Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With their recent discovery of Warp Drive, the curious case of Pokérin has made many headlines across the Federation. The dominant species, the Pokérinians—which are humanoid but decidedly not human—engage in a curious cultural practice called "battling." Unlike many traditions of warrior-races, these battles are strictly nonlethal and have many regulations surrounding them. However, the creatures they battle with, known as pokémon, pose a problem: some of them easily have a high enough Intelligence Factor to be considered full citizens in the sight of the Federation, and yet they are treated as less than Pokérinians. The world of Pokérin has struggled with this themselves in recent years, with the different nations taking differing stances on what pokémon can have what rights, and which are just animals. I, Doctor Julian Bashir, Commander, and acting physician of the science vessel Inquiry under Captain Ezri Dax, have spent the last few years studying the pokémon of Pokérin with the express intent of reporting which ones deserve citizenship. I have made two reports—one for the scientific community, and one for Starfleet in general. What you are currently reading is the latter, which should also be able to serve as a guide for the public and news outlets that wish to report on my findings while also being more conversational in tone.

Simply put, there are dozens of fully sapient species on Pokérin; most of which currently have no large-scale rights. In these cases, I highly encourage that the Federation support their inclusion in any matters relating to Pokérin as a whole, and as unification talks for Pokérin continue, their rights should be a must. However, I will also be outlining several edge cases, noting a plethora of unique beings, and a couple of situations where the intelligence factor is uncertain and more research is required.

Even ignoring the political ramifications, the philosophical and biological ramifications for the planet of Pokérin are immense. So many creatures have a high intelligence factor here, but simply do not use it. The fact that there are so many—far more than the previous record-holder for sapient species per planet, six, with the Xindi—also points to an unusual development, not like any other planet in the galaxy; of which I will address later in the reports.

The structure of my notes is simple: An Introduction will go over how the Inquiry was assigned to Pokérin and the initial interactions with the people there, followed by a discussion of every species that meets the Intelligence Factor including how I encountered them and what I observed, organized in chronological order so latter entries can refer to previous ones.

In the end, my hope is that Pokérin will unite and all of its races will join the Federation. Despite our presence upsetting many assumptions they've made about their society, they have been—for the most part—rather accepting of our ideas that seem so strange to them.

Chapter Text

Pokérin was discovered in 2381 by the Enterprise E while it was on its routine exploration missions. Captain Jean-Luc Picard’s report on the incident is publicly available and has been the source of much media attention already, so I will not dwell on it. Suffice it to say, the Enterprise encountered many strange beings on the surface and managed to get a significant amount of data without being exposed. Their report emphasized the spectacular capabilities of the inhabitants, encouraging a science vessel to investigate the system at the nearest opportunity to discover the source of these abilities. Discovering the sapience of the many species was of secondary concern, likely because of the limited exposure the Enterprise crew had with the entities. The notes on Pokérin’s culture were less emphasized, though they did witness a few of the competitive battles while they were there. 

The Inquiry had just concluded its study of a relatively nearby sector’s pulsars and was redirected to Pokérin to conduct a full study. Preparations were made to set up covert observation outposts to learn about the sub-warp culture without interfering; usual Starfleet procedure for information age pre-warp societies. As the procedure dictated, we arrived and remained behind the moon, using fly-by probes to perform advanced scans without being detected, as well as investigating the surprisingly abundant life of the moon itself. Already we had begun altering the appearance of the away teams to fit in with the locals—but this turned out to be unnecessary. During day two of our observations, the Mossdeep Space Center in Hoenn launched Pokérin’s first warp-capable ship. All they did was leave the planet’s atmosphere and fly part of the way to their moon and go back down. Clearly a test flight; but it was a successful one. Which meant our mission had changed from observation to first contact.

Many science vessels may not have been prepared to handle such a change of mission, but Captain Dax had more than enough experience to make sure it went smoothly. I’ve been on my fair share of first contact missions, and the first day of contact was one of the smoothest in Federation history. We arrived in a shuttlecraft, said hello, and were greeted with a warm and very excited welcome. Dax went to discuss the meaning of first contact with the Hoenn government and, a few days later, their equivalent to Earth’s old United Nations. Meanwhile, I remained behind in Hoenn to begin my studies—though now I had the assistance of the local researchers to guide me through my studies. Professor Birch, the foremost expert in Hoenn, took special interest in my case. Although his specialty was pokémon habitats, he was able to teach me much and direct me to the proper papers to discover more things that I wished to know. At first, I thought much of their science—while very thorough and respectable—was couched in myth and, in some cases, religious traditions. I no longer believe this, but I did not come to understand the fantastical nature of Pokérin until much later. 

While the personnel at the Mossdeep Space Center had elected to keep our existence secret, the Hoenn government did not, and as such my early work was continually interrupted by Hoennians curious to get a look at “the alien.” Since I myself am human they only had minimal interest in me, but some of my staff got quite a lot of attention. Such is to be expected in first contact situations such as this. The surprising bit was that perhaps a fifth of them asked at some point if I wanted to battle. I had to explain many times that I did not own any pokémon to fight them with, and it was always a disappointment to them. 

Before moving forward, perhaps a more in-depth examination of battling is in order. In my travels and studies, the idea is widespread and culturally significant. To them, it is not just a sport, it is a manifestation of their way of life. They consider the bond between a person and their pokémon of utmost importance and the best way to showcase that bond is to have a “battle”. Each individual who owns a creature is called a “trainer” and the word “pokémon” is derived from the local words “pocket” and “monster,” though few are those who actually consider pokémon monsters as we would use the word. 

Traditionally battles are fought as such: each trainer sends out one of their pokémon at a time, giving them orders on how to proceed and engage the current opponent. At any time, the trainer may recall and replace their pokémon. Most inexperienced trainers do this rarely, but those who compete in the League or World Championships will often do it dozens of times a match. A pokémon is considered “out” when they yield, are unable to continue, or, most often, pass out. Due to the inherent abilities of pokémon themselves, getting knocked out rarely comes with permanent damage. A trainer loses when all of their pokémon—usually no more than six—are out. Official rules dictate how much monetary compensation is given to the winner if the battle is organized as such, and even if it is not, there are extensive regulations on how far battles are able to go, though these vary from nation to nation. 

This is not a blood sport, though some out in the galaxy have called it such. There is no death and only rarely is there permanent injury—much like the contact sports many other cultures engage in. Physically speaking, it’s largely safer than boxing. However, our primary concern with battling in the Federation is not that it is violent or dangerous: after all many Federation members have very dangerous and often lethal pastimes. Rather, the nature of some of the pokémon raises a few unpleasant questions: are they sapient species worthy of rights under the law being forced into work, or just animals engaged in an athletic competition? 

It is my belief that the vast majority of pokémon are effectively animals, and are of no more concern to the Federation than cows or Rigelian hawk-buzzers. However, in my journeys, among the pokémon I have found dozens of them that clearly qualify as fully sapient creatures capable of free thought and even the construction of society; and across the world they are caught in the wild by trainers and forced to engage in these battles. For the most part, pokémon do seem naturally inclined to engage in conflict of a similar sort, even in the wild, but there are exceptions in every species. 

When we first arrived on Pokérin, the inhabitants were themselves starting to ask similar questions. However, the different nations all had different cultures and schools of thought considering the idea. The one we arrived in, Hoenn, was a bit ahead of the curve, in no small part due to the Gardevoirs in the area, and had given many species rights and was even known to have a few nonhuman trainers. However, in others, there were active efforts to squelch the idea that any pokémon could have rights beyond those guaranteed in the pokémon Worldwide League Regulations, Unova being one of the most steeped in this thinking due to historical events involving terrorists that fought for pokémon rights. Our arrival only aggravated this difference in opinion, and since Hoenn was holding the World Championship that year, I got to see a lot of the disagreements first hand. 

I learned many things in my stay on Pokérin, but these reports focus on the most pressing issue: which species on this planet have a high enough Intelligence Factor to warrant consideration as their own sapient species? There are many—many more than any other planet in the galaxy—and there are several that are borderline and bring up uncomfortable questions. And that is not even counting the unique entities of the world. 

Presently, as of the writing of this paper, the Pokérin United Regional District (their form of the United Nations) is making the beginning steps of developing warp travel and joining the Federation. However, our presence has thrown a wrench into their original plans to form a single, united, worldwide government. Before, they were united by pokémon battles. Now, the questions surrounding the contests are what threatens to divide them. I have hope unification will still go through, but it will be a rocky path that may take decades to fully iron out. They are on the right path. But we have to give them all the support we can and do further research into this wondrous planet.

E: To see how very different a person was before one met them is always a matter of great interest. I entered this story far, far later, and I was always amused by the doctor's assumptions... and yet this.

All the support you can, doctor? I am glad to have met you when I did.

Chapter Text

Gardevoir/Gallade

Self-name: Erureido

The first of Pokérin’s many sapient species I had the fortune to examine closely were the Gardevoir—though that name has a complex history I will explain later. Physically, they are humanoid creatures a little shorter than average with chalk-white skin and green highlights. Folds grow out of the waist that the females tend to wear like dresses, while the males tend to wrap them up. Both genders have sharp elbows, though the males tend to have a crest atop their head amidst the rest of the green hair. The most striking feature, however, is a ruby-red horn they have protruding from their chest. It’s hard and bony, making “hugs more than a little awkward” as some of them have attested.

The horn itself is the conduit through which they channel their energy, acting upon both Psychic and Fairy energy, giving them the appearance of being spellcasters—though they tend to be a bit more subtle than some other egregious examples. In battle, the females tend to fight more from a distance, while the males make use of their pointed elbows and get up close and personal, engaging in outright Fighting behavior. 

A note on the sexual dimorphism: it’s usually very easy to tell apart the males and females of the species, even if they don’t wear the folds around their waist differently. The males have the aforementioned ridge on their forehead and the extra pointed elbows, while the females are more smooth in appearance. This difference is enough to warrant a different common name to Pokérinians, as the males are traditionally known as Gallades. However, the males of the species can sometimes grow up malnourished, developing into more feminine features—due to a lack of particular minerals in the area. Most Gardevoirs actively look to find such minerals for their children and settle in areas that have them, but sometimes the unfortunate occurs, and a male cannot develop fully into a Gallade. These individuals are often shunned by the community as having “failed at life,” though the degree of this changes from region to region. In their language, they call these males “Sirnights,” which is often a derogatory term. 

Which brings us to the names. “Gardevoir” and “Gallade” are the common names, the species actually calls itself Erureido, but are so used to hearing the other name that their own name has become secondary. This is the case for the majority of sapient species on Pokérin—they have their own name, but it is rarely, if ever, used. For clarity’s sake, I will be using common names in this report for the most part.

Now, since one Gardevoir in particular has become especially important to my research of the species of Pokérin, it’s worth some time to tell her story. 

She was native to Hoenn, and was only a few years old when she was first caught by a trainer and taken from her family. However, Gardevoirs, by nature, automatically form extremely strong bonds with trainers and others in authority over them, so she didn’t mind that much at the time. She grew and fought for him in many battles, becoming his signature pokémon. He even gave her a Pokérinian name: Miranda. She still knows her original name but refuses to tell it to anyone, considering herself to be Miranda, now. They didn’t win the Hoenn League, but they did well enough to start making a career out of it, deciding to go together to another region, Kalos, where they met an Aegislash the trainer named Masamune. At this point, her trainer started going for doubles battles, and she used Masamune like an actual sword in combat, a unique strategy that got them far. They didn’t win Kalos, but they became a formidable team and made it to the finals in more than a few regions.

Their last region was Unova, where they encountered a group of terrorists known as Team Plasma; who, through some rather questionable means, sought to free pokémon from their relationships with trainers. Their ideals are similar to the Federation’s, but their methods… were rather violent. Miranda fought against them, but after Team Plasma was turned away, her trainer was prompted to ask her what she thought of their ideas. Even though she couldn’t speak Pokérinian language, they could communicate well enough to work that out.

By her own words, if he had asked her right after she was first taken, she would have chosen to stay with him. But she had seen how connected he was with his family, his friends, and all she had was him and those connected to him. So he let her go, gave her Masamune, and they went their separate ways. 

So Miranda returned home, to Hoenn, and to the grassy fields she’d been born in, finding her old tribe. Her siblings had been captured long ago, but her parents were still there. After hearing that another child was taken and seeing that everyone was sad but just accepting of it, she decided she had to do something. So she marched up to Professor Birch’s place, kicked his door down, and realized she had no way to express to him the complex situation she wanted to remedy. 

So instead she took up residence in his library and learned to write. Birch found this odd, he admitted to me, but he wasn’t about to kick a Gardevoir of her caliber out. Plus, it was a great opportunity to study a pokémon that lived in a human dwelling and had a pokémon of her own. At this point, Birch had already begun to talk to others about the sapience of pokemon. He himself specialized in pokémon habitats and had seen the small tribes the Gardevoirs and others developed in the wild. Plus, there was the evidence in his closet, of a Gardevoir teaching herself to read and write.

So when Miranda finally came to ask him with several pages of a pre-prepared statement with admittedly shoddy grammar, he didn’t care that it was hard to understand, he got the idea. And so he helped her learn more and more, eventually to the point where she knew a variant of sign language somewhat effectively. 

Professor Birch and a few of his associates from other regions hatched a plan to demonstrate pokémon sapience. Miranda dressed up in a cloak that covered virtually every part of her and communicated exclusively in sign language, and with Birch’s help, she secured herself a seat in the Hoenn League as a doubles trainer. She was actually eager to get back into the battle, but had to be sure the pokémon she was using were willing to be part of this—as a result, she wasn’t exactly the best. In a dramatic moment that has billions of views on the local Internet, she was forced to use her sixth pokémon. So she tore off her cloak, picked up Masamune, and won the fight on her own terms. What the world had thought was just a mute girl was a Gardevoir. 

E: A demonstration no doubt influenced by the animated series she watches. Miranda is as dramatic as the heroines upon them. There are worse role models, I suppose, and I will admit she cuts a most entertaining figure.

Needless to say, she was immediately disqualified from the competition, but that got the ball rolling. Hoenn quickly recognized her species and began to put serious efforts into uncovering what others there may be, reorganizing their regional league and becoming one of the leaders in pokémon rights—by the time we arrived there were some pokémon scientists working at Mossdeep space center, it worked so well. However, Gardevoir’s story came with a connection to Team Plasma, and that made many of the other Regions distrustful, particularly Unova. But talks were beginning, and her old family was no longer going to be pilfered. 

After this, she tried to go back to her family and live among the grass once more. However, she quickly realized she had grown far too attached to Pokérinian society, and her knowledge made her an alien among her own people. So she returned to Pokérinian civilization and, finding the idea of remaining a trainer somewhat distasteful, signed up with the local law enforcement and, eventually, became a Hoenn Agent.

It was at this point we arrived and I began my research. I actually met her on our second day here, as she was one of the ones assigned to interview me—I didn’t understand why she never spoke, at the time. I thought she was just playing the strong and silent card, and to be honest that giant sword with an eye kind of unnerved me.

After I had established myself rather effectively, Birch brought her to me and asked for the universal translator. I turned it on. It took a long time to find her speech pattern in her native tongue—over an hour—but it eventually worked, and we could talk to one another. This, to put it simply, delighted her. She declared right then and there that I was going to help her uncover the rest of those like her, those who needed to be able to stand on their own. Since that was exactly what I had intended to do all along, I accepted. 

I did not expect her to essentially take over the entire project. The moment I agreed she started finding pokémon and bringing them to me. At the same time, she was also trying to enter herself into the World Championship, which, being an event managed by the world as a whole rather than just Hoenn, was trying not to take a stance on the issue. She saw our arrival as a way to force the issue. And, to put it simply, she was right. 

But that story will wait for another entry. 

In summary, Miranda became part of my team and has been an immense help in virtually every aspect of the research, even the parts I couldn’t fully grasp.

I have met individual Gardevoir aside from Miranda, and as a group they are usually much more soft-spoken and meditative, even the males. They seem to prefer the slow life, and highly esteem the connection between spouses. As minor empaths, they form connections really easily—especially to those in authority, such as parents or trainers. But this biological urge can be overcome, and ironically the hand of a good trainer makes the individual more able to resist it, but they only rarely break away because at that point the bond is so strong most Gardevoirs would be willing to die for their trainers. Miranda herself admits she would probably still take a bullet for him, and she wonders every day how much of that is really what she wants or just what a biological imperative has thrust upon her. This bond also applies equally so to Gardevoir spouses, where both sides view themselves as submitting to the other. They also have widely varying psionic abilities.

For the record, there are many conflicting data points on Aegislashes and Masamune in particular. That entry will have to wait for much later.

Chapter Text

Ludicolo

Self-Name: None

The Ludicolo are an exceptionally festive and energetic people, living and breathing the art of dance. They are a perfect example of the unique combinations of life on Pokérin, appearing as a cross between a pineapple, lilypad, duck, and some kind of rotund biped. While they are short by human standards, they weigh about the same, given their wide stance. Despite their apparent girth, however, they are exceptionally agile—likely due to the nearly constant dancing. Every Ludicolo will dance when it gets excited, and since most are easily excited, they dance most of the time they aren’t sleeping. I have yet to see a Ludicolo that could refrain from dancing while in battle; though for the most part this isn’t a hindrance since the dances keep them on their toes while keeping the opponent guessing. 

Ludicolo are well adapted to survive in the marshlands that are their home; able to take in nutrients directly from the sun with their lilypads while taking extra from aquatic plants that their bills are uniquely suited for digging up. However, few of their species make it to adulthood. This is not because there is a high mortality rate, but simply because to reach final maturity they require particular nutrients and minerals. And, unlike Gardevoirs, the Ludicolo do not put much stress on ensuring their children get what they need, likely because there is no branching path of their development. 

For this reason, most Ludicolo “societies” aren’t actually made up of adults, but the immature form sometimes called a Lombre. These younger forms are significantly less intelligent than the full adults and had the Ludicolo not clearly been sapient, they likely would have been dismissed. As it is, the Lombre Intelligence Factor is borderline; they form packs and close-knit groups, but only rarely display any signs of higher thought. Furthermore, they lack the ability to speak or even have a language, communicating entirely with gestures. The Ludicolo also do not have language—at least, not a spoken one. They communicate entirely in dance. 

It was somewhat difficult to uncover this since Ludicolo are somewhat solitary creatures. I am unsure why they spend so little time around their own people—perhaps most of them are too young and undeveloped, or perhaps simply because the Pokérinians are more fascinating. Ludicolo are naturally extremely friendly and love music in all its forms; an excuse to dance, I suppose. It’s somewhat common for hikers in Hoenn to get visited by a Ludicolo who will help them get through the lay of the land. It is not at all uncommon to see Ludicolo wandering around towns, so long as there is a lake nearby for them to feed.

My experiences with the Ludicolo were curious, to say the least, since the people of Hoenn had basically accepted that they were like Gardevoirs. However, no one had figured out how to communicate, if it was even possible. Ludicolo showed no interest in reading or writing, and they never understood the words of the music they adored so much. 

I did not set out to make contact right away, I actually began my studies of the pokémon in Professor Birch’s lab, being shown the “starter pokémon,” that is, the varieties specifically bred for battle so trainers starting out in a professional manner would have something effective to use, rather than something not suited for battle. The three species were Swampert, Blaziken, and Sceptile—and it was easy to find fully developed instances of all three. I discredited Swamperts quickly, and while I spent some other time studying the other two, their Intelligence Factor was simply too low to qualify; though Sceptiles scored the highest. In the process, however, Professor Birch came to me and said that he had a few extras; if I wanted one I could take it. After some consideration, I decided to take the Sceptile; though of course this now meant those bystanders who challenged me would have a target. Luckily I was not a professional trainer so I was not obligated to engage in any monetary battles, and I fully admit that I was never any good. Still, I named him Gilligan, and he was an excellent companion, and through him I learned to appreciate the bond shared between the people of Pokérin and their pokémon. 

I was quickly going through the various Bug-type pokémon in Birch’s lab when Miranda showed up and demanded I follow her—the Wanderer was in town. I was not able to resist her pulls, and I was dragged out into the street to see a Lucidolo dancing down the street among a group of children singing an obnoxious nursery rhyme. Clearly, it wasn’t obnoxious to the Wanderer—he was dancing to the off-key tune like it was the best thing in the world. 

And this was no simple mimicry-dancing, the movements were complex, planned, and yet every time there seemed to be a pattern he would mix it up with a twirl or a jump onto his hands. The Wander was inventing dances on the spot, a clear sign of Intelligence Factor. 

Miranda saw my expression and informed me she suspected the same thing. The only problem was one already mentioned—no one could establish communication with the Ludicolo. So naturally, I set to work. The Wanderer entertained my atrocious singing for a time, but he eventually moved on—apparently to dance around the entire Hoenn region until he returned to this area once again. 

So I struggled to figure out how to establish communication. They could not speak, and I foolishly spent much of my time trying to get them to react to music. But they never responded as though they thought the sounds held any meaning. I was stumped—while the complex dancing alone and reactions to the music were enough to award it a satisfactory Intelligence Factor, we nonetheless couldn’t talk to them. 

Then I was invited to observe another sort of sporting event. pokémon are not just used in battles, though that is the primary form of competition. Running parallel to the battles are the “contests,” wherein trainers attempt to make their pokémon appealing—dazzling the crowd with amazing colors, magical lights, and elegant moves. One of the coordinators in the contest used a Ludicolo, and as I watched the two of them dance in time with each other I realized they were having a conversation , and that it was the conversation itself that was on display in the contest. 

They didn’t win, but afterward, I went to talk to them; the coordinator was a girl of fifteen named Mira, while she called her Ludicolo Jumpli. She confirmed that she talked to Jumpli by dancing; and when I asked if all Ludicolo communicated like that, she turned to Jumpli and did a short twirling dance, to which Jumpli responded in turn—confirming what I had supposed. They did all talk like that. I asked her if she was willing to document some of her communication in hopes of learning to talk to other Ludicolo. She graciously accepted. 

Even though she wasn’t available for long since she had another contest she needed to compete in, we gathered plenty of records and even filmed some encounters of her and wild Ludicolo, who responded well. In fact, Jumpli “spoke” in dance to the wild Ludicolo as well—making me realize that the way they communicate would have been obvious if we had ever seen two Ludicolo in the same place for an extended period of time. 

The Universal Translator is still useless for their language so it has to be learned the old-fashioned way, but from the few established motions that I’ve discovered to have clear meanings, I have managed to get a few bits of information. After a Ludicolo reaches maturity they find that their memories of watching the other Ludicolo dance are much clearer in their mind, and their delight with suddenly understanding what all the dancing was about is so great that they themselves break into dance. From this moment on Ludicolo are almost exclusively optimistic and happy individuals—they had a dull, boring, underdeveloped life before, and now everything’s so bright and beautiful to them. They have little biological imperative to protect or live with the underdeveloped Lombres since Lombres are more than capable of taking care of themselves, so the ethical situation is a bit dubious. Many Ludicolo never reach full maturity, and thus never have an Intelligence Factor high enough to qualify as definitely sapient. However, every last one of them has the capacity to do so, if in the right situations. 

E: The hilarity of finding this sentence so early in the doctor's notes cannot be understated. My kind are a somber folk, and yet upon reading this I had to spend a full minute closeted so as not to distress those around me with the ethereal disturbance of my laughter.

Communication and relations with the Ludicolo are always going to be difficult. They communicate entirely in dance and, while they are extremely coordinated, learning conventional sign language is impossible for them since they lack the proper number of digits and their bodies are just too round. But they don’t mind at all. So long as they have food and music, they are delighted. Curiously, they absolutely love the creations of society but have little to no desire to form it themselves, satisfied to simply walk in and appreciate progress with a dance. It is an optimistic, carefree life with few responsibilities. One many of us envy. 

Chapter Text

Kadabra (and Alakazam)

Self-Name: Yungerer

Kadabras are short, humanoid creatures with dull yellow skin and brown highlights. They do not correspond to any of the traditional animal groups found on other worlds and may be their own type of creature entirely—even among pokémon, there are few who look anything like them. Their bodies are frail and they largely depend on their own psychic abilities to move and operate, though not to the extreme extent of their more developed form, known as Alakazam. However, unlike most of the species on Pokérin, I do not consider their final, developed form to be the definitive one; for it comes about unnaturally—but I will get to that momentarily.

Kadabras talk entirely through telepathy with images and patterns that make little sense to other pokémon or Pokérinians who are psychic-sensitive. It works for the Kadabras just fine. However, unlike the Ludicolo, Kadabras can learn language and force their telepathy to form words in the minds of the recipient, though the recipient must be sensitive and the effort strains the Kadabra involved. 

Kadabras had been recognized by Hoenn long before we arrived, as they tend to live in urban areas and take part in community activities, even though most don’t talk. Kadabras are one of the most prevalent species worldwide, having a presence in most nations, though rarely as more than just a secondary people group within towns and cities. They’re generally intelligent enough to avoid trainers unless they want to go on a journey with them, though there are just as many trainers clever enough to catch those who are trying to be sneaky. It’s made more than a few awkward relationships. 

The Kadabras that had learned to “talk” came to me regularly, though they always needed a “translator”—for all the benefits my brain gives me, psychic power is not one of them. Some of the Pokérinians are able to communicate with them, and the Betazoid crewmembers are as well. I don’t have any really remarkable stories about meeting them—they were pre-established and came to visit me every now and then to check on my work. 

However, they do serve as an example of something I can’t quite explain. The art of trading. 

First off: pokéballs. Pokéballs are matter storage units that contain pokémon in a state of digital suspension; allowing them to fit in the palm of a trainer’s hand no matter how large the pokémon itself is. While inside the pokémon are given a digital world of paradise that is a rather large incentive to stay with the trainer—even if the trainer treated them terribly, they could always retreat and enjoy the environment inside the ball. Miranda admitted to me that it really is a minor paradise in there, all it really lacks are connections and a sense of purpose. The vast majority of pokémon would just be content to roam in the endless habitat designed precisely for them, so most don’t even try to escape once they’re acclimated to it.

Catching pokémon is a little more difficult. The pokéballs try to take them into the digital suspension, but the pokémon resist with all their might; and since they haven’t been in the digital suspension for very long, they naturally try to get out, unless they know what it is already and let it catch them. This is why trainers must weaken pokémon before trying to catch them since a weaker pokémon is less likely to break out. 

A fully healthy pokémon can generally pop out of its ball whenever it wants, though the trainer can force it back in. It still shocks me that the vast majority of pokémon never leave their balls unless they’re called. Miranda herself only remembers a couple of pokémon who did that regularly, and they were often considered “quirky.” 

Regardless, these balls are often used to facilitate “trades” between trainers, changing ownership of the pokémon inside. However, rather than just trading pokéballs directly, most trainers make use of Trading Machines that take the digital suspension in two balls and transfer the information between them. The procedure is unimaginably complicated and the devices are absolute marvels of technology. However, in the “trade stream” a select few pokémon species undergo a change, what many consider an “unlocking of potential.”

This is how the beings known as Alakazams are created. Much taller and lankier than Kadabras, and with an impressive mustache, these powerhouses of psychic ability are among the most intelligent creatures I have ever encountered—blowing most races of the Federation out of the water. Like Kadabras, Alakazams have no mouth, but their telepathy is much more advanced and, should they desire, they could communicate directly with any willing mind without much effort. This comes with some downsides: their bodies are exceptionally frail and they have to support all of their motions with their psychic power: formidable while aware, but if they aren’t paying attention their bones snap like twigs. These Alakazams could easily revolt against the trainers and use their intelligence to control so much. However… they don’t. And that’s simply because no Alakazam exists without a trainer. 

One of the most memorable encounters I had was with an ancient Alakazam who went by the name Spoonbind. (For reasons that still elude me, Kadabras and Alakazams are obsessed with spoons.) He was well over a hundred years old and had been among the first Alakazams created, back when the Trading Machines were relatively new. His trainer was long dead, and he had spent most of his time meditating on top of a secluded mountain, contemplating the secrets of the universe. 

He had much to say to me, about why Alakazams never made use of their superiority. “We owe it all to them. Why would we fight against those who gave us this gift?” Every created Alakazam is going to have a relationship of some kind with a trainer. In fact, it is apparently very common for “trade-backs” to occur—two trainers with species known to unlock potential through trading will get together, and then swap back to make sure the pokémon stays with its original owner. Why would they turn back from what they knew? Turn back from the gift given?

There are reports of those who do, usually turning against unethical trainers, but they are few and far between. There are also reports of Alakazams essentially becoming the masterminds behind trainers, doing more of the commanding of the pokémon than the trainers themselves. A psychic-type trainer of some renown (who shall remain unnamed in this paper) admitted to me that her Alakazam did all the work, she was just the face so they could actually enter Worldwide battles. She had only been twelve when she trade-backed him, and nothing was the same after that. 

In the end, Kadabras are all recognized, and so are Alakazams, but Alakazams rarely operate alone—generally only those who have outlived their trainers do so. I have seen evidence that those who do operate on their own go to great lengths to find Alakazams that might wish to upset the “natural order” of things out of revenge for mistreatment. Once found, these Alakazams are taken in and “taught” how to be different. I am unsure what the form of this “teaching” takes, and I am not certain I wish to know. 

Were Pokérinians not involved in the creation of Alakazams, I believe they could easily become the dominant species on this planet. Instead, their unique position creates a sort of balance and those who are no longer bound largely seek to perpetuate that balance. 

E: The mind, and the soul, are truly complex things, with many facets and layers. While many pokémon specialize in but one aspect of it, the developed Yungerers truly focus on total balance of all their psyche. Their strength comes not from power, but from balance.

Though I will agree with the doctor that the obsession with spoons is disquieting. I personally prefer forks.

Chapter Text

Machoke (and Machamp)

Self-Name: Goriky

Machokes are exceptionally muscular, humanoid entities with a gray complexion. On the short side of humanoid races, they easily make up for this with their raw strength—while it is certainly possible to have a Machoke with underdeveloped muscles, that is virtually unheard of. In fact, they are so strong that they have a tendency to hurt themselves if they let it all out. This is why Machokes are one of the few pokémon who actively wear clothing—and modesty is only a secondary reason. The primary purpose of their outfits is to provide pressure to the stomach area and, in turn, prevent them from releasing too much energy at once. Every Machoke gets one of these before they reach maturity and almost never take it off for any reason. 

While they have language and community, they do not have the capacity to speak in the way Pokérinians do, so without the universal translator communication would be difficult. With it, it is a simple matter to talk to them, revealing a culture where strength is revered—but haughty pride is despised more than anything. This is perhaps a result of their need to limit their strength: those who take pride in their strength would wish to flaunt it, and as a result would end up destroying themselves. So they strive to be strong, but never ever to get a full head about it. The moment they do they become a danger. Their name for themselves is “Goriky.” 

Males are significantly more common in the species than females, and there is very little sexual dimorphism between the genders even then, for the females are just as muscular and toned as their counterparts. 

Machokes have adapted into Pokérinian society quite well, many of them able to semi-communicate with gestures, though few have bothered to learn sign language. Even in regions where they have no rights, they are still well treated due to their ability to make construction work much easier—and, unlike many pokémon, they aren’t afraid of fighting back against their “masters” should things turn south. Due to their raw strength, they are often seen in battles, but this does not provide them as much advantage as one might think, given the fanciful abilities of many other pokémon. 

I had the most experience with a Machoke named Rikitho, which is a name in their language. She (I didn’t know she was a female until two solid weeks of working with her) worked as a construction worker around Hoenn, and the Mossdeep Space Center hired her regularly to help build rocket scaffoldings and other large structures. I asked if she would be willing to demonstrate the raw strength of a Machoke in a controlled laboratory setting, and she agreed. After changing into an outfit without the limiting belt, she was able to lift an entire dump truck with one hand, bending several of its components in the process. 

I, to put it mildly, was impressed. It is no wonder why they have to limit themselves. And, even more than that, I began to wonder about their more developed form. See, like Kadabras, Machokes have a more developed version that’s unlocked through trading; a procedure I discussed more in-depth in the Kadabra segment. The improved form is taller than most standard humanoids, has four arms, and is significantly stronger. These “Machamps” still wear limiting belts, but they are able to control much more of their power; their feats of strength reach absurd levels. They are somewhat rarer since they must be traded to reach this stage, and they rarely do this without an association to a trainer of some sort, so Machamps are seen most often in tournaments and tests of skill rather than construction work—however, their skills are just too good to be ignored completely. 

This has put them in the unfortunate position of essentially being a slave-labor force. While rarely mistreated due to their raw strength, the fact of the matter is in most regions they are used for construction work and not paid anything, just given food and a place to stay. However, unlike most of the other pokémon in this state, there are occasional revolts; their raw strength makes it inevitable if enough are treated unfairly. Most of these are quelled rather quickly and bloodily. With the advent of the universal translator, more than a few Machokes (and Machamps) have started riling up others to seek their rights, a concept that many hadn’t even thought of before.

For her part, Rikitho doesn’t care much about what happens with the rights. She builds things, and to her the job was essentially the same before she had rights and after. She even got into a fistfight with another Machoke about this, since the other one believed things were infinitely better. They are, in the end, quite a rowdy people.

Despite being one of the few pokémon to actively make clothing for themselves, they rarely do more than necessary for limitation and modesty’s sake, seeing much more as being “flamboyant,” only leading to pride and self-satisfaction. This is not to say they don’t have any fashion, simply that most do not care or wear things derivative of Pokérinian society. 

Historically, Machokes and Machamps have been used in wars. However, the world has been at peace for a while now, with a decent number of nations not even bothering with a standing army. However, in places where Machoke have been given rights, they seem almost drawn to military service. It seems a perfect fit: a chance to be strong while always serving something other than oneself. I am uncertain if this is a good development or not. 

Chapter Text

Hariyama

Self-Name: Hariteyama

Much of what I could say about the Hariyama has already been covered by the article on Machokes. They are an unusually strong species, capable of tensing their muscles enough to deflect blades, and creating shockwaves that can send unsecured or inadequately secured objects flying. Their culture is polite but boisterous, as they complement their foes on their own strengths and spend quite some time raising their young to be as honorable warriors as they are. From a biological perspective, they are yet another interestingly unique species of Pokérin, and certainly pass the Intelligence Factor's tests.

However, from a cultural perspective, there are a couple of unique factors about the Hariyama. Firstly, unlike Machokes, the Hariyama are not widespread; they are native to Hoenn, although they have colonized other regions. In fact, they live on Victory Road, a path which connects the League Headquarters to the rest of the Hoenn region; it is traditional for pokémon trainers wishing to enter the league competition to walk this road and confront the Elite Four (see notes on Pokérin civilization elsewhere) and the Hariyama consider themselves to be Gate Guardians, of a sort, challenging battlers that pass to see if they are truly ‘worthy.’ This is reflected in other regions, as they usually set themselves up exclusively on specific roads where they can judge trainers and battlers as they pass.

The second unique factor was not one I was aware of until I showed an image of the species to captain Captain Ezri Dax. Apparently, the Hariyama are dead-ringers for Chen’yIn, creatures from Klingon myth apparently responsible for fishing hearts from the river of blood left by their dead gods and judging whether they are ready to enter the realm of the living. This is not the first time a species has resembled a creature from another race’s myths, but given the Hariyama’s own penchant for demanding warriors prove themselves before passing, it certainly has interesting implications for relations between the two races.

The Hariyama, upon being informed of this coincidence, took it with good-natured amusement and asked Ezri for copies of books on Klingon culture, so they could be ready for any ‘young warriors’ that made it to their planet. I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing, to be honest.

Chapter Text

Roserade

Self-Name: None

The sapience of Roserade was in doubt for quite some time, as it is exceptionally hard to attempt to talk to them, for they are a race of carnivorous plants and everything is on the menu. Do not let their diminutive stature fool you; they are not only extremely toxic but also vicious hunters who lull prey in with sweet aromas and fake gestures of friendship. 

Physically, Roserade are humanoid entities made out of leaves with a set of flowering roses on their hands: the left usually has blue petals, the right usually red. These colors come from the toxins laced within the thorns of either limb, which are different in each arm. In the rare situation where a target is immune to the first type of poison, the second will almost assuredly take. It may appear that the flowers prevent them from having the use of their fingers, and this much is true, but hidden within the folds of their leafy bodies are long vines that can act similarly to a cephalopod tentacle and grip things easily. 

Since they are physically frail, they rely on trickery and cleverness to catch their prey. They do not demonstrate a natural inclination to build traps or use complex tools, but rather rely on their vines, natural camouflage, and pretending to be friendly to score their kills. This latter attitude is the most disturbing, for they lure prey in with sweet smells and a friendly face, perhaps even offering a traveler a berry or what looks like shelter before striking. Most of their tactics are simply indicative of a very intelligent predator, but one of their more common methods gave me pause when considering them—they dance. Their dances have no particularly esoteric hypnotic ability; the motion simply draws attention while simultaneously making them appear less dangerous. But these dances, while nowhere near as complex as the Ludicolo dances, are still invented. 

My first encounter with a Roserade was while I was out with Miranda to bring two Ludicolo together in order to observe their dancing language in action. I eventually found myself wandering from the group, enjoying the day, when the Roserade came dancing out of the bush, locking its masquerade mask-like face on me with a coy smile as it twirled around. I’m sure it would have killed me had one of the Ludicolo not rushed to scare the Roserade off before it struck. 

After this, I became rather obsessed with this species. Most of the study that had been done on them was performed on those who were captured by trainers when they were in their harmless, budding stage; it was extremely rare to find a trainer that managed to catch a fully mature Roserade, and no scientific papers had been done on them. They did know that Roserades required access to a certain somewhat uncommon mineral to reach full development—and yet, despite not appearing to have any society to distribute these minerals, Roserades nonetheless kept reaching maturity as deadly hunters. 

Like the Ludicolo, they lacked the ability to speak or have language. Unlike the Ludicolo, they didn’t dance to communicate either. Roserade have no language or complex communication with each other whatsoever. Their “communication” is done through aromas and scents, and this is not complex enough to be considered a fully developed language. It can only convey simple ideas like “danger” or “food” or, as we later discovered, “come, mineral here.” Their knowledge of these scents is instinctive, and every Roserade worldwide uses the same scents to mean the same things. Their only real interaction with others of their kind is when one of them finds a suitable location rich in the mineral they need for development and releases the scent to draw others in. Even fully developed adults will come to this meeting and have a celebration where newly developed Roserades are welcomed into the fold and shown a few tricks they can do with their new bodies. After that, Roserades return to the solitary hunter lifestyle. They don’t even meet up to reproduce, as they reproduce like all flowers: ejecting pollen into the air. A select few pollinator pokémon are allowed to touch the flowers without being eaten, and thus, they reproduce without ever seeing their mates. 

Since talking to a Roserade in the wild was going to be impossible due to it trying to eat us, we sought out a trainer with one to run more tests. And, unsurprisingly, a few trainers in the World Championship held Roserades in their possession, since they were understandably effective battlers. So we conducted interviews of the trainers, but many of them were either too busy or somewhat untrusting of the alien who was known to be working on studying pokémon sapience. The few interviews we did get with trainers and their Roserades didn’t show any evidence of higher thought—though notably these Roserades were a lot meeker and timid than the ones in the wild. In hindsight, this is likely due to them never being taught to hunt or do anything but battle in a controlled, competitive setting. 

One Roserade in particular ended up helping us, that being the one under the ownership of Cynthia. Unlike most of the others who were timid, this Roserade fought with a vicious intensity and a strange glee in the action. This Roserade still had not taken a name, for names are almost meaningless to a species without any natural concept of words. When Miranda and I approached Cynthia for an interview, she accepted. I doubt this would have given us much information were it not for the empathic abilities of her Lucario, but that species will need an entirely different entry. 

Some background on Cynthia. She is a well-known trainer, one of the best in the world, and has been the Sinnoh champion almost undefeated for over a decade. Unlike many trainers who specialize in pokémon they happened to find on their journey or specialize in a single type/fighting style, she had taken immense effort to get an immense variety of strategies in her team and regularly alternated her team to keep people guessing while many other trainers simply restricted themselves to six. The woman is a formidable tactician and, after having spent some time around her, I have come to conclude that she is a force of nature. Battling is her life, and she believes the best teams are those that are able to work together almost like a family. 

Her Roserade is a vicious, somewhat sadistic creature who Cynthia raised with the explicit attempt at tapping into her natural predatory instincts. She even went so far as to find other Roserade in the wild to have hers observe and learn from—often in direct battle. Simultaneously, she trained the Roserade in tandem with her other pokémon, forming a cohesive bond with the vicious predator. The mixture created an absolute monster of a foe on the battlefield. This Roserade did not fight for food like the rest of her species, she fought because she enjoyed it. 

Even so, it was still a borderline case in the Intelligence Factor, and the Roserade was losing interest in me. I expressed my concerns to Cynthia, and she conveyed them (somehow) to her Lucario, who in turn “impressed” upon the Roserade that I didn’t think she was clever enough. Suddenly she wanted to prove herself. A contest of strength, of reflexes, anything. 

So I put her in a dancing competition with the Ludicolo Jumpli in a pokémon contest. Roserade lost horribly to the beast, but it showed me all I needed to: she immediately began practicing dances, more complex dances that a Roserade in the wild would have no need to learn—but her pride had been insulted by the dancing pokémon, and she was going to outdo it.

Cynthia had never been a pokémon coordinator, but she now takes Roserade out to the contests since I seem to have instilled an obsession in the flowery creature. 

Sapience was established through the competitive obsession. Communication was much more difficult. Even the abilities of Cynthia’s Lucario could only convey impressions, and Roserade had no patience for learning any sort of gesture communication—she would listen to the commands she recognized from her trainer and that was it. 

Since Cynthia and her Roserade were busy with the championship, I didn’t perform many tests with them. However, I still wanted to examine a Roserade more closely. Miranda suggested we just go out and catch one. I expressed my moral reservations, but Miranda convinced me to do it anyway—if there was any hope of getting Roserades, a species of brutal solitary predators, rights, if we needed to forcefully grab one to make any headway, then so be it. One of my Vulcan assistants agreed, the whole “the needs of the many” philosophy. 

At that time I only had my middle-aged Sceptile Gilligan, but Miranda and Masamune came with, and we returned to the place where the Roserade had attacked me last time. They allowed me to wander off to lure the Roserade out. It took some time, but it eventually took the bait, lightly twirling around and drawing our attention. 

Then Miranda came out of nowhere and smacked the vicious rose with a burst of psychic energy, following it up with a strike from Masamune. One thing to note about pokémon: even when struck by a sharp or bladed object, unless it is refined in a special way, their injuries tend not to break the skin, instead acting upon an aura of their internal energy and draining them. So despite getting a blow from a sword directly to the neck, all the Roserade did was pass out. I tossed a pokéball and caught her, deciding to name her Siren. A beautiful creature with a vicious streak. 

The desirable interior of the pokéball only worked halfway. While she never tried to break out of it, when she was out, she would lash out regularly. However, with a lot of time and a lot of antivenom, she learned to trust us. And, because we gave her plenty of interesting prey to pursue, she eventually stuck around of her own free will when we gave her the choice. After that… it was the longest project of my entire stay, training her. I had many education experts come to her, to teach her, but for the longest time it seemed like she was incapable of learning even to read. 

I’m still not sure what I did. But, apparently, at one point I “earned her respect as a hunter” and Siren started trying to do what I did all the time—that is, read. She refused to show any progress in the classroom until she was able to show me up in private when I was mentioning I hadn’t managed to teach her anything, at which point she wrote her name down on the chalkboard, followed by a few rude words and an insult to my mother. She seemed to find this amusing.

Siren cannot speak, but her vines give her enough motor control to write out messages. She’s also capable of learning the Ludicolo dancing language but has expressed that it bores her and that writing words down is good enough. She’s still not the best at grammar or syntax, but I am uncertain if this is really due to an intellectual barrier, if she’s too lazy to develop it further, or if she’s messing with me. Siren always keeps me guessing, and she likes it that way.

E: You are remarkably fun to tease, doctor. Not in the least because you find it difficult to adapt your logic to other mentalities. 

It was only near the end of my stay on Pokérin that we uncovered the scent-communication in their instinct, and it was thanks to Siren. We had long since left the Hoenn region and were wrapping things up since we knew it was time to go back to the Federation and report on our findings. We were lucky enough to be walking in the wilderness when Siren sensed the scent of many Roserade congregating and led me right to them, where we observed for the first time their festival of development. She gestured for me to stay back and observe while she went in and showed off her complex dances and her ability to write—and even the use of a pokéball in front of them. She was clearly trying to show them that these things were worthwhile.

When I asked her about it later, she didn’t think the odds were good that they’d latch onto her ideas. She was just one Roserade, and their kind rarely came together for long enough periods of time to properly teach these things. Hunting techniques were complicated enough. They’d need a lot more Roserades than just her to try to do the teaching, and she wasn’t the sort to do much teaching in the first place.

Until then, and possibly even after, the Roserades would keep killing. For all prey is equal in their eyes. It really is a disturbing thought. A species just over the cusp of sapience in a niche where they are a feared, deceptive, and cruel predator. Relations with those not raised among Pokérinians will undoubtedly be strained for many years to come. 

Chapter Text

Dusknoir

Self-Name: Yonoir

This record is going to be one of the most far-fetched sounding, but I stake my commission as a Starfleet Officer that every word recorded in here is true and as I remember it. Even so, looking back, I still find it incredible in a way I can’t fully explain.

Before we begin, it would be best to go over the Ghost-type. All pokémon have a type, sometimes two, that defines how they channel their energy. All pokémon tap into this unique “Infinity Energy” and Pokérinians have been around long enough to passively absorb the use of it into their bodies as well—though notably Pokérinians did not always have this capability. Each of these types has an associated part of nature with it. Plants, Water, Fire, Rocks, the Air, etcetera. Then there are a few esoteric ones: Psychic for mental capacity, Fairy for arcane ability, and Dragon for some kind of “pure” use of the energy. They are fantastical, sure, but none of them is quite like the most concerning of the types—the Ghost-type.

No one can really explain the Ghost-type. It is associated with things dead that are somehow still able to affect the world. However, while many Ghost-type pokémon are rumored to be dead creatures reborn, in most (if not all) cases the research shows they are just another form of life that is born, reproduces, and dies. However, the pokémon themselves seem to have some correlation with death, the intangible, and what many might consider a “spirit.”

I met many Ghost-type pokémon in my travels, and most of them were simply creatures—admittedly creepy ones with unnatural and unnerving abilities, but creatures nonetheless. Even the Ghost sapients followed this pattern for the most part. 

But the first Ghost-type I studied, Dusknoir, sure made me think most of them would defy explanation.

Dusknoir are large, round creatures seemingly made of metal and gray smog. They have no legs, two arms, and their body may look solid but it is really one massive mouth that leads to an empty, dark void. Atop the body sits a head with a single piercing eye and a golden antenna—made out of real metal that can pick up radio signals and many other types of signals. 

These creatures should not exist, to put it simply. The only way they reach this stage of development is to be given a rare item known as a Reaper Cloth and then be fused with it. The only reliable way to do this is through Trading them with the item in their possession. And yet, somehow, Dusknoir exist almost exclusively in the wild. Few live under the control of trainers, and there are many reports of those who are under trainer control vanishing mysteriously with no explanation. 

Dusknoir have no society. They rarely interact with each other. They often don’t interact with anything at all, since they have no need to eat or battle. They wander, intangible, across the world—often staying just beneath the ground so nothing will ever see them as they travel. What they do is mysterious. The most common belief is that they shepherd lost souls to the realm of the dead. When I first heard this I thought it was ridiculous, a common superstition. Now I’m not so sure. 

Regardless, it is actually somewhat easy to communicate with them. They are significantly smarter than the average Pokérinian, and so long as you have a radio transmitter and receiver, they can talk—in whatever language you wish, it does not seem to matter, they always seem to know it. However, it is usually difficult to get them to have an extended conversation. You send radio waves to them, they send a few radio waves back, but they just keep moving, drifting off on their mysterious mission. 

All we got from these early conversations were bits and pieces, nothing cohesive. They would say things that made no logical sense, respond with something non-sequitur, or make a comment about a fact they had no way to know. We learned that they call themselves the Yonoir this way. Once, when Captain Ezri Dax was down with us, the Dusknoir we contacted turned to her and told her something about a previous Dax host’s family that she had never known. An event that took place thousands of light-years away and hundreds of years ago. It was exceptionally disturbing. 

We eventually devised an experiment. Since Dusknoir were radio-sensitive, we should be able to send a radio ping to all of them and locate where every single Dusknoir on the planet was. We bothered with this since the usual “scan for lifeforms” functionality of our sensors simply did not work on most Ghost-types. So we sent out the ping, got the data we needed… and immediately received a transmission from the surface with a set of coordinates with instructions to bring myself, Captain Ezri Daz, and Miranda for a meeting. 

Appended to the report is the visual recording of that meeting. 

[Transcript of Visual Recording.]

The moon is full and it is the dead of night. The coordinates lead to a brick wall built into the side of a mountain. The away team arrives by transporter with Captain Ezri Dax, Doctor Julian Bashir, Miranda, and Siren. 

There are two Dusknoir waiting, standing on either side of the brick wall with their arms crossed. Captain Ezri Dax walks forward, hand raised in a gesture of peace. “I am Ezri Dax, Captain of the Inquiry , starship of the United Federation of Planets. We come in peace.” She activates the radio device on her wrist, transmitting the words to the Dusknoir. 

Their response comes in a deep, reverberating voice. “We know who you are. We also know the identity of the rest of your team. Do not bother with pleasantries.”

Siren lets out a grunt and gives the Dusknoir a rude gesture blurred out in the recording.

Dax nods in understanding to the Dusknoir. “Understood. Why have you called us here?”

