barry, I need you to get a medical caravan to my location, building D. It doesn’t look life-threatening, but he'll probably be recovering for a bit," I say, finishing the first knot.

“I got it, what exactly is the problem?” Barry asks after a few seconds.

“Massive contusions, possibly fractured or broken ribs. A man named…” I look to the man in question, prompting.

“M- Masaki Kenzo.” Hey says after a moment.

“Masaki Kenzo," I repeat to make sure Barry heard. “Attacked by a raging tauros, he was smart or lucky enough to get something between himself and the tauros and got launched instead of trampled.”

After thirty seconds and a finished foothold, Barry responds, “Okay, they’re on their way.” And that’s that.

“Okay,” I turn my focus back to the injured man, “I want you to put your foot in this loop and I’ll start lowering you, once this loop-” I indicate the handhold, “Is on the same level as the joist, I want you to grab it with your left hand. Do you understand?” I ask him. He shudders, then winces and nods. "Okay, I'm going to lower you slowly, if anything happens, if your pain gets worse, or if you think you feel something slip let me know immediately," I tell him, sitting and wrapping my arms around a ceiling truss.

Masaki steps down slightly into the foot-loop and I start slowly feeding more rope. There's a slight jolt as he goes from holding the wooden beam to putting all his weight on the rope, but it's manageable. Slowly, second after second, meter after meter, I release the rope until the weight lessens and he's on the ground.

Looking down, find a good spot to toss the remaining coil away from him and do so, before jumping down myself. Masaki gasps when he sees me jump, but his look of shock when I land unharmed is priceless.

“So, fresh off the boat from Indigo?” I ask him.

“Uh- Um, yeah. Kanto.” He supplies, still looking shocked.

“You came here for better work?”

“Y- Yeah, pretty much.” He says. “It’s gotten worse recently, back home I mean…”

“I've heard," I tell him, starting to coil my rope back up. “But I don’t actually know how bad it is.”

“From what some o’ the new hands are saying…” David joins in, “It seems things between- what do ya call ‘em?” He almost asks, then snaps his fingers, “The Dragon Clans are gettin’ worse.” The farmer finishes, taking off his hat and running a hand through his thinning hair.

“Y- Yeah, nobody back home would say it out loud, but it’s bad.” Masaki confirms, lying himself flat on the ground with a groan, “It’s what made some of us decide we’d rather leave while we can.”

“That figures, and if I know my history…” I mutter, before shaking my head to get my thoughts back on track. “How are you feeling? Any sharp pains?” I ask Masaki.

“Yeah, but I don't think anything's broken at least.”

Before the conversation continues, a woman pulling a stretcher appears around the open barn doors, shortly followed by… Ranger Holt? The EMT looks at Masaki, then at me. “Ranger Onaga?” He asks.

“I am.”

“And this is Masaki?”

“He is.”

“Can you stand?” He asks, head turning to Masaki.

“I think so?”

“That’s good, don’t. Ranger, please help me get him onto the stretcher.” He orders.

I comply, lifting under his legs and arms to set him as gently as I can on the mobile platform.

“Thank you.” The EMT says, before starting to drag the man out—presumably to an actual transport—while asking him for the specifics of what happened.

David sighs, “Ah well, you two rangers have a nice day. I need to go sort some things out, what with being down a hand for the moment.” He says, walking out of the barn. “Don’t hang around too long now.” He adds, as he rounds the corner and disappears.

I make my way to the doors myself, noticing that Ranger Holt is holding a decent-sized file folder.

“So, this is the ‘interview’ that was put off earlier?” I ask her.

“No,” Holt shakes her head, “If the Sienna government wants to accuse a ranger of anything after what they pulled with the-” She waves a hand, “Never mind. Suffice it to say, Chair Erma isn’t happy with them.” She beckons me to follow her, “This has to do with why it took me so long to get down here after your supposed ‘spying.’” She still hasn’t opened the file as we begin walking down the path off the farm and back to the city, “Since all bases are low on staff, the brass are ‘handing out’ incentives and benefits for the high-achievers. You, for example, are receiving a fifteen percent pay increase over the next six months.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“That’s nice to hear, but then what’s in the folder?” I ask gesturing to the item in question.

“Personnel files on your base.” Holt says, waggling the folder, “This was announced to all bases a few hours ago, but then, you’ve been in the field the whole time and your operators have been busy dealing with our operators.” She taps the folder, “Union HQ is conducting a thorough review of all area rangers in Fiore and Almia, some of it is just politics, but the rest is a need to know how things are running.” She explains.