“You interfered with the network. We do not know if, in the second communication was disabled, we missed anything.”

“Missed what?”

The two Dusknoir approach her. “It is our duty to guide the lost home. It is our duty to protect this world from that which it should not have. Do not interfere.”

“We won’t do it again.” The Captain takes a step forward. “But please, hear us out, we only wish to learn more of you and—”

“You are not to interfere,” the Dusknoir interrupt. “And to ensure you are never tempted to, there will be a demonstration.”

“A wh—”

Both Dusknoirs open their mouths in unison, revealing the black interior to be filled with swirling white lights, some of which take the form of faces, both of Pokérinians and pokémon. A Dusknoir waves his hand, and a blue spark comes out of the Captain’s forehead and her body crumples to the ground.

“Ezri!” Doctor Bashir shouts. 

The Dusknoir closer to the brick wall touches it, and all the bricks dissociate as though in a telekinetic field, revealing a swirling rift of purple color behind it. Sounds akin to screaming come from the rift. The blue sparks that were within the Dusknoirs’ mouths drift toward the rift as though pulled by a magnet. The spark that came from the Captain does the same.

“Masamune!” Miranda shouts, jumping forward and cutting the Captain’s spark with Masamune. Like a baseball, the spark flies through the air, back into the Captain’s body—and she immediately starts breathing again.

“No demonstrations today,” Miranda says, pointing Masamune aggressively at the Dusknoir. “We get the message.” 

Video records a shadowy shape through the swirling void, a large, snakelike creature with spikes on its sides, an angular head, and six tendrils wafting off its back. It locks eyes with Miranda through the rift… and then goes away. 

The Dusknoir wave their hands and the bricks go back into place, complete with mortar. Doctor Bashir helps the captain up.

“Do not interfere with the network again,” the Dusknoir says. “Go back to your ship.”

“Message received…” The Captain says, tapping her communicator. “Four to beam up…”

[Recording ends.]

Scans probing the area later revealed that the wall was gone. The mountain face looked completely natural, as if there had never been any bricks there. Any attempts to talk to Dusknoir about the subject have failed, even when using Dusknoir under the control of trainers, which are significantly more talkative. They simply refuse to discuss or explain. 

All we are left with is theory. And the theories are wild, and most of them carry unpleasant implications. 

My best theory is this: that the Infinity Energy has influenced the world of Pokérin in fundamental ways, and one of those ways was largely negative. 

E: Must you ascribe duality to everything, doctor? The Yonoir are brusque, to be sure, and their devotion to the end of life is not one most living would care for, but to presume that ghosts are merely evil...

Ah, but this is still early in your journey. And your first brush with something truly beyond your comprehension. Sometimes wisdom can only be learned through foolishness.

The idea is that the Ghost-type resulted in the energies of death not fading away as they should, and as such, it was necessary for creatures such as the Dusknoir to exist so they could manage what did not disappear. 

After encountering the Dusknoir I have come across many places—including the infamous Lavender Town—where there were not simply Ghost-type pokémon, but entities that could legitimately be called ghosts of creatures that had died horrible deaths. I suspect it is these entities that the Dusknoir manage, and they manage it worldwide. 

So, while they have no visible culture, I theorize that they are in reality all connected in a single society, one with the singular goal to keep the balance between life and death. And, if the presence of these “spirits” is anything to go off of, they don’t always succeed. 

The realm on the other side of the rift is a mystery, though I have uncovered more in my travels. And, after having experienced it firsthand, I was willing to give more credence to the “myths” surrounding the Dusknoir. It is the realm of the dead, where all spirits must go. What that exactly means is apparently not something the Dusknoir want us to prod into. 

I suggest exercising extreme caution when dealing with the Dusknoir or this other realm. They appear to serve a necessary, almost biological function for Pokérin as a whole. If we were to interfere with their mission, they may actually be a threat to us. I understand that the Federation has a history of not responding well to threats, and this is essentially what the Dusknoir have done. My recommendation stands. Do not seek extended contact with them, do not push them, do not aggravate them. Let them be, and let them do their job. 

Chapter Text

Xatu

Self-Name: None

Xatu are tall, birdlike creatures with vibrant coloring. They tend to hold their wings close to their bodies, so it often looks like they have none at all and are wearing a patterned shirt. They spend most of their lives motionless and unblinking, but when they do move they have impressive agility and are graceful in flight. While they lack the digits required for complex tool use, their intelligence has never been in doubt because many of them have learned to communicate in semaphore. Since they rarely move and have little physical strength and aren’t quite strong enough to serve as a flying mount, one might think the Pokérinians would have little use for them.

However, the Xatu possess an ability that makes them highly desirable; they can see through time. One of their eyes shows the future while the other shows the past. For most, this sight only extends a short “time” in either direction, but disciplined Xatu have been rumored to make predictions years out, or report on events that happened over a decade ago. For this reason, they make excellent detectives, meteorologists, and fortune-tellers. 

Their vocal cords are incapable of complex speech, but most make up for this with the aforementioned semaphore-language—though, unlike many species, the Xatu do not have a unified language, instead learning whatever occurs nearby, often from Pokérinians themselves. 

While they can easily see into the past and the future, they lack depth perception and often miss things. Furthermore, they are incapable of looking directly into the present moment; they have to focus to bring their attention to the near-past and near-present. This is why they spend most of their time standing around doing seemingly nothing—their focus is set on another time. 

However, there is one problem with their predictions. It often occurs that a prediction a Xatu makes ends up preventing its prediction from coming true. If they see a future where they effortlessly hop over a gap, they may get too confident and trip and fall. This means that, curiously, larger-scale predictions—like the weather—are much more likely to be accurate than small-scale ones, like if the next attack is going to land. 

E: A common trend among foresight of all types. Time is as influenced as it influences, after all. 

We did many tests on Xatu predictive power during our stay, though none of the “predictive masters” elected to see us, so we only interacted with average Xatu. With one notable exception…

Marx was a Xatu who took up shop outside the World Championship and offered to “give people betting advice” on the outcome of the tournament. This was definitely against the rules of the Championship, but he had cleverly set up his stand outside the actual stadium and gave out his predictions for a price. Early on in the competition people thought of him as a hack, just a “dumb bird that learned to write and check boxes,” but sooner rather than later his predictions turned out to be completely accurate. His stand became a hotspot of activity overnight, surrounded by dozens of people looking to pay for his predictions. And he gave them out. Some were obvious: like Cynthia advancing to the next round, or no full team-wipes occurring that day. But some were unexpected, like the underdog trainer Richard advancing to the next round, or that the Dragon Champion Lance would be eliminated early. Every last one of these turned out to be true. 

So we went to him. His stand had gathered quite the crowd, and he was still giving out predictions and telling people to make bets. While we were there, we noted several people in official-looking suits—including several Officer Jennys—who were no doubt looking for a way to stop this nonsense. However, the betting pools weren’t managed by the World Championship, but by private people, so there was no pressure from the government to shut him down. Just a lot of private individuals who wanted to protect their interests to no avail. In effect, his predictions were forcing them to lower the payout on the odds of his predictions considerably. 

Marx noticed us long before we made it to his stand—which isn’t surprising, considering—and he actually gestured for us to come back and talk to him behind a curtain in private. Miranda had a few choice words for him, and I just stood there while he gestured back at her—I couldn't understand it. She told him he was giving pokémon a bad name and not helping their cause. He defended himself, of course, and didn’t budge, which was easy enough to tell from how irked Miranda was getting by the encounter. Just as she was about to storm off, he gestured something complicated to her that made her stop in her tracks. Like in a daze, she walked out of the secluded area—and I followed her. He hadn’t agreed to stop or do anything, but he had told her a prediction.

See, we were planning on using the World Championship as an excuse to make a statement and had Cynthia on board with it—a demonstration of pokémon sapience that nobody could ignore. But Marx had just told her that when we did it, it would cause mass hysteria and panic, largely because of the actions of one individual: Iris, the Unova Champion. He didn’t give her any details, but it was a horrifying thought.

Then almost half of Marx’s predictions for that day turned out to be false. Tons of people lost money that day. We breathed out a sigh of relief—he wasn’t infallible. So we set out to find him, but he had completely vanished. His stand wasn’t there anymore. And as we did more digging, we found out something disturbing. 

Very large bets had been made specifically against the predictions of Marx’s that turned out to be false. Large singular bets. It didn’t take much for us to realize all of this was done by a singular person. Marx had specifically given out bad predictions that last day to force the betting managers to alter the odds, and then he bet against them. Later data mining proved that he did make a few legitimately incorrect predictions during his time, but because he made so many, on average he was right more often than not. Much more often.

He made a fortune and left without a trace. 

Which left us to wonder if he had really given us an accurate prediction. We were leaning toward going ahead with our plan when I found none other than Iris, the Unova Champion, waiting for me in my lab one day. With her was her utterly massive Haxorous, a non-sapient species—but a very effective battling reptile with blades on its face. She spoke with friendly words and a smile, but it wasn’t hard to read her subtext—she was gauging me and my work, as well as letting me know precisely where she stood. Even with Miranda talking to her directly, in her mind, that didn’t matter. It was better for the relationship between Pokérinians and pokémon to follow the pattern of trainer and team. This way, she said, they were greater than the sum of their parts and every side brought what was best to development—Pokérinians were the organizers and developers, pokémon were the ones with the power to carry out their designs. She pointed out that very rare was the pokémon that wasn’t satisfied with following commands, and very very few were the sort who tried to make civilization. Her words angered Miranda so much she lashed out, but the Haxorous deflected it. 

If a battle erupted right there, Miranda would have won—against the Haxorous. She had access to Fairy-type abilities. However, Iris, as a Champion, had many other things on her team trained to be brutally efficient in combat. I stopped Miranda before she could trigger an actual conflict. Iris politely thanked us for our time and discussing our beliefs, and then left. 

We talked to Cynthia and our allies and canceled the demonstration shortly afterward. Now was not the time. She was expecting it, and no doubt had a counterplay. So, I suppose in a way we have to thank Marx for what he told us. Cheater and swindler though he was. He did give us the information for free—though perhaps he thought it was in his best interest to do so.

In conclusion, the Xatu themselves have an amazing ability, though it is not as reliable as one would hope in most cases. They are of tremendous use in meteorology, as well as in detective work. Their ability to see into the past is often forgotten but it is in many ways just as impressive and much more reliable than their future sight.

Though they are a bit unnerving. Completely silent, unblinking, and often unmoving. You would be forgiven for thinking one was a statue when it wasn’t up and about.  

Chapter Text

Froslass

Self-Name: None

Nature can be unimaginably cruel.

To describe the Froslass, it will be helpful to come to grips with the practice Pokérinians have of naming different stages of development in differing ways. For instance, Ludicolo’s immature form is known as a Lombre, and the baby form a Lotad. 

In the case of Froslass, all begin their lives as a being known as a Snorunt—a short, dwarfish creature of the cold and ice. They’re small, nomadic things that subsist almost entirely off of ice and the minerals found trapped within. As such they are usually slow creatures with a sluggish metabolism. Snorunts do not even come close to a high enough Intelligence Factor to be considered sapient, as they do little more than wander around and consume what is in front of them in cold climates. They only have a small population in Hoenn as most of it is tropical islands, but there are a few ice caves where they can be found in decently large numbers. 

In 99% of cases, a Snorunt will develop into a Glalie, a floating head of ice. In many ways, the already low intelligence of the Snorunt stage seems to go down as the Glalie form is a lot less cautious and tends to eat anything and everything it finds. While it is a predator and prefers eating frozen pokémon, it will freeze and eat anything, even rocks that don’t move. It’s not even the most effective predator as it is easily distracted and confused. 

And, for much of Pokérin’s history, that was all everyone thought there was to the Glalie species. 

But there is the 1% case, where a female Snorunt—never male—is exposed to the right combination of minerals. This will produce a being known as Froslass, and Froslass easily pass the Intelligence Factor test. They can solve complex puzzles, have an eye for beauty, and—tragically—can feel loneliness and sorrow. Froslass are creatures composed of an ice-crystal flaunting head with three limbs, two of which work as arms and the third which looks like a torso and is rather useless, seeing as they float. 

Froslass can only be female, and yet they have an intense desire to find a mate—or even just a lifelong companion. Glalies are no help to them in either regard; as Glalies are able to reproduce all on their own and offer nothing of intelligence to the Froslass. Companionship with other Froslass is exceedingly rare as well; the events that produce a Froslass are uncommon and rarely will two Froslass see each other in the wild. They are born with a need for companionship and none is on offer. 

One of a few things happen at this point. One is unfortunately common—the Froslass succumbs to despair and takes her own life. Their bodies are found more often in the wild than living specimens. Another option is that they seek companionship in a desperate state and will cling to anything that so much as looks like them, which are often Pokérinian trainers. However, the most common result is the most terrifying. The Froslass loses her mind and succumbs to an insanity of loneliness, making up her own language and talking to inanimate objects. If anything or anyone catches her fancy, she will freeze them solid and take them to her cave, where they will be used as permanent decorations that she will talk to in her madness. There is a reason Froslass are feared and the subject of many ghost stories on Pokérin. They are associated with death, desperation, the cold, and insanity. 

It disturbs me greatly that their “natural” state appears to be one of madness. Why do they exist? They cannot reproduce, so what purpose do they serve? Why is there potential for them to exist? Why is the universe so cruel to make a creature of endless sorrow with a desire that can never be filled?

For reasons not fully understood, humanoid males are the favored targets of the “mad” variety. And I was unfortunate enough to be a male humanoid in one’s presence. Since we were no longer going to be making a statement during the World Championship, I wanted to get as far away from it as possible, so I took Gilligan and Siren to go explore a cave. At this point, Siren was willing to stay with me, but her communication skills left much to be desired, and Gilligan still was not fully developed. Still, it was just an ice cave, I did not think there would be much danger. 

This was a mistake. Gilligan was a Grass-type, and Siren was a Grass-Poison. Both are particularly susceptible to Ice-types. Though the Glalie we encountered were easy to deal with due to Siren’s clever (and brutal) tactics, we stood no chance against a smarter opponent. After we were lulled into a false sense of security, the Froslass struck. Gilligan was frozen instantly. Siren put up an amazing fight, despite being outmatched and outclassed, striking the Froslass several times and even tying her up in a tangled mess of vines—but the frozen pokémon cubed her as well, all the while muttering it is made-up language.

Somehow, the universal translator was able to recognize her language quickly, and I began to understand what she was saying. Muttering about how unappealing things that moved were, how she wished she didn’t have to go through all this work to make things beautiful, and how delightful of a specimen I was.

I hadn’t been frozen yet, so instead of shooting my phaser more, I spoke to her. The sound of hearing her language spoken back to her was enough to shock her into a conversation. I introduced myself, and she gave me her name for herself: Yukimenoko. We talked for a bit and I could feel nothing but pity for her sad condition, how clearly disturbed she was, and how every other sentence of hers carried with it a deep sorrow. I offered her help—others who could talk to her, companions, and everything else I could think of. All she had to do was come out of the cave and come home with me. 

She must not have liked that idea since she froze me solid that instant. Curiously, the ice of a Froslass is not lethal; it’s a very effective preservative. The next thing I knew I was being thawed by Miranda’s Psychic powers and Yukimenoko was on the ground, groaning in pain. Miranda later told me Masamune made quick work of her—she was formidable for a wild pokémon, but Ghost types always hated Ghost-type attacks, and Masamune in Miranda’s hands was much faster than Yukimenoko. 

So Gilligan, Siren, and I were led out of the cave, leaving her behind and returning to the lab. 

I thought I was done with Yukimenoko, until that night where I caught her staring at me through the window as I slept. She followed me all the way there, somehow, despite me having used the Inquiry’s transporters for a large chunk of the journey. She made no hostile motion. She just stood there staring for hours. Eventually, I got up and spoke to her. She said she was ready to try it my way.

I got her professional help and introduced her to another trainer’s Froslass—though this Froslass was unable to fully empathize since her trainer took her in back when she was just in the Snorunt stage. Furthermore, this one had to learn to speak from scratch, since she had never reached the “madness” stage and created her own language. None of the Froslass’ I’ve encountered in trainer possessions have developed language.

As much as I hate to admit it, Yukimenoko never fully recovered. I’m not sure it’s possible for those like her to do so, for their entire being is tied up in an impossible desire. She no longer freezes people or pokémon to collect and instead tries to make friends in her own way. She has obviously taken a liking to me, though at this stage it’s less a desire for intimate companionship and more a kind of respect. And a sense of disbelief that I could ever forgive her for freezing me solid.

I still feel largely pity for her. She and others like her live a life of sorrow with no idea where they’re going or what they’re here for. It truly is a tragedy that seems to have no purpose. 

E: Forgive my flippancy, doctor, but much the same could be said of all life. That Yuki has forged herself a purpose where there was none before is something wroth admiration.

Chapter Text

Latios and Latias

Self-Name: Latios and Latias

Latios and Latias are different names for the genders of a single species: Latios for the males, and Latias for the females. In this paper, I shall refer to an instance of the species as a Lati, or Latis in the plural. 

Latis are beings that spend almost their entire lives airborne, zooming around at speeds that can occasionally break the sound barrier. Their defining features are their wings built more like the wings of a jet rather than of a bird. Each Lati has an extended head and two arms. The arms can be pressed into their stomachs to give them a more aerodynamic shape, but are perfectly capable of tool use. When not traveling at high speeds they are capable of hovering through Psychic-type power alone, though they clearly prefer to fly through the breeze naturally.

Latis are actually somewhat rare creatures and likely qualify as an endangered species. However, it is not hard in the slightest to find one; they fly at extreme speeds worldwide, so numerous Pokérinians see them all the time. Having a Lati fly overhead is akin to hearing a jet go by. Some find them annoying; others, majestic. 

Their reproductive cycle is a strange one if reports are to be believed, and given how slow it is it was not possible for me to confirm this. Apparently, every Lati is born with a twin of the opposite gender with no exceptions, and in most cases, these twins will stay with each other for the rest of their lives. The vast majority of Latis in the wild are seen in pairs; often mistaken for mates, but this is virtually never the case. Latis have exceptionally long lifespans of at least a thousand years, possibly more, and will generally only mate once in their lives. Thus, the population rarely grows unless two sets of twins are produced, which is a rare event. 

They are extremely intelligent and have a complex society of their own, even if the signs of it are not obvious. They prefer not to land and as such will never build anything themselves, and any tools they may keep on their person are usually created by Pokérinians or other pokémon. However, they have amazing, almost perfect memories, and are able to tell apart members of their species with ease from an alarming distance. As such, virtually every Lati in the world knows who every other one is and what they’ve done over the last few centuries. Their society is built on this collective memory: what they don’t remember themselves they remember being told about by Latis of the past, and as such, they are great sources of information.

If they can be spoken to, that is. They have the capacity to communicate with others Psychically, but few learn this. Instead, their language is one of long-range shouts and signals that carry through the air immense distances. Due to the intense volume of their cries, they tend only to speak when at a long distance from one another—using their mouths to direct the sound in only one direction, thereby sparing their sibling from getting a headache. With the combination of their language and their speed, they are among the fastest and most efficient ways to send messages around the world without relying on radio transmissions via satellite. 

Latis are highly sought after by trainers. It is also nearly impossible to catch a being faster than a jet plane that almost never lands. To capture a Lati requires either that it be befriended—which is the most common method—or that a trainer goes to extreme lengths to be able to keep up with the Lati or lay a trap for it. Even then, Lati are very intelligent and most have escaped the clutches of a trainer sometime in the past, so most attempts to get them fail. A few Latis think “trainer baiting” is a delightfully fun sport. 

Aside from the few Latis who learned psychic communication, no rapport was ever established between their kind and Pokérinians, and for the most part, their societies lay in completely parallel modes of existence, so they rarely intersected to begin with. 

E: A planet is, after all, a large place. So often do those who wander the stars forget that. The Lati society is far from the only such parallel that the doctor would encounter.

However, Latis are inherently curious beings, and since we were often taking down shuttlecraft to the surface to demonstrate our technology to Pokérin, it was only a matter of time before one of them decided to investigate. 

The brother/sister pair of Shurel and Lurel flew alongside Shuttlecraft-7 while some of my crewmembers were giving a Hoenn Governor a ride. The two circled around the shuttlecraft for a while, even going so far as to start flying backward so they could peer into the cockpit at all the little people inside. They seemed to find this amusing and did a complex series of swirls around the shuttlecraft and then followed it down to the Mossdeep Space Center. And, since it was the site of a lot of ship landings, they took a liking to it and started following and investigating many of the ships traveling to and from the Space Center. Since they were around so often, the Starfleet officers there often heard their cries and noted how complex they sounded—and the universal translator was not far behind, already picking out the grammar and syntax of their echoing, booming speech. 

I was not part of this personally, but a Vulcan science officer by the name of Fosic strapped a massive atmospheric microphone to the top of a Shuttlecraft and let out a booming shriek. This got the siblings’ attention, and they immediately started talking back. They were surprised—not that Pokérinians could speak, they knew that—but that Pokérinians had bothered to learn their language, for it was not a simple one. Fosic explained everything about who we were and what we were doing there.

Next week about a hundred different Latis arrived at the space center. Some of the elders actually sought diplomatic relations, but the vast majority of them were just there to see what was going on—they were ancient beings, rarely did something truly new happen. Every Lati on the planet probably knew about us before every Pokérinian did! 

Curiously, their attitude on “rights” was a strange one. While most of them agreed that being captured against their will wasn’t good, they also didn’t see it as that bad of a thing. Pokérinians lived, what, a hundred years at most? And most were well into that lifespan by the time they had enough resources to even try to catch a Lati. The prevailing attitude was that if a Lati was foolish enough to get themselves caught, they deserved to be where they were for the short time. There had been a few cases of trainers “passing on” their Latis to the next generation, and in most cases the Lati let this happen—and this is how a few cities in the world ended up with Lati guardians. However, the Latis as a whole did step in to release those who didn’t want to be passed on to the next Pokérinian generation. But, even in their memory, such events are very rare.

They did warn us about upsetting “Rayquaza,” who, at the time, I thought was a deity in their religion. This assumption proved to be partially accurate, but in all the wrong ways—but that’s its own entry.

I will say our presence had a fundamental change in the way Latis viewed construction. Once they learned that there were things called spaceships that could let them fly to the stars , a decent number of them started studying high-atmosphere aerodynamics and warp theory with the hopes that they could fly even further beyond what their Mega-Evolutions (a topic I will get into in another entry) allowed. The Mossdeep Space Center began to be called the “Lati nest” by the locals since the once-rare event of a Lati landing within sight of Pokérinians became commonplace there. Luckily, the Mossdeep Space Center was in Hoenn and they were protected from prospective trainers since in most other regions I believe they would have been captured regularly. Then again, perhaps they knew this in some form, and would not have started congregating unless they knew it was safe. 

Or maybe they’re all daredevils. They do seem to like wild, risky acrobatic maneuvers and situations. 

Chapter Text

Lucario

Self-Name: Lucario

This entry is in a bit of an odd position because I did not do my full studies on the Lucario species until after I’d left Hoenn, but while in Hoenn and during my time working with Cynthia I had many encounters with her Lucario—and we talked about many, many things, and learned about much. 

Lucario are bipedal canines with blue-black fur and spikes on the backs of their hands. All members of the species are able to sense what they call “aura” and I believe is related to the “Infinity Energy.” Through this connection, they are able to communicate with Pokérinians somewhat readily through telepathy. As they are one of the clearly sapient species, at first glance it seems odd that despite extended contact with Pokérinians they largely didn’t get any rights. Well, there is a reason for that. Lucario are loners by nature, meeting up with their kind only to mate or have contests of skill, the rest of the time they spend hunting or training themselves. This natural desire to train makes them particularly suited for battling, and in their minds the trainer’s purpose is to show them new and more difficult enemies to face. There are exceptions, of course, but this is generally how it goes—so much so that Lucario will often seek out trainers and challenge them to see who is worthy. 

Cynthia’s Lucario was one who decided his trainer was worthy. Not through a battle—though there was one, one that he lost spectacularly—but through her demonstration of courage; putting herself in harm’s way to protect a young child, giving up her opportunity to catch a powerful unusually-colored Mamoswine. Not all Lucario have this sense of honor-bound duty, but it is a stereotype of theirs: meditating warriors for good. 

Cynthia’s Lucario never took a name, for in his mind he wants to be known as Cynthia’s Lucario, and nothing more. Most Lucario don’t have names since they are loners and communicate entirely telepathically with each other. They seem almost designed for battle, if I dare say such a thing. 

Most Lucario don’t understand the desire of the Federation to give them rights—they see life as a series of more challenging opponents that must be used to better oneself. Becoming a trainer’s pokémon is usually the most efficient way to encounter many opponents in a test of raw skill. A few express interest in becoming trainers themselves, if only the rules could be altered to allow themselves to fight as well—or at least tag-team out. 

Cynthia’s Lucario, however, understood what we were trying to do. By his own admission, it was only because he had encountered so many pokémon and communed with so many of their minds—gaining a wide view of both Pokérinians and pokémon. While he is devoutly loyal to Cynthia and is prepared to bite off the head of anyone who even implies that she is cruel, he has seen many cruel trainers and even other Lucario who think the brutality is making them stronger, when they are only worse off for it. He’s the main reason Cynthia was so willing to work with us—he understood the struggles of so many. 

Originally, when we were planning to make a statement during the World Championship, it was going to be through Cynthia’s Lucario. Cynthia would “pass out” due to a slow-acting drug and her Lucario would take over guiding the match against a difficult opponent—making a point. However, we didn’t go ahead with this plan, as mentioned in previous entries. 

What we did do was introduce her Lucario to many pokémon candidates of a potentially high Intelligence Factor. While there were some cases where his telepathy didn’t do much—Siren, for instance—there were other cases where he was able to strike up a “conversation” immediately and report to us what he found. Yuki (the Froslass that follows me around) found him a great help, simply because he was able to empathize with her on a deeper level than what a simple universal translation could accomplish. While sometimes “communicating” with a pokémon didn’t always mean it had an Intelligence Factor—he could communicate with things of low intelligence, for instance, with concepts and ideas—it gave us a starting point for much of our research. 

An interesting note is that Lucario cannot commune with any races of the Federation that aren’t telepathic or empathic themselves. The “target” needs to have some Infinity Energy for them to initiate it.

While later on we had multiple Lucario working for us, Cynthia’s gave us the bounce board we needed to get started. And he got us much further than we ever would have otherwise. I owe him so much, even if I still find it odd that he refuses to take a name. Other Lucario have, it’s not a cultural thing. Something about his bond with Cynthia is special.

Lucario are capable of Mega-Evolution, but that is a topic best explored in the next entry. 

Chapter Text

Metagross

Self-Name: Metagross

Metagross are composite beings. The actual species is called Beldum, but they rarely remain in this form if they can help it. An individual Beldam is a small creature composed largely of magnetic metals arranged in an elongated shape. When they are mature enough, two Beldam can fuse together to form a Metang, using its previous two bodies like arms around a head. A Metagross is the combination of two Metang; a being with four limbs, a large X-shape across its face, and masterful power over magnetism. The species is also significantly larger than a human and thinks in a way more akin to a computer than a biological organism. One could even be forgiven for calling a Metagross a robot since they move methodically and are highly magnetic.

Each brain of a Beldum still acts on its own accord within a Metagross. However, there is never any disagreement—their union is more akin to parallel processing in a computer. Thus, a Metagross can easily focus on four tasks at once or split a single massive task into four smaller problems for quick computation. A Metagross has an intelligence trouncing many early supercomputers, able to solve mathematical computations with ease in addition to many real-world simulations which it uses in battle. They have considerable control over magnetism and can even float in the air should they desire—though given their immense weight this is generally a waste of resources. In the wild, Metagross are predators, but most animals are pathetic compared to them. However, unlike computers, Metagross still have emotions, even if they are suppressed in a Vulcan-like way most of the time. They tend to think like computers as well, and abstract concepts that can’t be coded into the language of math are difficult for them.

Until recently, it was believed that Metagross were rare since any large number of them could easily clean out an ecosystem of all possible prey. This turned out to not be the case—though we didn’t discover that until later. Suffice it to say, Metagross tend to have a concerning attitude: they think they are superior to all other forms of life. Their intelligence is unmatched and, for the most part, so is their strength. 

Because Metagross were rarely found in the wild, my first experiences with them were with those in the ownership of trainers. In my mind, the Metagross that stands out the most is the nameless one under the man Tobias. Tobias is a man I admittedly have a low opinion of. Unlike many trainers, who seek to bond with their pokémon to be the best they can be, by his own words his goal is not that, but to “catch ‘em all.” He has spent his life going to extreme lengths to obtain one of every pokémon… and then leave the majority of them in their balls for eternity, collecting dust on a shelf. He is one of the most successful collectors worldwide, and he has in his possession a large number of exceedingly rare pokémon, ones that are also exceptionally powerful and hard to predict since they are so rarely used in official battles. Most people know him for his Darkrai, a being of darkness and shadow that forces opponents to sleep and then devours their nightmares. He also has a Latios, one he caught himself through apparently clever use of a private jet, and a time-distorting pokémon known as Celebi. He is not, primarily, a competitive battler—he just joins the Championships with his rare creatures to test how powerful they are. 

And they really are. Career trainers folded beneath his exotic creatures. He would almost never take out his sixth pokémon—which was his Metagross. He also would almost never switch, instead preferring to see how his legends handled attacks they were weak too.

He made it to the top 8 in the World Championship, where he was paired against Iris, the Unova Champion mentioned previously. She was the first one to make him take out his Metagross. And during the battle, they had a clear conflict of ideas. While I had gotten a rather unpleasant view of Iris after her visit to my lab, here I got to see her criticize Tobias and his way of thinking. 

In the end, it was her Hydreigon versus his Metagross—Metagross at a type disadvantage to the Dark-type three-headed dragon. Iris took the moment to lay into him; citing how he wasn’t treating pokémon with respect. He caught them just to collect , not to improve, not for symbiosis, for nothing but his own personal gain. For all her opposition to our movement, I have to admit that her devotion to her ideals was honorable. She really did not seek dominance for the sake of dominance, but because she truly thought the way was better for everyone involved. 

Tobias said little during this, but he made a point of his own. To the shock of everyone present, he took out a Mega-Evolution keystone. 

Mega-Evolutions need a bit of explaining. There exist these mysterious stones attuned to specific species of pokémon. They are called Mega Stones. Each one has the potential to awaken a temporary, but outrageously powerful transformation in the species it is attuned to. However, to activate this transformation, a Pokérinian is required. The Pokérinian can be a trainer, or just a close friend, but there needs to be a Pokérinian to fully activate it. When activated, the Mega effect transforms the pokémon and it becomes a tremendous force of nature in virtually every case. It is a clearly artificial procedure surrounded in mystery. It’s so impressive that the official rules for battles limit a trainer to only using one Mega Stone per battle. 

Usually, though, trainers will activate their Mega Stone at the start of battle—there’s rarely a reason not to begin with the improved form. Miranda, when she was in professional battles, was one of the few exceptions: Mega-Gardevoirs lose their ability to emulate the techniques of their opponent, so the transformation is a tradeoff. Mega Metagross have little in the way of tradeoff, and Tobias’ Metagross had already taken a beating—yet only now did he unleash the Mega Stone. Despite his silence, it was a statement.

Despite type disadvantage and existing injuries, he beat Iris’ Hydreigon. Then he wordlessly walked away, leaving the audience oddly silent. It was a strange moment. 

He didn’t win the World Championship. The trainer Red defeated him handily next round, but neither of them said much during the fight. Red fought Cynthia in the final round, defeating her as well. It was an amazing battle with many twists and turns and a lot of swapping, but it isn’t really relevant here. 

Regardless, that was not the end of our encounters with the Metagross. After seeing Metagross in action and hearing the rumors about it, I wanted to find one in the wild—a task harder than most, since Metagross were evidently rare and exceedingly intelligent. So Cynthia took us to a place she’d seen them before in Hoenn. We found a lot of Beldum though in the mountains, which were clearly sapient on their own, communicating with zaps and beeps that the universal translator was eventually able to decipher. But we still wanted a Metagross. The Beldum had difficulty thinking about more than one thing at once, and we weren’t finding any Metang. 

So we all got a little too excited when we saw one. Miranda ran up to it, waving Masamune in greeting—with Gilligan, Siren, Yuki, Cynthia, and myself close behind. It lashed out immediately, tossing us back… and then Tobias walked out from around a corner, revealing it to just be his Metagross. 

We asked him what he was doing here, and he informed us that he was looking for rare pokémon. When we asked if it was more Metagross, like what we were looking for, he said no—but he knew they were around here, so he had brought his Metagross to assist. Furthermore, he had heard there were many strange puzzles and ruins associated with his target—Regirock—and his Metagross was well suited to solving any sort of puzzle. 

And so it was. I watched in awe as the massive pokémon solved mazes, decoded ancient writing, and deduced which walls to break down to lead to more chambers. At first, it seemed random, but with time we did appear in a chamber with a humanoid being of rock. This Regirock was clearly an artificial machine of some kind, not a being with a life cycle like Metagross. Its face was a series of light-up dots and its speech was synthetic and garbled—corrupted. 

And Tobias had Metagross disable it, pin it to the ground, and then threw dozens of advanced pokéballs at it until, finally, Regirock relented and was captured. It was admittedly impressive, if incredibly violent. 

I remember Tobias saying, “not very strong, all things considered.” And I am sure he would have left at that point had Metagross not found something else—another tunnel, beneath Regirock’s chamber, that led much deeper into the earth. Everyone’s curiosity led them to jump right in. Siren went first, because of course she did. 

As we descended this tunnel we came across something we really, really weren’t supposed to. A door with markings shaped like a Metagross’ four legs. Tobias ordered his Metagross to unlock it, and his limbs fit the lock perfectly, opening the doors up to see a city . A city built of metal, perfectly proportioned metallic shapes, and mathematical patterns that whizzed between the buildings. There must have been thousands of Metagross in that one city alone. 

And they knew immediately that we had opened a door we weren’t supposed to.

Miranda and Tobias’ Metagross quickly slammed the door shut with their psychic powers. Everyone knew it was time to run at the same time. I attempted to call the Inquiry , but we were too far underground. Tobias took out Regirock and ordered it to create a cave-in, and Yuki froze the rubble solid. 

As it turned out this did little to stop a horde of advancing supercomputers. They were able to tear through the rubble with alarming efficiency, and since they wanted to get to us quickly, they were using all their energy to fly at us. Despite being weak to Ghost-type, the attacks from Yuki and Masamune could only slow their pursuit. They were far too intelligent to be tricked into any setup, either.  And they knew the caves well enough to loop around—appearing in front of us as well. 

Tobais mega-evolved his Metagross and took his entire team out, and Cynthia did the same—mega-evolving her Lucario. We were going to make a stand, and while Cynthia and Tobias were excellent trainers, there were simply too many Metagross to deal with. Miranda even had a desperate ploy—she took the keystone from Tobias and gave it to me so she could Mega Evolve with her old piece of Gardevoirite, which worked. We discovered that day that it was not just Pokérinians that could trigger Mega Evolutions, but any non-pokémon humanoid. ( Fosic’s Footnote: As my team later discovered, the Mega Evolution requires the Progenitor genetic marker, so not every non-pokémon can accomplish the feat. However, the vast majority of humanoids can, since most have the marker.) 

Miranda was still defeated by the swarm, even in her improved state. We were captured and taken back to their city.

They did not kill us, even though that had been their policy previously to any who uncovered their city. They were smart enough to know that this time was different. I hid nothing from them—I told them exactly who I was, where I was from, what I represented, and what was likely to happen after I didn’t report in after a full day. For creatures as intelligent as them, processing the information was pathetically easy. They reasoned that it was going to be impossible to keep the secret for much longer, no matter how careful they were, something from the Federation was going to find them now that they would actively be looking. 

And that was how Pokérin discovered there was an entire civilization of supercomputing rock creatures under their feet. That just so happened to think that Pokérinians (and basically every other pokémon) were simple and beneath them. It shook things up considerably, to be sure.

All of us were released, and Tobias continued on his journey to catch everything as if nothing had happened. I myself introduced the Metagross to the Federation diplomats and talks began… slowly. They had little respect for us, and little has changed since then. They are talking more out of necessity than anything.

As for myself, I asked Cynthia about what Regirock was. She revealed that there were dozens of these Regis around, all hidden away. Since they were clearly artificial, I asked what made them. According to legend—the being known as Regigigas, rumored to be somewhere in her home region, Sinnoh.

Since Hoenn seemed to be running out of sapients for me to find at this point, and with the World Championship over, the mystery of the Regis became a major factor in my decision to investigate Sinnoh next. 

Chapter Text

Vespiquen and Honchkrow

Self-Name: None and Dongkarasu

Miranda left her position as a Hoenn Agent to join me on my travels, and we returned with Cynthia to her home region—Sinnoh. Our mission was to uncover the mystery of the “Regi” machines, seeking Regigigas, in addition to my usual work examining pokémon Intelligence Factor. However, we very quickly got distracted. Cynthia was visiting some friends and taking care of a few loose ends before we got going to the frozen north, and during that time I got to know the Sinnoh region a bit more.

Sinnoh, as a whole, was not as forward-thinking as Hoenn, but it wasn’t neutral either. Cynthia was a major public figure as Sinnoh Champion and she took an active role in the politics of her nation. So while the region hadn’t passed many laws, the general attitude of the people was swinging in our favor. 

Still, the prevailing assumption was that pokémon were owned by trainers, so many made the assumption that I was Miranda’s trainer. This usually got them a bash from Masamune’s shield and an earful from Miranda herself. 

While Cynthia was going around and tying up loose ends in her home—a process much expedited with the help of the Inquiry’s transporter—I continued my work. And one day while Miranda and I were out with the others in the forest, we witnessed something shocking; what looked like a war over a field of flowers.

Combees are bee-like creatures seemingly made out of honeycombs. Murkrows are essentially just crows with exaggerated beaks and plumage on their heads like a straw hat. These two sets of creatures had shown no signs of high intelligence before, even though Combees are relatively common in Sinnoh and I had seen a few Murkrows around. 

And yet, here they were. Bug and bird going at each other furiously over flowers . The Combees had a reason to fight for food, but they should not have been able to form up into complex formations, including locking their bodies together like a wall and moving with what I can only describe as modern warfare tactics—sacrificing members, making feints, the like. The Murkrows, on the other hand, while not fighting as a military regiment, still had cohesion. They jumped in gangs, made unpredictable movements, but all in all worked toward one goal: breaking through the Combee wall.

When the battle ended there was no clear winner, but there were many remains on the ground. Miranda admitted she’d never seen anything quite like it, but she had a pretty good idea what was going on. As it turned out, she was right, and tracing the Murkrows back to their origin confirmed it. 

The flock of Murkrows was all centered around a more developed version of their kind, known as a Honchkrow. This bird was much larger, though shorter than a human, and its plumage looked like a fedora. When it squawked at the Murkrows, it seemed to be giving them orders—while when the Murkrows responded, it seemed mindless. See, Murkrows do not reach their final development stage until exposed to a certain kind of mineral, similar to many other pokémon. The main difference is that before exposure, Murkrows are decidedly non-sapient, little more than birds. Upon growth, however, they gain all the intelligence they need to whip their brothers into shape and form what is known as a mob . While many beings in a similar position may try to elevate their brethren to their stage, Honchkrows actively try to stop the creation of other Honchkrows by keeping the other Murkrows under strict control far away from the minerals. If ever two Honchkrows are in the same mob, with few exceptions the mob will either collapse under its own weight or split in two. (I did briefly meet a mob run by twins that didn’t collapse, but that’s the only example I am aware of.)

The particular Honchkrow we had just found was one who had only developed recently, and as such didn’t really know what to do with his gift besides order the other birds around to collect shiny objects. He had come to think of that flower field as his own personal collection of shiny objects, but since he couldn’t take the flowers home without killing them, the Murkrows were to guard them. 

And when the Combese started moving in to find a new feeding ground, he took objection and trained his Murkrows in the art of bug warfare. 

They were not trained in the art of Gardevoir warfare. Despite being Dark-type and having the type advantage over Miranda and Masamune, the Murkrows were barely more than wild animals, and she was a championship-ready warrior. All the Murkrows were knocked out with a single shriek from Miranda and soon the Honchkrow had a blade to his neck. 

At which point Yuki, in a rare moment of lucidity, asked why we were interfering with a war. It hadn’t quite struck me before, but perhaps she had a point—did the prime directive apply to those other races on Pokérin that had no clue about Pokérinian inventions? How could we even tell which ones were uncontacted? It was a legal mess, and even to this day, I’m not sure if our laws are robust enough to handle such a situation.

That said, we had already interfered, so we were already in the middle of it. Luckily, Honchkrows do have a language, for they brag about their accomplishments to the other mob bosses through long-range bird calls. This often triggers scuffles between Honchkrows that feel insulted, keeping them in a perpetual state of conflict with one another. The only odd situation here was with the Combees. Combees, despite being bees with a nasty sting, are generally peaceful creatures that just want to return honey from their flowers to the hive. 

We tried to explain to the Honchkrow what our purpose was, but he—Don Violet—wanted nothing to do with us, he said he would fight his own war his own way and that we should stick our beaks in our own business. Pointing out that none of us had beaks did not change his mind. 

So we went to the Combee hive next. This was a bit more difficult since there were a lot more Combees than Murkrows—and they were bringing pollen and nectar from many many fields of flowers. Individual Combees moved around lazily, but when viewing them all as a cohesive unit, they worked like a well-oiled machine. 

The Queen came out to see us. She had long since understood that aggravating Pokérinians and their pokémon teams only resulted in a lot of injured Combees and damage to the hive, so she opted for diplomatic solutions instead—whenever possible. She had no individual name aside from “the Queen” since Combees don’t care for names. Pokérinians call a developed Queen Combee a Vespiquen. Vespiquen are about the size of a human and appear to be part bee, part humanoid entity, part honeycomb at the base. They are one of the very few Bug-type sapients, and they are only sapient in their fully developed form. Unlike Honchkrows, they need no minerals to attain this form. However, a hive can only have one Queen at a time, and no other Queen will develop so long as a Queen is already in place. As such, Vespiquen have no use for language with each other, and if there are two of them in the same palace, they are generally not doing things as nature intended. 

However, Vespiquen have a strong connection to their Combees. It is not quite a psychic connection, like many others on Pokérin have, but more akin to the ways bees in hives on Earth work: forming a cohesive hive-mind intelligence simply by operating as a swarm-unit rather than a single one. The purpose of the Queen is to provide a central processing “core” for the hive, a way to process that which the Combees themselves cannot in their natural state. She was currently managing several dozen excursions to flower fields to gather more material to grow the hive and make more Combees—the Murkrow “war” was just the biggest annoyance on her plate at that time.

She wasn’t able to communicate very well; only offering a peaceful place to stay and giving us honey, the usual strategy she used to appease those who visited her hive that couldn’t be driven off with enough Combee force. We eventually had to leave without establishing official contact, realizing that we hadn’t really done much to stop the war, or even change it. It was still going to occur over the flower fields, probably until one side gave way. By the looks of things, it’d be Don Violet’s mob that left first. 

Weeks later, after we had encountered many other things, through Lucario-connection we were able to form a more working relationship with the Queen. She produced honey, construction materials, and female Combees that, when taken from the hive, could be developed into other Vespiquen for battling. In exchange, she got modern conveniences in her hive; including a TV, lots of games, and math textbooks. That Queen in particular liked math for some reason. 

That Queen’s hive is currently the largest in the entire world, and it’s gotten so big that other Vespiquen develop in it simply by being far enough away from her. She manages to make this work, however, with a new “buzz-language” she’s created all on her own to speak with them. It’s really amazing when you think about it. Even though Vespiquen score somewhat low on the Intelligence Factor, they have a very determined attitude. 

E: I would not be surprised to find that all those that would have been otherwise ignored have similar dispositions.

The Honchkrows don’t have as much of a success story. They only work with each other when they think there is a common enemy, and the Queen is sure not to let them think she qualifies anymore. So they keep squabbling amongst each other in their mobs and no two can ever stand being in the same room with each other and are constantly trying to keep more Honchkrows from developing. Those under trainer control do better, but they don’t have mobs to control. It’s a somewhat deplorable situation.

Regardless, Vespiquen and Honchkrows both exhibit the somewhat rare trait of developmental sapience: they only pass the Intelligence Factor tests at all when they develop past a certain point, prior to this they really are just animals. I’m not sure what the ethics committee is going to say on this one, but I don’t envy their job. 

Despite this, the Queen (who we refer to as the Eterna Queen since her hive started in the Eterna Forest) has become a major player in pokémon/Pokérinian relations ever since. Her hive keeps getting more impressive every time I visit it. 

Chapter Text

Blissey

Self-Name: Happinas

Blissey are round, pink creatures shorter than the average humanoid. They are a sort of marsupial, who always hold an egg proudly in the pouch on their chest—the moment the egg hatches, the Blissey will start to produce a new one, and a few days later a new smooth, white shape will be incubating. They do this without any genetic material from a male to speak of, making them a monogendered race (though they are usually labeled as female given the constant egg-rearing). Their demeanor is usually cheery and empathetic. They are capable of speech and have many languages among their people, but are incapable of speaking Pokérinian tongues. 

Despite reproducing so quickly and readily (though the incubation period of an egg can be up to a year) Blissey are almost never found in the wild. That is because they have integrated almost seamlessly into Pokérinian society as a fundamental part of it: nurses for pokémon. Virtually every nurse in a pokémon Center has at least one Blissey with them, perhaps more. As naturally nurturing and caring creatures, Blissey are well suited to this line of work. Admittedly, in most regions, they don’t get paid for their work and instead the check goes to the Nurse “in charge” of them, but their placement as universal caregivers is not an uncomfortable position. They are already often respected as the healers of pokémon, even when their patients take damage beyond what is to be expected in a battle. Naturally, they can also treat Pokérinians. 

I had known of the Blissey long before we arrived in Sinnoh, because they are common in many regions, but were notably absent from Hoenn pokémon Centers and aren’t traditionally used for battles. (Although, I did see one used in the Championship, and despite being a nurturing mother she seemed able to take more hits than virtually anything else competing). In many regions, even those actively pushing against the idea that pokémon are equal, the Blissey are respected and given great honor. 

As far as I can tell they are exactly what everyone thinks they are. Nurturing healers who are happy most of the time. A few work on other things, but even then it’s almost always with a Nurse Joy. 

...Nurse Joy. 

All right, this needs some explanation. Some time in the past, there was a family of doctors called the Joys. For some reason not fully understood, the genetic markers in that family became exceedingly dominant—to the point at which almost every child in the family was born as a girl had pink hair and a body structure nearly identical to those of all other Joys that came before and after. The desire to be a Doctor and heal was almost universal for each of the Joys, so they went out to do just that. In the modern age, virtually every pokémon Center has at least one nurse Joy in it, though over time their “dominant genes” have drifted slightly so ones from different regions look a little different. However, it’s common for people not to be able to tell them apart without looking at their uniforms. 

It doesn’t help that they almost all act the same too. The vast majority are in the same line of work and have the same attitude. I was sure they were clones at first, but apparently, it’s just a genetic fluke. Or, at least, that’s what I thought until I learned that the Joy family is not the only one of its type. There is a family of Jennys that tend to take law-enforcement duties, as well as a handful of other examples across the world. I’m not sure why but Pokérinians seem to stumble across “dominant genes” that pass down almost like cloning to their offspring, despite still needing both a father and mother to perpetuate the line. 

I do not pretend to understand this and, to be honest, neither do the Joys—despite being the very people who do research on biological oddities in Pokérinians and pokémon. It just is what it is, to them. As for me, I took samples from a few volunteer Joys and Jennys but will leave the investigation to other specialists.

E: Genetics are far from the only thing that influences development, even within the womb. The doctor had to unlearn much on his journey. And still so much foolishness left to shed…

How powerful the mind of genius, even in their idiocy.

I had this all fully explained to me for the first time in the cold frozen north of the Sinnoh Region in the pokémon Center of Snowpoint City. The Nurse Joy on staff there seemed to find my baffled reaction amusing. She made a note to tell the story of the Joys more often to visiting “aliens,” it might be more fun.

Regardless, I was there with my team and Cynthia to learn about Regigigas. It was no small secret that the Snowpoint Temple even further north was the “resting place” of Regigigas—and the term “resting” was literal, Regigigas was rumored to sleep there since he never aged. His legends are many and varied, but no doubt I will talk of them later. The Nurse Joy gave us instructions and supplies to trek through the thick snow until we arrived. She warned us that only the “worthy” would be let in. She found the thought that we planned to find a way in regardless quite amusing, but she wished us luck anyway.

Siren made use of her writing skills, taking a few tries to write a snarky comment along the lines of “we’ll show her.” 

In conclusion, Blissey are one of the most common races on Pokérin, but it is all but impossible to separate them from Pokérinian society, they’ve integrated so well. 

Chapter Text

Spiritomb

Self-Name: None

I am not even sure this entry qualifies as a species. I know there is more than one entity called “Spiritomb,” but they are not a species as we understand it. They are sapient, but more by consequence than by their own merit. They are… an exemplification of what I believe the Dusknoir manage, when they can. 

Physically, Spiritombs are swirling torrents of Ghost-type energy affixed to a small rock called a Keystone. The torrent has many green orbs within it and jagged markings that appear as a malevolent, permanently smiling face. Spiritombs laugh and often speak in recognizable words, but never anything that makes sense as a cohesive whole. They have difficulty focusing without a guiding force and have disturbing instincts towards violence. 

I have only had close encounters with two Spiritombs. Neither encounter was pleasant, and I have little desire to get close to them again. 