“Aren’t reviews typically handled by the lead Region-Ranger?” I ask, before expanding, "What I mean is, why is a Union-Ranger doing this?"

“Well, you may have noticed the lack of region-rangers since the expansion debacle.” She sighs rubbing her forehead with one hand, "We're even short-staffed at HQ, the only thing we have a surplus of is mechanics, and there's been talk of moving some of them to area bases permanently to help ease the strain a bit." She sighs again, “Can I be frank with you?” She asks, turning her head to me.

“If you want to be," I say, half-shrugging.

“The whole thing has been a shit show." She says, exasperated. “It’s good that there are rangers in Sinnoh and Hoenn now, but they’re also spread thin. And sure, it’ll get a bit better once the current students graduate, but it won’t be enough. This is going to last at least the next two years, and even after that it won’t be great for a while.” She stops talking, now rubbing her temples.

It’s Weaver who breaks the ensuing contemplative silence. "Weave." She says, waving at me as she starts walking west.

Holt blinks, “Where do you think she’s going?”

“I don’t know…” I say, thinking. “As far as I know there are only two other pokemon she gets along with out there.” At Holt’s inquisitive look I elaborate, “She’s always been friendly with Marsh- The Marshal, but I heard some people around town say they saw her with a ghost last night.”

“Ah, the misdreavus.” Holt says, nodding. “Were they calm the whole time?” She asks curiously.

“Honestly, they've been strangely placid from what I've read about ghost-types," I tell her. “And they only acted aggressively when provoked.”

“Interesting.” The woman says as we step into the city proper. "Well, I have to get back to reading through these," She waggles the folder, "While I wait for the federal investigators to finish with the smugglers." Holt frowns, “There are some other things that are happening, but I just need a drink right now.” She mutters, prompting me to give her a look, we are still on duty after all. “Not like that.” She waves me off, “Something cold and sweet, preferably with chesto, coffee, or both in it.”

“I can’t help you there.” I tell her, “I normally just drink whatever is at base.”

Holt laughs, “Figures you’re one of those people.” before shaking her head a little, “Well, I know you have things to do, so I’m relieving you of non-emergency duties. You head back to your base, I’m going to find a good tea shop.”

***

Approaching the base, I can see a pile of blankets on the roof in the dimming light. Well, it was in the sun. Stepping inside, I’m immediately met with a pair of glowing eyes. “Hey.” I say, bending to pet Espeon, “Looks like Katie cleaned you up.”

And he does look better. Fur lying straight and dirt-free, even if I can see spots where it will need to re-grow. His eyes are significantly brighter now too, and the gem in his head is the crimson it should be.

“Espeon esp, espo.”–Affirmation.

“That’s good. Did you see Katie put a stack of paper anywhere?” I ask him.

He nods. Affirmation.

With that, Espeon starts walking to the central corridor. Following, I see him headed to the rec room. As I enter after him, I see the small pile resting on a side table by our one sofa chair.

I call it a rec room, it’s more of an everything-else room. There's a TV with a VCR, a bookshelf that even has books on it behind the single chair, and the much more well-used weight-training equipment scattered around.

Skirting around the exercise equipment, I fall into the soft seat and Espeon follows, though he jumps onto the side table.

Checking the papers, there are three separate sets, Katie having stapled them together in their top-left corners. There’s also a note from Katie, saying I now owe her one for how long it took her to get the network working so she could get the information from Sinnoh.

Near instant cross-region information exchange, the wonders of modern technology. When it feels like working, at least.

Now looking at the unexpected third set of papers, Katie also apparently decided to help me get Espeon registered. I can only sigh, I’d hoped to avoid the monthly hassle of an evolved partner. But most of the registration is already filled in at least. So that’s two I owe her.

I decide to look at the psychic research next, as, while I will need to know more about caring for an espeon, it’s what I currently know less about.

It's… not all that revealing, frankly. Katie compiled the relevant parts of several articles published in the last two years, but most of them are of the duplicate-findings type, instead of anything truly new. Odd emotional responses, increased average logical-index placement to the degree that many may be more logically intelligent than humans, often empathic, sometimes telepathic, always telekinetic, and so on, and so on.