The first was one under the ownership of Cynthia, which I first got a good look at when we made it to the top of the mountain where the Snowpoint Temple stood. Most of the temple was not visible, as it was carved into the rock, but the pediment that was exposed to the elements was impressive white marble, albeit largely covered in snow.

Miranda cut away all the snow so we could stand in front of the doors. As we probably should have expected, they didn’t budge. Miranda asked for me to Mega-Evolve her—Cynthia gave me the requisite materials to do so before we set out—and she pulled at the doors with all her psychic might, to no effect. Cynthia tried the same with her Garchomp, but nothing happened. 

Given how nothing happened to the doors, using a phaser would probably do nothing. I reasoned that if we knew what was on the other side, we might be able to use the Inquiry’s transporters to get in. However, despite both Masamune and Yuki being Ghost-type, neither of them could become intangible. Fortunately for us, Cynthia’s Spiritomb could. She took it out of its ball and it immediately made everyone but Siren take a step back in fear. It emanated rage, violence, and death like nothing else. To this day, I believe it enjoyed seeing our responses.

Cynthia gestured for it to phase through the door. While its Keystone was unable to go through, the swirling part of its body passed right through, and when it came back in the midst of all its random words, I caught a few sentences about it being clear on the other side, with no impediments. 

Cynthia later explained how she acquired the Spiritomb. It had been freed from an ancient ruin by some careless archeologists and had gone on a murderous rampage that no one had been able to stop, so she faced it head-on with her team. Without access to the Fairy-type, there were no weaknesses she could exploit in the creature, so she had to wear it down by power alone. She succeeded and captured it so it could never go on another rampage again. She still thinks that the inside of its pokéball gives it images of a land where it can slaughter and kill with reckless abandon. 

She admitted to me that even she fears it, but she also understands that she’s the one keeping it from laying waste to whatever it can. 

We transported a few inanimate objects through the door and back before going through ourselves, but after convincing ourselves it was safe, the Inquiry was able to transport us into Snowpoint Temple where we could begin our investigations on Regigigas. 

During our early descent into the temple, Cynthia told me how Spiritombs were created. Sometimes, an area becomes so cursed with the Ghost-type energy that nothing can be done about it, and the Dusknoir all but leave it to rot. Within this place spirits of rage and revenge dwell, doing all they can to torment the living. Eventually, someone does something about it, either a psychic Pokérinian or a pokémon or perhaps a team of both, binding the remnant entities of Ghost-energy to a Keystone. And when those spirits are bound and mingle in the Keystone for long enough, they fuse into one entity, a Spiritomb. How much of this is folklore I am not certain, for I have never seen one made. But Spiritombs sure act like composite creatures would—insane, inconsistent, distractible. Their only real driving force appears to be a hatred for life. Any that are released go on rampages.

I myself encountered one when I was doing archeological research much later, and as those foolish archeologists did when Cynthia’s Spiritomb was released, I became the victim of my own hubris. It immediately lashed out and tossed me to the side. My friends rushed to protect me, but at its full rage the Spiritomb made quick work of all of them except Miranda, and she was able to take it down, grab the keystone, throw it in a hole, and bury it. She admitted to me later she only believes she won because of her access to Fairy-typing—the only thing Spiritombs are weak to. Even then, it was close—those malevolent beings are torrents of pure violence and power. 

But in both cases, I saw intelligence. Muddled in insanity and contradiction, but intelligence nonetheless.

Their eternal psychotic laughter will ring in my ears for the rest of my life, alongside their glowing slasher smiles. Burned, unable to be forgotten. When it attacked me, I saw visions of myself being torn to shreds in dozens of different ways… All out of some desire for revenge the Spiritomb no longer had the capacity to understand. It just acted.

Having been on a planet where spirits and ghosts appear to be a thing, I find myself wondering why we find the thought of life after death so appealing. 

E: The Mikaruge should not be taken as a true reflection of that which persists, doctor. Or at least, not as a complete one. They are an oddity brought by ill tides, an attempt to contain disruption.

Chapter Text

Weavile

Self-Name: Manyula

Weavile are bipedal, furred creatures particularly suited for life in the colder regions of Pokérin. They are only about a meter in height, but don’t let their small size lull you into a false sense of security. Weavile may not have as many fantastical abilities as the other pokémon, and they may not be as visually impressive, but they are excellent hunters. Their claws can carve through flesh, bone, and ice with ease, and they are predators before all else. More than that—they are pack hunters, much like early humans were, though while early humans roamed the savannah, Weavile roam the tundras and the frozen wastes—often carving dens and dwellings into the ice itself with their claws. It is a harsh environment, and yet, with the Ice-type being particularly suited for cold, there is no shortage of prey—though compared to much of the rest of the world, the pickings are slim. 

Weavile make up for this by forming massive packs—which, in some cases, are complex and nuanced enough to be called tribes. These tribes do not seem to follow any single sort of command structure or ideal. Some are simply led by the strongest male (or female, in some cases). Others have leadership passed down a family line, while still others have a sort of council—or even a tribe with no set leader, but a bunch of Weavile just working together for mutual benefit. 

While Weavile do have a spoken language, they tend not to use it—not that Pokérinians could understand them without a universal translator anyway. Weavile vastly prefer to not speak except when necessary—rather, they live off instinct. That said, despite the vast differences between Weavile tribes, they all seem to have a strange reverence for the written word. There are no Weavile books or even tablets, but across the ecosystems they prowl, they leave intricate marks with their claws. These marks carry with them an extreme depth of meaning. One symbol might mean, for instance, “trespassers will be fed to the Mawile we keep chained up in the basement.”

I didn’t know it at the time, but that was precisely what was carved just on the inner edge of Snowpoint Temple. However, none of us knew how to read Weavile—and I still don’t really—all Cynthia could do was say there was a Weavile mark on the wall. It was impossible to tell how old it was, though looking around, we did find signs that the temple wasn’t abandoned. 

Miranda wondered how they could have gotten in, the Temple was sealed so tightly she hadn’t been able to open it. Their claws couldn’t bypass the make of this temple. Unless there was a hole elsewhere, I pointed out. Yuri commented on how ice can, over long periods of time, break even the strongest materials with constant freezing and unfreezing. 

Regardless, we were on our guard as we went deeper into the temple, descending the stairs. The walls were fascinating, containing images of many “Regi” beings—all appearing like golems with strangely patterned dots on their faces. Artificial beings to be sure. Cynthia herself was aware of five varieties of Regi that had been found in strange, hidden temples across the world, all remarkably difficult to get to. As she talked about an expedition to Galar she’d done a few years back, we let our guard down.

And then the Weavile pounced. They were brutally efficient—but they also had a serious disadvantage against Miranda. They went for her first, but she was easily able to let out a dazzling gleam of Fairy-energy to throw them all back, stunned. 

It was clear they had organized the attack so I attempted to talk to the ones we had knocked down, but they refused to speak. And thus has been the difficulty with communicating with Weavile: they never speak if they can help it, and they see no reason to talk to someone who can’t understand them. The problem is the universal translator can’t function without continued exposure to a language… and thus the entire time we were in their temple we couldn’t explain anything to them. And they couldn’t explain anything to us. 

As we found out later they were the Tribe of Frostcavern, named after the caves they cut with their own claws; caves that allowed them entrance into the temple where they made their secret base, far from any competing tribes or Pokérinian influence. At least, that’s what they thought until we arrived. And they were determined to drive us out. Which… did not go well for them. Unlike the Metagross who were simply powerful in a way we couldn’t handle, even a ton of Weavile were unable to stand up to Miranda’s skill. Though it helped that she could hit them all at once. 

I actually suggested we turn back and stop trespassing on their property when Cynthia pointed out that this temple was built by Pokérinians and they were the ones trespassing. We got into a bit of an argument about it, but Siren decided for us by running further into the temple. 

We eventually reached the basement. Yes, there was a Mawile down there, chained up and surrounded by cleaned bones. There was also Regigigas… completely inert, standing in the back of the basement collecting dust and random trinkets the Weavile had decided to put on him. We determined that he was alive, just… sleeping. And considering the legends of “continental rampage” concerning him whenever he woke up, we didn’t want to try to force him awake.

So here he was, a massive being of ancient power, creator of many ancient robotic entities, sleeping. And we couldn’t talk to him for fear of what would happen.

We did try Cynthia’s Lucario, and while Regigigas had a lot of aura and spirit, he was still asleep. All we probably did was give him strange dreams. What we needed was a way to speak to him while he was asleep… and at the time we weren’t sure how to do that, seeing as Federation technology wasn’t going to work on such a non-standard being. 

So we resolved to come back once we’d found someone who knew how to read through his dreams and establish communication that way. 

The Weavile kept fighting us on our way out, though after they realized we were leaving, they suddenly stopped the assault. A dozen or so watched from the shadows as we beamed out.

These days there have been a few successful contacts with Weavile tribes, though as previously admitted it took a long time to get enough samples of their language to create a working model. However, Weavile, for the most part, don’t think of other species as worth their consideration. Even people who have forged connections with tribes will often find themselves attacked later if the tribe decides it would be better for the tribe. The tribe always comes first, and there are no known instances of tribes including non-Weavile residents. As such, relations are decidedly rocky. 

Several regions that give rights to many pokémon still refuse to do so for Weavile, simply because the Weavile tribes have a history of bloody hunts that don’t care if the prey is sapient or not. Many will say “capturing them isn’t anywhere near enough payment for what they do to us.” It is a decidedly uncomfortable position that the Weavile do not make easier. While the occasional tribe will recognize that a more long-term agreement with Pokérinians is worthwhile, most just view Pokérinians as a particularly clever target. 

Chapter Text

Mr. Mime

Self-Name: None

Since our investigations into Regigigas had gone as far as they could for the moment, I returned to my lab—though I continued to study Sinnoh pokémon Intelligence Factors. The transporter is such a useful tool at times. 

During this time, most of my focus was on the strange species of Mr. Mime. Mr. Mimes are essentially just humanoids with round frames. Unlike many sapient pokémon, you never see them without clothes, and rarely are they seen without styled hair of some kind. (Although the “styles” they choose always look alien and strange compared to Pokérinians.)

Mr. Mimes essentially do not exist in the wild. Every single one I’ve encountered has been attached to Pokérinian society in some way or other. Even more curious, relatively few of them belong to any trainer at all. They seem to have integrated into life among Pokérinians without any of them noticing, and when I bring up such observations to Pokérinians, they don’t seem to think it odd in the slightest that one of the news station’s best photographers is a Mr. Mime.

As a Psychic-type, any Mr. Mime has at least some psychic ability, though most use their powers to create invisible objects that they lean on or press against. Through tests, I’ve discovered that these objects are made out of vibrating air—though figuring this out for certain was not easy. Mr. Mimes have proven to be… not very cooperative. 

They are absolutely, without a doubt, of a suitable Intelligence Factor. I place them on par with the Pokérinians themselves. But they have a habit of not wanting to be tested or cooperating. Scans show that they have a throat with a voicebox, but they never talk. I have never, ever, seen one speak anything, and even when they get hurt or laugh they remain silent. Even more bizarre, not a single one of them knows sign language—or they do and they just don’t use it. Yet they understand the language around them just perfectly; able to remember complex instructions, read books, even go on stage and follow scripts to the letter!

And yet when I try to get near them or know them they take me into a “mime” act and turn it into some kind of comedy routine and… 

They’re Mimes. They walk around, make people laugh, have fake invisible objects as part of a routine… And yet are fully intelligent beings with a life and society and they don’t make any sense and nobody seems to believe me when I tell them they don’t make any sense! It’s like they’re a caricature taken out of some children’s book. One from Earth that only knew about mimes! Why mimes of all things? Do they know something we don’t? What if it’s not just them, there’s also the Ludicolo, they always made me think Mexican, but I was so sure that was crazy...

Also, they aren’t monogendered. There are females. Why are they all called Mr. Mime? Why don’t they ever object? How do they manage to live among Pokérinians even in regions heavily against pokémon rights? 

I don’t know. I’m afraid I’ll never know. 

Miranda’s Footnote: Bashir seems to have forgotten what he wrote here. Understandable, since he’s written dozens of these files. Still, he gave this manuscript to me thinking it was ready to publish, just wanted me to have a look over it. And I have no idea why in the world he thought this was worth publishing.

I’m not telling him about it. He’ll find out soon enough that this file of his is a little crazy.

As for what I think of the Mr. Mimes, I think they got exactly what they wanted. Under Bashir’s skin. They are comedians at heart, and I don’t find it surprising at all that they want to play a joke on the Federation. Or, maybe… maybe they’re playing a joke on the whole world, and we’re all in on it whether we like it or not. 

Personally, I don’t mind. The world could stand to be more jovial. 

Fosic’s Addendum: The above is left as a record for what transpired on Pokérin during Dr. Bashir’s studies of the “Mr. Mime” line. It is evident that those with an emotional disposition are ill-suited to studying the species, for the very existence of Mr. Mimes is reliant on interacting with the emotions of others. 

What Dr. Bashir mentioned about their physiology and ability to blend into Pokérinian society is correct. In fact, nothing he reported is factually inaccurate. Miranda’s addendum is, however, also correct. They are “playing a joke,” as it were—though perhaps a more accurate phrase would be “putting on a show.” They are performers at heart. I am in the fortunate position of not being one who can be “entertained” or “entertaining” so aside from a few Mr. Mimes who consider me a “challenge,” they do not attempt to “keep up the joke” around me. They still do not speak, though I am convinced this is a choice on their part, not a limitation. Their entire species exists for the show; be it dramatic or slapstick. In addition to making a “joke” of their position in this world, they have also managed to secure what are effectively rights without rewriting any lawbooks. They live as Pokérinians do, and nobody bats an eye. In truth, this “joke” of theirs has actually been exceptionally effective.

I understand many may find the fact that a species has inserted itself into the annals of another without being noticed to be concerning. I believe this is why Bashir had such difficulty—some part of him was beginning to feel a most illogical form of fear. 

I wish to express my confidence that Mr. Mimes are no more malevolent than the average humanoid, and for most individuals, I would even say they are far more pleasantly natured. There is no plot or scheme, it is just the species living out their lives how they wish. 

The actual concerning thing to note is their seemingly direct connection to mimes from Earth. If it was just Mr. Mime, it could be considered a fluke. However, there are many other species that bear resemblances to cultural ideas: Bashir was correct to note here that Ludicolo are reminiscent of Mexican dancers. Furthermore, there is Aromatisse, Roserade, Meloetta, and many other pokémon who portray aspects that seem unlikely to have evolved naturally. Because there are so many, the conclusion should be drawn that something else is at work here aside from natural selection. 

I do not have any explanation to offer as of this time. 

Captain’s Log, Ezri Dax:

I don’t know when I got a Mr. Mime Ensign working in Engineering. He does excellent work and he’s been put up for promotion. His name is Barristol, and the entire crew seems to like him. I kind of feel like he’s always been here, even though I know he hasn’t. 

...I just read his file, he’s actually a she, and there’s a full record of her commission and everything. 

I wonder why I don’t remember her arriving. You think I would. 

E: One of the lesser known of their abilities is their full mastery of the torrid artform of paperwork and legalese. This is not a natural ability; it is a skillset they have developed specifically to enable their grander jests. 

Chapter Text

Haunter and Gengar

Self-Name: Ghost

Up until this point in my records, my only experiences with the Ghost-typing had been terrifying. Dusknoir had their own worldwide connection and a deep mystery but when we prodded we were threatened. Froslass were a tragedy in motion and even having kept company with one for quite some time, Yuki is still on a different plane than the rest of us. Then there were the Spiritomb, which were the closest thing to evil I think I’ve ever seen.

And then there are Haunters.

Which are just a species that kind of behaves like a traditional ghost, and has nothing more to them as far as I can tell.

Imagine my relief when I discovered that they were just a “normal” (relatively speaking) species on Pokérin that just happened to have an attachment to the Ghost-type.

Speaking of, Haunters have a name for themselves. Ghosts. They literally call themselves Ghosts. Even though, and I’ve confirmed this, they are not dead or reborn anything. They are born, live, reproduce, and die just like any normal lifeform. Their oddities are evident—they’re floating purple heads with two hands not attached to their bodies and are able to pass through walls—but considering all the other insanity the Ghost type had offered me in the past this was almost a relief. 

Haunters generally do not eat traditional food. While they are perfectly capable of devouring fruits and meats with their mouths, they receive only a minor amount of nutritional value from them. Instead, they need to feed directly on Infinity Energy—which generally means other pokémon, and the more developed the prey is, the better. The only kind they don’t eat is the Normal-type, likely because it’s the least “energetic” of the types. Since most Pokérinians are themselves most associated with the Normal-type, they are largely safe from being eaten by Haunters. 

This does not mean Pokérinians are safe from whatever else Haunters may want to do. See, Haunters are pranksters at heart and anything they don’t want to eat better be prepared to be scared witless. For this reason, Haunters prefer to congregate around abandoned Pokérinian structures in dark areas, for what they call the maximum “creepy” factor. Then, once a Pokérinian is unnerved enough, the Haunter (or Haunters) will jump out and scare them. If the Pokérinian passes out, even better. 

While they do not seek to harm those they scare, most don’t particularly care if someone is hurt in the process, making Haunter “nesting” grounds somewhat dangerous to be around. Haunter themselves have advanced tool use and adapt excellently to Pokérinian constructions. Yet, after running tests, it became obvious that Haunters themselves are ultimately rather simple, at the low end of the Intelligence Factor. Their “language” isn’t even their own, it’s an imitation of Pokérinian speak twisted so it can be spoken through their ethereal mouths. They largely have no desire to change this since it just adds to the “creepy” factor. 

I myself have been jumped by Haunters numerous times. My first encounter was on a rickety rope bridge in the middle of a marsh—Tropius are not sapient, by the way—when one jumped out and almost made me fall into the river below. Would have, probably, if Siren hadn’t grabbed me. She was of the mind to tear the Haunter to pieces, I tried to talk to it. The universal translator hardly had to work at all since the language was inherently derivative, so I struck up a conversation with it. It wasn’t the smartest or the most attentive creature, but it found me interesting so it agreed to take me back to its home, an ancient set of ruins in the marsh.

At which point all of its friends and family jumped me. And yet, I stayed, and they spent the entire time I stayed with them trying to scare the living daylights out of me. I did eventually grow used to them, and they weren’t able to come up with new tactics to scare me very quickly. It got to the point where Yuki started coaching them on how to be better at being creepy. This was most assuredly a mistake and I have no doubt that all travelers to that area of the marsh are now utterly convinced they’re living in a horror movie. 

But it was evident that they, while intelligent, weren’t exactly all that clever. Across the world, most Haunters’ ideas of “scaring people” are about the same. However, when they congregate in large numbers, there are… other effects.

Haunters do not mind the company of other Haunters, and in fact often seek each other out just to scare each other or to converse. But their Ghost-type energy leaks out, and the more that does, the more ominous and dark the ecosystem becomes. I believe that the energy they leave causes a lot of the “spiritual manifestations” that the Dusknoir have to deal with—though I am understandably hesitant to look into this.

We have made one very important discovery about this congregating energy. There exists a more developed form of Haunter, Gengar, that everyone assumed could only be achieved by trading. However, I noted that there were several reports of Gengars being seen in the wild, often among large numbers of Haunters, and so I began to investigate—and I did, in fact, find out what happens. See, apparently when enough of the Ghost-energy accumulates, apparently Haunters themselves can fall into it and absorb it all at once, transforming into Gengars. Most don’t do this, but the more Haunters in an area, the higher percentage of the population will become Gengars. We only found this out since, well, I walked up to a few Gengars and asked. 

Gengars are much more intelligent than Haunters and have a few more worrying abilities than their lesser-developed brothers. Like Dusknoir, they seem to have the ability to interact with an entity’s consciousness and even dissociate it from their body. They generally always put it back—”disembodied souls don’t scream in terror”—but the fact that they can is unnerving. Gengars themselves vary a lot from place to place; they all share the Haunters love of pranks and jumpscaring, but with their greater capacity they have time for other dreams as well. Some go live among Pokérinians, some become artists, others still seek to become stronger and rule the Haunters around them. The problem with Gengar “kingdoms” is that once you get enough Haunters in one place, you get more Gengars, and suddenly the dominance of one Gengar is no longer guaranteed. 

That said, I have encountered a few “ghostly planes” utterly filled with Haunters and Gengars. Pokérinians rarely ventured into those terrifying places, because with enough Gengars they eventually start figuring out what really scares people. Psychological horror, mind games, images of loved ones suffering… To most Gengars, it’s just a game, none of it is actually any real danger, and they would love it if someone tried to scare them like that. 

E: Such arrangements are not uncommon, actually. For those of us that can see the light in the grimmer side of things, a life on mutual edge might well be provident. Certainly, those to whom I was born enjoyed sharing their hostel with the spirits. I did return to commune with them myself, from time to time.

Ah, if only I had been present when you first met Last Chance. An honor that would have been indeed.

One of these areas has a functional Gengar society—I say Gengar specifically since the Haunters are largely ignored among the rest of them. At the top of this ladder of Gengars is a white, shimmering being who appears to be a Gengar that Mega-Evolved and just… never stopped. She calls herself Last Chance, and she’s spoken to me many times, and I don’t know what to make of her, to be honest. Half the time she seems understanding and curious about cultures and new ways, and the other she wants to torment her subjects and her visitors mentally. In a way, the mental torment is part of their culture . They do it to each other, they do it to visitors, they do it to everyone. And they revel in it. They feed off Infinity Energy, but fear might as well be a sweetener to them. 

Still, Last Chance should not be able to be what she is. All Mega Evolutions require a trainer or a Pokérinian—or, in my case, the Progenitor DNA sequence. How she has managed to maintain it is deeply concerning. She will not reveal her secret but I suspect the answer is not pleasant. 

She also seems to have some access to other planes of reality—other universes. I’m not sure the extent of her abilities, but she talks every now and then about the “other sides” and “mirrors many.” I’m convinced this is more than just another of her attempts to terrify me. 

In the end, though, Haunters and Gengars are not evil. They aren’t even that unusual for pokémon. They can learn to live with Pokérinians, and that terror-induction they do isn’t necessary for them—several that I have encountered have learned to do without and live their lives a different way, though this usually applies more to Gengars than Haunters. 

They are not dead. But they think of themselves as Ghosts. And, through that, they may create ghosts. 

Chapter Text

Espeon and the Eevees

Self-Name: Eifie and the Euivuis

Eevees are adorable fox/cat creatures with brown fur, bushy tails, and big pointed ears. They are among the most common choices for a traditional pet on Pokérin; often not used for battles, training, or any other purpose besides being kept at home and providing company. Any Eevee that is being trained for battles will almost inevitably be changed into one of their many different developed forms. Tests I’ve performed have put Eevees on par with dogs and cats of Earth in terms of Intelligence Factor. They truly do make excellent companions; I was even gifted one during my stay in Sinnoh, and I named him Noran. He’s a good Eevee. 

Unlike many pokémon, Eevees don’t have any physical traits that are all that remarkable. However, they are the poster child of split development. Readers may have noticed that many species I mention develop to their final stages only when encountering a certain mineral—some species go out of their way to make sure this happens to every individual, while in others the majority will not see the final stage. Eevees are one of the latter since they are inherently unaware of their capacity to develop further unless exposed to those who have been through the change, and even then they seem incapable of understanding what the minerals do to them.

The main difference between Eevees and the other special-development pokémon is the fact that Eevees don’t have one, nor two, but eight different forms—and possibly even more, if rumors are to be believed. Most of these forms only occur when exposed to a certain type of mineral, but others are based on personal connection with others or even the time of day. It’s worthwhile to go over them all

Vaporeon are a mineral-form; they lose the Eevees’ fur, gaining fins and gills to become adapted to the water. Jolteon are also a mineral-form, one that gains control over electric charge and as such all their fur stands on end at all times. Flareon are much the same, though their fur grows and becomes warm to the touch, taking the appearance of flame without actually being fire—though they do gain fire-related abilities. Leafeon grow leafy accents and get much shorter fur, much like Glaceon, though Glaceon replaces the leafy accents with icy ones. The last two also seem to occur in certain locations without any of the known minerals present.

Then there are those that are known to occur without minerals. Sylveon are short-furred and exhibit the Fairy-type “magic”, and require an Eevee have exposure to a Fairy-type “action” long enough to attempt it themselves, at which point if they are in a good enough mood (more research required) they will become a Sylveon. Umbreon occur when Eevees are in a particularly good mood (or have a strong bond?) at night, gaining dark fur with strange symbols. Espeon are much the same, though they only develop in the day, and they get a psychic gem in their forehead. Notably, Umbreon and Espeon can be developed with minerals as well, though this is generally not the preferred method—since it still requires them to be in a “good mood.” The science is notably uncertain. What would happen to an Eevee on a starship, where night and day are not even concepts?

It all seems decidedly arbitrary, but my theory is that each of these forms reacts to a certain mineral, and that the ones that develop without a mineral are just evolutionary adaptations that bring out the different modes of development at different times. There are so many different branches it’s not surprising that a few wires get crossed. 

Notably, most Eevees stay as Eevees their entire lives. This suggests there’s more to the development than “just being in a good mood,” but I digress. Noran is still an Eevee and I plan to keep it that way, at least for now. 

It is worth noting that all of these developed forms are still kept as pets, though they have some viability in battles. Very few Eevee under trainers won’t quickly develop into one of the forms through some means or other—though there is a mineral called an Everstone that prevents them from developing further at all, a sort of anti-developer. 

The astute reader will likely wonder why I’m spending my time describing all of these forms.

Because one—and only one—of the development forms is sapient. Most stay on par with the Eevees, but a few get smarter; Vaporeon, Sylveon, Umbreon, and Espeon particularly so. However, only Espeon has a high enough Intelligence Factor to qualify as sapient, and very few are sure what to do with this information. Espeon always develop from Eevees and are unsure of what to do with their newfound intelligence at first. They have no capacity for language, yet they have capacity for psychic communication, but most don’t even discover this—who would teach them? Their brothers and sisters are unlikely to also be Espeon since the mineral that changes them is exceedingly rare; most come about because of the “good mood,” so it might as well be random. Most can only learn to communicate if they are in contact with other psychic communicators, and while they can learn quickly, most just don’t get the opportunity. 

Keep in mind, this is just the norm. Not the rule. For there are those Espeon who do find each other, communicate, and figure out that they’re different from their brothers and sisters. They have a tendency to band together, often with many Eevees that are not Espeons, and form strange pseudo-societies where the Espeon guide their brothers and sisters in a curious life. They don’t construct much in the way of buildings and their societies are often simple—Espeon do not score all that high on the Intelligence Factor test, admittedly—but they have laws of a curious sort, courtship rituals, and community; despite the majority of members in the “society” being non-sapients. 

Since these “societies” tend to either live in forests or get treated as “stray cat packs,” most people aren’t aware of them, which is understandable; most Pokérinians can’t receive the psychic communication of an Espeon, and learning to write and read is rather difficult for them—those that manage to do it are often treated either as the high intellectuals of Espeon society, or huge time-wasters. 

One Espeon in particular came from a society who thought bothering to spend the effort to learn to read and write was a waste of valuable time. His name was Ure, and he was part of a “pack” near my lab. He heard about me through newspaper clippings and news reports. So he walked up to my door one day and scratched the words “I can write” into the doorframe. I grabbed Miranda—she was able to commune with the Espeon using her own abilities—and we had a talk. Ure explained everything to me about who he was, what Espeon pack-tribes were like, etcetera. Lastly, he asked for my help. He went outside and pulled his sister out of a dumpster he had left her in: she was a Flareon named Fia, and an exceptionally friendly one at that. 

Ure wanted, quite simply, for me to make her able to talk to him; to bring back what they used to have when they were young. After all, I was the expert on “sapience”, surely I could give it to her?

It was a difficult conversation that followed. Ultimately, I could not. I said that there were many options for creating fully artificial life, or if we were willing to be ethically dubious to uplift her offspring using genetic engineering. But alter her? I had no idea how the Espeon’s intelligence rose to such a level, and still have no clue what the mechanism could even be. Even then, how would we be able to tell if Fia wanted to be like him?

He took this surprisingly well. He thanked me for my time and left, Fia following along behind him. 

About a week later Fia burned down my door in a panic. She all but dragged me and Yuki—she was the only one with me at the moment—outside and to a large ditch. There, at the bottom, was Ure—it looked like he had fallen off the edge and broken several bones. Something in Yuki recognized what this was and she rushed down there immediately, freezing him solid. We brought him back to the lab and didn’t thaw him until we had a Nurse Joy ready to assist in healing him. He made a full recovery, but he was silent the entire time. Fia never left his side. And, curiously, as if he sensed he needed to be there, Noran rarely left either.

Ure never said anything about why he was in the ditch that day. But he did thank me, and offered to take me to his people in return. I agreed, and we went. The first meeting was a little rocky since seven-eighths of the “pack” were unsure how we couldn’t be invaders, but we managed to speak to the Espeon and secure further meetings. Currently, they have a deal with the mayor to keep vermin populations down in exchange for goods like clothing, technology, and medical equipment. 

A change came over Ure as we did this. He became more involved, speaking to the other Espeon, even to Pokérinians and other pokémon if he could. Mostly about researching more into “the gift” and how it came about, and how it could be given to the others. He’s amassed quite a following and several labs are devoted to figuring out why Espeon develop sapience. All this time, no matter what, Fia is always at his side. She clearly doesn’t understand why he gets up on stages with psychic transmitters to just stare at a group of people for a while. But I’m sure she understands that it’s very important and that he needs her there for support. 

I like to think family ties can transcend intelligence. 

As for the Eevees today, not much has changed about their day-to-day life. Those that live in cities often have agreements with the local government on how they’re allowed to operate, but just as many ignore those rules or live in regions that refuse to speak to them on equal terms. The majority of these “tribes” still live out in the wilderness, among forests and the like, banding together for community but rarely developing beyond that. For the most part, while the Espeon are clearly delegated as the leaders of the packs, there’s surprisingly little discrimination—Espeon commonly marry and raise families among the other developed forms. They also mate for life in the majority of cases. Family ties seem hard-coded into their biology.

There have been rumors that some Sylveon are starting to develop higher intelligence functions. If this is true, it may be a wonderful opportunity to observe sapience developing. Then again, if my theories are correct about how pokémon developed sapience so frequently, then it will hardly be a “standard” model to compare to the rest of the universe. Still, there are many opportunities here. 

Something to note here since I doubt I’ll have time to note it elsewhere: there are confirmed and documented cases of individual members of various non-sapient species developing sapience. These could be genetic anomalies in some cases, but since it’s a recurring pattern, I tend to think there is a cause behind it. Perhaps some of the Psychic-type pokémon are able to increase the Intelligence Factor of others without realizing it. 

Or, as my current theory stands, all pokémon have “copied” sapience from the Pokérinians over time, just as many Pokérinians have copied Psychic-type or even Ghost-type capacities from them. Infinity Energy may be able to inherently copy traits—but I only have circumstantial evidence for this.

That said, it may explain many, many things…

Fosic’s Addendum:

Using genetic modeling fueled by the impeccable logic centers of the Porygon line, we have determined that Eevees have the genetic capacity to develop into every type except Normal—which is sensible since Eevees themselves are Normal. Models indicate that the majority of these would have no higher Intelligence Factor than the average, with the potential exception of Ghost and the definite exception of Dragon. Should there be a “Drakeon”, it would necessarily be sapient. 

It is believed that they cannot develop into dual-types without genetic manipulation, though the models suggest the engineering would not be overly complex compared to similar tasks in other species. The results of said dual-types are uncertain, extending beyond our capacity to model. 

Chapter Text

Rotom

Self-Name: None

[Video recording taken from Cynthia’s phone:

Cynthia knocks on the door to Bashir’s lab. “Helloooo? Doctor Bashir?”

“Yes, hold on... “ Bashir opens the door, Siren and Noran at his feet, playing what appears to be a game of tag. “Wh—what is that?”

Cynthia holds out a package. “I was coming by to check in and I found this on your porch!”

Bashir picks up the package and turns it over and over. “That… is a lot of postage and—is that an Alolan stamp? Who’d be shipping from all the way from there…?”

“Why not open it and find out?” Cynthia suggests. 

With a shrug, Bashir opens the box. An orange blur flies out the moment he does so, releasing several electric sparks. With a shout, Bashir drops the box, but Cynthia catches it. 

The orange blur flits in front of Bashir’s face like a bug, dodging to and fro, curiously examining him. 

“Wh… wh…” Bashir stammers as Cynthia chuckles, reaching into the box to pull out a smartphone. 

“This might help.”

“You had something to do with this…” Bashir mutters, taking the smartphone—only for the orange creature to shoot into it, encasing it in its orange body. Bashir lets out a yelp again, dropping the phone—but the creature has given the device wings, allowing it to levitate.

The phone’s speaker crackles to life. “Hello, Doctor Bashir! I’ve heard soooooo much about you! Can’t wait to get started! I… am Rotom-dee.”

“Rotom… Dee…” Bashir blinks several times.

Siren holds up a sign that reads “you think he be gooder by now.” 

“Enjoy your internet fame, Doctor!” Rotom-dee declares. 

“What?” Bashir asks. 

Video ends. Video was uploaded to the Porekin Internet shortly thereafter. ]

Rotoms are rare beings formed when Ghost energy interacts with exposed electronics—usually those with an exceptionally high voltage. The fact that all of them look the same suggests the Ghost energy comes from a single source—some say they are electrocuted Shuppets, while others assert just young Haunters that have barely developed at all before getting zapped. Regardless, their formation is rare, and no Rotom remembers anything from before the transformation. As far as they are concerned, they popped into existence in a high-voltage environment and just assumed that was their home. 

Rotoms are not much, physically speaking. They appear as orange circles with a spike on their head and a static face, but this form isn’t particularly solid—even less so than most Ghost-types. They fly around with two wings of electromagnetic current, able to move with alarming speed. That said, they are rather weak. In their default state.

However, few Rotoms stay in their default state for long. If they are in their default state, it generally means they are looking for a new host. And, to them, a host is anything artificial that has some electric component within it. They are able to fuse their bodies to the artificial object and in essence become it. They trade away their Ghost-abilities for whatever they can make the object do—be it a fridge, washing machine, lawnmower, oven, phone, or whatever else they think of. The object they inhabit becomes decidedly orange so they are not stealthy creatures. They have a tendency to be pranksters and have low attention spans, but there are those who choose a single object to inhabit and stick to it because it gives them a ton of capabilities.

All Rotoms are sapient, but they cannot speak unless they inhabit an object that allows for speech—such as a phone. As a bonus, all the data in the phone is available for the Rotom to use, giving it mastery over the language. Even after a Rotom leaves the phone they tend to keep knowledge they find pertinent, though they notably have to determine how much they can store in their “biological hard drive” when they leave computerized objects. Yes, Rotoms can inhabit supercomputers. While it does improve the Rotom’s overall capacity, the computer naturally gains a mind of its own and impulses make it lose track of longer problems. 

I have never let a Rotom onto the Inquiry and I never intend to. The transporter screens for them too. Luckily, point-to-point transport isn’t an issue, because otherwise I’d have to leave Rotom-dee at home and that would be… inconvenient.

Probably best to talk about Dee now. See, in our hunt for Regigigas, we noted that the Regi-golems he made were artificial. Cynthia remembered sometime later that a pokémon existed that could interface with artificial objects, and that it was a very useful species at that. However, it was rare, and highly sought simply for practical uses. So she wrote to a professor in the Alola region who she knew had one that would be willing to work with me. And then she made sure to record me meeting Dee the first time. 

Dee is… a determined individual. It (Rotoms lack gender and often think of themselves as the machines they inhabit) wants, first and foremost, to collect data about every pokémon species in the world to make a “complete pokédex.” It views my goals of cataloging the sapient creatures as similar. While sticking with me, Dee gets more scans and entries in its memory—though it’s always careful to back up all the information on the Internet so it doesn’t lose it when transferring forms. 

I have never seen a Rotom in the wild myself, I’ve only seen them with other Pokérinians. I am aware wild Rotom exist, but they are decidedly rare, don’t have any particular region they’re more common in, and when they want to hide are really good at doing so with their tiny, largely incorporeal bodies. All records I have of wild Rotom are those who have been caught or affixed themselves to human society on purpose. As such they have no society or even any sort of inclination towards it. They rely entirely on the machines created (mostly) by Pokérinians for their identity and uniqueness. 

However, Cynthia asked for Dee for a particular reason—Regis were artificial. Perhaps a Rotom might be able to interface with one; which might give us a way to interact with Regigigas. However, we didn’t want to return to Snowpoint temple without a test. Luckily, while Regi golems are rare creatures, it is not hard to find a trainer with one when you’re the Champion of Sinnoh, Cynthia. Still, it took a few weeks to set up the meeting with the man named Brandon.

Brandon has a Regirock, Regice, and Registeel on him at all times. Furthermore, he says he was around the last time Regigigas woke up—and went on a rampage. He said little about it besides mentioning that it was not pretty. But he allowed Dee to attempt to work with the Regis, so long as Dee would leave if anything looked to be going wrong. 

We tried Registeel first since it looked like it would have the best components for testing, and… well, there was a partial success. Dee reported that it could feel the inner workings of Registeel, the highly complex computerized brain, and how the Steel-type power was the source of a great internal engine. And then Dee was violently ejected by some power we didn’t understand, leaving Registeel behind completely unharmed and unfazed. Dee was out cold and had to be taken into the nearby pokémon Center. 

We were stumped again. Dee was perfectly able to possess other artificial pokémon—we tested on a Magnemite just to be sure—so the Regis must have had some kind of internal defense protocol inside of them akin to an antivirus. We had been hoping to learn more about their construction this way—and we did—but not enough to fully understand. This clearly wouldn’t work on Regigigas himself. That is, if he were even artificial. Sleeping as he was in Snowpoint Temple, the leafy parts of him sure looked a lot more living than the golems of rock, ice, and steel. 

We needed a new plan…

Despite the setbacks, Dee continued working with us, and I’m glad it did. Dee is much better than a simple computer—Dee will keep track of things I forget about and sometimes even do calculations while adding amusing commentary to them. 

E: Ah, is this why nobody has successfully removed my observations? How fortuitous. I do believe I owe our friend something special. Perhaps… yes, that would certainly work...

Dee actually has its own likes, wants, and desires. I’m working with a person, not a machine. If we can be certain Rotoms won’t override our computers, they would be of immense help to Starfleet.

Now if only Dee would stop possessing my toaster. 

Chapter Text

Medicham

Self-Name: Charem

I have mentioned pokémon typings before and briefly touched on how pokémon can either have one type or be dual-typed. While sometimes arbitrary, typing does affect how pokémon process Infinity Energy--or, more accurately, how pokémon process Infinity Energy affects typing. So there are certain trends across individual types; Fire types have organs that generate flammable substances and resistance to great heat, Steel types either have metallic structures in their anatomy or are apparently completely made of metal, and so on. Dual-type pokémon are called such because they possess two types--that is, they process Infinity Energy in two notable ways. Some types can combine easily and are thus relatively common; plantlike pokémon can better handle generating toxins and spores, so Grass/Poison type Pokemon are quite common. Other type combinations, obviously enough, are difficult to find in nature--I know of only one Fire/Ice-type, and that is a genetic offshoot of a primary species that only gains the Fire typing while in a defensive combat state.

I bring this up because Medichams, the subjects of this entry, have one of the rarest and most interesting (for my purposes) dual typings: Fighting/Psychic. It is so rare, in fact, that Pokérin assumed the Medichams to be the only ones with that type combination until recently when it was proven certain Gardevoirs (the males that develop into the "Gallade" form) were capable of processing Infinity Energy as a Fighting-type pokémon would.

As a side note, I asked Miranda if she was also a Fighting-type upon discovering this. She explained that she knew Fighting-type moves , which is different from being a Fighting-type for reasons I won’t go into here, and that some Gardevoirs would be offended at ‘being mistaken for a Gallade’. See the Gardevoir entry for more about the distinction. Miranda, however, seemed to find my question amusing.

Physically, Medicham are grey humanoids with a pinkish-red headcrest and baggy leg flesh, with golden markings on both. Under other circumstances, they would be an interesting footnote in this list; they practice a culture of habitual meditation and fasting, eating only once a month as they focus on honing their connection to the world around them. A tendency that resembles many monastic traditions across the galaxy, religious or otherwise, and the Medicham have expressed interest in meeting with these other meditators at some point.

However, the dual-typing is of unique importance when it comes to the Intelligence Factor. Psychic types have a greater-than-average tendency toward sapience, which may be in no small part due to their psychic abilities enhancing their brains. Fighting-types, similarly, are one of the types that have a tendency toward sapience; almost every Fighting type pokemon is humanoid, to some degree, and learn their moves from observation and training. Pokemon of either type that failed the intelligence factor tests generally still scored high enough to be considered intelligent animals, akin to the great apes of Earth. In essence, Fighting-types approach intelligence through competition , being able to easily learn how to become better physical fighters and adepts, while Psychic types approach intelligence through contemplation , tracking and refining their own thought processes and that of their offspring.

And the Medicham, uniquely, hone both body and mind to an extreme degree. Their duels are as much mental as they are physical, often posing questions and debating matters psychically while they are engaged in martial arts. Fosic and Miranda were able to gain their respect by engaging in such a debate, and a few have joined us during our investigations; it’s not uncommon for particularly thorny questions about pokmon sapience to be accompanied by these philosophical battles.

Chapter Text

Porygon

Self-Name: None

What exactly qualifies as a sapient creature?

The Intelligence Factor is a Federation-designed set of criteria intended to answer this question. It is a lot more than a measure of raw intellectual capacity—though for simplification’s sake we often refer to it as such. It also takes into account societal tendency, emotional capacity, decision methodology, and many other factors. This is to say: pure, raw intelligence is not a guarantee for a sapient classification: hence why the Inquiry’s computer is not considered sapient.

But, every now and then, there are entities that seem to break the scale. Porygons are such creatures. I put this entry not because I am sure of their sapience, but because their existence does not mesh with the scale very well. 

Pokérin has had access to computers and digitization technology for a long time, and I have already mentioned some of it in my talk on trading in the Kadabra report. What I haven’t mentioned is that it is possible to take some of that digitization process on its own, tap into Infinity Energy, and create a pokémon from the ground up. The chief example of an explicitly Pokérinian-constructed pokémon are Porygons. 

The first Porygon was a proof of concept—appearing as a bird made up of a low-poly count 3D model. This is accurate for that was what was used to create it: Infinity Energy, coding, and a blocky 3D model. The code was placed into a pokéball and released, miraculously forming a coherent creature. Most other attempts of this nature produced explosive and/or unstable results. Porygon is a remarkable success story done on limited computation and simulation. However, since it was made with limited resources, Porygon itself isn’t even close to sapient—its intelligence leaves much to be desired and it is essentially a curious animal that doesn’t need to eat, drink, breed, or even have companionship. Porygons will sit motionless unless they are prompted to do something, and only simple tasks are available to them. In addition, they are capable of existing as code within a digital realm, but can’t do much in this state. They can be used in battle and have some niche uses given their ability to change their Type based on the situation present, but otherwise have become rather obsolete in recent years because of the upgraded version.

Porygon-2s can either be made directly or from an improved original Porygon exposed to a series of upgrading code. They appear as similar birds but with a perfectly smooth and rounded proportion thanks to a better 3D model. Porygon-2s have masterful intelligence—not quite on the order of a Metagross, but still very impressive. This intelligence far exceeds that of Pokérinians and most other sapients. However, their intelligence is mostly raw—they are more logical in mind even than Vulcans. Vulcans do have emotions, they just largely repress them. Porygon-2s have no emotions to speak of and are incapable of presenting them. A few instances have attempted to emulate emotion to appear more friendly, but they fully admit this is just for show. 

One might be tempted to classify Porygon-2 as strictly computer entities and not sapient—however, there are a few things that throw a wrench into this idea. Porygon-2, while loyal and obedient to virtually any command, have been known to disobey orders if they found it “illogical” but seem to have little to no self-preservation instinct. They are also capable of dual-processing—setting half of their mind on the task given, and the other half on whatever other task they “want.” Very rarely do they put their entire mind into a given task, and use the other to “explore.” One might even attribute curiosity to them, but they assure me this isn’t the case. They have even developed their own language that only Porygon-2s can understand. They are fully capable of speech but this language is so complex and dense that the universal translator has been unable to make heads or tails of it—and the Porygon-2s have admitted that is the point of the language. To facilitate communication between themselves that may not be intercepted. They speak in encryption. 

Porygon-2s are somewhat common. Although they are expensive to make they have lots of applications, including spacewalking tasks since they don’t need spacesuits. Seeing as they lack limbs it’s hard for them to make certain repairs, but technological interfaces can give them access to tools. They perform their duties excellently and are incapable of complaining or even feeling like they’re being abused. They are much more useful than their previous version in cyberspace since they can hunt down suspicious code and destroy it—though they themselves are vulnerable to viruses. 

So, are they sapient? They score exceptionally high in many categories, and yet score near zero in several others. When asked about it themselves they actually tend to disagree on whether they themselves qualify or not, even when they link their minds up in tandem to perform a complex computational model. They are a little better at handling abstract ideas adapted from speech than pure computers, and as such are prized by institutions (and my people, especially Fosic) for making models of abstract concepts that we can’t figure out how to fully describe to pure computers. 

Porygon-Zs were an attempt at improving Porygon-2s. This attempt has widely resulted in what people consider failure, and as such Porygon-Zs are not that common. They appear as the same type of birds as the previous Porygons, but their eyes are not consistent, their wing-like limbs are not attached to their body, they can fly, and moast disturbingly of all their body seems to be continually clipping and glitching through reality. And yet, somehow, they aren’t inherently unstable and are able to operate within the world without spontaneously exploding or shattering.

That said, Porygon-Zs have lost all capacity for logic and reason. And I don’t mean some, all . Their minds are not capable of following lines of reasoning from A to B to C, existing in a world of non-sequiturs and paradoxes. Since a Porygon-Z has no need to eat, mate, or even take in sustenance, this does not spell doom for it. They can “live” in the physical world or in cyberspace, but no matter what, they just do whatever they want. And they do have wants . These wants appear to be randomized and change all the time, but they are wants . Despite having no logical center to speak of, its emotional center is highly developed and able to express a wide variety of feelings, some of which I can’t even catalog on the Federation’s emotive charts. It doesn’t “think” so much as “feel.” As such it is poorly suited for the technical applications of Porygon-2s, but it is occasionally used in battle as an insane unpredictable attacker. Porygon-Zs, if they enjoy battling, can be relied on to attack. What attack and if they’ll listen to their trainer is another matter entirely. 

They are fully capable of speech and are able to recognize conversations. Except their responses rarely make sense and often have nothing to do with what was just said. Yet their words carry meaning, just meaning that seems parallel and tangential. I once told one that I didn’t understand it, and it told me it loved standing under ladders just to mess with the conceptions of people. No, Porygon-Zs do not have legs. 

E: A downside of using the Vulcan form of logic is being unable to recognize the more esoteric forms when encountered. The exchange referenced is in fact entirely comprehensible.

In the end, Porygon-Zs clearly have personality, drives, and a wide range of likes and dislikes. But nothing about them can be formulated. They’re like the anti-Vulcan, a species without logic, only emotion. As such, they can be rather dangerous if provoked or caught in a bad mood. 

For obvious reasons, Porygon-Zs are rarely created, usually only by trainers who have a taste for unpredictability and risk. However, like Porygon-2s, it is unclear if they are sapient or not. They have a sense of self but this sense shuffles every few seconds, display deep emotions, and they do have a capacity for society. Society that lasts for two seconds with other Porygon-Zs before they change too much to keep it cohesive. And asking them if they qualify leads absolutely nowhere. 

Porygon-2 “groups” that are allowed to act as they wish tend to keep one Porygon-Z on hand, just to provide an “alternate viewpoint.” Though many Porygon-2s admit this is essentially just a “true random number generator” to keep Porygon-2s from being too predictable. Every now and then a problem can’t be solved by attacking it head-on, and Porygon-Zs do have intuition buried somewhere in the randomness. 

Rotom cannot “possess” Porygons, likely because their bodies are not actually mechanical in any way. 

Fosic uses Porygon-2s extensively in his research.

Fosic’s Addendum: Dr. Bashir has made an excellent report. Despite having spent much more time with Porygon-2s, I find I have little more to add. I do wish to commend those under my care that have assisted with many complex models of Intelligence Factor, including ones on themselves. 

Their existence indicates a clear need to revise the Intelligence Factor procedures for unusual cases such as this. Furthermore, I have been working with them and using Federation computers on a Porygon-3 model that will take code from models 2 and Z to create an obviously sapient entity. Perhaps we can think of the models 2 and Z as two halves of a sapient entity, not fully able to come to the whole on their own, but together should provide something suitable and unique.

However, since much of the code is contradictory, work is slow, and there are other projects to work on. But, as Bashir mentioned, Porygon-2s are almost always working on a secondary problem in the background through their dual processing. I have high hopes for the project in the future and am currently requesting more advanced computerization equipment be shipped to Pokérin to develop it further. 

One last interesting experiment: Rotoms cannot inhabit Porygons themselves, but they can inhabit items that Porygons are contained within, allowing for a very efficient digital interface between the two. I am uncertain of the practical applications of this at this time. 

Chapter Text

Mismagius

Self-Name: Mumargi

It’s time to address the elephant in the room. 

Many pokémon have seemingly magical properties. 

Many of them can be explained away with mechanisms we’ve identified in other races in the universe. Psychic abilities are just a form of mental adaptation. Many lifeforms can become intangible by being made largely of gas or even tapping into other levels of reality.