There is an article on how pure psychic-types tend to be physically weaker regardless of exercise, which is interesting, as it also found that their muscles don’t seem to atrophy in the same way as others either. And there's one on the difference in behavior between the more empathic psychics and the more telepathic psychics, in which espeon is used as an example for the former.

I glance at Espeon as I set the set of papers down. He also glances the way I did before he stops himself. "Can you read?" I ask as it strikes me that he may have been trying to read with me.

He shakes his head, ears flattening.

“I’ll see if I can find the learning materials soon, and ask Weaver to help too," I tell him, picking up the next set of papers.

Some of this I’ll already know, but it never hurts to brush up, especially when I’ll need to give Espeon a physical later to check his overall health.

I start reading, the paper having seemingly been written by one Dr. Oak. Interesting, why didn’t Katie find something written by a professor? Regardless, it was at least certified by both the Kanto College of Pokemon Sciences and the Sinnoh Research Institute.

An average adult shoulder height of just under ninety centimeters with an average weight of thirty-eight kilos. Eevee in general are slow growers, taking about six years to reach maturity, but espeon are even slower when they evolve young, taking nearly thirteen years in the worst case—that being an evolution within their first year, although that information isn’t in the paper.

I look at Espeon, trying to gauge his age properly. Hmm… he’s only about fifty centimeters at the shoulder. I’ll need to ask him when I’m giving him the physical.

Apparently, and entirely unsurprisingly, espeon are extremely sensitive to their environment, though I’d thought them being able to predict the weather was an old wives tale, interesting. They need a consistent amount of sunlight, but I already knew that. Carnivores, but their diets can be supplemented, already knew that. They're… truthfully rather tough when they have energy, as most things that would debilitate other pokemon don’t affect them, that’s certainly interesting.

I glance at Espeon again, now wondering how long he’d been without sunlight.

I go back to reading, only to almost laugh at the next line. ‘Espeon are not recommended for inexperienced trainers or caregivers, as they require a high level of care and commitment, alongside a generous amount of mental and emotional enrichment.’ Honestly, I know why it’s there, but most pokemon can and will care for themselves if given the freedom.

There is an explanation for Espeon's fur falling out buried among a list of things to look out for, stress. And he has been stressed, I can absolutely guarantee it.

I reach the end not long after, the breakdown on caring for espeon leaving me a bit better prepared than I was before.

“Good reading?” Asks Holt, stepping past the weights, large tourist mug in hand.

“Some of it. I’m just making sure I’m read-up.” I tell her, glancing at Espeon, who seems to still have been trying to read with me. “What about you,” I say, looking back at her, “Found a good tea place?”

“I did, got myself a chesto-tea with coffee. And in a fancy take-it-home mug too.” She says, looking around for a place to sit. “Is that the only real chair in here?” She asks after a second.

“Yeah, normally we only come in here to exercise," I tell her. “If you want a place we can both sit down, that’s either the dining room or Karlos’ office.”

“Not the barracks?”

“There’s a desk with a chair in there right now, but I’d be sitting on my bed, and I'm pretty sure Katie is still asleep," I answer, shrugging. Then, looking at her mug, “Prepping for an all-nighter?”

She nods. “Unfortunately. Were you planning on doing anything else tonight?” She asks.

“Giving Espeon a physical and writing out my reports, mostly," I tell her. "Why?”

“Because, while I’m not going to interrogate you for selling classified information,” Holt rolls her eyes, “I am going to go over everyone's files with them, though not all tonight.” She says.

“I thought you were handling the smugglers?”

"Yes, well," She scowls into her mug, "The federal team is waiting on someone higher-up on their end to get here before they’ll let me interrogate those two myself. They’ll be here around midnight." She informs me, sounding bitterly amused.

“Red tape?” I ask.

“Always.” She confirms with a sigh, face twisting resentfully before she continues, “Not that it doesn’t make sense. Still, it doesn’t help make my life easier.”

I nod in understanding, thinking over the day, “Did you manage to get what Honchkrow wanted?” I ask my superior.

“That’s on your base’s mission roster.” She replies, taking another sip of her drink. “Medium priority, but he won’t wait forever.”

Makes sense. We settle into silence for a time as I continue to organize my thoughts. Eventually, my gaze shifts to my newest responsibility and I focus on the bare patches of skin for a moment, wondering if he’ll need specialist care.

“Will you be able to wait on the review until after I check his health?” I ask Holt, my eyes staying on Espeon.

“Of course, and we can push it to tomorrow if need be.”