And then there are creatures like Mismagius who cast “spells” by muttering incantations in a bizarre language that can have many varied and esoteric effects. These can put others to sleep, turn them into toads, make them infatuated with another entity, cause intense fear, restore health… 

And all of it defies explanation. 

Let’s start with the physical. Mismagius are mostly heads with a cloak-like appendage hanging from where their neck would be. This appendage gives the illusion of mass, but it is hollow, making Mismagius much lighter and frailer than they appear. Their heads are pointed on top in a shape highly reminiscent of a witch’s cap, and they are completely purple. Like many Ghost types they float above the ground with ease despite being heavier than air. They have no limbs to speak of and have to rely entirely on their “spells” to interact with things in any meaningful way. 

Mismagius are highly intelligent creatures who are fully capable of speech. However, for a reason I still don’t understand, they can only speak in their language, known to them as Arcanos. If they try to speak other words, their vocal cords and mouths will automatically shift to the closest sounding one in Arcanos. The only exception to this is names, as names are very important in Arcanos, as bizarre as that sounds. But the name must be intended to be used to identify a person: trying to use someone named “Amber” to convey the idea of the organic gem will force a reversion to Arcanos. 

Every single word a Mismagius speaks becomes part of a “spell.” For this reason, Mismagius are exceptionally careful when they talk, and they rarely do so for the sake of communication, because every word they utter will have some effect on the world around them eventually. However, the effects of the “spell” don’t always line up with the literal translation of the words. For instance, “cook this bread” summons a chef’s hat on top of the nearest loaf of bread for one second before dissipating. The words for “cooking” and “chef” are distinct in Arcanos and have no overlap, and yet the occurrence is there. This results in many many curious ways Mismagius have of dealing with their manifestations, including different philosophical attitudes as to the meaning of it.

Despite being Ghost-type, Mismagius are not “ghostly” or associated with death, they are just another species of pokémon. They subsist off normal food; meat and vegetables, instead of fear and Infinity Energy like many other Ghost-types. They naturally form groups called Covens which are actually very advanced as far as civilizations go. They have governments, excessive numbers of laws, records, and even structures. The difficulty of finding any of this out comes in the fact that almost all of it is done via “spells” of the Arcanos. Their records don’t exist on physical paper for the most part, but in “magic” nodes spread out across the world. Most of their “cities” are just currents designed for Mismagius to see and no one else. And, in some cases, Covens live in areas of space folded away from view into a custom sub-dimension. All of this, all of it , is accomplished through their “spells.”

Their societies do not develop along normal lines because of this. Instead of technological improvement, they exhibit improvement in Arcanos. New word combinations are discovered that allow for records, public transit, simpler communication, etcetera. Not everyone finds the “inscription” spell, which makes for some societies without a written language or way to communicate beyond limited facial expressions.

The Mismagius’ attitude toward their own bizarre abilities varies wildly between Covens. There are many who share our attitude: who treat the Arcanos as a form of science to be studied, analyzed, and recorded so its effects will be known and established. These Covens contacted us before we contacted them, through their Ambassador. (They prefer not to give out their real names, since while we cannot use them against them, other Mismagius can.) The Ambassador of the Seventh Coven came to us, introduced herself, and explained how their people worked. You might ask how she was able to do this without casting off “spells” left and right. As it turns out, she was casting spells. In order to communicate without every word influencing the result, she had to contain the message she wished to speak in “quotes” and feed it into an inscription spell, which she then fed into an auditory spell with the imprint of her voice. 

Fosic mentioned it sounded like she was programming a computer in a top-level programming language to weave her spells. She later agreed that this was essentially accurate. Which raises even more questions. 

Regardless, the Mismagius of the Seventh Coven are very open to working together with us and have actually applied for membership in the Federation as a distinct nation-state; a request that is being processed since it is unusual for a nation to be admitted without the rest of the planet, but given the number of species and governments on Pokérin, it may be required. They are already helping us understand much about the world of pokémon and we are helping them uncover new tricks with their “magic.”

However, the Seventh Coven is one of the scientifically-minded. There are other Mismagius attitudes. The Free Speakers are the most dangerous but easiest to understand: they believe that “spells” should not be sought to be controlled, and that Mismagius should just speak what is on their minds and the consequences are whatever is meant to happen. Thus, Free Speakers are likely to blow up things or fundamentally change reality without meaning to, and then attribute it to “fate.”

Meditator Covens try never to speak at all, instead spending their days in communal silence, contemplating philosophy and life, only speaking to cast very specific, deeply meditated-upon “spells.” They tend to have a mild form of secondary communication involving blinking, facial expressions, and head gestures, but these do not constitute a full language. 

The Naturalistic Covens seek to understand Arcanos as well, but not in the same way as the Scientific ones. Their attitude is that of Arcanos being inherently self-contradictory and in defiance of logic and experiments, and thus needs to be understood through rituals, experience, and bonds. To force Arcanos into scientific experiments is the same as torturing a living soul for knowledge. They seek to advance their Arcanos understanding in more natural ways. This has given them many “spells” that the other Covens lack, discovered largely by accident, giving them a wide variety of options that have seemingly little to do with each other. 

Then, of course, there are loners who go out and try to unlock the secrets their own way.

There is technically another class, those who are raised under trainers and used for battling. Since Mismagius in Covens rarely allow themselves to be captured (“Sleep” is one of the most straightforward and common “spells”) the vast majority of Mismagius used in battles were raised by Pokérinians and descended from other battling Mismagius, or were taken while they were young. This means that most of them only know the “spells” that the other battling Mismagius know, and have no clue about the full implications of the Arcanos language. Education is difficult since now that they are full grown, more powerful effects that would normally fizzle out do not, so teaching them to speak without prior restraint could have disastrous effects.

Yes, we tried to educate a Mismagius in our lab as part of our work. Yes, we did have to replace the entire lab’s eastern wall afterward. It was turned into solid cheese.

E: The doctor has once more made an error that is unfortunately common in his writing, and that error is to presume each species prefers societies of only their own kind--or at least where others are moderated. I suppose in a galaxy where planets rarely support more than a single race, that is an expected conclusion. Yet I fondly recall my own childhood with one who, herself, was a Mumargi. We have kept in contact, even during my travels, and...

Well.

Suffice it to say she has advised me on certain matters.

The fact remains, Mumargi societies are as often inhabited by others as they are not. In fact, such blendings are far from rare.

To end, I think we need a moment to analyze the sheer absurdity that is the Arcanos language. It forces Mismagius to speak it and nothing else, somehow. None of them fully know all the words in the language, yet all Mismagius no matter how far apart in the world speak it with the same words and meanings behind them. Yet it has to be taught, as Mismagius don’t know it at birth. Each word has a meaning that is not necessarily related to the effect it has on a “spell”, but it often is. The only things that may be spoken in Arcanos that are not its words are names, and if you know a creature’s name it’s much easier to affect them directly with “spells” since it provides a very distinct linguistic target. It’s exceptionally arbitrary and absurd… and then, of course, you realize that you can program the words like a computer. 

It’s clearly artificial. Though how someone would design such a thing or why eludes me. It’s as though someone took the legends of ancient incantations and hexes and decided that was a good way to make reality work! Mismagius themselves are largely aware of this and have a mixture of religions, philosophies, and potential explanations for it, all of which seem to be grasping at straws. Like I’m doing now for some kind of explanation.

The source of Arcanos’ power is the Infinity Energy shared by all pokémon, so at least it’s not breaking the laws of conservation of energy. If a “spell” with a strong enough effect is spoken, it will simply fail because there is not enough Infinity Energy running through the Mismagius speaking it, so no one is going to be able to destroy a continent with it. This is only a mild consolation from the rest of it, however.

That said, it is immensely useful. Immensely so. Mismagius have such a wide range of abilities and if one doesn’t, another can probably be found that does if you have the proper channels—which we do, via the Seventh Coven.  

Specifically, the Dreamer of the Seventh Coven. He was sent to us to attempt to speak to Regigigas through dreams, an aspect of Arcanos that the Mismagius have a large understanding of. So we set out on another expedition… 

Chapter Text

Darkrai and Cresselia

Self-Name: Darkrai and Cresselia

I am admittedly unsure if these two species are related or not. They both interact fundamentally with the dreams and psyches of all around them, and they have mythical ties to opposite phases of the moon and are regularly seen as counterparts. But they are so rare and uncooperative that I have not been able to perform any accurate surveys on them. I only know they are sapient species—perhaps even the same species with extreme sexual dimorphism. Most of the factual information within this report comes from discussion with the Latis and their memories of these creatures rather than personal observations. I myself have only seen two Darkrai and one Cresselia. 

The two beings are dreamwalkers. Any entity near them that is capable of sleep is susceptible to their influence. (If an entity is not currently asleep both have the ability to induce sleep rather easily and forcefully should they desire.) 

Darkrai are dark beings with red, spiked collars and white heads. They prefer to stick to the darkness and can even flatten themselves to hide in shadows with ease; however, like many Ghost-types, they are not fully intangible and a good punch still deals damage to them. That said, they are immense stores of Dark-type power and are likely to find a punch laughably weak. Their diet consists of small animals and fruit—not dreams, like many Pokérinian legends suggest. But it is understandable why many would think so, since the primary defense mechanism of Darkrai is to force their targets to sleep and then enter their dreams. A dream with a Darkrai in it can seem so real that the brain thinks it’s really in danger, and will actually injure the body through a reverse placebo effect. This can be, and often is, lethal. Even if not entering a dream directly, the mere presence of a Darkrai will cause nightmares. They are associated with the new moon. 

Cresselia are quite the opposite. Appearance-wise they are floating bird-like beings with no limbs, instead having crescent-like affectations all over their body. Like Darkrai, they have a normal diet of fruits and meats but are often thought to subsist off dreams. Unlike Darkrai, the dreams that Cresselia can give are pleasant and can often have a healing effect by tricking the mind into thinking it is real. Their mere presence will cause pleasant dreams. They are associated with the full moon.  

Cresselia are known to all be female. This suggests that Darkrai may be the male of the species, but not even the Latis could confirm this. They may even be completely separate species that have unusual reproductive patterns, or they could be derived from the energy inherent in dreams. There is not much to go on—Darkrai are inherently secretive and keep to the shadows. Cresselia are more open but do not wish to be tied down to earth for any reason. The Latis report instances of both Darkrai and Cresellia talking, but most of the time communication, if desired, takes place through dreams while the Darkrai or Cresselia communicating is a safe distance away from the sleeping entity. For this reason, it is possible—even likely—that I have been visited by many Darkrai and Cresselia without knowing it. 

I have it on good authority from the Latis that most Darkrai are not malevolent beings seeking to cause harm. This does not change the fact that the only one I’ve seen aside from the one in Tobias’ possession was doing decidedly unpleasant things.

Cynthia and I were heading back to Snowpoint Temple with the Dreamer of the Seventh Coven, a Mismagius who specialized in dream “spells” we were hoping to use to communicate with Regigigas. Little did we know that, somehow, a Darkrai had caught onto our little plan and sought to take advantage of it. As usual, Miranda and Yuki were with us, but Siren had opted to stay back at the lab since she’d already been here. Dee came with, of course, since a scan of Regigigas would fill its pokédex with incredible information.

This time the Weavile in the temple didn’t try to fight us, though the Dreamer did have to put one particularly aggressive growler to sleep so we could move into the depths of the temple. There, sitting just where we’d left him, was Regigigas—still resting, still silent, and quiet. 

Dee wanted to see if he was mechanical first; he was. This just raised more questions—the creator of the Regi golems was mechanical, so what had created him? And why? Questions we were there to find out. The Dreamer started to put us to sleep so we could have a shared dream with Regigigas. Miranda volunteered to stand watch over us to make sure no Weaviles got the wrong idea. So we went to sleep under the chanting of the Dreamer, who went to sleep last. 

The problem was Miranda was expecting to have to deal with small, wild Weavile. She was utterly shocked when a Darkrai descended the stairs, throwing a dead Weavile to her feet—sapped dry by its own nightmares. 

Since the entire setup with Regigigas was being recorded and analyzed for examination later, we got the ensuing encounter on film.

[Video: Miranda vs Darkrai. 

Miranda takes a moment to glance at the Weavile at her feet and grimace. She takes a protective stance in front of the sleepers and raises Masamune’s shield. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I don’t need to,” the Darkrai says with a deep, scratchy voice. “The nightmares have already begun. And…” He points to Regigigas. “That one will wake with the fury of a thousand earthquakes.”

“What do you gain from such a rampage?”

“Chaos,” the Darkrai says matter of factly. “Chaos a—”

Miranda rushes forward, hitting the Darkrai directly with Masamune, the Ghost energy resisted by the Darkrai’s shadows. She follows it up with a burst of Fairy from the spike in her chest, which did much more damage. 

The Darkrai raises a hand and forces sleep onto Miranda’s mind. She tries to do the same in turn, focusing her energy on Darkrai’s mind with her own sleep abilities. Masamune glitters softly as the two battle it out with a force of wills. However, Miranda eventually falls asleep, crumpling to the ground with an unpleasant scowl on her face. 

The Darkrai slowly drifts over to Regigigas, raising its hand. “You will awaken…” It connects with the shared dream. 

And Masamune, having completed its charge up, floats into the air and cuts the Darkrai in half. Somehow, it’s still alive, and manages to get a shadow ball attack off—but it is completely absorbed by Masamune’s shield. One more swing and the Darkrai is dead, no longer influencing the dream.

The dream continues. Masamune slaps Miranda a few times in an attempt to wake her up, but it doesn’t work. He tries to wake up the others, but finds no luck. He floats up into the middle of the circle, unsure of what to do.

“He had them lulled,” a feminine voice calls down as a Cresselia floats down the stairs. [Note: the Darkrai could have gotten into the Temple through one of our shadows, no one is sure how the Cresellia got in.] “So they would not wake…” 

Masamune only stares at her, holding up its shield in a defensive posture. 

“Do not worry, I shall end their suffering…” A light comes out from the Cresselia and bathes everyone. Miranda begins to stir while the others stay asleep. “And with the evil vanquished, you have done more of a service than you know, little blade.”

“What in the…?” Miranda wakes up, seeing the Cresselia. “What…?”

The Cresselia floats back up the stairs.]

Miranda was not able to find the Cresselia quickly so she returned to guarding us.

For my part, I remember appearing in the dream with all of the others. The Dreamer was arranging lots of artificial constructs in the dream to help us stay attached to one another when a darkness came over it all. I was separated and ended up in a wilderness where my old friends and crew were trying to kill me with Klingon weapons. I have no idea how long I was there—it felt like quite a while—but the darkness left and the Dreamer had to wrangle us all together again—now terrified of what we had just experienced. 

At the time we still didn’t know that the Darkrai had been there, so we were all wondering if Regigigas had some kind of defense mechanism.

The bellowing cry of “what nightmares have you brought!?” put an end to that idea.

But our discussion with Regigigas belongs in another report. 

Suffice to say, Darkrai and Cresselia are rare, and they care more for the realm of dreams than anything else. They could influence the dreams of millions every night, or just a few in rare moments. Not much else is known. 

E: Ah, the Starfleet tendency to persistently limit 'knowledge' to 'that which can be scientifically verified.' There is quite a bit known about these sorts, in folklore and legends and urban myths, but the doctor has little time to seek those out. I will say this: if you wish to be worthy of that knowledge, to seek out the patterns that might reveal truth, you must first understand that what you know and what you think you know are not the same, and what you do not know shall often confuse the two.

Chapter Text

Regigigas

I do not know how many truly unique sapient entities there are on Pokérin—presumably quite a few, given what I have encountered on my journeys. For the most part, my research is not concerned with them aside from curiosity: should these unique entities wish to interact with the Federation they will do so on their own terms and on a case-by-case basis. However, many of them have had a rather important influence on my work or on the history of Pokérin as a whole. And as such, they will get their own entries.

Regigigas is one of those unique entities. There is only one of him in the entire universe, and there has never been more and there will almost assuredly never be another. He is an utterly massive creature at least two stories tall, perhaps more, with a bipedal body structure that lacks a head. His “face” is a yellow ovoid crossing over his chest with seven dots in it, a facial structure similar to all the Regis that he created. Large bushes continually grow out of his shoulders and feet, and six immense crystals are embedded in his chest. The rest of his predominantly white body is crisscrossed with artificial, black markings of unknown purpose. 

There are many conflicting legends about Regigigas, but most had to deal with him shaping the land in some way. This is likely what most readers will have heard about him, if anything. We had the benefit of getting a bit more information, of course.

When we met him in the dream, he was sure we had been the ones causing the nightmares the Darkrai had. Cynthia took charge and quickly explained what we were doing there—and how she had suffered nightmares of her own from the assault, sharing one where she had been transformed into a cruel despot who made those under her suffer. The Dreamer was able to explain that there had been a dark influence from outside, but it was gone now. (Curiously, in the shared dream, the Mismagius was unable to cast spells and could speak in a normal language.) 

Regigigas calmed down somewhat quickly, likely because he was still in the dream. Since the Dreamer was letting Regigigas’ subconscious take control, we were taken to a peaceful, green meadow atop a mountain overlooking the sea—presumably what Regigigas thought was a pleasant location. 

He asked us why he had come. When he spoke, it was filled with whizzes and pops, a clear sign of artificial construction. I stepped forward, introduced myself, and explained that we had found some Regis and had become curious… where did they come from? How were they made? And, if Regigigas was just as artificial as they were, where did he come from?

And so Regigigas told his story—though he told it backwards, starting with more recent events before jumping further and further back.

Once, he and his golems were the effective rulers of Pokérin. He built, constructed, and shaped the landscape itself. Since there were hardly any others, he could afford to spend thousands of years carving valleys, mountains, and other “natural” wonders with his creations and his own two hands. There was nothing to oppose them—for few if any pokémon had sapience, and Pokérinians were still struggling through tribal development. Regigigas and his many, many golems—apparently there used to be a lot more than just five types—were unopposed and the world was their landscape. 

However, as Pokérinians developed further and more sapient species came about, they began to object to the way he and his people continually upended the ecosystem. What started as insignificant attacks grew to skirmishes and then to large-scale campaigns. We were fortunate enough to see images of this period through Regigigas’ dream, of his creations battling Pokérinians, pokémon, and many others. Despite the low technology I saw glimpses of many devices of mass destruction, pokémon working in large numbers with Pokérinians to lay waste to tremendous swaths of land, and unimaginable damage. 

Regigigas admitted, quite simply, that they were too slow to face off against the traditionally biological inhabitants of Pokérin. While they were much stronger and more efficient, only Regigigas was sufficiently intelligent, and the opposition began to figure out how to disable Regis and seal them away, foregoing the difficult step of actually destroying them. Eventually, they could do this faster than Regigigas could make more—and they eventually cornered Regigigas at the northern tip of the world in the desolate snows of Sinnoh. He could survive there easily, thinking it would be out of the Pokérinian’s reach. He miscalculated. 

So they took him down and sealed him away, building Snowpoint Temple around his resting place. And the events of the wars faded into legend, to the point at which some of the descendants of the Pokérinians had come to consider Regigigas something of a local god. The conflict was largely forgotten because not much history was recorded that far back, and the secrets of the sealed Regis were lost to time. However, Regigigas was too strong to be fully sealed, so every now and then something would occur that would allow him to break out. In the dream he expressed disdain for his destructive actions—he was a creator, not a destroyer—but wherever he awoke the soreness and pain in his muscles just… took over. He would much rather stay asleep. 

He jumped back in his story to the creation of his golems. Having found shaping the landscape on his own to be somewhat tiring, he decided the best thing he could do was create beings like himself better suited for more specialized tasks: forging steel, breaking rock, cutting ice, power, swimming, the list goes on. Each of the Regi golems were fashioned much like himself, except much smaller and generally made only out of a single material. The face-dots were their sensors, connected to a core surrounded by the primary material of their body. We were shown how he constructed them, with a very large number of gears, wires, strange glass-like shards, and materials I couldn’t even begin to hazard a guess at. The cores contained the golem’s processing power, memory, and other coding—including an instruction to always obey everything Regigigas commanded no matter what. None of the Regis rose to the level of sapience, but this was by design. Regigigas wanted servants to help with the work, not someone to suggest how he should do his work. 

With this, he and his golems essentially conquered the world. But then he had once again caught up with himself, and went further back.

He was made from the sand on a beach of a lonely little island. The only other being on this island was the entity Zygarde, known as the pokémon of order. Zygarde told Regigigas only a scant few things: first, that Regigigas was Zygarde’s creation. Second, that it was Zygarde’s sacred duty to maintain order. Third, that Zygarde had often wished to create , but found it too difficult to devote to a single project for very long. Therefore, Regigigas had been created: to shape the land into order and structure; and perhaps beauty. And not just the land—Regigigas was made to travel beneath the sea as well, even through the magma rivers. There was nowhere on the planet that was to be out of Regigigas’ reach.

And then Zygarde left Regigigas to his work. Regigigas only saw bits and pieces of Zygarde occasionally after that. Regigigas admitted to us that he was not sure how he felt about the situation. Created, told his purpose, and then just… left with no connections. He wonders if he perhaps missed out on something by being alone. 

In the end, he did what he was created to do: shape the world. That is, until the world fought back. Zygarde never came to him during that time. 

I felt pity for the old giant, so I made him an offer. What would he say about being moved to a planet with only simple life forms on it? He could shape the landscape to his heart’s content and make as many other Regis as he wished, without fear of retaliation for at least millions of years. He thought about this for some time… but he agreed. He simply requested that we be careful when waking him up for the trip.

And so the Dreamer woke us up, and I set to work on Regigigas. His body was partially organic, and through it there were pain receptors. With the information Regigigas had given me, I was able to administer enough anesthetic to remove all sense from six elephants… and then I told Dreamer to wake him up. 

Regigigas is a slow individual under normal circumstances, and with the anesthetic, he was even more so. But he is exceptionally hardy and was able to stand in his chamber. He spoke slowly, informing me that it hurt, but that it was bearable. 

It took some doing, but we eventually reached the main doors. The Weaviles were conspicuously absent during the trek. Regigigas didn’t wait for transport, he punched the doors open, walking out into the snow. Slowly, he turned to the mountain at the northernmost tip of Sinnoh, Mount Snowpoint itself. 

“I made this,” he informed me, taking a long good look at it. “I will miss it.”

We transported up to one of the Inquiry’s cargo bays, where I continued to treat his pain. He recovered very slowly, the effects of the seal dragging him down considerably, but he never flew into a rage—we always kept him more than sedated enough. Captain Dax soon located a suitable world nearby in our records, and for the first time since I set down on Pokérin quite some time ago, we left the system. 

It was a short trip—only a few hours—but Miranda loved every minute of it. The stars whizzing past delighted her in a way I can’t fully express. Cynthia was rather quiet the whole trip. Regigigas mused about constructing Regis that could fly through space but was unsure if the models he knew how to build could be adapted properly for it.

In the end, we deposited Regigigas on a world with only simple life, and he set to work. His work is on a slow, almost geological time scale, so if you visit him now you will only see a handful of golems under his control and a single mountain twisted to catch the sun’s rays in an aesthetically pleasing manner. He has given us much information on the construction of his kind through this, and has shown no aggression towards visitors—but there is an unspoken agreement that any structures are open to be wiped out by his shapings. As such there are no permanent settlements there. 

I visited him recently. He has expressed that he is happy, doing the work he was made for, continually shaping the landscape. And now he knows he’s doing it because he wants to; not because he was simply created and told to. Being trapped for so long let him rediscover the joy of it. I expect him to be there in a hundred thousand years, still shaping the land. Perhaps, if his experiments are successful, eventually shaping the moon. 

Some of the few who followed Regigigas as a deity in the Sinnoh Region migrated to his new world, following in his footsteps. They can do little to shape the land, but he has found he appreciates the company. 

Anyway, upon dropping him off, we returned to Pokérin. Regigigas had explained many things to us, but now there was a new mystery. Zygarde. Zygarde was a being of order known to be able to split up into many smaller pieces. All Regigigas had really said was that Zygarde appears when there is chaos and disorder and does what can be done to correct it. Research indicated that Zygarde had last been seen in the Alola region. Since I was wrapping up my studies in Sinnoh, I knew where I was going next. 

From the northernmost tip of the world to the tropics.

Chapter Text

Zoroark

Self-Name: Zoroark

Despite being one of the poster children for sapient pokémon, I didn’t meet a Zoroark until I went to the Alola region—at least, as far as I know. See, Zoroark are large, Pokérinian sized foxes with manes that are often long enough to reach their knees when on their hind feet. But very few people ever see a Zoroark’s actual form since they have the capacity to create powerful illusions that contain visual, auditory, olfactory, and even more esoteric components. None of these illusions can have any direct physical effect on the world, but as some particularly skilled Zoroark know, you only have to believe you’re being hurt to be hurt. 

Even before we arrived on Pokérin, it was somewhat common knowledge that Zoroark were taking the appearance of Pokérinians and even engaging in pokémon battles—living lives as humans so effectively that no one could find them out, not even in Unova, where they were actively hunted. In fact, Zoroark have been mixing with Pokérinian society seamlessly for hundreds of years. However, only in recent years has this been allowed openly: in ancient times the distrust of Zoroark was almost universal, seeing them as monsters. Zoroark are not monsters, but they do have a bit of a deceptive streak, likely out of necessity. 

Strangely, while Zoroark are known to have extremely strong family ties with each other, they tend not to form civilization on their own (though there are exceptions), preferring to use their illusions to live amongst others. This is not limited to just Pokérinians, the Gardevoir have reported Zoroark in their midst, and Zoroark among other pokémon species is not uncommon. There are no limits to their illusions aside from size, though they do have difficulty living as creatures that aren't either humanoid or quadrupedal, since their physical form never actually changes. Zoroark live to blend in, and to largely make sure no one figures out that they aren’t what they’re pretending to be.

This has made tracing the history of Zoroark somewhat difficult since many historic figures were rumored to be Zoroark, or to be connected with the Zoroark, or something else. Most of these are probably tall tales, but there are many confirmed reports of gangs or illegal underground activity managed by Zoroark. Those who hide in plain sight all day every day end up gaining the skills required to manage organized crime, which hasn’t helped their image any. Zoroark crime bosses are a real thing, and many Zoroark find themselves working with less-than-reputable individuals.

The few Zoroark that do form their own societies often do so in forests far from civilization. They build houses, make art, and live much like any other race would. Except when visitors come along, then they all take up an illusion, usually Pokérinian, and try to keep it up until the visitor leaves. Those who figure out their secret rarely live to tell of it—or, at least, that was how it was in ancient times. Now there are several Zoroark settlements that are well known and on good terms with the closest Pokérinian town. Notably, this is not the case in the Unova region, but that’s an entirely different can of worms. 

In the Alola region, things are a bit different than most of the other regions—for both Zoroark and for the Pokérinian-pokémon relationship in general. Alola is, due to its geography, rather isolated from the rest of the world, though it is seen as a lovely vacation spot. Its pokémon Battle league is one of the youngest on the planet, and shortly before we arrived it didn’t even have the proper “Gyms” set up for it, instead relying on traditional challenges—though these days they have official Gyms. 

Alolans are highly steeped in their culture; while it could be argued that the rest of Pokérin is developing a bit of a global culture, Alola is decidedly not. They were behind the curve in introducing pokémon battling as an official sport, they have many rituals and beliefs one might call “superstitious”, and a large percentage of the population still follow the native religion devoted to the local Tapus, which are a rare species of guardian pokémon that will no doubt have their own entry. 

Due to the different culture, Alola has a distinctly different attitude on pokémon sapience. They largely still view many pokémon as dangerous omens, powerful spirits, or entities with spiritual meanings beyond what mortals can understand—combined that with the fact that official battles are still a somewhat new phenomenon to them, and their attitude comes at a ninety degree angles. Many Alolans still somewhat fear the pokémon they use in battles, or even view themselves as lesser than the creatures they are commanding. However, they don’t think it unusual that a “lesser” one should be able to give commands, so long as the “advice is sound.” The attitude confuses many who visit, including pokémon. 

Zoroark are decidedly feared in the Alola region for the above reasons, but they are also highly respected and venerated for the exact same ones. To encounter a Zoroark is to encounter a master of illusions, one who could lie in the deepest way possible and change how you fundamentally understand yourself. To not be fooled into being thrown off a bridge is a mercy, and homage is due the Zoroark should it choose to spare you. The Zoroark themselves are in disagreement on whether to take advantage of this or not—and no small number actually believe it themselves, having been integrated into Alolan society for so long.

Alolans have the added quirk of wondering why we use “sapience” to determine rights, since they’re of the mind that certain pure animals are worth more than they are, depending on the island they’re on at the time and the time of day and the weather…

I am not a cultural anthropologist and even after spending a lot of time in the Alola region I still don’t fully understand the way their many conflicting and various belief systems mesh. They are clearly a mixture of several distinct cultures with different nuances that I can’t piece together. On one island the sight of Miranda was enough to send certain Pokérinians bowing, while another got fruit thrown at her. The islands are in conflict with each other over the issue in a way the rest of the world doesn’t understand, and I don’t blame them.

Cynthia did not come with us to Alola—she remained in Sinnoh to do her work as Champion, though she promised to do more research on her own time. Before we left, she gave me a book detailing an ancient culture in Sinnoh where certain pokémon and Pokérinians had such equal rights that marriages between species were not uncommon. Unheard of in modern times… well, except with Zoroark, but that’s a hot button topic that’s prone to get people shouting—even Zoroark themselves. 

Regardless, I went to Alola with Miranda, Siren, and Yuki. Dee remained with Cynthia—it had come from Alola after all and basically had all the data it needed from there. We arrived on one of the docks, expecting a welcome, but no one was there to greet us. We found out later that our intended recipients had been bound and gagged—and replaced with a bunch of Zoroark posing as Pokérinians, with one posing as a Gardevoir. 

These Zoroark took us to a dining room and fed us, told us stories, and all-in-all became quick friends. Only after we all thanked them for the meal and asked where we could set up the lab did every last person in the room reveal themselves to be a Zoroark. As it turns out, their purpose wasn’t malevolent—it was to see what we were like, and apparently we passed the test. The poor people that were supposed to meet us were released, and the Zoroark pack split up, likely to slowly absorb back into society with no one the wiser. 

One stayed behind though, a young male named Valyez. He tried his best to explain the complex nature of Alola to me, but I didn’t understand it then. I asked him about Zygarde and he didn’t know anything. One of the region’s professors mentioned that he remembered seeing chunks of Zygarde back when the pokémon League was being formed, but he hasn’t seen any since then. Evidence that Zygarde had moved on, unfortunately—but that didn’t stop me from looking. 

Regardless, I was given a small laboratory space in the artificial island of Aether Paradise shortly thereafter. It wasn’t as big or as well-staffed as the ones I had occupied in Hoenn or SInnoh, but I almost always had access to the Inquiry’s transporters if something was needed. 

One last thing about Alola. The dimensional fabric in the region is particularly weak, making it somewhat easy to open holes to other realities. Creatures sometimes come through these tears from other realities, but they are not pokémon or Pokérinians and definitely are not native to this planet. For the most part, I do not include them in these reports. I will say that they are very strange.

Later encounters with Zoroark revealed them to be among the most helpful and the most hindering of the species on Pokérin. While they are amazingly adept at adapting into society, their history of being liars, cheats, and criminals has tarnished their reputation—and there are a fair number that do not care about what others think of them. In many ways they are much like most humanoids in that regard. Exceptionally varied in outlook and disposition, filling every niche they can find with their unique biological skills.

There are no small number of public Zoroark who rent themselves out to those who want special illusion shows. While some of these are perfectly innocent, I hear that others are not, but I have understandably not dug too deep into that side of the culture. 

E: I am continually bemused by how such a brave and enthusiastic explorer can be rendered so shy when it comes to matters of affection. I know you and Ezri danced ‘round each other long before you came to this world, but to see it for myself...

Well, no matter. Such is not needed for happiness by all.

The Zoroark of Alola, to this day, respect me and my team. This does not apply to any other groups of Zoroark and the Zoroark of Alola are still not very cooperative. They may like us, that doesn’t mean they like the idea of tests. Most of our examinations of Zoroark were done in other regions. 

A report on Zoroark would not be complete without at least touching on their situation in Unova. It is somewhat dire: they are outright hunted there. Being a Zoroark is a legal felony in the majority of the region, despite Zoroark being native to the region itself. Because of this, many have simply left for better regions, but it is a well-known fact that many remain out of spite and organize groups in the shadows. Disappointingly, this organization of theirs has only set the Unova region more against them. If something is not done, it is likely to turn violent on a large scale. 

Chapter Text

Decidueye, Incineroar, and Primarina

Self-Names: None/Inconsistent

In every region, certain pokémon are chosen as good “starter species” to give aspiring trainers who wish to enter the professional world of battling. The age at which trainers can begin their journey varies wildly: in many it’s as young as ten years old, while in Unova it’s sixteen. Once the trainers prove themselves by collecting eight Gym badges, they are considered professional trainers and have the option to become Gym leaders themselves or challenge the Elite Four, a series of trainers arranged so that only the best of the best may challenge the regional Champion. Trainers will all eight badges can also enter official tournaments, or become one of the Elite Four themselves. The methodology for doing this varies significantly from region to region, but one thing is constant between all official setups: all trainers who wish to start a journey must have available to them a starter pokémon of the Grass, Water, or Fire typing, in order to ensure balance. Furthermore, in most regions the starter pokémon are specifically bred for the purpose of battle so no one has a disadvantage right out the gate—and that those seeking professional battling have a bit more to go off of than what hobbyist battlers do. (Hobbyists usually just catch the closest things they can find and often end up with a bunch of bugs or animals local to their home.)

In most regions the starters are non-sapient. This is not the case in Alola, where all three are. Due to being starter pokémon they almost don’t exist in the wild; instead, they are primarily encountered under the ownership of trainers or (in some cases) as trainers themselves. 

Across the world, starters are largely chosen by tradition and what happens to be around at the time. In Alola, since they were able to model their pokémon League after the rest of the world intentionally, they had the option to choose their starters. This allowed them to specifically select three species that were known to not only be excellent in battle but also enjoy it—almost a requirement considering how highly Alolans respect pokémon. 

Decidueyes are leafy birds with some Ghost power within them. They are able to use bows and arrows—and in fact have feathers they can pluck and use as if they were arrows. They are excellent sharpshooters and clever strategists who also have a strange adaptation called a “leaf hoodie” that allows them to hide their face should they wish. Incineroars are humanoid cat entities with the power of fire who naturally grow large muscles and fight as though they were in a wrestling ring. They also have a bit of a cruel streak, like Earth cats do, of playing with their opponents—though they have the tendency to get bored and uncooperative if an opponent is too weak. A strong opponent is an absolute delight to them because it’s so fun. Primarinas, the last of the trio, are sea-lion mermaid creatures with elegant forms and spectacular voices that some describe as hypnotic. Primarinas are more suited to contests than battling since they seek to be seen on a stage, but they are strong in their own right, able to use their voice to attack and dazzle the crowd at the same time. In fact, the only one of the trio that doesn’t explicitly love the adoration of a crowd is Decidueye. 

This setup creates an interesting conundrum. In Alola, these pokémon were explicitly chosen to be starters because they loved battling. But they were already in use elsewhere—did their love for battling come because they were bred for it? Or were they always selected for their love of battling?

Furthermore, the idea of “breeding” a sapient species is highly disturbing, and yet it is done to ensure the next generation of trainers will have starters. As such, the trio of species have very little in the way of biological family ties, often connected more to their trainers than any member of their own species. Because of this, despite being fully capable of speech, most of the trio never learn a language they can speak. Primarinas are known to attempt to emulate Pokérinian words in their songs, but their vocal cords are more suited to aquatic communication than atmospheric. Yet, they all have the capacity to speak, even if they have to be taught that they can—and with no official language for any of the three species it is inherently difficult to do this. This is why none of these species have agreed-upon names for themselves. 

However, a decent number learn to read and write just from being in Pokérinian society for so long. This ends up being primarily how they communicate on their own; though, as previously mentioned, starters without an attachment to a trainer are quite rare. Those few that are unattached are generally runaways from one of the nurseries, were let go by their trainers intentionally, or have outlived their trainers for one reason or another. 

When free, all three tend to continue battling. Only Decidueye seek to do this out of sight of others—Incineroars and Primarinas seek an audience, be it Pokérinian or pokémon. This often results in the latter two being re-captured. However, in a few cases, they choose to become trainers themselves. 

While I was performing Intelligence Factor tests on the starters in my lab, I was informed that the legendary “Inferno Cat!” (always spelled with an exclamation mark, apparently) was visiting. Inferno Cat! was an Inceneroar who had made a name for himself as a great battler in the Alola region who threw himself into the fray at the last moments for an extra show. Rumors suggested that he was slated to become the next Alolan champion, if only he could defeat the Elite Four and get to the current champion.

He was here to see me. Of course, he talked—his language was simple since he basically had to create it from the ground up, but it was enough that the universal translator had something to work with. He thanked me for our work, since before we came he had to write down everything he wanted to say, and he hated writing. Now he could speak—sort of. He was still refining potential words and meaning and the fact that he did that made the universal translator mess up several times, but he still insisted it was better than writing.

Then he challenged me to a battle. I insisted I wasn’t a battler, but Miranda offered to coordinate instead—pointing out that I did have a full team on hand with herself, Masamune, Yuki, Siren, Gilligan, and Noran. Though she did note that we had a particular weakness to Fire of all things, which naturally Incineroar himself had access to. 

So I got to watch as Miranda took control—though, notably, she only issued commands for Gilligan, and Noran. She only offered suggestions to Yuki, Siren, and Masamune, trusting their judgment in the battle and only ordering retreats and related swapping techniques. Inferno Cat! had a Primarina on his team as well as several others, and most of Miranda’s team were cut down rather quickly. Then Masamune took the field—while Masamune was very used to fighting in tandem with Miranda, working alone he was still able to take out all of Inferno Cat!’s pokémon until Inferno Cat! himself came out and gave him a fire punch. 

Miranda asked me to mega-evolve her, and I did. The two of them danced in a twisting battle of psychic powers and flaming punches—both Champion-tier pokémon, neither of which had a Type disadvantage against the other. Eventually, however, Inferno Cat! won out—Miranda was a bit out of practice as a competitive battler, and he was in the thick of it with an eye on the Championship. 

It was an experience, to be sure. It also became clear to me how much of a powerhouse Masamune was on its own, and why together Masamune and Miranda had been nearly unstoppable. Between the two of them, they could cover each other’s weaknesses and move in a way most opponents could not predict. 

In the end, Inferno Cat! did become Alolan champion. He had the skills, the power, and above all he had the crowd on his side with all his flexing and bombastic trash talk. And yet, he’s not an unpleasant guy to be around—sometimes the show just takes over for him.

There’s also a Primarina I never met who called herself Sonnet and is becoming a popular musician. I am not aware of any famous Decidueye. 

All in all, the situation of the starters is seemingly unfortunate and awkward, but in the end, they appear to be in a niche they enjoy. Their situation is a lot less unpleasant than some of the others on Pokérin—such as the Zoroark, or Froslass. 

Chapter Text

Lilligant and Tsareena

Self-Names: none

When I finished my initial inspections of the Alola Region and set up my lab, I took a survey over the local pokédex, picking out likely candidates for study. I had a list, but I didn’t choose where we went first—Siren did, pointing out that there were plant-based pokémon somewhat like her own species. So our first goal became to uncover the secrets of the Grass-type duo Tsareena and Lilligant. 

First of all, the two types of pokémon are actually the same species, just at the far ends of regional variation, and they will likely split off into two entirely different species given enough time to develop in isolation. Both are small, humanoid entities made entirely out of plant fibers and leaves, though they are significantly larger than Roserades and have no toxins. All of them are strictly herbivorous, and for the most part, they are rather elegant creatures. The species is monogendered and capable of self-pollination but traditionally is considered female given the feminine traits of their body type. 

Lilligant are more reserved individuals who focus more on beauty and elegance than much else. They spend most of their time wandering the forests and jungles of Pokérin, taking great care of the flower on their head in hopes that it will bloom. The flower they grow wilts upon being pollinated, so they tend to take great care not to pollinate it themselves and will only allow someone who has proven themselves in a sort of courtship ritual to do so. That said, it need not be another Lilligant or even Tsareena, though it usually is. Anyone who the Lilligant chooses can cause the flower to self-pollinate, at which point it will wilt and form a seed pod that will grow into a new Lilligant. After much coaxing and care a Lilligant can form another flower, at which point the process begins again. In the wild, LIlligant have no concept of marriage, but when they hear about it they tend to find it “romantic” and many Lilligant these days do engage in the practice. Curiously, despite being a monogendered species, they seem to seek out male counterparts if possible. I suspect this is due to cultural absorption from Pokérinians.

Tsareena are biologically capable of all the same functions of Lilligant. Unlike the Lilligant, their history is one of neglecting the flower: it takes a lot of care and work to get it to bloom, and when it does, it is an immense drain on their physical bodies. As such, Tsareena make no special efforts to get the flower to bloom, and when it does anyway, they self-pollinate so they can get it over and done with and get back into “shape.” Their idea of beauty is not in the flower, but in the agility and strength of their bodies: specifically their legs. After many generations upon generations of doing this their legs have been developed to be much stronger than Lilligant. In fact, Tsareena go out of their way to show off their legs, while Lilligant tend to hide them behind the dress-like leaves around their waist. With so little regard for reproduction, one might think the Tsareena are endangered—this is not so. Their flowers bloom significantly less often than Lilligants’ do, but after having lived this way for generations, the flowers have learned to make do. Unlike the Lilligant they have little care for companionship and are by nature proud, showy beings. Tsareena are one of the known species of pokémon that will disobey trainers if they think such acts are beneath them. 

I am admittedly unsure if these differences between the two strands of the same species are the result of cultural divergence or actual biological altercations. Either way, they can still breed with each other should they desire, and the offspring tend to have traits more in line with the Tsareena or the LIlligant, almost never an even mix. Though such pairings are becoming less common given Tsareena’s attitudes to the flower. 

Like Roserades, neither variety are capable of speech, and thus have no self-names. Unlike Roserades, they are communal entities who have developed ways of speaking to one another through gestures. The Lilligant are less prone to doing this than the Tsareena, since the Tsareena has more agility and does not shy from showing its legs as part of communication. In fact, were it not for the clear evidence of cultural duplication, I may have considered Lilligant non-sapient. They are quite reserved.

But of Tsareena there is no doubt—sapient, and proud of it. They are one of the few species I have encountered that, upon hearing about the Intelligence Factor and what sapience meant, almost universally desired to be classified as such. They are quite proud creatures and it seemed like an excuse to think even higher of themselves than they did.

E: The doctor is capable of enormous amounts of irony, even in his ignorance. Truly, the combination is one of his most entertaining aspects.

Siren’s experiences with the Lilligant were quite disappointing to her—they were too calm, peaceful, and while they would talk they found her aggressive nature rather off-putting, and also somewhat envied the fact that her roses were almost always in bloom. She quickly grew bored of the peaceful flowers. 

The Tsareena, on the other hand, she took to them like butter to a knife. On the first day we met them in the midst of a city park, she challenged one to an arm wrestle, which quickly escalated into a leg wrestle, and then an all-out battle that resulted in the two combatants doing the floral equivalent of laughing. The Grove (that’s what groups of Tsareena are known as) were all well-versed in reading and were easily able to communicate with Siren, and they swapped stories for hours while Miranda and I awkwardly watched from a distance. 

They weren’t her people—Roserades are very solitary and predatory creatures. But the Tsareena were what she wished her people could be. 

She started hanging out with them while Miranda and I went to do other research. We ended up performing a series of interviews with a particular Tsareena who was working as a pokémon Coordinator—in a region that didn’t have very many coordinators. She had taken the name Everblossom, and was trying to establish pokémon contests much like the pokémon battling league had been set up in Alola prior. She had only met with mixed success, but she was determined. Admittedly, it was pretty clear she was doing this so she had an avenue to strut her “elegant” style of competition. She also did traditional battles with pokémon under her control—she even had a Pokérinian doing what would be considered “utterly insane” in other regions, battling under her commands. The man in question was a martial arts master with impressive strength named Garrison. 

Everblossom’s battle style involves rapidly cycling through various signs with symbols that represent certain actions her team can take on them. With clever use of her limbs (including, of course, her legs) she was able to shuffle and display multiple signs in quick succession, conveying complex strategies sometimes faster than normal speech could. For battles, this had little effect since most techniques are well documented, but in the contests, she sets up the surprisingly beautiful combinations of moves that require quick instruction. 

In one of our interviews with her, I ended up mentioning Siren and how she was bonding with the Tsareena in the nearby park. This alarmed Everblossom greatly and she ran out immediately. We ran after her as she stormed all the way to the Tsareena Grove and kicked their leader in the face right in front of Siren, to the shock of everyone present. There were a lot of rapid gestures, angry looks, and even a few kicks—enough that it prompted Miranda to draw Masamune in an aggressive posture, which I believe stopped any actual fighting from breaking out. 

In this moment of silence, Siren wordlessly got up and ran to my side, leaving the Tsareena behind. Everblossom slowly backed away from them, not taking her eyes off the other Tsareena until we were far away from them. When I asked what that was all about, Everblossom explained that those particular Tsareena were more than just troublemakers, they lived to cause chaos and would be a bad influence. But, more than that, Tsareena groups often only let others in so they can have someone “lesser” around to make themselves feel more impressive, rather than actually working to earn their worth. Everblossom did not know of a group of Tsareena that would not do this—though I have since found a few. 

Siren, to her credit, admits she was beginning to wonder about the Tsareena about that time. She had been ridiculed a few times but had honestly thought it was just their way of being a community and that their leader was working to make Siren stronger and more impressive. The illusion fell apart when Everblossom came in and made all of them tremble in fear. I did not know Tsareena gesture language, but Siren had picked up a few things, and Everblossom had made them drop the act entirely out of fear of offending her. 

But Siren admitted it was more than that. When they thought she wasn’t watching or couldn’t understand, they would talk about little “operations” they went out to do. She never got any specifics, but she originally thought it was about hunting prey. Until she remembered that the Tsareena were herbivores, at which point the half-conversations she understood became a lot more uncertain.

When we relayed this to Everblossom she admitted she had no clue what they could be talking about. But, whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for whoever their subject was.

Despite this, we did not sever ties with the Tsareena Grove entirely—they were very adamant about being given sapience rights, even though in Alola they were in little to no danger of being taken advantage of. The idea had gotten hold of them. For my part, I attempted to work with other Tsareena Groves when possible, but that was not always an option.

Siren did eventually challenge the Tsareena who had done the worst to her to a contest-style battle and won, beating them at their own game of beauty. 

Chapter Text

Mienshao

Self-Name: Kojondo

Mienshao are native to Unova, though they are rare even there. In fact, it’s more common to see their immature form, Mienfoo, in the regions they have colonized, practicing their individual kicks and strikes under the mentorship of a very few Mienshao. Both the immature and the mature forms resemble humanoid mustelids, if very differently colored; Mienshao will additionally have long whip-like growths of fur growing out of their wrists, which they use to great effect during battles.

While the Mienshao are native to Unova, this article is in the Alola region for a single reason: the locals' unique connection with pokémon made it clearer than ever how many of them, and Mienshao in particular, defy the logic of the intelligence factor test.

Every creature has instincts, and that extends to sapient beings. Most of us, however, are not overwhelmed by our instincts; we either work around them or grow beyond them in the process of developing society. Mienshao, however, are energetic predators, and if left to natural devices would not be able to focus enough to be considered more than intelligent animals. So, instead of attempting to avoid or circumvent their urges, they have opted to direct them, channeling their wild energy into martial arts invented and passed down through the generations.

This difference is most easily seen in our intelligence factor tests with the population on Alola. Our first few attempts seemed to indicate that Mienshao were animalistic, and we had decided to move on, but their trainers insisted we were getting false results. It took a few days to determine what the issue was, but bringing in the same Mienshao—and allowing them to conduct martial arts actions while the test was applied—vastly improved the scores, to the point where we had to check to make sure these were the same individuals. In fact, a few of the Mienshao were able to articulate exactly why they had failed before, and in every case it was a reflection of their need to move overriding their ability to think.

Mienshao culture revolves around mastering and directing this instinct, with different groups developing different forms of martial arts and passing it on to the next generation. In fact, the species as a whole sees battling as a form of education; a Mienfoo becoming part of a trainer’s team is viewed in much the same way primary education boarding schools are, as a way for the child to learn and refine their skills. Mienshao will usually have a symbiotic relationship with the Pokérin as a result of this, with many having fond memories of their mentors.

Still, a race that needs martial arts in order to focus presents many unique challenges. It is my hope that they will be able to adapt to whatever the world presents them.

Chapter Text

Smeargle

Self-Name: None

This is probably going to be a short entry, but it’s an interesting one nonetheless. 

Smeargles are dog-like creatures with long tails that are perfect for use as paintbrushes—which almost all of them do regularly. In the wild, they use the brush to leave markings on the environment to mark hunting territory, and they live in packs. While they are sapient, they score low on the Intelligence Factor, so it should come as no surprise that they don’t make structures or much in the way of tools. They have no auditory or gesture-based language either, communicating entirely in painted symbols, and as such information transmission is somewhat slow.

Smeargles benefit greatly from Pokérinian society. While in the wild they are very limited in what they can use to paint, with access to artistry supplies their inner creativity is allowed to break free. Smeargles will gladly do nothing all day but create more and more art if they have the materials and the resources to do so. When taken in by a Pokérinian family and provided for, they will no longer have to hunt or concern themselves with the dangers of the wild, so their creativity will be set free. Many of the world’s greatest artists have been Smeargles, and several non-Smeargle artists have been rumored to own a Smeargle that either made all the work or assisted with it. 

Likely due to a consequence of their unbridled creativity, few Smeargles ever learn to read or write because to do so would mean not painting (or sculpting or whatever other art forms they have found to express themselves). Those who do learn writing invariably end up using it as another form of expression, although since Smeargles themselves are languageless, books written by Smeargles tend not to be all that technically impressive. Their (instrumental) music is really something, though.

Some Smeargles take more interest in the affairs of the world than most of their kind and have come to think that paintings of famous subjects are a special art all their own. Which was why the Smeargle named Beret offered her services to me. The painting of me stooping over a microscope set to all the incorrect technical settings with Miranda in the background was a result of this. I assure everyone that I do know how to operate a microscope, the settings were just artistic liberty. 

Smeargles have a unique ability known nowhere else on Pokérin—with the exception of the amorphous and unintelligent Dittos. Smeargles are able to observe an action an entity performs and then, somehow, perform it exactly from memory, as though they were painting onto reality itself. Naturally, in the case of ridiculously powerful techniques, they are significantly lesser in efect—I heard of one Smeargle who had copied a Darkrai’s ability to devour nightmares and all it did was make someone have a nightmare about a spider that didn’t even do anything. (Dittos, for the record, copy every facet of their target—right down to the power level. How this is accomplished is not my concern because, no offense to Dittos, they are rather stupid.) 

Because of this ability to copy any technique Smeargles see somewhat common use in battles despite their weak stature, for they have access to combination techniques no other pokémon can have. However, only careful trainers can properly train them, and their creative desires make them somewhat hard to work with. 

E: Oh, what lament that the war of psyche hath! For ‘tis on one hand the origin of logic and reason, yet upon another the realm of passion and artistry. That akin to such would be conflict, first of the mind and first of the heart, and ever the more difficult to follow one o'er the other.

Canst thou see, o doctor, of the depths of torment then? The artistry forever mired by the limits of reality? And yet, and yet, for there is beauty even within those confines. What of the novels written not by ink on paper, but by photons in holography? What of the joys of the abstracted game, where rules are crafted for the betterment of the players? Should we presume the Smeargles to ne'er rise to such capability?

Oh to see an art and not be able to craft it, for such patience can only be for those willing to fall to the heartless embrace of mentality. As though reason itself were opposed to passion, as though imagination and science could not intertwine. Soft, dear doctor, and look upon their suffering! Look upon it! Canst thou see the utter tragedy you hath decreed? Or perhaps, does it exist only within the confines of your own presumption?

You bear such weight upon your shoulders, I shall admit, and such a responsibility too. Yet to let it blind you to the fullness of the form—ah, but such is not uncommon to those who are so devoted to ideal. Fortunate are you that there are those who would correct, even upon this. And fairness pending, you are a pioneer, a firstcomer, so learning by error is assuredly expected.

Another error to attend: the presumption that this would be a short entry. Never make such at the beginning of writing, doctor. For there is always more to learn.

Miranda’s addition: wow, she went a little overboard this time, didn’t she?

Chapter Text

Scrafty

Self-Name: Zuruzukin

Species that have “rebellion” as a primary trait rarely fare well in the game of civilization. Their instincts tell them to ignore rules, shun authority, and do things another way just because it’s different. This makes it particularly difficult to pass on information from one generation to the next because the previous generation is an authority and anything they say is to be rebelled against. 

The only time this is circumnavigated is if there is some “higher authority” for them to rebel against that is viewed as more worthy of rebellion than family ties. 

Which is why the Scrafty actually do quite well on Pokérin. 

Scrafty are orange reptilian beings that walk on their hind legs and have a horn on their heads that resembles a mohawk—often the leader of a group of Scrafty is simply the one with the largest horn. They tend to wear clothing, but for some reason I can’t explain, seem attracted to baggy oversized pieces. I would theorize that they do this just to go “against the curve of Pokérinian fashion” except there are plenty of Pokérinians who wear baggy clothing as well, but I digress. Far from the strangest thing this planet has to offer.

There are no examples of Scrafty forming society on their own—they only come together in the shadows of other civilizations, most often Pokérinians, though I have found a few examples in Eevee packs and a few others. When in the shadow of these “greater civilizations” they have a reason to band together—and defy. 

This has made Scrafty rather notorious for being small-time crooks, and large groupings of them are naturally galled Gangs. Most Scrafty Gangs wear this label proudly, so I shall continue to refer to them as such. The exact nature of how these Gangs operate varies wildly based on culture and which Scrafty is in charge at the time. They can range from acting like harmless juvenile delinquents to actually having a major stake in mafia-like situations. Luckily, for the most part, Alola is spared the massive criminal enterprise of Scrafty “bossmen” due to its low population. However, they are a huge problem in the Unova region, and are one of the species of pokémon generally hunted on sight there. 

Scrafty Gangs are often highly organized, a situation contrary to their disposition only when alone. Otherwise, it seems to be their natural state to live in the cracks, alleys, and backwater areas of society. Naturally, they tend not to have the best reputation. The Scrafty usually take pride in this, to my and the rest of my team’s bafflement. 

Most of the Scrafty groups in Alola are more “small-time” crooks and don’t really do much aside from cause occasional trouble. Curiously, due to this, Alolans tend to think of Scrafty as worse than useless and not worthy of respect, which the Scrafty reciprocate in kind. This makes them rather difficult to use in battles—with the notable exception of those with trainers who are seeking to overthrow the current champion. Scrafty appreciate being part of those kinds of goals. Tear down the establishment…

When I met my first Scrafty I had no knowledge of any of this, I merely knew they wore pants and it was essentially guaranteed they would be sapient. Then, one day, when I was walking back from having lunch at a nice sandwich diner, they mugged me. They didn’t even try to take anything, they just jumped me, smashed my phaser, tied me up, and threw me in a dumpster. While this was somewhat regular behavior for that particular gang, it turned out they had targeted me specifically to give me a message. What follows is that message as best as I can remember it.

“Listen here you little doctor man, you think you can waltz onto our planet and tell us what we are and aren’t? You want to give us sapience? Screw that! We reject your ‘sapience!’ Ptoo!” [While he did spit, he also annunciated the onomatopoeia as well.] “We Scrafty hereby declare ourselves non-sapient and we will never accept the label of being sapient! We are not part of your Federation or your little club of walking talking bozos! We are Scrafty and you better get that in your head!”

After that they walked away, giving each other congratulations about “really telling him what for.” They naturally left me in the dumpster until Yuki found me and fished me out half an hour later. 

That particular Gang continued to be a nuisance. Shockingly, it seemed that most Scrafty Gangs were of a similar mindset: they had heard we were offering them something called “sapience” and decided that since we were offering it, they didn’t want it. However, from the few Scrafty Gangs we did manage to contact on somewhat decent terms, we learned that such an agreement amongst the different gangs was highly unusual. Miranda suggested that it was potentially a reaction to Starfleet’s arrival—an even bigger “authority” than they ever could have imagined subconsciously making them all align on one single goal.

I didn’t buy it since there were many other things they could have defied us on. For instance, while readers of these reports may think that sapience cataloging is our primary concern with Pokérin, that simply isn’t true. Captain Dax is handling most of the other things—the political relations, the technology trading, as well as joint research on Infinity Energy. There is much Pokérin has to offer, it is merely my job to investigate sapience. 

The Scrafty Gangs easily could have started vandalizing trade shipments, any of our places of research, or simply tried to drive us out of any town they were in. To be sure, occasional Scrafty Gangs have done exactly this, but nothing on the level of “we refuse sapience!” that seemed to sweep most of them. 

I actually received a communication from Iris, Unova Champion, about it. It is no secret that she was against my work from the beginning, but even this baffled her. Scrafty were enemies of the state in Unova and yet they had gone out of the way to get a message to her with the intent of rubbing it in my face that, even under “oppression” they didn’t want what we had to offer. She relayed the message but really wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

Then there was more strange behavior, that of the Scrafty trying to get other pokémon to follow them. That was almost unheard of. Scrafty organizing? Something else was going on. However, we were too busy to really look into it until the day of the War of Pants.

Yes, it is an absurd name. But it’s what everyone calls it so we’re just going to have to deal with it. 

Unbeknownst to us, the Scrafty had been organizing a campaign against the Tsareena Groves most involved in the “glamour” side of Pokérinian society, evidentially because the Tsareena were “traitors” that “accepted their dumb gift like animals!” So, one day, without warning, the Scrafty jumped out and assaulted the Tsareena. While it was a decidedly comedic and amusing encounter at the start, it soon went south as both the Scrafty and Tsareena didn’t stop once their enemies’ energy had been depleted. pokémon were warring and fighting in the streets of a Pokérinian city, and the Pokérinians weren’t able to stop it. 

There was no winner that day, and the “war” continued for about a week until the Tapus themselves intervened—more on them later. However, on that first day, Miranda went out to try to end the fighting, only to get thrown aside herself—but in the process, she caught sight of a Slowking. Specifically, a Galarian Slowking, a variety not native to Alola. She heard him mutter something about “this should have been enough” before teleporting away. 

While the War of Pants continued, we hunted down that Slowking. But that, itself, is also another entry. 

Under normal circumstances, Scrafty cannot wage actual campaigns of the sort they did during the War of Pants, and as we later found out these most definitely were not normal circumstances. But the exact situation involved many more species and a fairly large conspiracy… 

Concluding this Scrafty entry, however, I sadly have to say I see little to no place for them in the Federation. They are rebels almost by necessity. We, and the other nations of the galaxy, are currently the one thing they will never listen to. Talk to, trade with, perhaps. But listen to? Never. 

E: This would normally be the point wherein I would state the doctor's habitual dependence on supposition as fact. However, he does have a point; the Zuruzukin feel the need to assert themselves beyond their reason.

I find myself wondering how they would react to the Borg... and how the Borg would react to them, for that matter.

I suspect they may have a reason for wearing those pants and they just won’t tell anyone.

Chapter Text

Slowking

Self-Name: Yadoking

The saying goes “two heads are better than one” and while that isn’t always the case (look up Doduos), in the case of the Slowkings it is definitely true. Slowkings are a combination creature: a large mollusk known as a Shelder adheres to a pink Psychic-type mammal known as a Slowpoke. Depending on where the Shelder adheres, different things happen, but in almost every case the Slowpoke and the Shelder become fused into one entity greater than the sum of their parts. In most cases, this does not increase the joint intelligence all that much, instead providing physical benefits like higher attack power, more defense, etcetera. These unions are somewhat common—neither Shelders nor Slowpokes are known for strength or intelligence on their own, but together, they can be formidable. So those who have been blessed by the combination tend to help others of their kind be bonded together. 

Scans of the many individuals have proven that this is not just a symbiosis, it is a full synthesis of the two bodies. The two beings become one and while it is possible to separate them and get two distinct beings again, when together there is no discernable difference between the two entities. 

Most forms of the combination are called Slowbros, and their variety is so astounding I can’t do them justice here. However, none of them score high enough on the Intelligence Factor to be of my concern. 

However, when a Shelder adheres to a Slowpoke’s head, a very different result occurs. The synthesis occurs with the brains—specifically, the toxins of the Shelder interact with the slowed Psychic energy within the Slowbro’s mind, forcing them to activate and creating a feedback loop that launches the resulting being well past the line for sapience. These entities are called Slowkings, and while they are rare due to the awkward and somewhat delicate joining, they are well known. For they are one of the few pokémon species that can not only understand Pokérinian speech but speak it as well–and fluently. 

Since they are so rare, Slowkings often know only a handful of others of their kind, and are as such unable to form proper large-scale society. Most take it upon themselves to “lead” the remaining Slowpokes to become Slowbros and to spend the rest of the time philosophizing. Many works of philosophy have come from Slowkings, and the recent “hit” book “On Sapience” by S. K. Shelton was in fact written by a Slowking with a love of obvious puns. 

In Alola, Slowkings are a bit more common than they are elsewhere, since many Alolans all but worship them and will gladly assist them in helping the Slowpokes. For the most part, Slowkings do not take advantage of this, for they (generally) see no ultimate benefit in manipulating others for selfish gain. Much research has been done in the Alola region on reliably getting a Shelder and a Slowpoke to form a Slowking, but producing that specific type of union has remained unreliable and somewhat random. 

Slowkings love debate, discussion, and new thoughts. Many of them bothered to seek me out during my stay in Alola and attempted to debate me with words I didn’t understand—realizing quickly that I was no philosopher, but a scientist, they all quickly changed their tactics and talked to me in a more informal manner. Despite their similar dispositions, their opinions on the nature of sapience and of Starfleet’s presence differ astoundingly. And yet, virtually none of them shout angrily at each other—they really are at peace with differing opinions. I see in them an ideal humanity has yet to reach.

I had actually written quite a bit about them and done several interviews early in my time on Alola—they are not hard to get audiences with when you bring new ideas, and I had plenty. One who took a particular interest in me was Soma, an older Slowking who had traveled the world and wrote about his experiences with the hope of using what he found to bring the Slowkings of the world together in a more unified force. He is hopeful that, in a generation or two, his work will come to fruition. Slowkings do, in fact, think slow—but it allows them to think of exceptionally long-term results, even those that extend far beyond their lifespan. 

Soma, however, had already published his books on his travels and was letting the things he set in motion act on their own; but he did like traveling, so his request was simple: he wanted to go with us when we left the world. At first, I told him we couldn’t just take anyone who wanted to leave the planet, we weren’t a ferry. But he soon made himself beyond useful and a close friend to me and my team. Which I believe was his intention—but there was no malice or manipulation in his act. He wanted to go explore distant worlds, we were the best way to do it, so he befriended us and legitimately appreciated our company. He was, in the words of a local, “a good chap.” He even gave us many in-roads to talk to the various Zoroark in Alola; Soma just has a way of getting people to trust him and each other, and he hasn’t broken that trust in as long as I’ve known him.

I thought I was almost done writing this entry when the War of Pants happened (see the Scrafty file) and Miranda caught sight of the Galarian Slowking. Sometimes, rarely, and only in the Galar Region, Slowking will be created that fuse the brains differently— I’m even tempted to say wrongly . Instead of getting a calm, thoughtful intellectual who takes life as it comes, Galarian Slowkings become selfish, brutal, and every bit as intelligent as their standard counterparts. From what limited first-hand information I have, Galarian Slowkings tend to take the same niche among their kind as normal Slowkings do, except they seek to make more of their kind to increase power and control. They are decidedly not disposed to philosophy and musings on ethics. 

Naturally, once we saw the Galarian Slowking, we went directly to Soma. The War of Pants was still going on, but when we told him about the Galarian Slowking, his usual calm smile vanished and he became very concerned. He told us of his journeys in Galar, and how he had always found the Galarian Slowkings highly disturbing, like looking in a dark mirror. His theory is that the Shelder brain becomes dominant in the fusion, but there have been no tests on them so it’s impossible to tell for sure—they sure aren’t willing to be put under a microscope. 

Soma always looks for the best in people, and he had sought out many Galarian Slowkings in his time. And while there was very much variety in the members of the species, none of them would be what he would consider “good people.” He wondered if their condition could be called a disease, or if that was just our natural desire to explain away the uncomfortable existence of evil.

He pledged to help us find his Galarian counterpart that we had seen. While our sensors couldn’t tell the life signs of a Galarian Slowking from a normal Slowking, Soma could easily tell the difference. Still, it took several days of hunting and tracking down clues and calling in favors in the middle of the War of Pants—a hard time for all involved. 

But we eventually found him, deep within the forest, talking to several Scrafty—it is very unusual to see Scrafty outside the cities. He spoke with a deep, commanding voice that almost made me want to follow his every word. Soma revealed later that his words had a subtle hypnotic effect to them that only he and Miranda were able to resist—but they wouldn’t have realized the hypnosis was a thing without the reactions of the rest of us.

The Galarian Slowking’s message was simple: convince the Scrafty to continue their defiance of the “label of sapience,” and that they were doing this through mindless violence. Scrafty may not be the smartest individuals but even they would know this was off—that is, if they weren’t being subtly hypnotized. Clearly, this Slowking had orchestrated the war. But why… well, that was what we were here to ask him.

He detected us at some point and, in the middle of a sentence, teleported away. Soma traced him, using his own Psychic powers to teleport after him. Alone, Soma would not have been able to keep up with him, but Miranda assisted and eventually we cornered him near the edge of a volcano. I suspect the Galarian Slowking chose this simply because it was dramatic and intimidating. 

He, vaguely and mysteriously, told us it wasn’t working. That there should be “more than enough,” that one day of a War of Pants mixed with the Federation’s presence and the increasing unrest in many places in the world. Soma asked him what he was trying to accomplish. The Slowking didn’t respond to the question directly, instead asking me if I knew how much chaos the Federation's presence was bringing upon the world. I told him to inform me.

He told us matter-of-factly that he wouldn’t tell us anything. Then he tore the Shelder off his head in one swift motion—tearing off parts of his flesh in the process. In one instant, the Slowking was no more, replaced with a Slowpoke and a Shelder who had no capacity to remember what they once were. 

If a Slowking ever separates themselves, they cease to be. Even rejoining the component parts into a new Slowking will not retain the memories of what they were before. 

He would be giving us no information.

Miranda suggested we start investigating the way the War of Pants was developing and find out more—surely he couldn’t have been working alone. But not even a day later, the Tapus had decided enough was enough, and put an end to the war.

We did eventually go to Galar, and the Galarian Slowking mostly stayed away from us. I did not learn much else about them. I still remember most clearly this one Galarian Slowking who gave up his very being to keep his secrets. 

An ominous taint on an otherwise brilliant and very caring species. 

E: We all have such poisons in our ranks, pokémon or otherwise. It is in the nature of being to be able to decide, and it is in the nature of decision to continue down a path once set.

Chapter Text

The Tapus

Self-Name: The Tapus

The Tapus are a species with maybe, maybe, a hundred individuals worldwide. They have exceptionally long lifespans and slow reproductive cycles, so they aren’t exactly an endangered species—and they furthermore aren’t hard to find, for their unique disposition tends to make them public figures. 

Every Tapu is born from an egg that they carry with them the rest of their life. These eggs are infused with Infinity Energy during their long incubation period and, when the Tapu finally emerges, they tend to be masters over whatever Type they were infused with due to the environment the egg developed in—all share the Fairy typing, but their second one could be anything. 

Tapus, once hatched, have a peculiar biological drive to seek out an island and make it their own. Every known Tapu on Pokérin either owns or effectively owns an island, and no two Tapus share an island. (Alola is a bit of a special case, but each of the four main islands still has its own Tapu.) 

Physically, their appearance is quite varied. While each Tapu’s body will incorporate their egg into themselves somehow, this could be arm plates, a bowl, or even abstracted away all over the Tapu’s skin. Within the shell, they have black skin and humanoid faces with small, often dainty features (though this isn’t a hard and fast rule, as Bulu should make clear). They have no need for legs for all of them can float around with ease. 

Tapus are very protective of their islands like someone might be toward a garden, if even the animals that visited the garden were part of its intended beauty. Elsewhere in the world, there are Tapus who take background roles in their societies, ones that are rarely seen, or ones that purposefully try not to take charge.

That is not the case in Alola, where all four of the Tapus are well known and undeniably in charge. In fact, barring any particularly clever Zoroark I don’t know about, the Alola region is the largest Pokérinian nation not ruled by Pokérinians themselves. While visitors to Alola may think the Tapus just take the role of distant deities, the fact of the matter is much of their laws, traditions, and attitudes can be traced directly back to Tapu decree. 

Most Tapus do not get along with others of their kind—I am uncertain how they ever manage to produce an egg because of it, so most just keep to their islands and refuse to acknowledge the existence of others. However, the islands of the Alola region are very close together, and so the four Tapus were made aware of each other rather quickly. Early in Alola’s history, the four of them were forced to band together to deal with an interdimensional incursion from another reality and through it discovered that they could be much more effective if they worked as a unit. So they effectively united the four of their islands after the event, and Alola was born. As Pokérinian society developed and advanced, they adapted as well—largely refusing the influence of technology in their personal sanctums, but there are always exceptions. 

While they are the leaders of Alola, they prefer to focus their efforts on protecting the islands from outer influences rather than inner ones, believing their citizens to be worthy of managing things themselves. After all, the Tapus do choose personal Kahunas from the populace to oversee the affairs of each island. 

The Kahunas did not do a good job quelling the War of Pants. And so, eventually, the Tapus stepped in. Their timing was unfortunate—Miranda, Soma, and I were currently trying to track down some leads—when all four of them descended upon the currently largest battle and ended it in a dramatic show of power, lifting up all the Tsareena and Scrafty leaders in their power. Tapu Fini was the one that spoke for the group, informing the Tsareena and Scrafty in no uncertain terms that if hostilities did not cease immediately and stay ceased, some righteous judgment was going to be dished out on every Scrafty and Tsareena in Alola. Naturally, they backed down and haven’t so much as dared to lift a finger against each other since. 

In what I am certain was not a coincidence, the requests I had put in to meet with the Tapus were approved the day after. I was instructed to come with a minimal entourage to Lele’s temple, the home of the Tapu known for entertaining guests the most often, as well as using technology. Naturally, Lele is also the youngest of the four, though still easily several centuries old. 

All of them were there. Koko, the Electric Tapu, excitable and decisive. Lele, the Psychic Tapu, a young healer who often didn’t realize the destruction she could cause. Bulu, a quiet, stoic Grass Tapu, rarely spoke while I was there. And Fini, a cold Water Tapu who has a decidedly low opinion of Pokérinians and, by extension, humans. How unfortunate that she is the one most versed in politics and relations, and thus is the one people such as myself have to speak with most often. 

I took Miranda and Soma with me, Miranda because she was always with me, Soma because he was a witness to recent events we most certainly needed to talk about. 

When we entered I found it quite interesting to see what was essentially an ancient ruin with a modern couch set up next to a full widescreen TV with a massive cable that went somewhere into the ground. Lele wanted the best of both worlds, creating a somewhat contradictory setup.

The meeting itself was held in a much more traditional manner—the Tapus floating on the level above, looking down at us like judges in a court. This was a natural position for all of them—they were, after all, the very leaders of the Alolan islands. While they do not go out of their way to claim to be gods, they do not refute the claim either, and so the culture came to expect certain things from them like taking a “higher” position.

Koko and Lele were friendly enough; Bulu rarely spoke and Fini was actively cold and calculating. They first asked what my purpose here was and, for the first little while, all we talked about was their species, which is where I got most of the above information. However, the discussion quickly changed when Fini posed a rather unfair question. The following is the transcript of the meeting starting at that point. 

[Meeting between Tapu Fini, Taku Koko, Tapu Bulu, Tapu Fini, Doctor Julian Bashir, Miranda, and Soma Innerweave. Beginning at timestamp number seven. 

Fini: Doctor Bashir, you do realize that this quest of yours, the one which you have done nothing but question us on since we began, was in no small part responsible for the War of Pants?

Bashir: That… is incidental, Tapu Fini. We are awar—

Fini: Oh, no doubt you have an explanation. And the explanation we shall hear. But surely you know the timing of this meeting was no accident. Your presence—and the presence of the Federation and the other powers that have subsequently landed on our world—is causing strife and disarray. You seek to equalize, to give Tsareena the same say as Scrafty, the same say as Pokérinians, the same say as us . In doing, you threaten the peace and structure this world has. Peace is always delicate, and your kind has a habit of ruining it. 

Lele: Fini, that’s not exactly fair…

Soma: Honorable Tapus, if I may… Bashir and the Federation do not seek to destroy, they seek to build up, to promote. Their intentions are pure and their reasoning sound. Our world does, in fact, exist in the unfortunate position of denying many who should have a “say” their right. Equality is one of their major concerns as a civilization, and since many in our world have expressed a desire for a closer alliance, Bashir’s job is an important one. 

Fini: I have read up on all the press releases, I am aware of his purpose and their purpose. I simply wish to point out that, in seeking what you deem “good”, you have caused much that is undesirable. And I do not just speak of the War of Pants. It may have been the most ridiculous of the conflicts, but it is not the only one.

Bashir: I’d like to point out that there were conflicts before, but they were just never reported. I have many records of historical pokémon slaughter, abuse, and occasional Pokérinian abuse. And there are more than a few legends against the f—

Miranda (hastily): What he’s trying to say is that these things were happening before, but everyone thought they were normal. Now his people are here, and suddenly maybe it’s not normal.

Lele: I agree. I have seen how brutal it can be, out there. I’m the healer—as a healer, you see… a lot.

Fini: Lele, it seems as if that screen of yours has swayed you to their thinking. 

Lele: You’ve known me long enough to know that isn’t true.

Koko: Maybe you just have a terrible memory, Fini! Lele’s always been a little off. 

Lele: Koko! We have guests! We are the regal guardians of Alola!

Bulu: And their recording device caught you saying that.

Lele: Eep! 

Fini: It is of little concern what the others see, the contents of this meeting are public knowledge. I make it no secret that I dislike the Pokérinian drive for progress and development, and your Federation lives and breathes that. However, that attitude is not directly harmful to our islands. This idea of “sapience…” assuredly is. 

Soma: Surely, you do not suggest that you are against the spreading of an idea? In all your history as the Tapus of Alola, you have never once shunned the freedom of the people to speak, even against you!

Fini: If we had, how would you know about it?

Soma: I… well. That’s a somewhat unpleasant thought. Do you care to elaborate on the implications?

Fini: No.

Soma: As you wish. 

Bashir: Look, I’m not here to tell you how to run your country or to suggest you should give up what power you have—I can tell that’s at least part of what you’re concerned about. You have led these people for hundreds of years and I see no reason why you can’t keep doing so. All I ask is that you consider the potential for change; if not in yourselves, then in your people, something I know you are familiar with. 

Fini: You show your true colors, Bashir. You are not simply a scientist doing a job, you are a missionary on a quest to bring your ideas.

Bashir: ...I am a scientist first and foremost, honorable Tapu. I would continue to catalog the sapience species of Pokérin even if I thought there was no chance of what I consider progress. But I have seen many great people here, bonds between Pokérinians, pokémon, both within the system this world has created and without. This very planet’s existence has challenged my views on what makes a being sapient and, even with it, wonder if should they even desire the equality we offer. You ask if I am aware that I am causing chaos—to that I say, undoubtedly, yes. But no idea worth spreading will easily work its way into the minds of a world. It will cause conflict, disruption, and change. I believe that the momentary upsets in this current day more than make up for the bright future. 

[Silence for a few seconds.]

Bulu: You speak well, Bashir. 

Bashir: Thank you, Tapu Bulu.

Fini: While your words are well spoken, I—

[Tapu Lele’s phone starts ringing.]

Lele: Uh, hold on, uh… Yes, hello? Wh… no? I don’t even own a car, how can I—this isn’t even a person, is it? 

Koko: Lele, come on! Didn’t we tell you to silence that thing?

Lele: I… uh… forgot.

[Silence again.]

Soma: ...Perhaps now is a good time to mention that we have some idea of who caused the War of Pants, and it was not a Tsareena or a Scrafty. It was one of my Galarian Counterparts, likely working in tandem with others, but our information is admittedly scant.

Koko: Wait, this was deliberate!?

Miranda: Afraid so. 

Koko: Galarian, huh? ...I’m going to track his people down for daring to set foot on our islands and cause a war!

Fini: Koko! The islands have not been without the Tapus for—

Bulu: The Ultra Wormholes.

Fini: ...Those were temporary excursions.

Bulu: Transporters, Fini. I am sure Doctor Bashir would be willing to lend us use of such devices to investigate the aggressions against our people, yes?

Bashir: I will have to clear it with the Captain, but I see no reason why she should refuse.

Fini: I would rather we not rely on the Federation’s toys. 

Lele: You don’t have to use them.

Koko: Drop me into the midst of them! I’ll smite the lot of those Galarians for daring to—

Soma: Perhaps, Honorable Tapu, we should report the rest of what we know so you can make a better decision. 

Koko: Yes, yes, just make it quick.

[Recording sample end. Rest of the meeting is under file TapuMeeting1.Bashir]

Koko did end up leaving Alola for brief periods to do his “investigating,” but he was a hothead and not very good at uncovering any leads. Lele was much more useful, and she will show up in these reports quite a few more times. Bulu rarely interacted with me after that, and Fini and I spoke only when absolutely necessary. 

I suppose we are fortunate that the Tapus did not decide to silence us or kick us out of Alola, as I am sure Fini desired. Perhaps she was laying it on thick on purpose, or perhaps she just couldn’t convince the others of her position. Or, another thought, maybe she found us too useful to remove—we were actively looking to find out who caused the War of Pants. 

One last thing. While we were in the meeting, I did remember our original mission and asked about Zygarde. Bulu remembered him being in Alola back when the pokémon League was being set up, and that he was involved in some way with the Necrozma Incident, but the historical records and the Tapu’s memories of that time are understandably muddled given all the interdimensional disturbances that were occurring. None of them had heard or seen from Zygarde since. 

Though, at this point, the hunt for Zygarde seemed of secondary concern. 

Chapter Text

Delibird

Self-Name: None

Delibirds are mountain-dwelling birds with large tails that are almost always folded up like a sack. Delibirds themselves have bright red plumage with a white almost beard-like tuft below their beak. Minus the sack-tail, they appear somewhat similar to horned owls.

Whenever I look at one I can’t help but think of the Earth legend of Santa Claus, traveling through the snow of winter to give everyone presents. The comparison is—yet again—eerily accurate since Delibirds are naturally generous individuals who readily share what is in their pouch with anyone they think needs it—or even if they don’t need it and they just look like they’d appreciate the gift.

Many a mountain traveler or winter explorer has found themselves being tended to by a Delibird. 

Delibirds have no capacity for human language but they do have their own birdsong. They don’t form societies, though, and do not score very high on the Intelligence Factor. 

It occurs to me that I don’t have much to say about them. I was never in a situation where I was saved by their generosity, and I only met a few personally. They aren’t all that uncommon, but compared to my other areas of research there simply wasn’t much here. Besides the fact that they look like Santa. 

I suppose the only instance I was part of where a Delibird was involved was the arrival of my Romulan counterpart, Doctor Trasva. While the Federation had gotten to Pokérin first and had the most connections with the people, the other Alpha Quadrant powers were beginning to funnel their way in. The Klingons had actually been there for a while, but they largely do not factor into my notes since they had no intention to conquer the world. (The Federation and the Klingon Empire have an understanding about how to deal with worlds each other are interested in.) The Klingons are largely on Pokérin to engage in battle—willing to go head to head with any trainer. I know of a few who are becoming trainers themselves: “A new warrior’s way!” 

The Romulan Star Empire’s goals are more in line with the Federation’s—they ultimately wish to incorporate Pokérin into their fold. Unlike the Federation this is a largely exploitative relationship. However, Romulans are clever, and Doctor Trasva is no exception. She exists as a sort of foil to my mission—as the ideas of Romulan superiority can be used to justify many of the unfortunate situations on Pokérin, and unlike the Federation she had managed to get ties to Unova. 

She came to Alola while I was studying there, and for a time we were in each other’s sphere of influence. She puts on a good show of being understanding and patient, but one day while walking through Aether Paradise to clear my head, I saw her shout relentlessly at a Delibird in a rage. It is no secret that Delibirds are such weak creatures, and its insistence on continuing to give things away was an outright insult to Trasva. To her, if a being is weak compared to another, it should strive to contain whatever strength it can. 

I never saw that Delibird again. When I mentioned Delibirds to her she seemed to have forgotten it. However, knowing Romulan subterfuge, this could just have been a ruse to keep suspicion off of her. 

E: I myself met Trasva later. It was quite the dramatic affair. Still, at the end of it, we had developed an understanding. I suspect there will be a rather impressive todo with the Romulans in the future.

Chapter Text

Oricorio

Self-Name: None

Much of what would have been confusion in dealing with Oricorios was put aside because of my previous encounters with the Ludicolo—I was well aware that there could be creatures whose only language was that of dancing. While Oricorios can make bird calls, they do not speak using them. All communication comes from their motions. Even so, they do not score very high on the Intelligence Factor test, largely living just as birds and having little ability to merge with the complexities of Pokérinian society. 

Oricorios are only found in Alola, and there are four different flocks—I hesitate to call them tribes, because there is no structure associated with the groups, they are just island-wide associations of the birds. Each of the four might as well be thought of as a different people, so I will go over them one at a time. 

The Baile are energetic, excitable, and to some extent more violent than the others. Their plumage is dominated by red and their dances tend to be more aggressive and forceful. They spend a good deal of time concerned about their appearance while also keeping up their strength should they need to defend mates or a food source. In fact, the only real identifiable structure of society among this flock is the aggressive dances that can sometimes include hundreds of Oricorios in one synchronized and choreographed motion. 

The Pom-Pom Oricorios are so named for the way their yellow plumage bunches up into bushels at the end of their wings, all but removing their ability to fly. Despite this (or perhaps because of it), they have become much more energetic and jumpy. Caring little for competition and strength, they prefer to use their abilities to cheer on others. Their pom-poms are excellent storers of static electricity that they often attempt to use to revitalize people—often with mixed results. They are predominantly a happy people with a pleasurable disposition if a low attention span. 

Pa’u flock Oricorios are often described as lazy. I do not consider this strictly accurate, but compared to the other two flocks they are certainly slow. They spend their time thinking and making careful, deliberate acts. Among Oricorios, they are rather intelligent and have been seen using tools, and have mild psychic abilities (for a pokémon). They like to gather on the beaches at the full moon and dance all night in complex circular patterns that leave works of art in the sand. 

The last flock is the Sensu flock, and they are much more mysterious than the others. Their slow dances are unnerving in their unnatural motions, and something about the way they move attracts Ghost-types to them, which means the Sensu flock never exists without a congregation of ghostly presence near them. Which means a lot of Haunters. See the Haunter article for how that works. 

Despite the potential for a great symbiotic relationship with the Haunters, the Sensu flock seems to care little for scaring or helping the Haunters—in fact, the attracting of Ghost-types seems to be inadvertent. There are other strange side effects of observing the dance of the Sensu flock, including feelings of nostalgia for one’s home. 

All in all, Oricorios are unique regional birds that exist in decently large numbers over a small area. While they are sapient, they largely seem incapable of understanding what the fuss about civilization is, or why they should care about things called rights.

Chapter Text

Kangaskhan and Marowak

Self-Name: Garura and Garagara

In the midst of all the conspiracies and normal scientific inquiry, there was one minor mystery that grabbed my attention. It is somewhat well known that two pokémon once thought to be different species, Kangaskhan and Marowak, actually have the same DNA pattern and are one and the same. However, the logistics of this relation always baffled me—and it took us some time to figure out what exactly was going on. While they have a language, they specifically don’t talk about their biology or nature due to some kind of taboo. 

What we knew starting out was that Kangaskhan were large, female-only creatures that were never seen without a joey in their pouch. (Curiously, the joey can be male, but more on that in a bit). They are known as the motherhood pokémon since they are extremely attached to their children. However, no joey has ever been witnessed reaching a level of maturity required to leave the pouch (without the assistance of Mega Evolution) and almost no Kangaskhan have been seen without a joey in their pouch. (And most of these cases can be tied to losing the joey in some fashion.) More than one joey in the pouch is possible, but they are always twins. 

It was generally assumed that joeys simply didn’t leave the pouch until a new joey was born to replace it. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

On the other hand, there are Marowaks. These beings hold their heads inside a large skull and wield a bone like a weapon. They make advanced use of this bone, making them advanced tool users generally well versed in the art of knocking out both prey and predators. However, the skull is not part of their body. One would think these bones are found, like hermit crabs find their shells, except for the fact that every Marowak skull is physically identical—from the same species. 

The somewhat reasonable deduction is that the Marowaks are Kangaskhan joeys wearing the skulls of their dead mothers. As disturbing as this is, it is also true. But there’s still an issue to be resolved: how come every Marowak we see has a skull? Do no joeys reach maturity? 

Theories abounded about how joeys never left the pouch until the mother died, at which point they feasted upon her and donned the skull. But in that case, how would the population be maintained? There could never be growth, but there clearly is. But since there is growth, something else must be going on. 

The answer is this: joeys do come out of the pouch once they reach maturity. But only the females are recognized as reaching maturity, becoming Kangaskhans of their own. They do not leave until they are able to hold a joey in a pouch of their own. (Unlike tribbles, they are not born pregnant, but it is functionally similar—there is a strange mating ritual involved in the process that I will not go into detail about here. Marowaks don’t want to talk about it and frankly I don’t either). However, males do not have the capacity to grow to the size identified as “mature” so their mother will keep them until death—at which point they will take the skull and begin their journey as Marowaks. Yes, there are female Marowaks, and a somewhat decent number of them as well—which occur when a female can’t develop fully, or is stunted for some reason, or the mating ritual cannot be established before the mother dies. The females will take the skulls just like the males and go live their way. 

One wonders why there aren’t a ton more male Marowaks than females. In our research we discovered why this was as well; males will often fight each other for mates in lethal combat, but those that survive can often take several mates. Females have no interest in this since they are sexually inert without the presence of a mother, so they do not engage in these blood sports.

To quote Miranda once I laid all this out before her at once: “That’s messed up.”

Kangaskhan and Marowaks do not form civilizations of any kind outside of Alola. Within Alola, a higher density of predators has made Marowaks band together in packs for protection, but this is as complex as they become. I personally believe the tragic nature of their physiology prevents them from doing much more. 

I think I’m becoming desensitized to this kind of thing. I read over the Froslass entry after writing this and found I was much more disturbed. Here… it’s not all that unexpected, anymore. 

Perhaps the real foe I face on Pokérin is not strange ideals or conspiracies, but the extreme cruelty of mother nature herself. 

E: Cruelty? Oh Doctor, cruelty implies intent. The word you are looking for is callousness. 

Chapter Text

Hypno

Self-name: Sleeper

Hypnos are humanoid entities with yellow skin and a tuft of white fur around their neck. They have large noses, pointed ears, and you will rarely see one without a hypnosis implement of some kind in its hands. This is because all Hypnos are born with an inherent understanding of other minds and the techniques behind hypnosis, and are able to use their intellect to find a proper hypnosis implement for use at almost any time.

Keep in mind, they are generally not able to fully control someone’s mind—only those who have honed their Psychic powers can do that—what Hypnos naturally do is akin to a hypnosis parlor trick. Suggest that someone think they are a dog for a few seconds, get someone to do something they normally wouldn’t think about, etcetera. Generally subtle things. Many even find work as therapists through this. 

Hypnos, despite being spread out far across the world and having no societies composed only of themselves, have a single language. And they have a single name for themselves—the Sleepers. I find it hard to believe they are unaware of how creepy this is, but it is also an apt title, for they are quite good at making individuals fall asleep on a dime, though usually a participant has to be willing. 

Usually. 

Sometimes, however, they can make you drop like a fly with ease…

As masters of subtle suggestion and slight manipulation, it should be no surprise that Hypnos have cemented themselves into Pokérinian society wherever possible, though notably not to the same extent as Mr. Mimes.

They have a tendency to be creepy, stare at you for long periods of time without saying anything, and seemingly attempt to hypnotize inanimate objects. They, largely, do not appear to be “all there” mentally speaking, and yet given their skillset over the minds of others, one wonders if maybe they know more than we do.

During our research into the conspiracy of the Galarian Slowbro, we were eventually able to track down some Scrafty and make them fess up about what they knew—generally with Miranda pointing Masamune at their necks. The intimidation didn’t always work, but it worked often enough. One lead led us to a Hypno working as a therapist. She called herself Hypno. Lots of Hypnos do that, take a name that is just Hypno. Not all of them—I knew a Simour—but enough of them that it gets quite annoying. I shall refer to her as the Therapist.

The Therapist liked to wear clothes, which is unusual for Hypno. She sported a long black dress with no sleeves that matched her furred collar well, and she was apparently rather good at her job of calming people and assisting with their mental problems. And, if our source was to be believed, she was also implanting subtle suggestions in Scrafty minds to reinforce their desire to reject sapience. Or, well, she was in the past—who knew what she was doing now. 

Miranda, Siren, Yuki, and I went in expecting an awkward conversation. 

What I did not expect was for her to immediately wave her hypnosis implement at me and make me pass out like a stone. Yuki and Siren dropped as well, leaving only Miranda—and she was only partially resistant, likely due to her bout with the Darkrai some time ago prompting her to reinforce her mind. 

She relayed the encounter to me later, which was apparently nothing but annoyance after annoyance. After not falling asleep, the Therapist kept implanting other ideas in Miranda’s mind to confuse her, make her attack the wrong direction, or even to go after herself—luckily Masamune kept its wits about itself and was able to counter this somewhat, though even Masamune was not fully immune to the Therapist’s conditioning.

Because of this, Miranda is not entirely sure how the Therapist got away. She was fighting the “blabbering hypnotic moron” and then the next thing she knew she was attacking a couch like it was her mortal enemy and the Therapist was nowhere to be found.

What she did remember was that the Therapist kept repeating to her, over and over again, “I bet you can’t find me! I bet you can’t find me! I bet you can’t find me!”

Suffice it to say Miranda made it her sworn duty to find the Therapist.

We later found out that this was exactly what the Therapist wanted… and to this day I’m not sure if the Therapist was just being clever, or if the impression on Miranda’s mind was a sort of deep hypnosis.

In conclusion, Hypnos manipulate the mind in subtle ways, but they are able to do so quickly. This gives them the potential to be great therapists, battlers, or many less reputable things. They appear to like forming an air of mysteriousness about themselves and often speak in riddles, metaphors, or half-truths.

E: I must admit that an encounter with a Sleeper in my youth has heavily influenced me. Not merely the hypnotic suggestion, but the skill with which it was wielded... I spent quite some time honing my own intellect and traversing the depths of my mind, in the vague hope of forging that which the Sleepers readily had on their own. I did seek out the one I had met, eventually...

...and, yes, I did earn a hypnotic trinket from them, after many days of effort. An award, I suppose, for managing to best them at their own game.

But that is a story unrelated to that of the Doctor's journey.

And when a Hypno gets the jump on you, you better hope it doesn’t feel the need to kill you afterward. 

Chapter Text

Jynx

Self-Name: Rougela

Jynx (Rougela in their own language) are humanoid entities with purple skin, hair, and features that are clearly feminine. They are Ice-type for a reason I cannot discern, and are known to have beautiful singing voices. Before our arrival on Pokérin, they were known to have a language, but it wasn’t until the words were introduced to the Universal Translator that the many dialects of Jynx revealed themselves. Jynx all wear clothing and have a fashion sense. The garments serve no practical purpose so far as I can tell. In general, they care a lot more about their appearance and their status in the community than most practical concerns. I am somewhat disappointed to note that ever since their language was deciphered, Jynx seem to have only worsened their situation. They are extremely susceptible to advertising and capitalistic exploits, willing to spend lots of money to look better and feel more important. As such, now that they are able to talk to Pokérinians, advertisements can be tailored to target them directly and they’re often bled dry because of it. 

They can also communicate in dance, like the Ludicolo. Jynx themselves are rarely found outside Pokérinian society these days, but in colder regions, you can find entire tribes of them gathered together. 

All in all, they seem rather ordinary—a few quirks that make them easy to exploit, an interesting language, and a curious connection to the ice.

But there’s one problem here.

They’re an all-female species. 

And no, this is not just feminine in appearance , like many of the monogendered plant pokémon are. They are strictly feminine and so far as my biological scans can tell, everything would work as intended with a male of the species. Except the males don’t exist. There is no evidence of there being a male of the species and there is also no evidence of Jynx ever being born naturally . The only way I know of producing a juvenile Jynx is through breeding with a Ditto , and those beings are able to manipulate their DNA to match any and all forms of life in existence. (They are also non-sapient which is even more concerning). 

But Dittos are not natural creatures, they are a byproduct of genetic engineering that has proven to be extremely successful and spread across the world. Jynx have been around for much, much longer than that. Where did their population come from? How did it grow to such numbers? 

All these questions have no answers. Not even the Jynx themselves know, nor do they seem to care. 

It baffles me and there seem to just be no leads on the subject. I don’t even know. I’m wiping my hands of this and handing it off to someone else.

Fosic’s addendum:

I have a theory as to what the Jynx are. Their genetic code is remarkably similar to Pokérinians, but not quite similar enough to allow for natural breeding. Naturally, we tend to assume that unnatural breeding via genetic engineering is impossible for pre-warp societies. However, given the moldable nature of Pokérin, this assumption should not be made. 

Using genetic markers and much testing with the Porygon-2s, we have found many genetic markers of several humanoid species on Pokérin within Jynx—including Pokérinians, Mr. Mimes, Hypno, and several others. This prompts a theory: that, sometime in the past, the genetic material from these many races or their ancestors were mixing regularly—perhaps during a time where their DNA had not drifted far enough to disallow reproduction. The Jynx may simply be the result of “mixed breeding” that proved to be successful—and in fact carried dominant genes akin to the Nurse Joys or Officer Jennys of Pokérinian fame. When the DNA stopped mixing, the Jynx remained. 

It is of note that Jynx have no known maximum lifespan. They could be millions of years old, each and every one of them. However, their memories cannot store that much information, so they forget what happened in the deep past. 

It is very possible that all the Jynx currently in the world have been around since antiquity. 

Chapter Text

Marshadow

Self-Name: Unknown, if any.

This file is here to get people to stop asking me about the file on Marshadow. 

Marshadow is a legendary creature of the darkness that is supposedly excellent at hiding. 

Naturally, any and all hunts to find Marshadow have turned up nothing. 

We are not even certain if Marshadow exists.

Thus, this is the extent of the file that can be written for Marshadow. 

Miranda’s notes: Okay, so, Bashir has had a few issues with people who have (or claim to have) met a Marshadow and insist on it being sapient, demanding Bashir give it rights. To which Bashir would ask for proof it existed, and the people talking to him found this laughable enough to actually laugh in his face.

This occurred multiple times. More so than for any other of the rare species that Bashir was not able to document. Though I suppose the same applies to them.

There are so many races on Pokérin that Bashir was not able to find them all, and I don’t think even the whole Federation could comb the planet effectively. Some entities are also unique and outside the scope of the research. So just… calm down a bit, okay? You only really care about those with enough of a population or presence to factor into society anyway, if a little shadow gremlin lives in a swamp and nobody ever sees it, it won’t have many political implications. 

Chapter Text

Oranguru

Self-Name: Yareyuutan

Oranguru are large, orangutan-like creatures with a star-shaped marking on their foreheads. They are loners by nature and have no desire to form society, but they excel in virtually every other metric on the Intelligence Factor. Not only do they have raw intelligence, but a wide range of emotions, a complex ability to plan, a high capacity to infer based on minimal context, an aptitude for communication, and dozens of other things. While their vocal cords do not lend themselves to Pokérinian speech, they have been known to use approximations to get ideas across when it is needed. Curiously, in ancient times, Pokérinians thought Oranguru were just mysterious people who lived in the forest and were to be treated with respect. These days the respect remains in Alola, though in other regions they are treated just like another pokémon. 

There are many legends of the “People of the Forest”, as the Oranguru were known in ancient times, but most are exaggerations. Oranguru rarely do much besides forage for food and sit; meditating, contemplating life. Few are able to keep up with the speed at which Pokérinian society operates, but they often understand the need to be on good terms with them so will drop in every now and then to offer words of wisdom. With the introduction of the universal translator, this has become even more literal, and people seeking the “wisdom of the Forest” can go to an Oranguru and will usually find them receptive.

Curiously, Oranguru are known to make extensive use of Pokérinian tools. They reason that the Pokérinians have all these things, why shouldn’t the Oranguru make use of them? As such, it is not uncommon to find an Oranguru with a machete, radio, clothing, or—most interesting of all—pokeballs. Oranguru are much like Pokérinians in the fact that they enjoy capturing and keeping other pokémon as their own; though Oranguru battlers are absurdly rare (I myself am only aware of one). They tend to view their pokémon more as tools to help assist them in living, or if the pokémon is intelligent enough, as a student for them to teach and make wise. 

Oranguru have never caught a Pokérinian. This is not just because of pokeballs not being able to capture them—many older models did, in fact, have that capacity—but more of a reason of tradition. They did not wish to upset the natural order of things, and for the most part, Oranguru still don’t. They are happy as loners living on the edges of society, reaping the occasional benefit of Pokérinian technology. 

In Alola, I was lucky enough to witness a debate between an Oranguru named Mulberry and my friend, Soma the Slowking. Apparently, the two species have a record of intellectual competition. Here’s a short excerpt from that conversation. 

[Transcript: Conversation between Soma and Mulberry. 

Mulberry: and that’s beside the point. The real point I find myself asking is why you are so certain sapience is necessary?

Soma: I am not convinced by any means. I believe the colloquial term is “better safe than sorry.” 

Mulberry: Elaborate. 

Soma: Let us take, as a given, that there is “right” and there is “wrong”—for if we do not accept this we have bigger problems than worrying if entities are sapient or not. 

Mulberry: I have never bought your decrees of universal morality as being necessary, but I do understand that if we do not have an actual basis for making an abject decision, we shall arrive nowhere. I accept your supposition. 

Soma: Thank you. Now, continuing from this, we find ourselves in a world where “wrong” things are generally agreed upon: death, pain, suffering, abuse, etcetera.

Mulberry: Not all of those are unanimous, but together they paint a picture.

Soma: And furthermore, in nature, we have the predator-prey relationship. Taking this as an example of many other such relationships, we see one creature outright killing another for the sake of its own continued existence. Now, no one would take issue with me if I dined on a fillet of Magikarp, but I believe I would immediately be burned at the stake if I attempted to consume, say, you. So the question becomes: at which point does a normal hunt become murder?

Mulberry: You claim sapience is the answer to this question?