Nodding, I stand and beckon the sitting pokemon to follow.

Curiosity. Apprehension.

“Like I said, I’m going to give you a physical. Have you had a checkup before?” I ask.

He cocks his head, eyes narrowing,–Affirmation. Suspicion.

I suppose if he’s still young any he might have had before probably all involved needles. “I’m not going to poke you with anything sharp, I just want an idea of your health," I tell him. He looks away from me for a second, then stands and hops down to follow me.

Holt stands as well. “I might as well join you.” She explains at my glance.

“You’ve finished reviewing our files?”

“No. But I'm most of the way through them, and I am still reviewing you.” She says. And smirking, “No pressure.”

An audience, great. And she outright confirmed that she's judging me.

Sighing, I make my way to the best place we have to do this right now, the dining room, with both Holt and Espeon in tow.

Grabbing two chairs, I unfold them and gesture for Espeon to wait, Holt taking one of the seats. It only takes me a moment to spray and wipe the table before I give Espeon the go-ahead to hop on.

“I did notice the lack of any real medical room.” Holt smiles. “Brings back memories.” I give my senior a raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t stationed here, but all three bases in the forest have the same layout.” She answers my unspoken question.

“We’ve made do so far.” I half shrug. “Although you’ll have to give me a moment to get everything.” And with that, I head back out the door and down the hall to the utility room.

The room is, as always, well organized. It takes me a bare moment to grab everything I’ll need and return to where I left my two companions.

“No scale?” Asks the top-ranger as I re-enter the room.

“And no pressure cuffs, we aren't a clinic after all," I respond, before turning my attention to Espeon and leaning down, “Can you lie on your right side, please.”

He does so without complaint, and I squeeze the crook of a foreleg with a hand, counting. After a full minute, I stop and do some quick math. eighty feels a bit low, but he might be forcibly calming himself.

Placing the disc of my stethoscope low on his chest, I say, "Could you please take a few slow, deep breaths."

Again, he complies, and I listen, changing positions between breaths. No rattle, no whistle. That’s good.

“You can stand up now," I tell Espeon, standing straight myself, holding a short, glass tube in front of him. “Can you hold this under your tongue?” I ask the skinny pokemon. “Trust me, it’s better than the alternative.”

Espeon grabs the thermometer with telekinesis, looking a bit bemused. As he’s doing that, I take a closer look at the bare patches on him. There are no wounds, and no bleeding or crusting. It genuinely does seem like the fur just… fell out.

As I start feeling for muscle, fat, and anything unexpected, I ask, “Are you in any pain? Have you had any that seems to come and go?” I don’t like how skinny he is.

Negation.

That almost seems strange with what I suspect he's been through. Frowning, I finish the hand-check before unwinding a length of measuring tape. Checking it against his shoulder, I see my earlier estimate had been slightly high, as it looks like Espeon measures forty-six centimeters.

“Can you let me know how old you are?” I ask him. And after a second of thought, he taps a foot four times. “That’s four years?” I ask.

Affirmation.

“And how old when you evolved?” He flinches—definitely evolved under duress—but offers another four taps. I stop what I was about to do, "How long had you been… with those men?” He thinks, then scapes the table, gives four taps, another scrape, and then six taps.

Holt has perked up now, “Was that months, then days?” She asks him. He doesn’t visibly reply, though he obviously answers, as Holt starts nodding, “I was going to bring it up later, but I am going to need you to answer more questions, although it can be put off for a day or two while you settle in.”

Sighing at that, I look at the thermometer still in his mouth. “And thirty-eight-point-five, perfect," I say. "Other than being distinctly underweight and needing to regrow some fur you seem healthy enough.”

Espeon spits the thermometer out and floats it to me. "Espe,"–Surprise. Acceptance,–He murmurs.

I don’t know what to say to that, his tone and being surprised don’t paint a good picture. He’s looking at me, likely at least somewhat aware of what I’m thinking, but he remains still.

As I reach out to start petting Espeon, Holt speaks up, “You will be taking him to see an actual doctor, yes?” She asks me.

"Of course, but I was a bit busy today," I say, looking over the small kitchen wall. "...And I just remembered everyone was in the field today.”

“There's always field rations," Holt sing-songs with a slight grin.

“No. Just- No, gods no.” I say, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I’m here, so I’ll figure something out.” I was raised in Kanto, It’s not like I can’t cook.