Soma: Sapience is the attempt at answering the question. The line has to be drawn somewhere, otherwise we are left with two extremes that are not desirable. All meat is murder, in which case carnivores starve, or no meat is murder, in which case you could kill anyone you wanted so long as it was for food purposes. 

Mulberry: I believe you are clouding the issue with a specific example. What you are really asking is what quantifies a “person” and all the rights therein. 

Soma: I was going to expand to that, yes.

Mulberry: Naturally, it is much more practical to have the “murder line” apply to everything, for citizenship, rights, freedom, etcetera. 

Soma: You’ve got it!

Mulberry: I see this as demeaning to the clear differences between the individual species—we are most certainly not created equal, why do we deserve equal treatment? You and I are far below, say, Dialga. But we are significantly above that doctor over there recording this message. And that is by intelligence metric alone—there is physical, emotional, artistic, and instinctual merit to take into account.

Soma: Ah, but that is impractical. How would you measure all that?

Mulberry: your Federation seems to think it can place all creatures on this scale of sapience. Why not use it as a scale of rights?

Soma: Well, because—

Mulberry: Because those who initiated the Federation would be placed much, much lower than where they currently are. And who’s to say that is not the “right” way, and that their current power is against the design?

Soma: Quite an interesting take you have there. However, I do believe it takes away from…

Excerpt end.]

They went on for quite some time after that. A lot of it went over my head, admittedly. 

E: That you are aware of your own ignorance speaks volumes of your capacity to learn, Doctor. 

Now, in the Galar region, there is an Oranguru named Jof. And he is a trainer. A trainer who, for reasons I cannot discern, has chosen to specialize in Ghost and Fighting-type pokémon, specifically those with subtle influences. When not in official battles the guy has his pokémon improve his own attacks in subtle, almost undetectable ways. 

He also likes to throw punches. A lot. 

Admittedly, not very remarkable for a trainer, but exceptionally remarkable for an Oranguru. 

Chapter Text

Mimikyu

[Encrypted File, Clearance Required]

Self-Name: None

Mimikyu are Ghost-type entities that, as far as most people are concerned, are a somewhat laughable joke. They live under veils to hide their appearance, decorating said veils in an effort to look presentable—and miserably failing, for the most part. The most common appearance they choose is that of a Pikachu since, worldwide, Pikachu designs have sold a ton of merchandise. Already, I see this trend continuing in the Federation. Something about the yellow electric rodent resonates with people. It’s like the planet’s mascot.

It is best that people continue to think of the Mimikyu largely as insignificant jokes because the moment you look any deeper people start dying. As such, I recommend that this section of the report be reviewed by Starfleet and then sealed, with instructions never, under any circumstances, to investigate Mimikyu in any sort of public setting. Do not make the results of experiments public, it will give people ideas. Even in secret, I advise using extreme caution. 

Mimikyu, if ever looked upon without its veil through any known form of observation—sight, video camera, echolocation, scanners —will result in immediate death. Resuscitation is possible, but not guaranteed. As such, while we managed to take many pictures of Mimikyu without its veil on, those images were utterly and completely destroyed. Such pictures could be used as weapons of mass destruction on any planet with an Internet. The entire Federation could be crippled if even a single one made it onto a major news outlet. The danger from this creature is unimaginable. We are quite fortunate that all Mimikyu wish to hide themselves and to be seen as friendly. While they most certainly are not friendly, believing them to be is vastly preferable to suffering death from seeing what they really are. 

Yes, Mimikyu are sapient. They have no language but they crave attention from species separate from their own. They spend immense time working on their veil to make it presentable, and yet none of them ever seem to have success with it, as though they are cursed. There are absolutely no reports of a Mimikyu who is good at making their veil—be it of Pikachu or otherwise. And the few reports we have of Pokérinians offering them better veils result in them being refused.

If anyone is to damage a Mimikyu’s veil, they will flee and spend an unusually large amount of time trying to repair it; only to vow brutal revenge on whoever damaged it in the first place. This revenge is single-minded, brutal, and all-consuming in their mind. We are, again, fortunate that they only act within their veil and can’t stand being outside of it. Otherwise, they could kill everyone they wanted just by taking it off.

They do not speak and seem to have no desire to actually communicate. They simply want to be appreciated. But those that are—generally those under the control of trainers—often try to push the other pokémon away and become the only one that matters to their trainer, sometimes taking drastic measures. 

They are cruel, proud, vain, and vindictive creatures. And my team suffered too much because of them.

We only ever brought two into the lab. The first one we examined without having any clue of the danger we were working with—we didn’t do anything invasive, just took some pictures of the outside and let it go, as a way to catalog it as a potential candidate for Intelligence Factor testing. 

We eventually put it on the list and one of my people, Lieutenant Visor, caught one while out in the wild. He thought he was extremely lucky because Mimikyu are known to be somewhat rare. So he took it out of the pokeball and started to run some in-depth scans on it.

He died immediately. Ensigns Fisher and Vera eventually went in to check on him, but the scans were still on his screen, and they died as well. At this point I knew something was wrong, so I opened the door slightly and noticed the bodies on the floor. I ran in—not looking at the computer, luckily—and was unable to determine what had happened. I made a laboratory-wide announcement to be on the lookout for something lethal that was killing people, and in the middle of this, I looked at the scans.

The pain is immediate. Your eyes feel like they’re on fire and then you can’t process any thoughts as everything becomes darkness and you hear an all-devouring scream.

I was lucky enough to be revived by Yuki immediately afterward. We had the console destroyed and quickly grabbed the Mimikyu and threw it outside.

This was our mistake because that damaged the Mimikyu’s veil and it swore revenge on us. A week later it returned, having somehow managed to find a power crystal that gave it even more Ghostly power. Miranda was able to take it down, but she had to be extremely careful not to remove its veil. 

And the revenge… it was so violent, seriously injuring several of us before it was stopped. It let out little laughs of glee at the torment. 

Part of me wonders if they’re capable of realizing how dangerous they are. 

They are, quite simply, the most deadly thing I have ever encountered. I am unsure what our responsibility is with them.

Fosic’s Addendum: the solution is simple but ethically divisive. Eliminate every last one of them and all records of them so their presence may never be detected or even remembered. Understand that I do not make this suggestion lightly. It would be genocide. I am fully aware of the ramifications. But I also am aware of how much damage a single Mimikyu image could do if circulated. All it takes is one single terrorist who knows their secret. Just one. 

E: Will you sing songs of the Hunt like they did for the Tribble, I wonder?

Chapter Text

Malamar

Self-Name: Calamareno

Malamars are large, squid-like creatures that, through their Psychic abilities, are able to float above water. Due to their aquatic nature, they do require water to survive, but much like the whales of Earth, they can go for up to an hour without a “breath.” In the wild, they hunt their prey brutally. It is well known that they like toying with their meals. This is why they rarely outright hypnotize their prey into their mouths: it’s more fun to do it the long way. However, this isn’t to say they never do, and if they think it will serve them they will dominate the minds of any they can in a much more overt way than Hypnos. 

Curiously, despite having mouths that can speak, they have no vocal language, instead communicating with one another using the bioluminescent spots in their body like signal lights, flashing in patterns to get points across. This isn’t to say they don’t learn vocal languages, they do regularly, but they are all borrowed languages. 

Do they form societies?

Yes. 

I almost wish they didn’t. 

Deep within the oceans of Pokérin, there are many, many pods of Malamars, arranging an underwater society that we know very little about because every attempt to reach them has resulted in hostility. The civilizations beneath the waves have no desire to contact us—though, perhaps more accurately, they don’t want us to know anything about them. Whatever they’re doing down there can’t be good, given what we’ve observed of them on the surface.

Despite having no small difficulty operating on land, their presence is keenly felt on Pokérin, though most aren’t aware the influence comes from Malamars. Many criminal organizations secretly have ties to a Malamar or two, giving information and secrets from the ocean’s depths to aid in their accumulation of power. While some of these Malamars are clearly working on their own with specific personal goals in mind, investigation suggests that the majority of Malamars still have ties to the Malamar civilization deep below. The entire species is like one giant squid with a tentacle placed everywhere it can manage. 

Excepting Malamar raised in captivity under trainers, every single one I’ve met has had a tendency for megalomania. Even the ones under trainers have a desire for manipulation, control, and power. I wonder if Malamars of more pleasant disposition are simply kept in their cities and not allowed to roam forth, or—perhaps more likely, but also more concerningly—the Malamar societies purge those who have ideals different from their own. 

What ideals? Their end goal is uncertain. But they seek power, influence, and control—of both the large and the small. They want the world to be theirs, and Pokérinians (and now the Federation) are in the way. 

They have made it very clear they consider us their enemies but are not beyond working with us on a small scale if it furthers their ultimate goal, whatever that is.

And that’s all I can say about their ultimate goal. However, one of their smaller goals I am exceptionally well acquainted with because I was in the middle of it for a large portion of my stay on Pokérin. They ended up being a rather persistent thorn in our side, the only force I could truly consider an absolute “enemy” of our research. 

And, in the end, they don’t even really care about the sapience label. They just view us as a threat or something to be exploited. If not the entire race, the vast majority of them.

Our first encounter occurred when Miranda was working to track the Therapist Hypno down. With a mixture of ingenuity, blind determination, advanced DNA scans, and consulting Last Chance, we eventually got a location near the edge of Alola. With a full team of Starfleet personnel and some Alolan Officer Jennys, we rushed for her. Apparently, this was a big enough operation that Tapu Koko sought to accompany us personally. 

Strictly speaking, my presence wasn’t necessary on the mission… Captain Ezri Dax was more than capable of leading and there was little need for a doctor. But I somehow felt compelled. And plus, there was no way I was going to be able to stop Siren from coming, so I might as well have gone with her. 

We operated under the assumption they knew we were coming. This assumption did not help us at all. 

We split up into various teams, surrounded the warehouse at the shoreline, and moved in a military formation I no longer remember the name of. The guards were easily disabled and we made it inside, where we found the Therapist calmly sitting in a circle of chairs with several Galarian Slowkings and, most ominously of all, a Malamar I have come to know as Ur. He bid us welcome, despite the phasers, guns, and pokémon pointed at him.

Tapu Koko rushed in with more than a few colorful words directed at Ur. Ur simply nodded and held out a tentacle. Tapu Koko laughed, asking him if he thought simple mind control was going to work. 

Ur said that yes, he did, if he and the dozens of his brethren waiting in the ocean all acted upon Tapu Koko at once from the safety of the water. 

Koko was immediately under their control and turned on us. For all our numbers and tactics, we were unable to take the Tapu down, for his electricity deflected all phaser fire and conventional bullets. The pokémon that would have an advantage over him were quickly set upon by the Slowkings and the Hypnos. However, absolutely none of us were killed. 

This was not mercy on their part. Ur wanted hostages—and an audience. 

He took special note of me, Miranda, Ezri, and Koko—all tied up and drained of energy, of course. He took the four of us to the front of the warehouse and opened the door that led to the see, informing us that in five minutes a most interesting sight would pass by. Ur had set up a little distress call to draw in a very elusive and slippery kind of prey, one that would hold the secret to the proper amount of chaos, one that a small war on a few islands was not enough to create. 

I asked him to elaborate, but he did not at that time.

We soon watched as a disc-shaped craft—clearly a spacecraft or something similar—flew over the ocean in the direction Ur had expected. It moved so fast that I barely had time to see what occurred, but the exact moment it passed us, a massive spike of darkness erupted from the ocean, powered by the other Malamars beneath the sea—skewering the craft right through the middle. 

“The Beheeyem ship is ours,” Ur declared, wringing his tentacles together in disturbing anticipation. “Begin phase 2.”

The rest of this story is on the Beheeyem file.

As for Malamars, their situation as an enemy is virtually undisputed. They seek power over others and the idea of sapience means nothing to them. Were there not other species on Pokérin, I am convinced they would be at each other’s throats rather than working together. As it is, there is a massive undersea Malamar network where they continually plot and scheme to some mysterious end. 

It’s like an entire race of supervillains. 

E; After a certain incident which the doctor has chronicled, though one that happened quite a while after this, I felt the need to look into the Calamanero myself. The reports that had already been filed were certainly useful, if understandably biased. However, there was a minor fact that the doctor had understandably missed, unique as it is to them.

As elaborated elsewhere, many pokémon require specific triggers to induce maturity—certain minerals or learned behaviors. Sometimes these triggers are even more unique, reliant on specific environmental factors and certain types of symbiosis. In the case of the Calamanero, the specific trigger is in fact a deliberate psychic influence, affecting the creature’s neurological structure as well as their biological one.

The Maaiika, more often called Inkay, are the child-form of the Calamanero, and if this psychic influence is never induced they will remain as Maaiika for their entire lives. They are... not as malicious as their older brethren. I would say they are innocently crafty, not enjoying their evil acts for the sake of being evil but, more concisely, being ignorant of morality altogether. They are as capable of affection as any young soul, in fact. I took the liberty of seeking some out and giving them a very simplified version of the Intelligence Factor test; they scored well, enough to be considered quite brilliant children, though not nearly as much as their adult counterparts.

Which leads me to the point: it is possible to avoid the psychic trigger which reshapes Maaiika into Calamanero. In their own realm, perhaps, the Calamanero would not allow such—I highly suspect they have a finer degree of control over it than any Pokérinian—but the children raised on the surface are mischievous, not malevolent. Perhaps it is questionably moral to stunt their growth as a means of ensuring greater safety. Perhaps, with time, we can understand this psychic trigger and ensure Maaiika can grow without losing the affections they have. Perhaps, perhaps, and perhaps again. In this, my foresight has failed me; I make no claim to guidance.

One final note: Otosupus, another form of pokémon, have only recently come to the surface of the world. Yet their similarity to certain other pokémon, as well as specific factors of their behavior, leads me to suspect the Calamanero specifically engineered them as a frontline soldier or scout race. How they achieved this, I cannot say.

Chapter Text

Beheeyem

Self-Name*: Ohbem

*The naming situation is complicated, see below

First of all, we need to get some naming convention out of the way. Beheeyem and Ohbem are both names for the same species, but they have contextual meanings that describe where the individual being referred to originates. Beheeyem are members of the species born on Pokérin. Ohbem are those born anywhere else, though usually in the Ohbem Conjugation, a spacefaring political entity that prefers to be secret but was forced into the open due to our interactions on Pokérin. 

Beheeyem are short, vaguely humanoid beings with large heads, no mouths, and colored lights on their fingers they use to communicate. They are perfectly capable of understanding Pokérinian speech and writing, but prefer to keep to themselves for completely understandable reasons. 

See, Beheeyem are not actually pokémon. They originate from the planet Ohba, a cold world orbiting a blue star roughly thirteen light-years from Pokérin. The inhabitants of Ohba, the Ohbem, developed warp drive in a relative vacuum since they lived in a relatively uninhabited area of the galaxy and were able to explore without much difficulty. Pokérin was the first planet they discovered with life already on it, though at that time it wasn’t as advanced as it is now—pokéballs hadn’t even been invented yet. 

The Ohbem decided they had no right to interfere with the societies forming, but they did want to learn about them and take samples (they find sheep-like pokémon the most interesting, apparently they resemble “cute” animals from their homeworld). They began large-scale investigations on the planet, putting down several covert observation outposts and performing examinations similar to how the Federation would have if Pokérin hadn’t invented warp drive when we arrived, though notably with a lot less regulation because they had no previous experience.

And then, without warning, their ships started being destroyed. Any ship attempting to leave or enter the atmosphere was vaporized and they couldn’t figure out what was doing it. Since their interstellar space program was still rather young, they couldn’t afford to keep sending ships. So they were forced to leave their people on Pokérin’s surface, maintaining contact with them only through radio and subspace.

The descendants of those left behind are called the Beheeyem. Their culture is still united, that of survivors living on an alien world. They have access to amazing technology but only live in select groups and small compounds, keeping their presence hidden. They continue to learn as much about Pokérin as they can. They do not study sapience as much as I do—their main concern lies with Infinity Energy, especially because, after living on Pokérin for several generations, they started accessing the Psychic-typing themselves. 

They still retained the use of a few of their ships, though naturally they never dared to take any out of the atmosphere until they could figure out what had been attacking them. The Federation was lucky: we only sent down occasional shuttlecraft, everything else was done through the transporter. 

How Ur came to know of the Beeheeyem’s story, I have no idea. But he knew their technology was available. All he had to do was make them use one: and a simple distress call from a lost Beheeyem colony was easy enough to simulate. We later found out that he had ordered the complete massacre of the colony as a “bonus” to the plan. 

As the Beheeyem ship crossed over the sea to answer the distress call, the Malamars took full control of the situation, spiking the ship in half. They took the ship under their control and captured the crew—again, not killing this time. They wanted more audience for what they were about to do. 

Such a large number of prisoners can be rowdy, and we did try a few escape attempts. But with Tapu Koko limited with a heavy-duty shock collar, it was an easy matter for any Malamar to hypnotize one of us to turn on the others—or threaten to cut their own neck. Unlike Hypnos, a Malamar’s mind control need not be subtle in the slightest. 

I heard much about “operations in the Galar region” and “communications coming through that confirm success on the other side.” The Beheeyem craft they’d captured was not the only one they targeted, another one had been tricked to fly over Galar and was captured. 

While we waited, biting our nails, we were able to talk to the Beheeyem. We learned of their history, and also that they had been watching us. Trying to determine if they should make contact with us or remain hidden. They had sent only scant reports to the Ohbem, afraid we would hear it if they used too many long-range signals. They were also more than a little afraid that the Pokérinians would object to having been the subject of research and some experimentation over the last few centuries. 

The individual Beheeyem we got to know the best was Enkayel, an engineer, who spent much of his time with us trying to figure out what Ur was up to. Why not just hijack a Federation ship? It would have more advanced technology. And why imprison all these people? What was the point?

Ur overhead one of these discussions and couldn’t help but gloat. The point, he said, was chaos. When we asked why Ur seemed to think it was close enough to time to fill us in. He took us to the Beheeyem craft, which they had broken open and plugged all sorts of wires into, making use of Rotoms to fully understand the machinery within. A screen displayed Pokérin and the orbit of the Inquiry . 

Their plan was diabolical. As soon as the Inquiry was on the far side of the planet and out of sensor range, they would use the communications network within both of their craft at once to send a massively boosted signal directly to Ohba. The message? Alien invaders had come to Pokérin and were conquering it, enslaving their people. It was a desperate cry for help, encoded with all the official security codes. While many Beheeyem could resist Malamar mind control, enough of them fell in that the message could be filled out nigh-perfectly.

And the Ohbem, while having been willing to leave their people on the planet rather than lose more in a rescue attempt, were not willing to let their “lost children” just be conquered . Mysterious danger or no, they were coming. 

In the time since the original landing on Pokérin, Ohbem technology had advanced considerably. Not to the point of the Federation, but to the point that it only took thirteen minutes for the fleet to arrive. Many dozens of their ships entered orbit all at once, appearing in the skies as bright flashes of light congregated mostly around the Galar and Alola regions, but they were in high enough orbit that few were the places that didn’t see the lights. 

This brought worldwide panic. 

The Inquiry stood down and surrendered immediately. However, they were not the only ship in orbit, as our Klingon and Romulan counterparts were there as well. The Romulans made no aggressive move but also refused to stand down. The Klingons saw the fleet as a threat and opened fire. Their firepower was immensely superior to the Ohbem—but the Ohbem had numbers. 

We saw the Klingon ship and several Ohbem ships explode in the sky above us. This seemed to delight Ur: “Delightful chaos! Delicious chaos! Come, Zygarde, and fix what we have wrought!”

Zygarde never came. This distressed Ur greatly. This was the most chaotic event that had occurred in centuries, perhaps even millennia. Where was the Lord of Order?

In the middle of Ur’s rant, Rayquaza showed up. 

Chapter Text

Rayquaza

Self-Name: Rayquaza

Captain’s Log, Stardate…

~~~

Ezri Dax looked up into the sky and saw explosions. Klingons… you have to love them, but they can be really stupid sometimes. Already possibilities were running through her mind on how to salvage this. If they could only get a message out, explain what was happening down here… but they were under constant guard and the Malamars would not hesitate to kill their audience if they thought they could do anything. 

She ran through as many ideas as she could, but didn’t have time to come up with anything. For in that moment, the Ohbem were descending from orbit to the source of the distress signal. Ezri noted that there were no more stellar explosions—good. The Inquiry must have done the smart thing and stood down, and the Romulans likely had some kind of truce going. There was no doubt a lot of confusion up there, but no more death.

Of course, the chaos happening in the cities from panicking Pokérinians was also of prime concern.

“Where is he!?” Ur demanded, slamming his tentacle into the Beheeyem screen hard enough to crack it. “Zygarde must restore order! But there has been no report of him at either side of the operation! What game is he playing!? ”

The Ohbem ships descended toward them, their saucer shapes glistening in a rainbow of pearlescent colors. Ur glanced at them with fear. “This can’t all be for nothing, we’ve engineered so much… how much chaos do you need!?”

There were six Ohbem ships coming down.

Suddenly, there was a flash of green, and there were only three. 

What…? Ezri thought.

Ur’s grin returned. “Not ideal… but you will do. ”

An immense serpent floating without the need for wings or obvious psychic power coiled up in the sky, two stubby arms pointed aggressively at the Ohbem ships. Glowing yellow lines ran across its body, surging with power. Absurd, unimaginable power. 

Ezri recognized the shape of Rayquaza, one of the Pokérinian entities of legend. Protector of the world. 

Ur took out a small, purple ball. “You’re mine!” With his Psychic powers, he threw the ball as hard as he could, aiming for Rayquaza’s tail.

The ancient dragon whirled around in a furious rage and released an immense beam of energy. The purple ball was destroyed instantly. The beam kept going, traveling right toward the warehouse and everyone inside. 

“Impossible…” Ur managed before it consumed him.

Ezri knew there was nothing she could do. However, she didn’t even tremble—if this was the end, so be it. And, well, if nine lives had taught her anything, it was that things had a tendency to work out at the last possible moment.

Her instincts were on the money. A Psychic barrier was raised, stopping the onslaught of Rayquaza’s beam, followed by the sounds of several dozen jets. As the energy cleared, Ezri looked up. It wasn’t the Pokérinians—it was the Latis, several of them with new technological additions to their bodies, surrounding Rayquaza in a swirl of red and blue. 

At this, Rayquaza finally spoke. It was a deep voice filled with venom and hatred. “Rebellious, ungrateful children!” He began attacking them directly, but the power of a few dozen Latis was enough to weaken him, push him down, back… especially when aided by the Ohbem ships, who were being given the opportunity to take revenge on the entity that had killed so many of their own. 

But then Rayquaza’s yellow markings began to glow, and a white aura surrounded him. Ezri recognized that—it happened whenever Julian empowered Miranda to transform. “But… I don’t see a trainer!”

Miranda walked up to her side, expression haunted. “Rayquaza is tied to the souls of everyone on the planet. And everyone… is afraid. And they want their protector to save them.”

Rayquaza emerged from the light with an extended jawline and veins of power flowing from his sides. With one swift twist of his head, he destroyed all the Ohbem ships and took out several Latis. His roar was powerful enough to crack the ground beneath their feet. At this point the Malamars and all their associates were simply running—there was no point in continuing the plan, everything had fallen apart. 

“You will pay for your insolence!” Rayquaza shouted. “All of you… above and below! Ungrateful little…”

“Miranda,” Ezri said, placing a hand on the Gardevoir’s shoulder. “I need you to psychically link me to Rayquaza.”

“Are… are you insane!?” Miranda gawked. “I’m not even tha—”

“Just try it!”

Miranda forcefully rammed her hand into Ezri’s face, and both of their bodies immediately wrenched in pain. This is a lot more violent than a Vulcan mind-meld. But Ezri drew upon the immense mental power within Dax and pushed through it, letting out four simple words to Rayquaza. We come in peace!

Rayquaza didn’t listen.

But a Lati did, and she Psychically boosted Miranda’s signal. We come in peace!

It took a few more Latis to join in before Rayquaza noticed. “What…?” Soon, the words were inescapable to him, and he was forced to stop his journey to the rest of the Ohbem fleet and return to the ground, where Ezri was waiting—exhausted. 

Miranda released Ezri. At some point, she had transformed—Julian must have activated her while she was connected with Ezri. But there was no time to worry about that now, Ezri turned to address Rayquaza. “I am Captain Ezri Dax of the United Federation of Planets, and we come in peace! We do not seek to harm you, your people, or your planet. What you see here is a plot contrived by Ur, the being who threw that ball at you. He lied, kidnapped, cheated, and fought his way here so he could cause chaos, all so he could bring Zygarde here! This is not what we wanted!” She fell to her knees, holding out her hands in surrender. “Please. We submit to you, Rayquaza. We are not warmongers. We are peacemakers.”

“...Zygarde…” Rayquaza muttered, apparently not caring much about the rest of Ezri’s submissive speech. This irked her somewhat—she’d had to push a lot of pride down to drop like this—but she managed not to let out a snide remark in the face of the Lord of the Skies. “Zygarde should have been here for something of this magnitude… where is he?”

“We do not know,” Ezri said, slowly standing up, but keeping her head bowed in submission. “We only know that Ur sought to bring him out. For what end, we do not know. I will be willing to share with you everything we know and everything that we’ve done on your world—including all the friends we’ve made and relationships we’ve formed.” She gestured at the remaining Latis. “Let’s sit down… and talk.”

“Geh…” Rayquaza let out a deep, guttural growl. “It does look like that will be… necessary… oh, how I loathe talking to mortals.”

“Let’s just make sure we’re all on the same page… Enkayel! Can you contact the Inquiry using your ship’s transceiver?”

~~~

...Of course, Captain Ezri Dax’s report on the event far exceeds my own storytelling skills, which is why it is included above. Suffice it to say, Rayquaza conceded to talk. We ended up holding the meeting in Tapu Lele’s place, and even got Regigigas to talk with us on subspace to give Rayquaza a voice he’d recognize and understand.

Rayqyaza has… very, very little patience for discussion and politics. He has a mission to be the Lord of the Sky and guardian of Pokérin, and he has absolutely no interest in complicating that unless it’s absolutely necessary. He had already been fearing the day when Pokérinians would start developing spaceflight and he’d have to keep track of which ships were theirs. We were fortunate: most of our shuttlecraft went to Mossdeep Space Center so Rayquaza thought they were Pokérinian. 

So when the Pokérinian leaders offered to make Rayquaza’s job easier, he accepted in a heartbeat. He would no longer have to patrol the skies himself—the Pokérinian satellite network would detect any incoming dangers. If there was anything that Rayquaza needed to deal with, he would be told through a communicator. After getting assurances it would only be for threats from beyond the planet, he vowed to take a thousand-year nap if at all possible.

We did try to ask him a few questions about his origins and Zygarde. All we got about his origin was that he was created to guard Pokérin and that he didn’t like talking about it. He did talk a bit more about Zygarde: the Lord of Order, one of the great entities, beyond even the Primal power (whatever that means). Rayquaza was actually deeply concerned that there was no sign of him during the entire chaos of the Ohbem fleet’s arrival. There really should have been . 

Something was wrong with the natural order. For a moment, it almost seemed like he would investigate—and then he reiterated his vow to take a thousand-year nap. 

And with that… well, the Ohbem could now connect freely with the Beheeyem, no fear of Rayquaza shooting them out of the sky. The Pokérinians calmed down after they realized there was no invasion and the Ohbem ships largely left. They were finally reconnected with their lost children. Though, this entire event forced the Ohbem themselves to come out in the open, and the first thing they did after dealing with the miscommunication was apply for protection with the Federation. They feared the Romulans or Klingons would try to conquer them. Which, all things considered, was a rather reasonable fear. 

As for the Malamars, we were unable to figure out where they went. However, we did know they had another operation in Galar. The Beheeyem ship there was never recovered, despite the Ohbem searching for it. Nobody could figure out what happened up there. The Tapus were rather insistent on figuring out who was really behind all the manipulations on their islands, and since going into the deep sea to confront the Malamar society was out of the question, Galar became the next region on the list. 

And so… we wrapped up our research in the Alola Region and set out to Galar. As always, checking for sapience. But now we had an urgency to figure out what the Malamars had wanted with Zygarde.

And, perhaps, to figure out what had happened to Zygarde… 

Chapter Text

Tyrogue

Self-Name: None

Tyrogues are an interesting species found in many regions. They are short and humanoid and tend to have a single-minded drive toward self-improvement, specifically through martial arts. They are rarely found outside of Pokérinian society, having made themselves known as useful muscle and tactical battlers. While they lack the impressive abilities many other pokémon have, they are able to hold their own due to a curious ability of theirs: specialization. 

As they develop, their bodies change to match the fighting style they engage in most, to the point that each form is often considered a different species. Hitmonchans focus on hand to hand, Hitmonlees use their legs, and Hitmontops fight using quick acrobatic motions. To them, to fight is to live, and they fit in rather well among Pokérinian society, despite not having Pokérinian vocal cords. They can learn certain other languages but have none of their own—instead communicating among their own kind with gesture-based syntax. 

All things considered, they are a somewhat normal species compared to other Fighting-types, with the added quirk of their specialization just making them more adaptable. They did not stand out much to me in many of the regions I visited, but they serve as an excellent symbol for the attitude of Galar. 

Galar is the most obsessed nation in all of Pokérin. In most regions, only Championship matches or League battles are televised and commentated on. In Galar, almost every single gym battle is televised and there are massive leagues of devoted fans. Each gym leader in Galar has a following comparable to those most Champions have in their own country—it’s excessive. As such, battles there are highly competitive spectacles that rival even the worldwide tournaments. Many regions have started tuning into the Galar League since their own just isn’t as dramatic.

The Galar League could be considered the most developed of all the professional leagues. If not, it is at the very least the most public and involved out of all of them. And because battling is such an important part of their culture, to the point at which the government revolves around it, there is a bit of distrust of the Federation—many view us as a threat to their way of life in a way the other regions don’t. And it’s not so much the trainers that oppose us—most of them are rather outspoken about human-pokémon rights—but the fans . The fans want their battles, the fans want to see their favorites… and the fans don’t want their battles to be stopped by “high brow philosophy knuckleheads.” I’m serious, I’ve actually been called that by some of the people there. 

Galar lives for the spectacle. And like the Tyrogues, virtually everyone in the region trains pokémon for battles. Most can’t get to the level of actually competing, but everyone has something to offer. If you have pokémon, expect to be culturally obligated to battle with people you meet, even if you aren’t a member of the league or seeking a career. 

Our primary goal while in Galar was to uncover the secret of the Malamar Conspiracy, if possible; maybe find leads on Zygarde as well. However, as we were there, it was announced that the next World Championship for battles would be held in the Unova Region. As I was still setting up my lab, Cynthia called me with an exceptionally daring suggestion. 

By tradition, every region’s Champion is invited to the World Championship, in addition to some other notable trainers. The Worldwide League had always refused any non-Pokérinian trainers who applied, but this had been easy to do since none of them had ever become Champion before. (Inferno Cat! was still working on his journey to the top at the time). Now, it would be very likely the Worldwide League would be politically forced to deny entry from any non-Pokérinian champions… unless we could somehow get a pokémon to be Galar Champion.

I told her this was a crazy idea since Galar itself still didn’t allow non-Pokérinian trainers to compete. 

After which she suggested we make use of Tapu Lele, who had been visiting Galar lately to investigate the same things we were. She had become rather interested in the battling craze while here, and as a foreign dignitary, her presence was somewhat big news. She had started to become a public figure amongst Galarian society—an image she was purposefully cultivating in order to get more connections and uncover the conspiracy.

She may have been an island-faring being, but once pushed, she proved that she really did understand politics and had learned much about Pokérinian society in her years. 

Cynthia's suggestion was that we try to enter Tapu Lele as an official trainer. 

Miranda thought this idea was so insane she took it to Lele immediately. 

Lele laughed it off at first, and told us it would be a distraction from the conspiracy. But then she remembered all the things that were happening in Unova—the Zororark massacres and things like it. This could be a way to get in… and do some real change. And, she also realized, by entering the battle stage she’d get to know the Gym Leaders and improve relations further . So she accepted.

The plan required that she actually be ordering pokémon around, and that she use entirely sapient pokémon to drive the point home. She was to be the trainer . Also, we needed to get her to champion within the year. It helped that we had made a lot of friends in our research up to this point. Including pokémon that would be willing to fight at her side. 

She had a few pokémon on her—so she could battle with random citizens when they asked and not use her own power reserves—but in her final team she only kept one of these, her Inteleon Thiver. There will be more on him in a later entry. It was agreed that, in order to keep things fair, we would not use any overly “legendary” pokémon—which meant, as useful as the Latis would be, they would not be used on her team.

Naturally, Miranda and Siren volunteered. An old Zoroark acquaintance of ours, Valyez, did as well—he had been a servant of Lele before, anyway. At first we thought we would have to leave Masamune behind, but we later decided to keep it. See the Aegislash file. 

Which left one slot, and it was one we decided Lele needed to fill on her own to truly become a trainer. She eventually did select one on her journey, but that came later. First, she had to get in.

We planned to just walk in and ask for a license. Lele, however, was smarter than all the rest of us and just as she walked in, she asked Dee (the Rotom, it returned to us in Galar) to capture everything on video. After this, Lele floated in with a cute smile on her face. 

She must have been a better judge of society than we were, because they refused her outright. Afterwhich she gave them a little speech:

“I have been traveling back and forth between Alola and your region for months! Months! I have become so enchanted by your culture and your beautiful, inspiring way of life that I wanted to become part of it! And you… you refuse me? Tapu Lele, Alolan guardian, healer of the sick… All I wanted to do was experience the culture I see you celebrate in the very way you breathe! I’ve come, I’ve seen, I’ve loved… and I want to give back and you say I can’t? What kind of corporate conglomerate prevents the people from a new form of battle? Can you think of the spectacle? No, all you see is those stuffy rules of yours. But pokémon battling isn’t about the strict rules, it’s about the fight itself! Why, I could go out into the street and say ‘hey you, you want to battle?’ and get acceptance from dozens of people just walking by! Why do you deny that!?” And she stormed off in a huff. 

Afterwhich she immediately told Dee to upload the video to the Internet and wait about a week. 

A week later, she received her trainer’s license in the mail. 

The video had, of course, gone viral and the uproar was immense. The people hadn’t quite connected Lele to the Federation yet, and didn’t see her as vying for sapience in any way—they just saw a person they had come to know and love being denied what they lived and breathed. They wanted to see her fight. 

“The fans are our primary obstacle,” Lele informed me later. “I needed to turn their own desires against themselves.”

It’s in times like that I remember that she’s essentially a many-centuries old politician and a student of Pokérinian culture.

Anyway… yes. Tyrogues. They fight, and their entire life leads toward continually bettering themselves. In many ways, the people of Galar are the same. 

And we had decided to try and take it on. 

Chapter Text

Rillaboom, Cinderace, and Inteleon

Self-Names: Gorirander, Aceburn, and Interon

All three of the Galar starters are sapient, and in similar positions to their Alolan counterparts. The only differences are that none of them are allowed to be trainers, and all of them are given great respect as the must-have species in the Galar League. Virtually every trainer has one and virtually every trainer still uses theirs, unless they are a gym leader with a Type restriction. 

Yes, in every region, gym leaders are restricted to one Type to ensure they can always be defeated by those looking to collect all eight gym badges. In fact, gym leaders are restricted on how many pokémon they can use based on how many badges a trainer has already collected, to give it a sense of progression. Luckily, this meant that Lele would have an easy time with most gym leaders. 

Regardless, back to the starters. Lele had been gifted an Inteleon back when she first arrived so she didn’t need to get a new one when we started, but it’s worth examining some of the others. None of the starters exist in the wild because they’ve been bred for battle, much like the Alolan starters.

Cinderaces are fiery humanoid rabbits with the ability to light their feet on fire and turn any solid object they kick into a flaming projectile. They are known to make a show of battling and like to use tools and props in their fights, making use of the environment to turn the battle into a sort of extra violent soccer with flaming pebbles. They are passionate and emotional individuals who are fiercely competitive. The few who no longer battle have found other things to compete over. Generally some kind of sport, but Cira has made it her life’s goal to be the first Cinderace to get a PhD, so there’s that. Naturally, she had to study outside of Galar for that. 

Rillabooms score somewhat low on the Intelligence Factor test, but they are sapient nonetheless. Unlike most starters they do have some kind of culture beyond battling: and that is of the musician. They are gorilla-like creatures that all love to pound their chests in rhythmic patterns, and due to this most make absolutely excellent drummers. Music delights them, though the music in question is usually deep, throbbing music—a bit like a marching tune to psych themselves and others up for the fight. Rillabooms have had success outside of battling as drummers in bands. Surprisingly, despite Galar’s somewhat negative attitude toward pokémon sapience, there is an all-pokémon band with a Rillaboom member that does really well. Apparently, the way through the masses is to appeal to their celebrity obsession. 

And then there are the Inteleons. Blue, humanoid lizards that are quiet, introverted, and very thoughtful for the most part. They prefer to take a distant fighting style, shooting at their opponents from far away with bursts of water from their fingers. Fingers they hold like guns. It is rather comical at times—unless you get shot by one from clear across the stadium right in between the eyes. They have very good eyesight. Regardless, as a species, they are rather cold, calculating, and quiet individuals who rarely show emotion. Fosic “likes” them.

And then there’s Lele’s Inteleon which is nothing like that at all. 

Thiver is a walking smartmouth who will come up with a random joke or reference every few seconds and will not stop unleashing constant one-liners no matter what anyone does. Lele finds this endearing. I find it rather hard to deal with.

Somehow, Thiver manages to be an excellent shot even while he gets up in people’s faces and shouts obscure references at them. Perhaps it is due to his unpredictability that he keeps winning—people expect something cold and calculating, not a guy who constantly spouts infuriating jokes. 

He has confided in me that the universal translator was one of the best things that ever happened to him. How would he be able to get out any of these words without it? 

Despite appearing lazy in his motions and somewhat dismissive, he is actually an exceptional shot and can match most of his competitive siblings in the ring. He really is quite something and makes a very strong addition to Lele’s team despite being the youngest and least experienced.

Perhaps now is a good time to mention Dynamaxing and its curious counterpart, Gigantamaxing. In Galar battles only, it is possible to make use of special locations around the region to empower pokémon in a way very different from Mega Evolution. While Mega Evolution comes from the bond between a Pokérinian and a pokémon, the Dynamax comes from natural power within the ground and does not require a trainer (though it helps.) A dynamaxed pokémon will grow to an immense size by distorting space around them, and in some cases, certain species will react uniquely with the Dynamaxing energy and Gigantamax, a term applied to pokémon whose forms change visibly when getting larger. The latter is akin to Mega Evolution, just with an immense size increase and, again, no requirement of a trainer. 

The Dynamaxing phenomenon is due to the essence of a pokémon called Eternatus, a unique entity that is not in this report due to its nonsapience. Its energy allowed it to manipulate size and space and the remnants of its power are what drive Dynamaxing. As such, stadiums tend to be built around Dynamaxing spots. 

Naturally, Dynamaxing is illegal in the Worldwide tournaments, even the years they’re held in Galar, but they’re used extensively in Galar. 

Unfortunately, the one ace we had against this curious transformation, Mega-evolution, could not be used since Lele was a pokémon and did not carry the genetic markers of the Progenitors. It’s hard to practice with Dynamaxing so she kind of just had to wing it through the gym battles. Luckily Thiver had a knack for it. (Speaking of Gigantamax, all three of the starters have an alternate form in it. Cinderace gets a giant fireball, Rillaboom produces a drumset, and Inteleon’s tail becomes a tower from which the Inteleon can snipe enemies from miles away.)

Anyway, Lele knew a bit about battles but Miranda actually had to show her the finer points of the art. Lele had to be the instructor, not Miranda, so this had to be done correctly . As such, they spent a lot of time going over strategy, Type advantages, and engaged in exercises to keep Lele on her toes: like the two of them fighting from a distance with Thiver and Masamune as their “pokémon.” Cynthia dropped by to offer tips and strategies as well. 

The early gym leaders were easy simply because they couldn’t use many pokémon on a trainer who had no badges. But as Lele progressed, it became more difficult.

Meanwhile, I was not provided a lab this time, I had to rent one out—but Lele had access to the Alolan royal treasury and Cynthia had friends, so we got to work investigating Intelligence Factors… and, of course, the Malamar conspiracy. 

Chapter Text

Orbeetle

Self-Name: None

One day Lele transported into my lab in Galar telling me that she had caught one of the smartest pokémon she’d ever seen. She opened the pokéball and I was face to face with my first Orbeetle; a hovering ladybug-like creature a little larger than my head. Physiologically, these creatures are largely just brains in carapaces. Unlike many of the more intelligent races of Pokérin, they are not deep thinkers or computational analysts. They are, in fact, quite arrogant and self-centered. 

They cannot speak but they have latent Psychic abilities, and with their intelligence, any one that desires to read and write can do so easily, though in the wild they communicate with the flashing lights on their head. The Orbeetle in question immediately levitated out a clipboard, paper, and pen from my supplied and informed me of his name: Dominus. His tale was… a curious one.

Orbeetles are quite intelligent, but due to their tendency for arrogance and self-seeking, they don’t form many societies. They aren’t unheard of, after all, there is a swarm of Orbeetles in southern Galar that causes havoc on farmers’ fields every year, but those are the exception. Orbeetles tend to live in family groups until they mature into their intelligence enough to realize they’re just as smart as their parents and leave. Frankly, if I had over a hundred siblings born at about the same time as me, I probably would too.

Dominus (I refuse to believe that was the name his parents gave him) was born into a bit more of an organized setup. It wasn’t society, not by a long shot, but multiple generations of the family had managed to stay together, starting a chain of descendants who learned from the elders. Despite their best efforts, of the hundred eggs made every generation or so, only a handful would remain with the family. But it was enough. 

I do want to point out that I am painting them in a positive light while Dominus did nothing but call his parents short-sighted and foolish, “not understanding the strength of the individual and the biological need to leave the nest.” Naturally, he left, but not for the reasons most of the others did. Most Orbeetles just leave because they hate being told what to do. 

Dominus thought his parents didn’t go far enough. That they should have exercised more control, that they should have dominated to ensure the continuation of the line, rather than letting everything potentially fizzle out and die. So he went out on his own, determined to do things the right way, his way. 

Any potential mates were not on board with his plan. 

So he sought a new way to dominate and ensure the “proper legacy.” In so doing he investigated Pokérinian society and discovered that the Orbeetle species was capable of Gigantimaxing and that in the new form their intelligence increased markedly, giving even a Metagross a run for their money. So he sought out the Dynamax caves so he could experience it himself.

He declares that it was a wonderful experience that made him able to see everything for what it really was. Small. Foolish. Insignificant. The Orbeetles were nothing, it was the Pokérinians who dominated the world. But the intelligence in this new form also allowed him to piece out my work from the endless noise, the Federation and the sapience project. 

So when he lost his Gigantimax he returned to Pokérinian society to investigate, to make plans, and to observe. He discovered my connection with Lele, and that she was beginning her trainer’s journey. 

And so he decided to make like a wild pokémon and attack her. He fought his hardest but it was somewhat easy to catch him, proof of what he had deduced earlier—that the Orbeetles were not strong. They could not dominate and their way was not “superior.”

This “new way” was “superior,” he told me. And with my work to declare sapience, he figured he was a perfect match. He would be a symbol of immense intelligence in a competitive team, a representative of the traditionally “stupid” Bug-type, and he would be part of the team that truly dominated the competition and allowed his kind (though mostly him) to rise up in Pokérinian society.

I asked Lele if she really intended to let him work as her sixth. She said she was thinking about it, but that she needed to talk to Cynthia about team synergy. Cynthia, to her credit, noted that not many Bug-types were used in competition, but they weren’t unheard of. Her main concern was that Dominus was Psychic/Bug, and Miranda already gave us the Psychic typing—we were doubling up. 

Then we learned that when Gigantamaxed Dominus could essentially mind control any entity he wished, in addition to providing supercomputer level analysis of the combat taking place. This was miles better than the Gigantamax Thiver could achieve, which turned him into a sniper tower. Likely would have been helpful anywhere except a wide-open stadium, which was where most of the battles would take place. 

So Dominus ended up on the team as a little trump card to “dominate” the foe. Of course, there were ways around it, but a good team had many such secrets on their side.

As for the rest of the Orbeetles, I ran tests and scans. They are frightfully intelligent, leagues above all other Bug-types, including the only other sapient, Vespiquen. However, their intelligence actually works against them in the wild. Bug-types work best in swarms and in cohesive units, and their arrogant pride prevents them from functioning in full unison.

They stay away from Galarian Slowking. There’s some kind of unspoken agreement between the species. 

Chapter Text

Yamask

Self-Name: None

Yamask are Ghost-type pokémon that can’t seem to make their mind up on what they are. Some claim to be the spirits of deceased Pokérinians, others the vengeful spirits of inanimate objects, and still others have no idea what they are. It… took a fair deal of research to figure out the truth of the matter.

Regardless, Yamask are known the world over for being small creatures of darkness with two big eyes, two arms, and a tail that holds an object. Often this object is a mask in the shape of a humanoid’s face, but it can also be a portion of a runic design, or something else entirely. In effect, the Yamask is “possessing” the object, and it is not really a part of them: not that it can be removed. In fact, as they develop, the object they are attached to develops as well, forming around them like a shell. Depending on what the object they’re adhered to is, they will become a Cofagrigus or a Runerigus. No matter what stage a Yamask is in, it can always possess another entity. This is not precisely mind control, as they have to puppet the body themselves (rather unnaturally) but the effects are rather similar. 

Yamask do not reproduce and none of their forms develop society. They are sapient largely by consequence of how they are formed; which is rather strange. During our research, we were fortunate to observe the formation of a Yamask; in an area with large ambient Ghost-type energy in addition to the presence of ancient Pokérinian ruins, Yamask would spontaneously form, usually around objects of great emotional significance. And the emotions were never positive. The reason they so often have Pokérinian masks is because one of the Pokérinian societies commonly made masks of the recently deceased to remember them by. These death masks carried a meaning with them in a way I am at a loss to describe—and given the Dusknoir, perhaps don’t want to—but the “tragedy” somehow serves as a focal point for Yamask formation. And it is always, always , Pokérinian related. There are no instances of Gardevoir death-mask Yamask, even though the society in question had a few prominent Gardevoir among their kind. It’s very specifically Pokérinians. 

When Yamask are formed they have some vague idea of what tragedy they were formed from and often think they are the sufferer of that tragedy, hence the belief that they are Pokérinians. In a way, they are nothing more than a memory. But it’s a powerful memory. Fosic attempted to mind-meld with a fully-developed Yamask to get a full picture of it, and he received the full experience of being disemboweled for an ancient sacrifice. As a Vulcan he was able to pull through it, but he was visibly shaken. 

Yamask are very rarely happy, unless they have been alive for a decent amount of time and have moved past the tragedy that spawned them. Since this is rare, most tend to be sorrowful, depressed, or even angry . No small number of them want to seek out vengeance on whatever brought about the tragedy even if they have no idea who that might be. 

E: The most talented of Ghost-type trainers are the ones that can learn to accept such pain, and help their companions to direct it. It is not uncommon for those who are mentored by my kind to trend toward the ethereal; the acceptance of ending and contemplation thereof can be a vital step toward the unvital understanding.

Of course, there are those among the living whose own pain helps them understand the wounded dead...

A Yamask that had been developed into a Runerigus was under the ownership of one of Galar’s gym leaders at the time, Allister. Apparently, he had advanced to the title of gym leader at a very young age but since he had no desire to diversify his team for anything other than Ghost-type, he never made any attempts at the Championship. And as he was the fourth one Lele faced, he was not going to use all of his pokémon on her. 

Plus, they were all Ghost-types. All Lele had to do was let Valyez out. He didn’t even need to use his illusions, since Dark easily cut through Ghosts. And yet, somehow, the last one he brought out… 

It was the Runegrigus, this particular one engraved with the image of some kind of deranged dragon beast with a malevolent color to it. Valyez was only slightly tired from taking out the rest of the team, but it was enough—unprepared, the monstrous beast hit him like a truck. Everyone present got flashes of a brutal memory of something being torn apart, limb from limb, by a Zoroark…

Valyez went down, and Allister had to step in himself to stop his Runegrigus from continuing its enraged assault. It was strange, to watch the young man hug so tightly a hunk of ghostly rock. It made me wonder how afraid I was of many of the ghostlier pokémon—but they were people too. 

Allister was in no mood to continue the fight after that and gave Lele the Ghost badge. He needed to tend to his friend. It was strange, how he basically lived among those ghosts, treating them more like people than fellow Pokérinians. 

Of course, the Yamask investigations turned us to look into the nature of Infinity Energy and how Pokérinians are tied up in it…

Chapter Text

Aegislash

Self-Name: Gillgard

One might wonder why I put this report here, since I had been traveling with an Aegislash—Masamune—for the majority of my time on Pokérin. Well, that was because I was of the mind that Masamune was just an animal in the shape of a sword or—later—some type of Ghost-type energy inhabiting a sword and not a sapient entity. Since I met no other member of Masamune’s race I felt no need to question this theory.

And then in Galar, where Aegislash are native, one of them came up and started talking to me in perfect Pokérinian with an echoing, distinct voice. It called itself The King and desired to show me its Kingdom. I left with just Yuki and Dee since Lele was out on her journey with most of the others. He brought us to a little ruin where lots of younger Aegislashes floated around, not old enough to have developed shields yet. Most of them were silent, but a few let out a short greeting to me. They were perfectly capable of emulating Pokérinian speech. 

The King, as he called himself, began to tell a story about the ancient Kings of Galar and how their swords were passed down through generations to eventually become Aegislash…

His story is complete hogwash and he knew it when he told me, but I was so confused that I bought it at the time. I called Miranda almost immediately and she brought Masamune over, leaving Lele to do some training on her own. (She got a gym badge without Miranda’s help at this time). 

The King relayed his story again and turned to Masamune, calling it a great weapon of power. Masamune simply stared at the King refusing to speak. The King told us that only certain Aegislashes of great renown and royal blood could speak which, again, was a complete fabrication. 

What the “King” really wanted was to get his ramshackle collection of a dozen or so Aegislashes recognized by the Federation as a political entity of Pokérin. Even though nobody knew about them and nobody would consider his assertion legitimate. I told him I’d look into it and then we quietly left, filed a report with the Inquiry about a possibly insane and deluded Aegislash, and continued on our way.

But it made us ask a question about Masamune: why was it so quiet? Why did it display no signs of higher intelligence? It acted on its own but didn’t seem to care or develop complex analytical patterns or tool use beyond its own body. And yet, after beginning research around the Galar region, we found several Aegislashes that could talk, though there were several like Masamune who didn’t. And, now that they were part of my research, I needed to ask myself: why did they look like swords? Pokérinian crafted, nonetheless. They weren’t like Yamask and just random possessions of objects, every Aegislash started life as a particular form of sword and ended it in a similar final form every time. There was no developing with the possessed object, they were the swords. Legends spoke of them being spirits of warriors, but this wasn’t true, for their numbers increased even though Pokérinians rarely used swords anymore in combat. 

The hunt to answer this question led us down a rabbit hole to the influences of Infinity Energy itself. I transported to Lele and her group several times during my investigations of Aegislash, just to check Masamune against the others. During this time, one of the Beheeyem’s ships came by and dropped off Enkayel, and he had a few things to tell us about the Ohbem research on Infinity Energy—and how it might help explain the strangeness that is Aegislash and several other object-pokémon.

However, before he could get into it, who should show up but the Galar Champion Leon with his own Aegislash. Lele almost panicked—she wasn’t ready to face him at all, even in an unofficial match. Siren disagreed, but she was disappointed while Lele was relieved, for Leon was not here to fight but to talk and see the amazing new competition. He, unlike much of the region, was absolutely delighted to see Lele out and about, a new type of trainer ready to increase the spectacle of battling. He commended her on the variety of her pokémon, as well as having more than six to keep the opponents guessing. We did not tell him Dee, Enkayel, and Yuki weren’t being trained for battle. 

We ended up talking about Aegislashes, and Leon admitted he found them curious. His own Aigislash wasn’t a talker either, but it was one of the strongest fighters he knew of and it was always on his team. Masamune and Leon’s Aegislash seemed to enjoy sizing each other up by… staring at each other. Menacingly. 

Enkayel couldn’t keep it in any longer and described the whole of Infinity Energy theory and the origin of pokémon like Aegislash. 

Infinity Energy, by nature, exists in pokémon. But within Infinity Energy is also an aspect of mimicry that seeks to take on features of everything around it to improve itself. pokémon develop in more ways than just animals; development by copying—slowly but surely. The energy itself will learn from what is around it, be it plant adaptations, humanoid shape… or even sapience. 

See, sapience is not naturally a pokémon trait. As discussions with Regigigas pointed out, in the olden days there were little to no sapient species of pokémon—merely the titans like Regigigas himself qualified, and they are an entirely different sort of creature with a different origin. It wasn’t until the progenitor-seeded Pokérinians started to develop that pokémon began to develop sapience as well—”borrowing” it from them. This is also why Pokérinians remain dominant despite not maintaining the most intelligence: they were the first and were able to set up the most infrastructure. 

But the Infinity Energy has a secondary effect. A small cost that comes with the copying tendency—it lets itself be absorbed. This is why “ghosts” appear—Ghost-type energy is absorbed by the surrounding scenery. There are also other, similar effects, like “Fairy wind” or “Psychic terrain,” etcetera. But there are also Pokérinians who have gained Psychic and Fighting and sometimes Ghost abilities. Not to mention the Ohbem, who, after a few generations, became the completely Psychic-type Beheeyem.

And once Pokérinians started using Infinity Energy, they became especially connected to the world itself. See, they were the source of sapience, but they were also the source of stories and powerful ideas. And with their own Psychic and Ghost-type abilities manifesting, they were able to make some of these ideas manifest. I’m not talking about the pokémon made intentionally, like Porygon, I’m talking about those born from the powerful ideas of legends . 

The Psychic typing, the most common to find in Pokérinians, is deeply associated with the mind and ideas, and Pokérinian minds are particularly suited for coming up with crazy things. This is why Yamask only adhere to tragic objects; because it makes sense to Pokérinian worldwide ideas. Physically speaking, there is no reason a Yamask couldn’t form around an object related to the death of an old woman who lived a pleasant life surrounded by family, but it just never happens. Yamask need tragedy because that’s what ghosts are . 

Why do the Mismagius speak every word as a spell? Because that’s how magic “should” work . How Pokérinians think things are drastically affects how things actually are. It almost seems as though Infinity Energy has been infected by the Pokérinians and twisted into what they think it should be, all without their knowledge of it. 

This might even explain why so many pokémon simply don’t have the desire to make civilization, despite having the capacity for it. There are easily dozens of species, and how many actually have proper full civilizations independent of Pokérinians? Definite, full societies that can develop multiple cultures? Malamar, Mismagius, Metagross, Dusknoir, the Latis. Beheeyem aren’t native, Espeons rarely have more than packs, Gengars have that one exception with Last Chance, and Zoroark are borderline since they prefer to live amongst other kinds and emulate them! Almost all the species I encounter have the capacity for civilization. They just… don’t. 

The Aegislash are a consequence of this. Creatures that developed, over time, to become swords. Swords that follow codes of chivalry and are great warriors. Because of course they are, what else would they be? Kings, perhaps, but Pokérinians would disagree on that. Swords are the servants, not the masters, right? Or do they represent the masters?

And thus… some Aegislashes speak with the power to rule, and others never speak at all, ready to listen and obey. Biologically speaking they “reproduce” just like any other animal, though their method for doing so is bizarre. During development they enter a “Doublade” stage where they are two blades. Then when they become a fully grown Aegislash, one blade grows, while the other is left behind as a brand new “child” that will itself eventually grow into a Doublade and leave another “child” behind. A lineage of warriors that eternally cycles. 

I do not know if this influence pokémon have had on Pokérinians and Pokérinians have had on pokémon is, ultimately, good or bad. I do know that it only works on the scales of multiple generations, as evidenced by the Beheeyem. I also know that we do not understand in the slightest how the two-way relation works. 

But this I do know. It throws a real wrench in our measuring of Intelligence Factor. What would we even classify this relation? And as we turn more and more Pokérinians around to the idea of sapience in certain species, will it create more such species? Is that what’s happening to the Sylveon line of the Eevees as we speak?

I do not know.

And Leon didn’t either, upon hearing it. He held his hands up, said it was a little deep for him, wished us luck, and walked away. 

Enkayel asked us if we found his discoveries exciting.

We really weren’t sure how to respond. 

But, later, Miranda took out Masamune and let it float in the air without her. She asked, in a firm, direct voice that would accept no nonsense if it really wanted to stay. It gave her a slight nod. She nodded in return and asked it if it wanted to try to speak to her. It looked to the ground, as though in shame.

With one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, she picked up Masamune and struck a powerful pose with it. Then she walked away, never asking Masamune any question like that ever again. 

I have theorized much about that blade. I believe it is sapient. I also believe that, for some reason, it doesn’t want to be. It wants to just be another sword in the hand of a hero. And Miranda’s giving it what it wants. 

E: Archetypes are powerful things, manifesting in the various pokémon species as the doctor has elucidated upon here. However, they are foundations, not totality in themselves. The core of the Gillgard is honor—not the violent achievement of the Klingons, but the holding of self to core principles. And yet, each can interpret that differently, be a different person, following their own path to hold this. So too is it with all other pokémon—the “Yamask” are ghosts of tragic death, but how they react is up to the individual. The Rotom are “mischievous spirits of the modern technology”, and yet whether they are malevolent or helpful is up to their own choice. This phenomenon is, admittedly, more prevalent in Ghost-type pokémon, who for the most part are required to pull their own definition from elsewhere, but it is seen in other groups as well. It is in fact common enough to refer to a species as “the descriptive term pokémon,” in reference to the specific ideal they hold manifest.

Chapter Text

Gothitelle

Self-Name: Gothiruselle

Gothitelles are humanoid creatures, though you could be forgiven for thinking they don’t have legs since their fully-matured bodies expand at the base not unlike a dress. This has given many the illusion that Gothitelles are entirely female, but this isn’t the case, there are males. Though given their tendency to be rather cryptic about everything an individual Gothitelle is unlikely to tell someone who asks directly. 

Physically, Gothitelle are almost completely black with white highlights. They are a pure Psychic-type entity and have abilities similar to the Xatu that let them see into the past and future, though their visions are a lot less reliable than the Xatu. However, their visions can extend to places far, far away. I’ve found records of Gothitelle talking about the Federation, the Borg, the Dominion War… their sight extends to absurd distances and times. The only issue is that they have very little control over what they see, with one notable exception. When they form a bond with someone, inevitably they will see a vision of that person’s death. These are the most accurate predictions Gothitelles can make, and it is somewhat of a curse to them—forcing them to mourn the loss of their friend before their time has even come. 

This has made them adapt as a species to view death less as a tragedy when it occurs, and more of an inevitability—part of the way things are. Since they know the end, they continue in the relationship anyway, appreciating it for what it is and not for how it ends. Some Gothitelle think this is a better way of life than what Pokérinians practice. 

Gothitelle form only small societies and are well-known to often seek companionship from other species and Pokérinians. That is, they do when they don’t seek to be alone for the sake of meditation and becoming “in tune with the stars.” After much prodding and questioning and finding a Gothitelle that was actually willing to speak without riddles and cryptic half-questions, we finally determined that they aren’t actually using alignments of the stars to make predictions, but rather tapping into the latent Infinity Energy of Pokérin and its connections to distant realms. Which suggests that Infinity Energy is not a phenomenon strictly contained on Pokérin. Tests confirm that it can easily be accessed elsewhere, but only creatures native to Pokérin or who have been there for long periods of time have been able to use it. There is something special about the planet itself, as far as we can tell.

Gothitelle are not uncommon, though they are native to Unova and suffer much because of it. Due to their close relationship with death, they have a somewhat lesser preservation instinct than most species and don’t fight back as much. In Galar, they are also rather disinterested in the battles for the most part and are content to just live, walk around, and think. 

And, naturally, be exceedingly cryptic. 

One day as I was investigating some Orbeetles with Miranda and Dominus (he was not as helpful as you think he’d be) a Gothitelle just walked up to us and started talking in cryptic questions, about half of the questions being the ones I wanted to ask, but she spoke what I thought before I could say anything. It was almost as though she had rehearsed—or, maybe, had just seen it coming. 

Her name was Eulogy, though from what I’ve discovered she didn’t take that name until the moment I asked her what her name was. Her story is one all-too-common among Galarian Gothitelle: captured when young, used in battles, and then forced to watch as their trainer grows old knowing what the end will bring. She had… many things to say on my reaction to this that I still don’t understand. 

E: Perhaps it is not for you to understand, but for whomever shall read this.

She allowed me to treat her trainer, but as it was old age, there was not much I could do.

And she just… kept following me around. Me, not Lele, she had little to no interest in being part of our little mission to the top. She, without a word from anyone, incorporated herself into the daily life of the lab. She always seemed to find reasons to talk to me about my assumptions about my work, what sapience means, the ideals of the Federation… and while she made me think a good deal about where I stood on many issues, it always has been and I suspect always will be difficult to figure out where she stands. 

E: Generally, on the ground. Though artificial gravity might change that, sometimes.

Or why, exactly, she decided that my lab was to be her new home after the loss of her trainer. I suspect it had something to do with my eventual journey to Unova where the Gothitelle are native, but… again, I can’t be sure. Getting a straight answer out of her is like asking a Klingon to sing a song of peace. It’s just not in her nature. 

E: Quite true.

That said… I have to commend her loyalty. She has been a great help and has never let us down, saving our lives on multiple occasions with her cryptic, observant ways. I’ve come to appreciate her even if she can still walk up to me and leave me baffled in a matter of seconds. 

She still creeps out the team a little, but they honestly don’t mind not having to make their own breakfast or clean the labs. She just… started working, and nobody complained. I did eventually take her aside and demand she accept payment for her work in the local currency, which I believe she only accepted due to the apparent hypocrisy doing otherwise would shine on our operation. 

E: Only partially true. It is astonishing how many Pokérinians who claim pokémon to be beneath them will accept their money anyways, especially if they are claimed to be on an errand.

The most confusing conversation I have ever heard was between her and Soma when he came to visit. I couldn’t understand anything they said, and afterward Eulogy said “how far beyond his thoughts can be if only he didn’t anchor himself.” 

The most amusing conversations I hear are those between her and Thiver. Thiver is not one to put up with cryptic nonsense, so he meets it with complete and utter nonsensical retorts. This can sometimes be kept up for several minutes without either of them getting tired. 

In fact, any conversation with Eulogy is something to behold. It just feels decidedly uncomfortable when you’re on the receiving end of her cryptic insanity.

E: And who are you, Doctor, to determine what sanity is? Though there are those who require special tending, there are also those avoided merely for their difference in thought. Though I must say this, your passcode is quite secure. Were I not so in tune with the will of your soul I might never have guessed it.

When she talks with other Gothitelle there are a lot less cryptic questions, but they also speak in shorthand and it’s basically impossible to draw any meaning out of what they say. The few Gothitelle that have been willing to explain things (read: not Eulogy in the slightest*) have shown an ability to talk in multiple temporal tenses at once referring to things that are foreseen, unforeseen, distant and in the past, irrelevant, etc. There are also various levels of “knowledge” since many times Gothitelle don’t know where or when their visions are coming from, or how likely they are to occur. 

*E: On the contrary, I do explain things in the slightest. And only the slightest. I know how much you enjoy discovery.

Gothitelle in Pokérinian society were often considered great for mourners, as they understood death and the sorrow it brought, but in equal measures understood the delight in the life that came before. In Galar this is still true, though it is a bit overshadowed by the whole battling obsession. In Unova, the Gothitelle home region, their use as therapeutic companions took a steep downturn because if your primary form of therapy is a pokémon, you’re more likely to think of them as a person. Despite being generally docile, Gothitelle managed to gain a rather unfortunate association with death and “being wrong” in Unova. 

Eulogy, I know, dislikes this. As to what extent is a mystery. She holds her cards close to her chest. And yet, somehow, I trust her with my life. ...And had to several times because our work in the Galar region wasn’t exactly welcome.

One example of this was another Gothitelle, Oversight, and I think he was a male but I’m not entirely sure. 

E: Yes, he was male. And physically quite attractive, which... I will admit, did influence my treatment of him. To the bitter end.

Oversight came to us without a trainer and with some cryptic information about a potential Malamar operation. As it turned out, Oversight was part of that Malamar operation and had wanted us in there to get implanted with a mind-virus of some kind, the details are uncertain. Eulogy had been completely duped by Oversight and her fury when she realized one of her kind had been able to throw the blind over her… was something to behold. However, it wasn’t her that saved us, for Oversight was able to match her. It was actually Noran , of all individuals. As a non-sapient Eevee they all dismissed him, and he was able to get in and chew some wires that made the mind-virus machine obsolete. The resulting delay gave the Inquiry enough time to find us, free Dee, and let the Rotom take the entire complex down. 

It gave us some more leads on the Malamar, including the indication that they were scrambling in confusion and just wanted to salvage the pieces from their old plan. They had wanted Zygarde, and that had fallen through. Now there were people on the doorstep of their Galar operation and, all in all, it wasn’t going well for them. They wanted us gone and we weren’t going away.

While in custody, Oversight was… disturbing. He described how he ascribed to a belief in hate-bonds, that a good foe was superior to a good friend. Oversight viewed me as an enemy, and he relished in the sights of the deaths of his enemies. He began to relay some rather… disturbing implications before Eulogy wheeled me out of there and told me it was much better if I did not know.

E: This is less to the Doctor and more to those who shall read this. It is, in fact, possible to have as passionate a hatred as a love for another, and there are races that will have such as a healthy bond. Mine Is Not One Of Them. Oversight was more Calamanero than Gothiruselle by the end. Or, Malamar than Gothitelle.

And yet, Eulogy continues to give me little hints of what she’s seen…

I do not understand her. But part of me thinks her charm would be gone if I did. 

Chapter Text

Obstagoon

Self-Name: Tachifusaguma

There are these creatures called Linoone that are exceedingly common the world over. Fast, furred, ferret-like creatures that spend their time running after prey and living a fast but pleasant life for a wild creature. Their fur coloration and patterns change a bit from region to region, but, in general, the species is the same everywhere. 

Except in Galar. 

In Galar, Linoone have a black and white coloration and, due to intense competition and hardship, achieve greater maturity. This is not unheard of in pokémon species, after all, certain species only develop to the final stage under special conditions such as the use of minerals, but it is unusual that only Linoone in the Galar region can do this. Even Linoone in other regions that suffer in wild battles do not have the capacity to develop into the form known as Obstagoon. And Obstagoons are… a product of what creates them.

Linoone are not sentient. They almost don’t even score on the Intelligence Factor tests at all, being simple ferret-like creatures. Obstagoons, however, get a dramatic increase in intelligence, akin to an infant growing into a teenager exceedingly rapidly. This sudden donning of sapience is somewhat reminiscent of what happens when Eevees transform into Espeon. 

However, unlike Espeon, which have many varied dispositions, Obstagoons are only created when they have gone through intense battles. Those developed under the eyes of trainers can turn out many ways, but those that develop in the wild tend to become brutal, aggressive, and vindictive—lashing out against the world that tormented them in their youth. It is almost as though the sapience is forcefully beaten into them, and that is quite disturbing.

Due to their built-in vendetta against the world they were brought up in, they are somewhat easy for Malamars to recruit without having to resort to mind control. As such, while Obstagoons are not the most common pokémon in Galar, they are exceedingly prevalent within the ranks of the conspiracy. They, ironically for a species that is so aggressive, tend to despise the battle-oriented nature of the Galar region, blaming it for their suffering. As they aren’t the cleverest creatures, it’s a relatively simple matter to recruit them as muscle in a conspiracy.

Even if that conspiracy was currently just “keep everything secret.”

Suffice it to say, the areas the Obstagoon were in charge of were rather easy to find. Once we realized they were a common choice of muscle, we started tracking large groups of Obstagoon and moving in. Since uncovering the secrets behind those who assaulted Alola was part of Lele’s job, she was regularly involved with this, using Obstagoons as active training for her team. 

Let me tell you, the videos you see of Lele battling in the gyms are nothing compared to how she works with her team when she’s allowed to take action. She is Tapu Lele, the healer of Alola, and she continually restores and rejuvenates all those who work with her, in addition to being no small powerhouse herself. She must have dealt with hundreds of Obstagoons on those raids as an untouchable healing feedback loop.

I did not attend many of these “raids” myself, as they stopped being so important and they were taking me away from my work. Obstagoons in the lab were notably uncooperative and grumpy about the entire thing, and those that did come in were only doing it because they wanted the rights of sapience so they could “fight back” legally. I highly doubt most of them will use that right only in self-defense. 

There are also Obstagoon gangs unrelated to the Malamars who attack trainers just because they can. It’s a hobby of theirs and they are somewhat of a pest, and Obstagoons are no small part of the reason Galar has a bit of a distaste for the Federation’s work. 

Obstagoons are somewhat new in the biological scheme of things: according to research by Fosic, we are fairly certain they did not exist prior to the advent of proper pokémon battles in Galar. But as soon as battling started to spread, the Obstagoon started to appear. A sign of Infinity Energy at work, creating more battlers from legends. 

Should they or shouldn’t they exist?

Chapter Text

Musharna

Self-Name: None

Musharna are beings of dreams that, as they age, spend more and more time asleep than awake, until they eventually reach a point where they sleep and never wake up again but are very much alive for several decades afterward. They are rotund, quadrupedal creatures that have little in the way of natural defenses aside from their power over dreams, suggesting a relation to the much rarer Darkrai and Cresselia species. Musharna notably have much less control over their abilities, being more passive influencers of dreams instead. 

Musharna subsist entirely off passive absorption of the psychic energies of other individuals around them. As such, they rarely live near other Musharna, simply because they would feed off each other and not be very efficient. Instead, they prefer to linger around Psychic-type pokémon or Pokérinian society. A side effect of their passive psychic absorption is that nearby entities have fewer dreams (or, at least, fewer dreams that they can remember). They rarely do much while awake aside from looking for a good spot to spend the rest of their lives sleeping, hoping never to be disturbed. Waking a Musharna who has been asleep for years results in a very livid being. 

While asleep, they can still use their Psychic abilities in the physical world, but prefer not to. The realm of dreams is their home, and “reality” is just a place that holds their bodies. Dreams are their home. And, while I initially believed their dreams were just that, individual dreams, it quickly became clear upon study that Musharna have a worldwide connected “hivemind” of a singular shared dream. We know very little about it because we don’t have brains quite like Musharna do and thus aren’t able to connect properly, but we know it is vast, the “scenery” is as nonsensical as you would expect from a dream world, and every Musharna can easily contact any other should they wish. 

Which is to say, yes, they very much have a society, but it’s not in a form we are able to interact with. Most Musharna view the world of the awake as secondary and insignificant, amusing at best. They only focus on the real world when they need to mate, when their sleeping location is disturbed, or when they feel like taking a “vacation.” Inevitably, Musharna stop taking “vacations” and remain asleep the rest of their lives. 

They think the Federation is unimportant. However, they do think that the idea of sapience is important—and I have heard reports that they are going through dreams, wondering if any other species on Pokérin are capable of connecting to their shared dream. Naturally, Darkrai and Cresselia were found rather quickly, and they are expanding their network elsewhere. 

Fosic was able to mind-meld with a few of them and found that each time he did it, they had “cleaned up” their dreaming network for visitors a bit more each time. Perhaps, in the future, anyone with the potential for a Psychic link could visit. Musharna have already started setting up “dream locales” where those with the proper Psychic abilities could, in theory, dream with them for the rest of their lives. They almost (but not quite) view the physical world as a trap, trying to take them away from the one true dream. 

I am not sure how I feel on the subject myself, as I am not a psychic of any type and have not been exposed to the dream. But it is apparently quite alluring, as Miranda has attested. At which point Eulogy asked if it was the real world that was the trap, or the dream, or if either were even real to begin with. 

E: The good doctor has entirely failed to mention that Miranda and I proceeded to have a three-hour-long conversation on the nature of reality, identity, personality, and memory; and that Ezri Dax decided to join us partway through to give her opinion as a conjoined being.

Musharna that are deep in sleep secrete a cloud around themselves for self-defense that puts threats to sleep and gives them unpleasant (but not damaging) nightmares. The few Musharna that are used in battles are generally used due to their potent natural defenses. Those that have been battling for a long time have learned to sleep through the entire thing. And yes, they are still able to connect to the dream while inside a pokéball. 

Do not worry, they are not capable of seeing dreams or reading minds (though other pokémon can). Though if you are the only entity near one’s sleeping spot the lack of proper dreams will start to have negative side effects on your psyche since you won’t be getting enough proper REM sleep. It’s best to have one Musharna in a settlement and no more, so it can feed and survive without impacting the lives of anyone nearby. They can even be a boon for those prone to having violent nightmares. 

Chapter Text

Gurdurr and Conkeldurr

Self-Name: Roubushin

I originally wasn’t going to make a detailed report on Gurdurr and Conkeldurr since they are in essentially the same situation as Machokes and Machamps: integrated with Pokérinian society, often used in construction work, exceedingly strong, and have a final development phase that’s only reached through trading. They’re also humanoid and largely only have physical differences in the way they act; though Gurdurrs care more about building than fighting, though they do like both quite a bit.

And that was to be the extent of the report until a wise old Conkeldurr came to me. He had no name, but he had a story that was passed down through his people. It is a story that I have since verified. 

Long ago, there were no Conkeldurrs, since there was no trading to make them. But, through some fluke, the first one was made long before pokéballs or trade machines were even a thing. (Discussing with Enkayel suggests that it was done through a Rotom or something similar interacting with Beheeyem technology, since virtually all technological pokémon older than Pokérinian technology were related in some way to Beheeyem presence.) This Conkeldurr was a genius known only as the Maker, and he brought to the Gurdurrs the invention of concrete long before Pokérinians themselves had it—in fact, it’s very likely that all concrete was derived from the Maker’s initial recipe. 

The story, however, doesn’t end there. It goes on to describe the Pokérinians discovering the Gurdurrs’ concrete construction settlement… and plundering it, taking all that was within as their own, and taking Gurdurrs as slaves, for they really were great builders. And from them, early Pokérinian society got a head start, using the concrete to further advance their own constructions… and beyond most other pokémon nearby. 

The old Conkeldurr finished his story and then left. I never saw him again. I do wonder who he was, and why he was the one who told me that story… The obvious conjecture suggests itself, of course.

We were investigating and interviewing many Gurdurrs and Conkeldurrs at the time. 

Never could track him down. 

Chapter Text

Hatterene and Grimmsnarl

Self-Name: Brimuon and Ohlonge

Sexual dimorphism is somewhat common in the animal kingdom of almost every world. But in one particular instance on Pokérin it gets wildly out of hand. Hatterene and Grimmsnarl are two so wildly different genders the vast majority of people think they are separate species! In fact, before our arrival, the only proof that they weren't were DNA tests run on the two of them, proving once and for all that they were the same species. Since they are a solitary species that naturally avoid members of the opposite gender, it is quite hard to find confirmation of this without asking them directly, which is a bit difficult for other reasons. 

Hatterene, the female counterpart, are humanoid, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that from looking at them. Their “hair” (which is just a couple of really long tentacles) covers their entire body, making them look like a smooth pink pillar in a pointed hat. (The hat is just part of their jelly-like body). They do not correlate directly to any familiar animal patterns. I would say jellyfish, except they have organs akin to humanoids and a nature somewhat similar to Mismagius in that their Psychic powers can be used in many creative, particular ways. Unlike Mismagius, there is no bizarre language requirement, but they do call their arts “spells” and have been considered Forest Witches. 

Grimmsnarls, the males, are also humanoid, which is easy to tell but their body lies as well. Their bodies are green and rather thin, but almost every inch of them is covered in “hair” that increases connections between the various limbs like muscles. Upon closer inspection, these strands of “hair” are revealed to be tentacles, much like Hatterene’s hair. Grimmsnarl have little in the way of “magic” and instead rely on the physical strength their “hair” awards them, punching, smashing, and plowing their way through everything. Their “hair” is fine enough that it actually feels like hair (though it notably requires less washing than real hair). If you were to touch their skin it would have a similar jelly-like feeling to Hatterene’s, but at that point, the Grimmsnarl is likely to bite your hand off. 

They are sapient, remarkably intelligent, and are quite capable of learning many Pokérinian languages or using their limbs to write. However, naturally, they don’t use language—their communication is entirely through empathic sensing of emotions. Both genders are able to sense sorrow, happiness, etcetera in just about every entity, and it appears that sapient creatures give them much stronger responses. While they do not feed on emotions (as some legends would suggest they do), they certainly take pleasure in experiencing certain emotions in others. What emotion they want depends on the individual in question. Grimmsnarl generally like fear, annoyance, triumph, and anger; while Hatterene are predisposed to sorrow, comfort, and serenity. However, many examples of either are fully capable of desiring emotions generally attributed to their counterpart, and vice-versa. One thing they generally can’t stand is the presence of other empaths, for the feeling is just unnerving to them. 

E: I feel a need to elaborate on this, for other naturally empathetic species that may read this in the future and do not understand the isolation. pokémon have four typings, which the good Doctor most likely has described elsewhere, that deal with telepathy and empathy on some level: Psychic, Fairy, Ghost, and Dark. Psychic typing is the general psionic field, while the other three are more specialized; 'Fairy' typing is usually influenced and powered by positive cycles, 'Ghost' typing is a result of souls close to death, and 'Dark' typing is usually influenced and powered by negative cycles.

Psychic typing can be seen as actual telepathy and empathy spread out from a core body, and more esoterically Ghost typing can be seen as a sort of 'coalescence’ of psionic energy into a core form—the ghost in question. Conversely, and more obviously, Fairy and Dark typings are less about the direction of the emotional projection and more about the wavelength, for lack of a better term. Fairy typings tend to be constructive to psychic resonance, while Dark typings are in fact disruptive. It is not necessary for a Dark-type or a Fairy-type to be either Ghost or Psychic as well, that is simply how their mental psyches affect psionics.

Which brings me to the Brimuon and Ohlonge. Brimuon are considered purely Psychic typing until adulthood, whereupon they gain the Fairy typing; Ohlonge, on the other hand, are uniquely both the constructive Fairy typing and the destructive Dark typing. As separate sexes of the same species, they both have the same abilities—that is, they are psionic projectors and observers capable of both constructive and destructive mental patterns. While other empaths may gently surf along the sea of souls, to a race so capable of sensation our potential for such is akin to pulling on their many, many hair tendrils, rough and distressing.  

Vulcans, as I understand it, are equally capable of such sensitivity, though they have opted for a culture of control, perhaps because they could not avoid each other, as this race can. As such, I highly advise my fellow telepaths and empaths to not interact on the mental plane with individual Brimuon and Ohlonge unless they are capable of Vulcan degrees of control—even if only temporarily.

They only seek each other out when there is a need to make offspring, and from the few who have been willing to talk with me about it, from what I understand the courtship ritual is a lot more like a brutal battle to near-death than anything even close to “romantic.” Due to their reliance on empathy, it is somewhat hard to get a Hatterene or Grimmsnarl to talk, but they are capable of doing so and are above average in terms of intelligence. While they absolutely loathe the presence of each other (or other empaths), once introduced to entities that can talk and reason without empathic connection they have no positive or negative inclinations. 

Due to their empathic nature, Hatterenes and Grimmsnarls are known to target out Pokérinians for their “enjoyment”—simply because Pokérinians are among the most reliable sources of most emotions, though other sapient pokémon are targets as well. Grimmsnarls will often jump out and scare people… though, unlike Haunters who are just in it for the fear, many Grimmsnarls are also in it for the pain and suffering, and many are known to be quite brutal. Hatterenes often seek to lure Pokérinians in to experience sorrowful memories or, surprisingly often, pleasurable “encounters.” Hatterene are known to be somewhat seductive at times, for some reason having an innate desire for “romance” despite the concept not existing naturally in their species. (And as always any drive observed usually in Hatterenes can be seen in Grimmsnarls, and vice versa.) Sometimes strong emotions can send Hatterenes or Grimmsnarls into a blind rage, sorrow, or euphoric delight, but the specific emotion depends on the individual. One particular Hatterene near Pokérinian civilization was known for brutally murdering those who expressed violent tendencies, creating one of the few non-battle-oriented towns in Galar in the process. 

This highly dimorphic species is only known to be concerned with other members of the species when raising young. Once Hatterenes give birth, they will keep all the young females, while the males will be sent out where some Grimmsnarl is wandering—often not the father. Only certain Grimmsnarls take on young because there’s some natural pride in having a bunch of young followers whose empathic abilities haven’t fully developed yet. As such, most Grimmsnarls do not raise children, but those that do will often have several picked up from various places. Once one of the Grimmsnarl children gets old enough, though, Grimmsnarls will fight until one leaves, setting out on their own. Hatterenes, as the female, tend only to have one or two children at a time and raise them personally. In very very rare situations a Hatterene will keep a Grimmsnarl child; out of a whim, fancy, or because they read something in a Pokérinian book once. However, it can be argued that Hatterenes are the better parents: Grimmsnarls are roamers that never develop much of anything, while Hatterenes usually build little cottages for themselves. 

This was the case with a certain Grimmsnarl. His mother was a Hatterene who lived near a Pokérinian village and was on relatively good terms with them, known as the Dryad to the inhabitants. She would let Pokérinians come to her cottage for healing herbs, “spells”, and remedies in exchange for goods from them. She had bad eyes and really needed glasses, and so very much appreciated Pokérinian society for the lenses. One day, though, a Grimmsnarl decided that it would be a good idea to attack the Pokérinian settlement. The Dryad took objection to this and threw him out apparently exceedingly violently, drawing a lot of blood. The inhabitants of the town insist she killed him outright, which, if true, makes it rather disturbing that she had children a few months later. Twins, a Hatterene and a Grimmsnarl. Since she did not want another Grimmsnarl coming around or to leave her cottage to find one, she decided to raise the Grimmsnarl herself. 

Things went fine until her children grew old enough that their empathic abilities grated on her. She tried to push through it—she really did—but she eventually made a mistake in one of her remedies and got someone in the town sick, and she told them they had to go. At first, they traveled together, but eventually even the sibling bond couldn’t stand the empathic feedback and they had to wish each other goodbye. 

The daughter actually traveled the world, taking a great interest in Pokérinian society and education. She eventually ended up in Hoenn where, at the time she arrived, there were still no rights, but the people there were willing to communicate with her and let her attend classes for education. She turned out to be a prodigy and was working at Mossdeep Space Center when I arrived. You might know her as Doctor Phi Rho Nu. Rumors abound, calling her the inventor of the warp drive. The official record says she isn’t and that it was Doctor Williams who made it, but considering the attitude of the world, perhaps it was deemed to keep it a secret. For the record, Doctor Phi was very accommodating of me and quite interested in both my work and the Federation, but refused to talk to me about the warp drive in any way. I leave it to the reader to decide.

The Grimmsnarl never took a name. All he knew was that he disliked the way the other Grimmsnarl went about getting their emotional “fix” and occasionally interfered with other Grimmsnarl’s games, at serious injury to himself. He found that fighting was an immense thrill , but he hated how brutal it got. He had learned from his mother that cooperation was better, but everyone thought of him as a monster. 

That is, until he met Marnie. A girl that would grow up to become the Dark-type Gym leader. She saw him, took him in, and introduced him to Galar battles. The thrill was exactly what he needed. And when he Gigantamaxed under her control… those moments, those were what he lived for. 

Due to a kerfuffle with the map, Lele ended up facing Marnie last, rather than the Dragon-type gym leader. As such, Marnie got to go all out on Lele’s team, even though she was restricted to just Dark-types, she made Lele struggle. While most of her pokémon went down to Dominus’ super-effective Bug-typing, he fell when the Grimmsnarl Gigantamaxed and flattened him with his foot. 

Lele made the smart move and swapped in Miranda for the Fairy-type advantage—despite being part Fairy, Grimmsnarls are still weak to it. Miranda charged up her attack, dancing around the Grimmsnarl’s feet. However, the entire time Miranda was dodging and charging up her attacks, Grimmsnarl was doing the same by tightening its hairs. In Gigantamax form, it was able to build up a lot more energy. Then, to complete it all, he spoke—the first time in the entire battle. “You lose.” The words startled Miranda enough that he got a punch in, knocking her out instantly. 

The Grimmsnarl grinned. “Advantageous circumstances won’t always save you.”

Marnie later related to me that ever since she’d gotten a universal translator he had gotten somewhat dramatic in his battle-speech. 

Regardless, Lele still had four pokémon left and was eventually able to use Masamune to cut him down, but he lasted a long time. It was actually something to watch, and afterward Miranda congratulated the Grimmsnarl on the ploy. 

“Not everything is the trainer’s orders and pre-planned strategies,” he revealed. “Sometimes all you can do is improvise…”

Marnie related his story to us, at which point I remembered Doctor Nu and got them in contact with each other via phone calls and the Internet, where empathic connections cannot get in the way. Even after all this time, their bond was still strong. It was nice to see that, in a species with such an extreme sexual dimorphism and unusual family dynamic, that it was possible to overcome the natural distance. 

I actually went and visited the Dryad to tell her about her children. She couldn’t have been more proud. She told me much about how she hoped, in the future, the rest of her kind might become like them… able to go beyond instinct and arrive at something better. 

Lele got her eighth badge. And then… we didn’t go immediately to the Champion because the next Champion Bracket was a month away, so she just trained and I kept doing research. 

Chapter Text

Toxtricity

Self-Name: Strinder

Toxtricities are electric lizards. Which is a statement that, at the start of my time on Pokérin, I could never have said with a straight face. Now it’s one of the least interesting things about this species. What I find the most interesting is that the dimorphism in their species, what one might have attributed to male and female, is not sexual dimorphism at all, but rather a dimorphism of nature. Those who are outgoing, excitable, and energetic develop yellow electric patterns, while those who are more thoughtful and intellectual develop blue electric patterns. The two types are called Amped and Low Key, respectively, and aside from minor differences in behavior and technique, they’re largely identical physically speaking. The personality is what changes the most, and since that is what determines which form they take anyway, it can’t really be considered a difference. Notably, this had made the usual gender divide within species take second stage to the difference between Amped and Low Key Toxtricities. They constantly compete with each other and tend to have different lifestyles while still considering each other part of the same species. While they don’t form large societies, tribes are somewhat common; some are mixed, others are strictly Amped or Low Key Toxtricity only. 

Beyond this strange dimorphism of personality, they also have a unique structure on their chest that, when plucked at, lets off strumming noises like an electric guitar. Naturally, those that adapt to Pokérinian society tend to be musicians (when they aren’t battlers) and there is in fact a rather popular band headed by a pair of each kind of Toxtricity. 

They are also quite toxic, though I will note that the Low Key variety are less so and prefer to use their Electric nature for defense with calculated movements. The Amped ones… I can’t say they prefer to use their Poison-type since they often attack without thinking, but they specifically drink stagnant water in order to increase their toxin level. It has become such a cultural thing among the Amped Toxtricity that what essentially amounts to “drinking games” form around disgusting and infested puddles of water, resulting in loud parties. And, while they rarely die from this since their bodies are highly resilient, it does make them the equivalent of very drunk. Amped Toxtricities are known for causing many problems after these parties are over, including occasional blackouts. However, they are apparently good at wild parties, according to Siren. How Siren managed to get time to go to a wild party without my knowledge I will never know, but it does not surprise me. Fact of the matter is they will drink anything . 

Low Key Toxtricities have fewer cultural “gatherings” since they tend toward introverted lifestyles and attitudes, and as a result are often more learned. A few Low Key Toxtricity have attempted to become trainers, though this has been met with limited success because they live in the Galar region. 

In essence, I believe what we’re looking at with Toxtricities are an emerging culture that are trying to leave the “tribal” stage of development and emerge into something greater, but like so many other species are instead just merging with Pokérinian society instead of setting out on their own. Which, all things considered, may not be a bad thing, but it’s an interesting development pattern nonetheless. 

A curious anecdote: Lele was a fan of a certain Toxtricity’s music, and that Toxtricity was a fan of her journey to become champion. They both asked each other for autographs at the exact same time. It was awkwardly amusing. 

Chapter Text

Urshifu

Self-Name: Wulaosu

Urshifu are Fighting-type bear creatures who, through particular training, can adapt into another type. The examples I’m aware of are Dark and Water, but it is not unreasonable to assume there are others, and I’m aware of at least one individual who uses elements of multiple styles to keep his enemies on their toes. As a species, they are exceedingly rare and never seen in the wild, only in particular training dojos in Galar and other regions, with all the rest under the ownership of trainers deemed “worthy.” They are warriors, first and foremost, and in an era with little to no war, they turn to pokémon battles. 

In the past, they were apparently bringers of war. Used extensively in combat, they were so effective that they started to be targeted first, so their numbers rapidly dwindled. During this time, the Urshifu realized that their species was dying out due to overuse in Pokérinian wars, so they secluded themselves. Not to run from the wars, but to train so they would be better suited for the wars and not have their young die before they got a chance to strengthen themselves properly.

By the time they emerged, though, the largest of the wars were over, and they felt as if they had lost a great opportunity. However, future generations still devoted themselves to the art of careful training, and only recently has this training not been under the supervision of Pokérinians; after all, it was the Pokérinian wars that they wanted to act in, for they did not have enough numbers to engage in the wars themselves. 

Currently, however, the main Urshifu dojo worldwide is run by an Urshifu with no Pokérinian master. He calls himself Wu, and he may be the single most combat-ready pokémon I have ever seen.

He allowed me to interview him and examine his species on only one condition: that I let him fight Tapu Lele’s team. Six on one. Since the championship matches weren’t for a few weeks, she agreed, and she thought it would be a nice training experience. 

And suddenly she was down five pokémon and only had Thiver left. Even though it looked like Valyez had tricked Wu with his illusions, he went down to the Urshiufu’s superior ability. Since there was no Dynamax energy around, Thiver was on his own. With a shrug and a laugh, he charged. 

Charging. The one thing Wu never expected an Inteleon—a sniper class—to do. Weakened from the rest of the fight and shocked, he finally went down. He offered his congratulations to Lele afterward and commented that her best fighter was Miranda—she just had the unfortunate issue of being brought out early before they knew Wu’s full capabilities.

And then he proceeded to let me interview him, run a few scans, and talk to his people. His story was rather simple: he had been under the ownership of the previous Pokérinian to run the dojo, and when the old man died, Wu decided he was a better teacher than the new guy. So he kicked the new guy out and took over, long before the Federation landed and only slightly after Hoenn reforms began. Nobody stopped him because nobody could— and plus, he was training new Urshifu for use in battles. 

While we were there, however, we caught one of the young Urshifu with a connection to the Malamar. We couldn’t get anything out of him, but Wu… Wu walked right up to the poor kid, kicked him down, and told him that warriors did not fight wars of espionage and secrets. They faced their enemies directly. There was no glory in secrets. At which point the kid broke down and let the tears fall. 

The kid told us a lot about what was going on with the Malamar. As we expected, they were struggling to figure out how to salvage their operation since Zygarde didn’t show up. If chaos didn’t bring him, they had no idea what would. So instead they were focused on making use of the Beheeyem spaceship they had captured and were trying to learn its secrets. He gave us a general idea of where they were, and we set out, thanking Wu.

He told us not to thank him. He was just disciplining his wayward student. We just happened to be there. 

I find it unusual, in the end, that the Urshifu are essentially breeding themselves to battle for the Pokérinians at this point. And even those who disagree with the way of Wu seem to think this is the way things should be. 

E: Perhaps it would be callous of me to remind the good Doctor of his own world's Spartans. They are far in his past, after all.

Chapter Text

Indeedee

Self-Name: Yessan

I never understood why Eulogy distrusted Indeedee. They are short, fluffy creatures with a natural disposition for being butlers and assistants, even more so than virtually every other species of pokémon, making some of the best housekeepers, valets, babysitters, and maids around. They are empathic creatures capable of only soft noises with their vocal cords, but the universal translator can compensate for that. They are capable of speaking telepathically with one another but seem to usually care more about those they serve, even to the point of risking their own lives. They are neat, tidy, and generally good listeners. Despite their horns, they generally aren’t used for battling, as the horns themselves are empathic organs that allow them to feel the emotion of whatever they’re touching with them. The males and females have distinctly different patterns in their fur. 

I had actually seen them all over the place in Galar, doing the jobs of servants. Almost entirely without pay, I will note, but it was Galar and I wasn’t that surprised about it. There was some discriminatory violence against them in some less-than-reputable neighborhoods, but nothing compared to what took place in Unova. In essence, they wanted to be servants, and the Pokérinians allowed them to. 

Eulogy never trusted a single one of them. Even when Fosic tried to get one to help him with the Porygon-emulations, it took one day of Eulogy’s staring to get the Indeedee to quit—something they rarely did. As usual, she never explained why she did this. At first, I thought it was just because she was somewhat jealous of them potentially taking the position she’d crafted for herself. Now I don’t think that’s it at all. 

Most Indeedee are friendly but otherwise forgettable—they try not to make a scene as they do their work and they succeed for the most part. This seemed universal until we met the twins in the employ of the Malamar.

We were following the Urshifu lead. However, since we only had a vague idea where we were going, it was just the regular team and Lele’s additions, since she was very interested in reclaiming the Beheeyem ship. Enkayel also joined us to reclaim it, or at least figure out where it was so we could order a full-scale reclamation operation.

We found ourselves near the northern shore of Galar, where it was quite cold, looking out at the frozen sea. We encountered a lone Zarude wandering the area. (Zarude were a species we investigated but found no compelling evidence of sapience; they are just pack hunters who sometimes have a spot for the young of other species.) He was definitely far from his normal habitat of forests, as it was a frigid shoreline here, but when we approached he ran off and we didn’t feel like chasing him off. But, slowly but surely, we noticed other pokémon that shouldn’t belong wandering around, looking lost. 

Enkayel suggested that maybe the Malamar had done something to the ship that was shuffling pokémon locations, but the Ohbem didn’t have transportation technology, so he didn’t understand how it could be possible. Dee suggested that when you mess with technology you don’t understand, you might make a bunch of very, very strange unintended side effects. 

At this point, Eulogy let out a shriek and told everyone to scatter, but it was far too late. The very ship we were looking for jumped out of the ocean and blasted us with a wide-beam stun weapon. Masamune and Lele remained standing. Masamune lifted its shield to defend while Lele started using her energy to rejuvenate anyone.

They really should have run or called for help, but they did what they thought was best. And we were all captured. When we woke up we were in a cell on the Beheeyem ship, locked behind a forcefield wall. And on the other side was a male/female pair of Indeedee that made Euology… afraid, it seemed. 

They spoke, finishing each other’s sentences in the calm, orderly, and welcoming voice all Indeedee used. Except it was unbelievably creepy because they were making death threats on all of us. 

I naturally tried to declare our importance and how they couldn’t afford to kill any of us, and they found this amusing—or so they said. They didn’t laugh. They just kept smiling. They informed us that they were the servants of the Malamar Zi, and that their master had left them in charge of the entire ship as the most trustworthy individuals. Completely loyal to Zi and not to any other Malamar. 

Apparently, there was a schism forming in the Malamar concerning the Beheeyem ship, so Zi had taken efforts to get it strictly under his control. Which the Twins had done. We later found evidence of massacred Malamar, Galarian Slowking, and Obstagoon elsewhere in the ship. 

However, they had noticed a problem with the ship. Something the Malamar engineers had done was making the drive jump things across space and—as we found out later—time as well. So they needed someone with interstellar expertise to assist them. And since all of us worked closely with Starfleet… we were the choices to fix the problem so the ship could remain hidden and Zi could take control over it for his faction. 

Naturally, they sought to use Enkayel first, since he was familiar with Beheeyem ship design. 

The poor man blasted his own brain with his psychic powers, preferring to turn into an idiot than betray the state secrets. Without blinking, they took him out and killed him right in front of us, not even commenting on it. They walked away, discussing what to do next with each other telepathically. 

I couldn’t believe such a peaceful, serving species could be twisted into… what I had just witnessed. But Yuki disagreed. It’s so simple it’s painful. They serve. And if their master treats them well and teaches them how to massacre to serve, they will, and they will feel immense gratification in it. We, of course, tried to escape, but Beheeyem ships were lined with plating designed to resist Infinity Energy while they were on Pokérin, so we didn’t go anywhere. 

Then they started torturing us. They believed that, among the group, one of us had to be able to be of assistance to them. (They weren’t aware of Dee. It was sheer fortune they hadn’t noticed my phone was a Rotom when they first grabbed us.) At first, the torturing was simple, small pain with added sorrow due to their empathic abilities. Tapu Lele was always able to heal us once we returned, and Dee remained hidden, eventually restricting itself to just inhabiting the interior camera of the smartphone, having almost no visual exterior presence. 

Then they took Lele away and said it was time to start facing permanent consequences, which made Eulogy screech in anger. They started dealing lasting, physical harm, then throwing us back with broken bones, or lacerated in one way or another. With no Lele, the damage started to build up over time. I was able to treat many of us with what we had available—that is, until they took me. I was returned barely conscious and there wasn’t much else I could do.

The rest of what occurred is a bit of a delirium, relayed to me largely by Miranda. She had the ability to heal as well, though significantly less than Lele and only surface-level damage, like the kind that would be experienced in a pokémon battle. She had to hold everyone up, including Lele’s pokémon that were without their leader. And, in the midst of this, the anomalies from the modified engine just kept increasing in intensity, to the point where the interior of the ship wasn’t safe. Time would occasionally loop, people would be moved a few inches to the left, and stuff would happen one way… and then happen again another way.

Miranda swears she saw me die once, but then I was fine and clung on. She’s unsure how many times something similar happened to the others. 

In between this, the Twins would sometimes talk to us in creepy, threatening ultimatums spoken like they were customer service representatives who really wanted you to have a nice day. They even got Eulogy to fly at them in a rage at some point, knocking herself out on the forcefield barrier. 

Eventually, someone cracked. We later found out who it was but I will not share their identity here, for their sake. But, really, while all of us were trained in one way or another, there were a lot of us, and it only took so long before they told the Twins about Dee. They found Dee, beat it into submission using Beheeyem technology, and captured the Rotom in a pokéball. Then they made an ultimatum to Dee: fix the drive or they killed everyone else immediately. 

Dee had to obey, rushing in to fix the drive. But as it did, back at the cell, Dominus and Siren had come up with a plan. The spatial distortions occasionally moved them… maybe it might move them out of the cell if they were near the door. This turned out to be true, but the spatial anomaly took Yuki and teleported her halfway across the ship even though she was nowhere near the door. Immediately she flew through the ship, freezing everything she could. She found Lele tied up and freed her. 

As Dee finished fixing the ship, Yuki and Lele rushed into the room. Dee, already weakened from doing repairs, could not help them. Lele, also weakened, had spent a ton of energy rejuvenating herself just to get here.

But Yuki… Yuki, in the end, was a Ghost-type. And they are notoriously difficult to seriously injure. Despite her fractured body and fragile figure, she took the Twins on and defeated them handily, eventually freezing the both of them solid.

Lele had to restrain her to keep her from shattering them. 

Lele returned and healed all of us, telling us all how Yuki had saved them all. Yuki was the one who told us about how she almost shattered them. And I don’t blame her. Those Indeedee… 

I want to hate them. But I wonder how much of it was really their fault and not just Zi the Malamar taking advantage of their natural inclination to be servants, turning them into the perfect loyalists to him. We may never know.

We returned the Beheeyem ship to its people, which they were grateful for—but they mourned the loss of Enkayel. They were able to salvage Malamar files from the ship, which showed the sorry state of their operation in Galar—in essence, they were a lot weaker in that region than we had expected, it was just their rush to catch the Beheeyem ship that made it seem like a lot. Much of what we’d been dealing with had been remnants that hadn’t gotten orders in months. 

Lele realized that, in essence, she had gotten her justice on those who influenced Alola. She confided that it didn’t really feel like she was gratified… but maybe she had never really been here for revenge. 

There was, after all, one last obstacle to face… 

E: I must admit this to be one of the most distressing events I have ever been a part of. Foresight is of little use in a setting where time itself is in chaos. Even my particular specialty, that of sensing the paths of souls, could not be much help here.

As recompense for my failure, and in gratitude for the actions of others in undoing it, I shall answer properly the question the good Doctor implicitly posed atop this entry. There are many manners by which the future can be determined and, as I have stated, I am well versed in sensing the path of souls. The good /doctor, for instance, is a healer, an explorer, and crafty in his own way; he is trusting, to a mildly foolish degree, and caring, to a heroic one. This and more is essential to his being, and from that I have sensed the path he is most likely to tread, as I have with most every creature I have met.

The Yessan, on the other hand, have souls in which servitude is core. They cannot exist as a people in a vacuum, yet conversely are so easy to bend to will that their future cannot be determined alone. Perhaps the opposite of the Zuruzukin, in that manner. When I look at them, I see not their future; rather, I see the future of those they serve, and know full well that future could change should they encounter a more pressing master. Problematic enough for any, and even more for ones of the Psychic-typing; our experience with the twins more than proves how easily such power with such souls can become so dangerously applied. Yet more than that, it proves how little will the Yessan possess. The twins were monstrous, but in the end, they were children, tools, set chores by a dark master.

It is not the Yessan I distrust. To be more accurate, it is any and all who would exploit them. For they, uniquely, are so easy to leverage.

Chapter Text

Diancie

Self-Name: Diancie

Diancie is a unique female being, a drastic mutation of the Carbink species that creates the only Rock-type sapient that I am aware of. She is not like many of the other unique beings we have encountered, with godlike powers that defy explanation. However, we did not seek her out, she sought us out. It all started…

~~~

Tapu Lele took a few deep breaths. Outside, she could hear the thundering roars of the crowd.

“This is it,” she said, looking up at her team. Thiver, Miranda, Masamune, Siren, Valyez, Dominus. “We’ve made it this far.”

“Our reaching this point was inevitable,” Dominus said.

“Buzzkill,” Thiver remarked.

“We are all getting really tired of that joke,” Miranda grumbled.

Keep saying it, they hate it, Siren’s new sign read. She was getting really good at writing those quickly.

Lele couldn’t help but chuckle at the antics of her team. “Look, all I’m trying to do is be inspirational.”

Valyez raised an eyebrow. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we prefer you in non-politician mode.”

Siren nodded in agreement.

“Well, in that case…” she put on a smug smile and pulled all of them into a Psychic-powered hug. “I love you all!”

“My lungs!” Thiver called. “My precious, precious lungs! I need those! Aaaaaaa!”

“Oh shut up for once,” Miranda said with a chuckle.

“Hugs are… acceptable,” Dominus noted.

“So…” Lele said, breaking off the hug. “No speech then. Let’s go out there and do what we set out to do when we arrived in the Galar region!”

“I’ve never left the Galar region,” Dominus deadpanned.

“Bugbot thinks himself a comedian,” Thiver said, narrowing his eyes. “You trynna take my job?”

Lele rolled her eyes—giggling, of course. “Oh, stop it! I don’t want to walk out there in a laughing fit. Leon already looks a lot cooler than us.”

“But we… are pokémon,” Miranda said. “Never forget that. We are ordinary pokémon under the leadership of another pokémon, one who runs a nation.”

“Yeah…”

Tapu Fini glared at Lele disapprovingly. “What do you mean you’re not returning yet? The ship has been returned, their plans foiled. Your people need you.”

“Yes… they do,” Lele had told her. “I need to finish what I set out to do. You know what our plan is.”

“You really have fallen for the Federation… your people miss you, Lele. The Galarians see more of you than they do.”

“I will return, Fini. I have not forgotten my people.”

“...I hope they will not have forgotten you. Remember how long time seems to them.”

“Lele?” Miranda asked. “Are you…”

“Just thinking of home,” Lele said, turning to Valyez with a knowing glance. A loud sports stadium horn went off. “And it’s time. Everyone, you know the drill, behind me.”

She floated out onto the pokémon stadium, utterly filled with people.

“Tapu Lele!” She heard someone call from behind her, but it wasn’t anyone she knew, and she had a duty to focus on in this stadium; the largest one in Galar, built with more seats than any stadium in the world to support Championship matches. And every seat was sold out. In the nearby seats, she saw Julian, Ezri, Eulogy, Yuki, Fosic, Cynthia, and several others cheering them on. Koko was there, Soma was there, and most of the gym leaders were as well, including Marnie and her Grimmsnarl—who was holding up a little phone so his sister could watch all the way from Hoenn and feel like she was part of it.

On the other side of the stage was Leon. He only had one pokémon outside of his pokéballs, his Charizard, and he was riding the fiery dragon to the center of the field in a display of power.

Lele smirked. “Hold on everyone.”

Thiver raised a finger. “Hold on to wha—AAAAA!” Lele lifted all of them up in her Psychic power and rushed to the center of the field, arriving in a rush of air about the same time Leon did.

“Haha! I like your spirit!” He jumped off his Charizard, grinning. “Every time I hear about you or see you, Tapu Lele, I like what I see more and more!”

Lele did the equivalent of a floating curtsy. “Thank you! Now… are you ready to battle or what?”

“I’m always ready to battle! How else do you think I remain a champion?” He let out a deep, belly laugh. “It’s a rare day I see someone climb up the ranks as quickly as you have, Lele. But I suppose, being a world leader and getting special tips from one of the best Champions out there can’t help.”

“You referring to yourself, or Cynthia?”

Leon shrugged. “I suppose I help my competition out too much for my own good… but let’s get to it. I’m obviously leading with Charizard. You?”

“Thiver. But, uh, shouldn’t we let the announcer finish introducing the fight first?”

Leon awkwardly turned to the big screen which currently showed a split view of the stadium announcer and the two of them. The announcer looked a little impatient. “Oh, sorry! Got ahead of myself there!”

“It’s quite all right, Champion,” the announcer said. “Now… Citizens of Galar and the world! Today is a historic championship match! On one hand, Leon, Champion of the Galar region! Currently in his fifth consecutive year with the title, and with a total of seventeen years as Champion under his belt! He has won the World Championship twice, and is the driving force behind Galar’s favorite pastime! On the other hand, Tapu Lele; legendary guardian of the Alolan Islands, healer, leader, and an excellent trainer who is making history by being here tonight! I’m sure you’re all aware of her history and the stories involving the Ohbem and the Federation, so I won’t bore you with it. As a trainer, she has pushed through the ranks like a prodigy and found favor in the eyes of many! Just yesterday she defeated all other challengers to the Championship—and the only obstacle left in her way is Leon!”

The crowd erupted in a thunderous cheer of excitement with the clapping of hands and stomping of feet that shook the entire stadium.

“Let’s get ready to battle!”

Without instruction, Charizard stepped forward in time with Thiver.

“I hope you won’t mind getting a little wet,” Thiver said, holding his hands akimbo as he approached Charizard. “Oh, you look dirty, care for a little shower before we start?”

“Have I said I like this guy?” Leon asked. “Because I like this guy.”

“And…” The announcer held up a hand, the entire audience falling quiet. Even Thiver bit his tongue for once to let the mood fully set in. “BEGIN!”

He’s going to Gigantimax his Charizard immediately. “Thiver, aim for the tail!”

“Already on it, boss,” Thiver said, going against his usual strategy and jumping back from his opponent.

However, Leon didn’t Gigantimax his Charizard at all—he pulled up his sleeve and revealed a mega-evolution stone. “Let’s go, Mega-Charizard X!”

Charizard transformed into a roiling black-skinned creature with blue flames, letting out a deeply ominous roar that shook the entire stadium.

“Wh-what!?” Lele stammered. “You don’t have a mega stone!”

Leon scratched his head. “I don’t? I swear I do…”

“The best-laid plans are apparently as good as my foot,” Thiver muttered.

“I’m sure your foot is useful,” Leon said. “Naturally, I—”

“Tail, Thiver!” Lele ordered.

Thiver jumped into action. “Say goodnight…” he fired the water he’d been building up in his fingers, hitting Charizard—but the dragon was aware enough to move its tail out of the way, taking the water blast to its chest. It was a heavy hit, but not enough to take down the beast.

Lele grimaced. We were banking on his Charizard’s Water weakness. Mega-X Charizards don’t have that… I actually don’t have anything this is weak to… And—oh right his Charizard knows a Grass Move. We were hoping for a one-hit kill...

Leon ordered his Charizard forward. “Solar Beam.”

“Thiver, grapple,” Lele retorted.

Thiver obeyed, jumping Charizard and grabbing him around the neck with his arms. “Yeeeee-haw! Let’s do this!” He twisted around, dousing Charizard’s flames in water as he whirled around.

“Tank it, Charizard!” Leon ordered.

Charizard hit himself with his own solar beam, hitting Thiver in the process. The Grass nature of the move sapped Thiver… but all that training he’d done with Siren kept him up, but just barely.

“Thiver, out, Miranda, in!” Lele called. Miranda jumped in, but Thiver had to crawl out of the arena.

Even in this state, though, Thiver couldn’t resist. “This is like the aftermath of eating the hottest buffalo wing on the menu…”

Lele focused on her task. “Miranda, focus energy…”

Miranda did as instructed, watching Charizard closely. Annoyingly, the Draconic powers of Charizard were not instantly defeated by Fairy, due to the Fire. It would take a lot to punch through. Luckily, while Miranda was generally used to fighting in tandem with Masamune, she had some nasty tricks of her own.

“Charizard, let’s give her the old burn, shall we?”

Miranda knew she could take the hit. While the flames surrounded her, she glanced back, noting a slight nod from Lele. As the flames danced, Miranda activated a couple of subtle Psychic techniques, allowing the flames to whip past her. Leon likely suspected she was still charging her power. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Going out with a bang…” Miranda chuckled. As the flames started to dissipate she let out an absurdly shrill shriek that knocked Charizard back… but it remained standing. No matter. She’d just…

Miranda realized she was actually on fire. “Oh, that’s not…” she keeled over, flopping onto the ground, out.

“Miranda is down!” the announcer called.

“Thiver, get back in there!” Lele ordered.

As he crawled back, Leon frowned. “Wait, what’s your plo—”

Miranda’s techniques activated at the same time. First, a delayed Psychic wave hit Charizard directly, throwing him clear across the stadium, knocking him out. Second, a healing wave fell over Thiver, restoring him to fighting condition.

“And that is what we call a clutch!” Thiver reported, giving Leon a thumbs up.

Leon smirked. “You know, usually you can’t stack three moves like that, Miranda moves faster than most Gardevoirs. I’m impressed.”

Lele smirked. “And you tried to surprise me by using a technique you never have before. What’s next?”

Leon took out a pokéball, and out of it popped Rillaboom, drum at the ready.

Thiver blinked. “Ah yes more Grass, wonderful, I truly am touched.”

“Thiver, swap with Siren!”

Siren leaped over Thiver, landing in an aggressive posture with a sign that said your days are short, monkey.

“Rillaboom’s an ape,” Leon said. “Regardless… Rillaboom, return, go Mr. Rime!”

“Siren, swap with Dominus!”

“Mr. Rime, return! Go, Haxorus!”

Lele twitched. “Dominus swap with Masamune… How long are we going to keep doing this!?”

“One more time!” Leon declared. “Haxorus, come back… let’s let Aegislash have a proper sword duel.”

Aegislash stood facing Aegislash, virtually no way to tell them apart aside from the slight bit of green on Masamune that represented its connection to Miranda.

“You know what to do,” Lele and Leon said in unison to their Aegislashes.

So the two swords just sat there, shields ready, slowly accumulating power in their blades… neither trainer made a move until the swords were near maximum attack power, blades glowing with so much energy Lele swore she could see steam rising from them.

“Go!” Leon shouted.

“Shield!” Lele shouted, just in time for Masamune’s shield to activate and absorb the incoming attack from the opposing Aegislash. “Now retaliate!”

“Shield!” Leon ordered, absorbing the attack in whole as well—and each time a shield was struck, the power of the opponent lowered slightly. “Go!”

“Shield!” After the next clash, the two Aegislashes departed from one another, waiting. Leon’s was still in attack form, while Lele’s was defensive.

I’m going to have to take a risk here, we can probably dance like this forever. “Masamune, the whirlwind maneuver.”

Masamune obeyed, staying in defensive form, but charging the enemy Aegislash. Leon ordered his Aegislash to enter shield form—but Massamune shifted into an all-out attack form and twisted around the shield, attacking from behind.

The enemy Aegislash, while not completely absorbing the hit, was still in defensive form and had enough bulk to tank it. And Masamune was wide open.

Oh no. Lele saw it coming, but there was nothing she could do about it. One gesture from Leon was all it took and his Aegislash took full advantage of Masamune’s opening, and he was down.

“Masamune is out!”

“And now we have a fully charged attacking Aegislash…” Valyez commented. “This is not good.”

“Dominus, go.” Lele ordered. The intelligent bug floated onto the field.

Leon frowned—but he knew that if he recalled Aegislash, the attack power he’d built up would dissipate. “Aegislash, charge!”

“Dominus, Gigantimax!” Before the eyes of the stadium, the power of Dynamax flooded into Dominus’ systems, growing him several orders of magnitude in size and shape, transforming his body into one not unlike a UFO. His Psychic Powers came to bear on Aegislash—mind controlling it with ease. Empowered or no, there was nothing it could do against the immense UFO’s intelligence.

“I see all, Leon,” Dominus declared. “Your odds of victory are 62.4%, since you truly are fighting hard. I know precisely why you treat this battle with such respect. A curious motivation. As are the motivations of the many entities within this stadium. Lele, I believe we will have an important visitor after this is all over, you should win for her sake.”

Lele blinked. “Yep. Sure.” He always talked like this when Gigantamazed.

“Go, Dragapult!” Leon shouted, throwing out the being that looked vaguely like a stealth plane crossed with a wyrm.

That’s everyone he’s using, Lele noted. Dragapult, Haxorus, Mr. Rime, and Rillaboom. Only Rillaboom has a Gigantamax form, but he could choose to Dynamax any of his pokémon just to throw my plans out of order. And I can’t withdraw Dominus, that would end his Gigantamax…

“Dominus, control Dragapult!”

“Dragapult, go all out,” Leon ordered.

With a burst of purple dragon energy, Dragapult charged Dominus.

“I cannot control Dragapult, it has entered an outraged state!” The draconic energy hit Dominus at full power, and then it hit again. Dominus retaliated, but with minimal effect. He went down before his Gigantimax even ran out, but not before leaving an Infestation curse on Dragapult.

Valyez, Siren, Thiver. “Thiver, get out there. I know you’re going to hate me for instructing this, but play distant. Do you hear me? Distant. Let the Infestation wear Dragapult out.”

“Gotcha, gotcha…” Thiver grumbled, slithering out, but keeping his distance. “Hey, angry dragon, how are y—” he dodged out of the way, barely missing the speedy enraged beast. “Whoa-hoah! Calm down there, little buddy! Here, how about…” He clapped his hands, and suddenly it started raining. “There we go, have some nice water to slip ya up!”

Dragapult kept charging blindly, but Thiver kept dodging, letting out one-liners, and chuckling. Eventually, Dragapult fell to the Infestation—calculated out perfectly by Dominus to do the perfect amount of damage.

“Infestation isn’t used very often, you know,” Leon said, sending out Rillaboom. “Then again, neither are most Bug Types.”

“We have to be creative,” Lele said. “Now, Thiver! Let’s…” She glanced nervously at Valyez and Siren. “Let’s stick around this time. You can take a hit, snipe him in the eye as he gets close.”

Leon frowned, suspecting some kind of ploy. He looked at the rain and glanced to Thiver.

“What’re you lookin’ at, party boy? Do you want me to shoot first?” Thiver chuckled. “Imagine, imagine, the plans that man has! Letting us go first! It’s big brain time—wait, no, he’s not Dominus, I can’t use that joke, that’s Dominus’ joke...”

“I was just checking on something,” Leon said, smirking. “Rillaboom… Gigantamax and drum Thiver into submission.”

Rillaboom grew in size tremendously, producing a drumset of immense size. Before Thiver could do anything, he pounded outrageously hard on the drums, sending a wave of grass into Thiver…

...and breaking the illusion on Valyez, reveling Thiver to still be on the bench. “It is not easy… replicating a smartmouth…” Valyez grinned. “Counter.”

The attack Rillaboom had used on Valyez had been immense, and had taken away most of his energy in one hit. But a Counter, when used properly, punishes the original user much, much more than the target. A brilliant burst cascaded from Valyez, knocking Rillaboom down… but, Gigantamaxed, the gorilla could still stand.

“The big monkey won’t go down!” Thiver called from the bench.

“Rillaboom, squish the very, very clever Zoroark,” Leon ordered.

“Sucker punch,” Lele said with a smirk. Valyez jumped over the Rillaboom’s attack, turning its own massive momentum against it… and taking the Gigantamaxed beast down.

He only has Haxorus and Mr. Rime left, we’re ahead one. She glanced at Valyez. But he’s very low, and his tricks won’t really work anymore…

“Mr. Rime, go!” Leon shouted.

Lele couldn’t believe it. Mr. Rime was weak to Dark. “Valyez, foul play!” He rushed forward but somehow—somehow—Mr. Rime was able to take the hit—just barely, and get off what he was there to do. The Trick Room, a particularly tricky Psychic event that altered the flow of time, making fast pokémon slow, and vice versa.

Valyez finished Mr. Rime off with a slap, and Leon brought out Haxorus. The Trick Room was still active, and the dinosaur dragon moved so quickly Valyez didn’t stand a chance.

Lele swallowed hard. “Thiver, I know it’s not your strong suit, but… I really do need you to try to keep your distance from Haxorus and pick him off over time. He is too fast for you right now.”

“Gotcha gotcha boss lady.” Thiver ran in, clearly a little nervous. With his fingers pointed like guns, he shot off a few water blasts.

Unlike Valyez, he was not actually that good at dodging. He dodged once before Haxorus barreled into him like a train and threw him aside, out. Haxorus had barely taken any damage, and Lele was down to her last pokémon: Siren.

“Siren… he’s faster than you right now,” Lele said. “Be… careful.”

He’s still bigger than me. Siren’s grin became malevolent. That’s all I need. She rushed in, holding her vines out.

Leon chuckled. “Looks like I win! Haxorus, Iron tail!” The Steel power stored up in Haxorus tail and it attacked… only to go past Siren, who was standing so close to his feet the tail couldn’t reach.

Siren waved cutely at Haxorus, then the camera.

“Toxic!” Lele ordered.

Siren cackled, slashing Haxorus’ legs with her thorns. It tried to step on her, but as fast as it was, she was so small and such a hard target to hit. With every stab of her thorns, it got more poisoned, and the pollen was starting to get into its nose, making it sneeze…

“Earthquake!” Leon ordered.

“Get out of there!” Lele shouted.

Siren didn’t even try to get out of there—she couldn’t. The trembling earth threw her aside, landing her painfully on the turf. Trembling, she automatically healed herself some, but Lele knew it wasn’t enough to take another earthquake.

Haxorus, poisoned badly and sneezing fiercely, still managed to turn to her and charge up its tail.

“All or nothing, Siren! All or nothing!”

Siren slammed her fists together, bursting the roses on her hands in a move that clearly harmed herself considerably, sending a massive burst of thorns, petals, and leaves right into Haxorus’ face, draining almost all of her energy in the process.

It didn’t take it down—but it did knock it over. Slowly, both of the pokémon rose to their feet, exhausted, battered, bruised, and covered in scuff marks. A tiny flowery dancer against a massive dinosaur with blades on its face.

As they stood there, staring, the poison did its job.

Haxorus went down.

Siren tried to write a clever note on her sign to celebrate, but her vines trembled too much to make the words work. Lele floated over to her and healed her, lifting her up. “You did it, Siren! You… you won it for us!”

Siren looked up at the crowd surrounding her, cheering; well, most of them, anyway, she heard some boos, but that only made her feel better. Screw them for thinking they couldn’t do it! That they couldn’t become champion! She threw her hands in the air and waved them excitedly.

Leon walked up to Lele. “You’ve trained them well, and you’ve clearly practiced many strategies.”

“A lot of them were specifically to defeat you, you know,” Lele said, scratching her head.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about defending your title for a couple of months. Until then…” Grinnin, he took a knee to her. “People of Galar, the new Champion of your pokémon League!”

Lele quickly healed her other pokémon—her friends—and they all stood together for the media outlets to eat them up and continually take pictures. It was a bit of a craze, so much of a craze that Lele didn’t notice the crystalline woman walking towards them. “Ahem. Tapu Lele!”

“Hmm?”

One of security seemed alarmed at the crystal woman’s presence. “I’m sorry Miss Champion, we’ll get her out of here immediat—”

“No, no…” Lele remembered what Dominus had said while Gigantamaxed. “I… think we need to hear what she has to say.”

The crystal woman let out a sigh of relief. “I… am Diancie. I… think I can help you find what you’re looking for. And… I need your help.”

“...We’ll talk somewhere else. Meet us at Bashir’s lab in… two hours.”

~~~

Iris, Champion of Unova, quietly shut off her television, cutting the feed to the Galar Championship. She walked to her window, looking outside to where the World Championship was being held.

They weren’t going to be able to deny Tapu Lele’s ticket. Not as Galar’s Champion.

That was the entire plan, wasn’t it?

She felt herself getting angry and forced herself to breathe in and out. They were just fighting for what they believed in. As chaotic and backward as it was, she had to remember that. And… not hate them when they arrived. She was better than that.

She could control herself. And she could control this. The Federation was not an all-powerful entity, able to come right in and say what morality was. The people of Pokérin could decide their own fate.

But what if they decide wrong?

Iris didn’t like thinking about that.

~~~

...Diancie met us back at the lab after Lele had talked a bit with Leon about training. Apparently, Leon actually had a habit of pulling punches in battles since he found close ones more fun than sweeping victories. However, he didn’t do that against Lele—he didn’t want there to be any doubt that she had won fair and square. So as she had built up techniques against him, he had built up techniques against her. It really did come down to the wire there.

But she won, and we had our ticket into the Unova region.

Which was why Diancie wanted to talk to us.

She, as the only sapient among a colony of Carbink, had spent her life protecting them, but now that the Federation had been involved, she had easily secured her Carbinks’ home as a nature preserve and was allowed to roam. She wanted to seek out a trainer who had met with her long ago and impressed upon her great kindness and understanding—and she learned that the trainer had been killed in an act of self-sacrifice to defend Zoroark in Unova.

Diancie wanted to use all the resources at her disposal to finish what that trainer started. We were going to Unova. She had connections in Unova and resources of her own to assist us if we helped her find out what really happened.

And, the kicker—the trainer had been an acquaintance of Zygarde. There were stories of how the Lord of Order came to the trainer’s aid, vanquishing the enemies. Diancie wasn’t sure how many of these rumors were true, but she knew it was a lead we wanted. And the resources to operate within Unova didn’t hurt either.

Diancie herself is not as deathly serious and political as the above paragraphs make her out to be. She reminds me most of young royalty, like a princess promoted to Queen before her time, with too much responsibility. She feels constantly torn between the caves where her non-sapient “subjects” live and the Pokérinian society that has things like clothes, which she adores greatly. She also worries about herself—for she is a mutant, not some kind of created creature or specific being, but a product of random chance. She does not know where she belongs and, before we were there, she had found meaning in doing what she could for pokémon in Unova. And we… were about to be associated with her.

And so… with Lele’s ticket and Diancie’s resources… we headed into the Unova region for the next World Championship.

Chapter Text

Greninja

Self-Name: Gekkouga

Greninjas are starter pokémon bred in the Kalos region, one I did not spend much time in during my travels. However, through Diancie’s connections in Kalos, I ended up working with a few of them rather closely. I cannot say much on Kalos’ treatment of their starters, but I presume it is similar to other regions. Greninjas themselves humanoid frogs with extremely long tongues they tend to wear like a scarf. They are adept at quick and stealthy movements, thus the “ninja” in their name. This makes them useful for more than just battles—that is, reconnaissance. As such, there are a decently large number of Greninjas secretly moving around through the Unova region, working for many different individuals and organizations to learn more about the region. However, it is extremely dangerous work, for Greninjas are the stealthiest when unattended, and if they are discovered by the Unovans, they will not be treated kindly. 

I have talked much of Unova in these entries of mine, but perhaps I should summarize and go into a bit more detail. Unova is the region least friendly to the ideas of sapience and equal rights. This is not due to a particular attachment to the concept of battling, but rather a historical scar. See, Unova was actually the region where talks of pokémon equality started , through the actions of a man named N and an organization called Team Plasma that sought to declare pokémon battles as unethical, and to establish rights. However, this team quickly became little more than a terrorist organization. Leadership changed, and there was a fiasco where a large portion of the region was frozen by Team Plasma… N himself condemned these actions, but it was too late, the damage was done. Rights for pokémon became associated with tragic terrorism, and the region that could have been the birthplace of pokémon rights instead developed a deep hatred of the idea. The people there remember the pain and the sorrow. They are not trying to protect their culture of battling lije the other regions as they view the ideas of sapience and equality as actual threats to their physical wellbeing. In the words of Unovan Champion Iris, “it is better for pokémon to be under Pokérinians. We enhance each other for the better with such organization.” 

Unfortunately, the Federation's presence on Pokérin seemed to have the opposite effect from what was desired: while most regions warmed up to us and our ideas simply from exposure and talking to us as friends, Unovans doubled down on their way of life, turning more violent against those in their borders—particularly against Zoroark, but anything that could even remotely be considered sapient is given a very harsh treatment when trying to act as anything aside from a subservient position. This makes Scrafty another common target, and the Scrafty themselves take to this like butter on bread given their nature. 

Unova was scheduled to hold the World Championships, and because Tapu Lele won the Galarian Championship, the Worldwide pokémon League didn’t dare deny her entry or contest her victory—and thus, she got an entry into the World Championship. The first pokémon in he history to do so legally. (A few Zoroark had made it and been subsequently driven out after being investigated). 

Lele’s ticket was our entry point into the Unova region. They had to let her and her entourage—which conveniently included me and some of my team—into the region for the competition. This included Lele, Miranda, Masamune, Siren, Valyez, Thiver, Dominus, myself, Fosic, Eulogy, Yuki, Dee, and a handful of others. However, riding with us was not enough to get Diancie full clearance, as they were already suspicious of her. So we adjusted our plan. Diancie offered herself up to be captured so she could be “under ownership”, and since we didn’t want to use her in the competition for fear of angering people using nonstandard pokémon, we had Ezri take “ownership” of her ball. (With a secret Starfleet contract to release her as soon as business was concluded, but we couldn’t tell anyone that.) Officially, at that time, Diancie was Ezri’s “envoy to the lesser-known Pokérin races” and there was no way Unova was going to be able to refuse her a seat at the Championship whenever she wanted. 

Thus, we had… a bit of a massive stealth operation and conspiracy of our own, with twists and turns all involved just so we could be in the Unova region and conduct our work without being kicked out. All the while being a symbol of that which Unova largely despised. 

Upon arrival, Lele kept her entire team in pokéballs, despite Miranda’s objection. This turned out to be a good thing because they were already booing us upon arrival, throwing fruit at Lele and everything. It most likely would have been much worse had we flaunted everything that first day. We made it to our hotel (notably situated far from any urban centers) and outlined our plans. Ezri beamed down with Diancie and we started to talk.

There was no chance Lele was going to be able to win the Championship and that wasn’t even the point. She had trained her entire time specifically to beat Leon, against a variety of opponents she was going to falter. But we were in Unova, so winning wasn’t the point anymore. As we were discussing, a Greninja dropped from the ceiling and handed Diancie a sealed envelope before jumping and vanishing again. They sure like to do that. 

According to his intel, the situation was worse than the world at large believed. Unovans were building up arms in their homes, expecting fighting to break out at any moment, and the Scrafty were organizing with the Zoroark—turning from “big gang crime” to potential militias. The report also mentioned that Diancie’s agents, who had originally been sent in to sow peace, were beginning to think peace wasn’t an option amidst rising tensions. 

We needed to be careful. We wanted peace, not war. 

Other Champions and those invited to the World Championship kept arriving. Leon had actually gotten an invitation as a secondary trainer, Cynthia was of course there, and this was Iris’ home region… so we saw her a lot. 

Every day I saw her Iris looked more and more stressed. She was likely more informed about the politics of her region than anyone else there, and likely knew exactly how much of a powder keg she was sitting on. It was not going to be pleasant. 

I started doing my work, though there were a lot fewer Intelligence Factor tests during this time and a lot more of me and my friends going to sapient pokémon settlements and talking about working together, peace, and potential ways to just up and leave the Unova region entirely. 

Some members of the Federation have expressed distaste at the “interference” we were perpetrating. Need I remind everyone that the Prime Directive did not apply, and much of the situation in Unova was directly affected by our contact with Pokérin. We were involved whether we liked it or not, and to cite “non-interference” as an excuse not to deal with the problems we helped cause is shallow and petty. 

Though even I have to admit, the subterfuge we had to engage in was somewhat… unpleasant at times. Unlike Greninjas, we are not biologically geared toward sneaking around and staying hidden while dealing in secrets. 

At least, unlike Galar, we weren’t constantly accosted by people wanting to battle. If anything, we were avoided in that regard. Only visitors for the championship would challenge Lele, and no Unova natives wanted to give her the respect she desired. 

It was an unpleasant situation in every sense of the word. And in the midst of it all, we were still looking for that trainer of Diancie’s. Diancie did most of the research for this herself, but it was slow, as the Zoroark were the ones who knew the most and they were largely gearing up for violent rebellion they knew we didn’t approve of. 

Gothitelle are native to Unova. There are few remaining in the region, but the few we did see… I don’t think Eulogy appreciated how they were treated like potential time-bombs by everyone who had them. Their usual places as therapeutic companions was shunned as “unnatural” and connections were extremely hard for them to form. “It’s like living on rice and beans,” Eulogy told me, once, and then said nothing further. 

The atmosphere of Unova affected everyone. Thiver made less quips, there was an air of fear around everyone, many people were afraid of us , Miranda discovered that she tended to ramble when nervous for extended periods of time… It was hard. 

Even so, we really had no clue what was in store for us. 

Chapter Text

Delphox

Self-Name: Mahoxy

Delphoxes are the other sapient starter from Kalos. (The third, Chesnaught, is not sapient.) They are tall, fox creatures with large quantities of fur that can operate both on all fours and on their hind legs, with their forward limbs also usable as hands, though without as much coordination as humanoids are usually used to. While they are bred almost exclusively for battling due to their position as a starter, Delphoxes have a decently high Intelligence Factor and have somewhat regularly managed to break free from this role because, unlike many starters, they do not have an inherent desire or inclination toward battle. Instead, they have a more arcane, mystical attitude. They are avid users of tools and will carry sticks that they alight with their own power and use to focus their abilities; a bit like a wand, but with a lot of fire. Any stick will do, but if a Delphox is familiar with it (or has crafted it into a wand shape) they will be able to channel more power through it. Most Delphoxes believe the stick is just a mental focus and that they have the power within themselves to begin with, but there has been little research in this area, and I did not have time to do much myself. 

They also have a curious Psychic ability. While there have been other pokémon who can see through time, Xatu with their eyes and Gothitelle with their unpredictable bond-predictions, Delphoxes have a reliable form of long-distance predestination. By focusing intently on the flame of their stick, many are able to enter a trance and seek out an answer to a specific question or event. Their range is only regional under most circumstances and they cannot see very far into the future or past, but the fact remains that they can get specific answers reliably. As with the Xatu knowing the future has the potential to change it, so actions can be taken to alter what they see. Which is often the exact point. 

Diancie’s eyes and ears within Unova were a Delphox by the name of Braix. She could not move easily as she was not a Greninja, but she remained hidden deep underground, beneath the cities, continuing her divinations and seeking to drive Unova towards peace. However, Unova is a complex multi-layered system with many outside factors, so her large-scale predictions were shaky, bu her small-scale ones were generally right on the money. Diancie took me, Ezri, and Lele to meet her after we’d been in Unova a week or so. It took several secretive movements, shadowy cloaks, and confusing secret codes to get far enough beneath the city to the cave that Braix occupied. She sat meditating most of the time, with her solid-crystal wand, crafted by Diancie herself before Braix was sent into Unova.

Braix said little, but when she did speak, she chose every word carefully—and only rarely opened her eyes. She was very grateful for the universal translator, it allowed her to communicate much easier—though it didn’t help her speak with other Delphoxes since they didn’t have a language of their own. At least, not anymore. Before they were bred as battling starters, Delphoxes were starting to form small, localized tribes. But then the war in Kalos happened, and the few that emerged were taken into a new role. She showed me one of her prized possessions, a manuscript written in ancient Delphoxian describing the proper way to meditate into the futuresight, as well as revealing what Delphoxes originally called themselves: the Mahoxy.

We then proceeded to use the secrets the manuscript contained. We asked her about Zygarde, about the trainer, and about the Championship. It took her multiple days of meditation to get us the answers we sought, but in the end, she was able to provide. In her sights, she was able to identify the exact tribe of Zoroark the trainer had been defending, and the tribe’s current location. She could only see Zygarde in the past, never definitively in the future. And as for the World Championship… it was a system interacting with so many outside variables she could discern nothing. She did warn us, though, that every vision she saw came with it some form of violence. That, at the very least, seemed inevitable. 

Regardless, we had a lead on the trainer. Lele needed to stay near the Championship as she was one of the entrants; making public appearances was part of her thing, and as more people moved in from other regions she started to get asked for more friendly short spars and interviews. Ezri, having taken a liking to Diancie, had taken a personal vested interest in her efforts. Since we wanted to keep our numbers low, we only took a handful on our mission: Ezri, myself, Fosic, and Dee. Dee was the least offensive of all our friends simply because it was the smallest and hardest to see. Diancie came with, but in Ezri’s pokéball, as usual. 

Still, we were no doubt going to be watched, like always. Leaving town by transporter would only buy us so much time. We hoped it would be enough. 

Chapter Text

Throh/Sawk

Self-Name: Nageki/Dageki

These two short fighting-type humanoids are the same species. A lot of people say they aren’t, and since neither of them are capable of speech at all, nothing short of a DNA test would prove it. Despite both forms being universally considered masculine, they are in fact gendered. Though I am admittedly unsure which is the male and which is the female, since they are a very secretive people when it comes to their social hierarchy. DNA analysis is only able to determine a gender difference . Fosic was tempted to say they were hermaphrodites, except that any individual lacked the proper material to self-impregnate. This species has made no moves to explain how they continue the line, what family ties are like (if any), or even to communicate at all . The main reason we are sure they are sapient is because they craft their own clothing. How they learn this skill is beyond me. 

They are able to understand speech just fine, since they are able to follow orders and fight for a cause. They are native to the Unova region and rarely found anywhere else, and even when things got worse they remained in the region, though I am not sure why. They ended up in the employ of Zoroark and Scrafty, building themselves up as an army of silent warriors. (Well, not exactly silent, they can still vocalize, just no language). 

Ezri, Fosic, Dee, Diancie, and myself were meeting with the Argus Clan of Zoroark to learn more about what happened to the special trainer. The answer to that question was depressingly simple: the trainer had befriended the Zoroark and shown them great kindness, and in fact started talking to them about revolting or getting them a better life, essentially becoming one of them. Then the Unovans had attacked. It was a massacre and the Argus Clan had to flee with the few remaining members they had, unable to do anything for the trainer except carry the body with them. 

There was a grave in the new home of the Argus Clan. A single, lone Carbink guarded it for eternity. Diancie tried to convince it to come back with her, to forget the past, but it wouldn’t. Diancie had given it to the trainer so long ago that it would not go anywhere. It would remain at the grave, for eternity. 

E: Deep thoughts are often slow to blossom, and those of the Rock typing have some of the deepest thoughts. It is my personal belief that they fail the good Doctor's tests, not because they are not capable, but because the layer on which they are capable is too glacial for the Federation to recognize. Diancie herself is crystalline, her thoughts set to resonate, and hence the deeper levels are clearer to the swifter surface.

I should mention that Diancie was the only reason the Argus Clan even let us in. Otherwise, they would have launched the Throh and Sawk on us to keep us quiet and not to reveal the location of their hideout. But they knew who Diancie was, and why she was here. So they let us pass—grudgingly. 

Diancie asked what had happened to the trainer’s other pokémon. The Zoroark explained that for a while they had lived with the Argus Clan; that is, until N showed up and offered to take them somewhere more suitable. Only Carbink refused. When we asked them about Zygarde…

Only one of the Zoroark had any idea what we were talking about. He was an elder that had been on the front lines during the massacre, had watched the trainer go down. The Trainer spoke of Zygarde to the Audino moments before the tragedy. The curious note about the Audino was that her Mega-Evolution had never dissipated after the tragedy. She had remained empowered… in a way similar to Last Chance, perhaps. However, nobody ever asked her about it before she left with N.

The Zoroark did not know where the Audino was. But they did know where N was. They told us where to find him, and we set out—noting that they were already packing up their home just in case we leaked information about it out, somehow. This turned out to be a smart move on their part, since a day later, Unovans arrived. Curiously, it had nothing to do with our presence, but a young Zoroark being careless while on the hunt for food. 

They were very fortunate we arrived and made them move. I don’t want to think about what would have happened otherwise. As it was, all the Unovans found was a Carbink standing over a grave, and signs of Zoroark living with a small troop of Throh and Sawk. 

Chapter Text

Meloetta

Self-Name: Meloetta

Meloetta were an uncommon species before Unova turned away. Before the advent of Team Plasma, Meloetta were loved, cherished, and appreciated as beautiful dancers and artists who blessed the people with their presence and songs. They were humanoids with perfect singing voices that rarely did anything without song and an accompanying dance. Meloetta are inherently free spirits that do not do well with being constrained, instead wanting to dance and live free. However, they also have a strange competitive spirit. Upon seeing the joys of battling, they wanted to be part of it. Certain individuals took it upon themselves to challenge trainers to battles just to enjoy it. Some were captured in the process, which annoyed many of them a great deal once they wanted to go dance and sing somewhere else. Since they were one of the few species to make a fuss about extended capturing, the eyes of the Unovans turned harshly against them. 

Now the Meloetta are a highly endangered species. Almost any who challenged a trainer or graced a village with song and dance were captured and slaughtered. They largely couldn’t help themselves—they are lovers of culture and artistic expression, and the Pokérinian culture is the most prevalent one. Even those who survived kept poking their heads and noses into Pokérinian society, trying to stay hidden, but unable to stay away from the music, the dance, and the competitions. The more they did this, the more they were hunted. Since they were uncommon, it wasn’t as widespread as Zoroark and Scrafty discrimination, but it was much more damaging due to their small numbers and almost complete lack of presence outside the Unova region. 

We were on our way to see N when we saw our first Meloetta. He was a male (though the race as a whole is decidedly feminine) named Waltz who had made the unfortunate mistake of being moved by a street beggar playing music on an old guitar. Waltz saw the man’s plight and wanted to give him some help—grabbing a fair amount of loose change from the bottom of the town’s well and giving it to him. At which point the old man did the equivalent of screaming demon! and drew the attention of the entire town, including us. Waltz was heartbroken that his kindness had been tossed aside, and terrified the moment pokéballs started coming out with aggressive species directed right at him. He tried to run, but with so many pokémon instantly drawn out, even with his curious abilities there was little he could do. 

I told myself we had to keep moving, we needed to remain secret.

Ezri was having none of that and immediately rushed in to defend Waltz with her own bare hands. As a multiple-lifetime student of Klingon combat, she is exceptionally capable, especially when she has both a phaser and a blade at her disposal. However, pokémon are pokémon, and she wasn’t going to be able to take them all.

Fosic tried to offer assistance with his many Porygons. Dee possessed my phaser and started firing it left and right. 

To my shock, we were losing this encounter. There seemed to be nothing we could do against a town of angry people with a lot of pokémon… even when Ezri was forced to bring Diancie out and completely blow our cover, the people kept pushing forward. 

Unfezant and Swoobats can be brutal . They were going all out, while we were restricting ourselves to stun. 

And then a second Meloetta appeared. This one was a female covered in scars that sported an eyepatch—and an artificial arm shaped into a blade three times her height. Granted, Meloetta are short individuals, but this still was rather absurd. 

Her name was Tango, and she was deadly efficient. pokémon and Pokérinians fell like candy—to the point at which Diancie yelled at her to stop. Waltz was crying, and Tango didn’t care—she told us matter-of-factly that she just saved us. “You should be thankful.” She raised her hand to continue the assault, at which point I pointed and Dee possessed her artificial limb, throwing her to the ground. 

The townsfolk were all running now. Actual death had made them lose their nerve. And we were in the middle of it. 

Fosic pointed out that this was very bad for our image. Even though we had saved who we could by disabling Tango, they largely wouldn’t care about it. It all started when we rushed to help Waltz. He thanked us for our trouble and went to go hide in the forest. 

At which point N walked out of the forest, his face impassive and his alarmingly green hair drawing more than a few stares. He had apparently been watching the whole thing from afar, for the Zoroark had told him we were coming—how, I have no idea, and I was never told. He… is a sad man, wanted by the law, but with a small devoted following that keeps him safe. He is one of the very few Pokérinians who bothered to learn pokémon speech. Not that he could speak it, but he could understand it, and understand it quite well—though, only if it was a language he knew. 

He lamented greatly how his actions had, indirectly, led to the horrors they were all living in. He gestured at Tango. People like her were, he said, ultimately his fault. He tried to push too hard, people took advantage of it, and now pokémon were worse off than before. His dreams for peace seemed to just be pushing to war. Tango was once one of his, but she took her pain and turned it into a rage. It was all too easy to do.

He helped us in any way he could. He gave us a lot of intel about movements of the Zoroark and Scrafty, which Ezri covertly transmitted back to Lele so it could be given to Braix. Entire armies were being built up, and there were no Malamar tentacles involved this time. It was pokémon rising against Pokérinians. Then we asked him about the Mega Audino. 

Audrey. Audrey was her name. Taken only after her trainer perished. 

And she was the leader of the largest underground pokémon army in Unova. 

Chapter Text

Audino

Self-Name: Tabunne

Audino are pudgy, pink, humanoid entities that don’t really resemble any animal found on Earth. They have powerful ears that can hear miles away, but are also precise enough to hear heartbeats and diagnose Pokérinians and pokémon like doctors. They are curiously unable to speak Pokérinian but have the capacity to learn almost every other pokémon’s language. They also have their own language: a flowing, rhythmic communication venue that seems to have no variants or differences, no matter how far away the Audino live from their home in Unova. I had seen many of them in other nations, and found them rather unremarkable. We didn’t realize what they truly represented until our time in Unova. 

They are said to be deeply connected to every pokémon on Pokérin, no matter what species they are. Notably, this does not include Pokérinians, though they are fully capable of treating Pokérinians should they desire to—though they have nowhere near the calming power and connection. When an Audino approaches a pokémon, it is like they feel instantly at home and safe. Audino are generally only attacked in actual legitimate battles, and even normally aggressive battlers will become more playful with Audino on the field. 

Audino have managed to be virtually the only species to be spared the dark wrath of the Unovans. I’m not entirely sure how they did it. Many say it was simply because Audino were used extensively by Unovan Nurse Joys for medical purposes and simply couldn’t be let go or demoted in any way because everyone relied on them. But I doubt this… it’s almost like they need to be there. 

I had plenty of times to observe Audino and found that they have a calm happiness about them, for the most part—seeking not to serve, but to protect and heal and forge connections between pokémon. They are perfect doctors, and they ensure that even in Unova pokémon get proper treatment, no matter what. Even if they are Zoroark. This has resulted in the interesting court cases where Pokérinians try to put Audino on trial for assisting Zoroark, even though Audino legally cannot be persecuted for doing so given their supposed non-sapience, and it’s just a big legal mess. Through it all, the Audino keep treating and helping. Only rarely making a scene, letting their kindness do the work. 

Such a shame that it wasn’t working.

We found ancient Zoroark texts describing legends of two kinds of heroes. There were the Swords of Justice, powerful quadrupeds that would rush to save pokémon in need that couldn’t defend themselves. And then… there were the healers, the caretakers. 

It is my theory, and it seems somewhat reasonable, that the Audino were born from these legends. Remember, Infinity Energy is inherently a copycat, taking what’s already there and letting the influence of power run in a circle. If Pokérinian societies could lead to the eventual development of Aegislashes… why not the calls of the Zoroark to bring about the Audino?

But it’s more than that. Many species of pokémon I’ve encountered in Unova (and a few places elsewhere) have a legend relatively synonymous with that of the caretakers. The healers. And, so far as I can tell, Audino are a relatively new species of pokémon. One quite literally tied to them all, able to empower and heal, all without anything fancy. They are Normal-type, after all. 

It is no wonder why they were native to the Unova region, where they were needed most. Team Plasma did not form in a vacuum. Pokémon—human relations have never been great in Unova due to the prevalence of Zoroark. Where they were desired, they would appear. To nurture and protect.

But as we’ve seen so many times in these little records of mine, once something is established and achieves sapience… it is usually free to go its own way. Oversight, forging bonds of hate. Tango, dancer of blood. All of the Galarian Slowkings. The Dryad and her children. Thiver the smartmouth. So many break the mold because they are in situations where they can. Some are shocking. 

Perhaps the most shocking is Audrey the Audino. 

N told us where we could meet her. She was already in the city where the Championship was being held, apparently right under Braix’s nose—but by the time we figured this out, we were already too far underground to get a message out, so we continued on. Audrey had set up shop deep beneath the city, in a cavern where she had somehow managed to hook up Federation transporters, wiring their circuitry into a variety of Psychic-type pokémon so they could transport from miles away through solid rock. The army was building in the undercity caverns, and it was building quickly. 

N was let in without a word, and we followed. However, guards followed us every step of the way: Throh and Sawk, largely. There were so many of them in complex regimented rows, alongside Zoroark, some Greninjas, and so many species I’d seen on my journeys. 

We were eventually led into a strange house, built seemingly alone in the cavernous areas. It was a homely little cabin with a nice fireplace going inside. To our shock, we found Braix and Eulogy already there. Braix informed us that, no, she wasn’t a traitor to peace, just that her future visions had gotten a little too close to Audrey’s plans and, as such, she’d needed to be captured. Eulogy just happened to be there at the time. Eulogy, for her credit, seemed at peace down here. She admitted she disliked the preparations for violence, but… well, down here there were Gothitelle living without any fear or concern, and able to offer their condolences to those who had suffered or would suffer soon in the coming time. 

What would essentially be a full-scale pokémon invasion of the World Championship. 

Eventually, a normal Audino came down the stairs. He told us Audrey would see us now. 

Audrey was truly a permanent Mega-Audino. Her stature was much larger than that of her colleagues and her body glistened with a diamond-white. In her presence, you couldn’t help but be calm. Even Fosic remarked that he intrinsically felt the need to trust her. 

Behind her were hung paintings of quadruped pokémon. Ezri asked who they were. Audrey explained that they were the Swords of Justice. She handed out tea and snacks to the rest of us, and explained that every last Sword of Justice was dead, now. Sometimes being a legendary warrior couldn’t help you. They were the greatest threat to the Unovans… so they were no more, all because they couldn’t stand by and watch suffering. 

Diancie walked up to Audrey, asking what happened to her. She remembered Audrey from before she took her name, from when the trainer visited her . Audrey was the most loving pokémon she’d ever known. Audrey explained that she still believed what she was doing was loving. pokémon needed to come together and defend themselves, needed to stand strong… united. They were divided. Scrafty and Zoroark fought while the Pokérinians dominated, predators and prey fought for territory in the forests, and all in all, it was every species for themselves. She, as an Audino, was greatly pained by this… pained by the division among pokémon when there could be unity. At first, she thought the bond between pokémon and trainer would eventually turn into this unity. And then her trainer died, making her realize the bond she had with her trainer was not very common. She needed to find another way.

And so she diagnosed the entire Unova region as impossibly sick, and that surgery needed to be performed, to cut the problem off at its core. No, it wasn’t pokémon battles that were the problem. It was Pokérinians themselves, and the way they were dominant alone , as a singular species. There needed to be cooperation, synthesis, togetherness of equals to promote the right way. The “secret way,” as she called it. 

E: I will admit, had I not spent time around the good Doctor, I would have believed this to be entirely true. And, to a degree, it was: Unova was ill, the Pokérinians were the core of it, and surgery needed to be performed. However...

Perhaps the best way to put it is to say that Audrey was using medicine of the Twenty-First Century to treat a problem that, in the Twenty-Fourth, would need but a touch of the Doctor's wonder medicines. Or perhaps she failed to realize she herself had been infected by the illness. Perhaps she had simply misdiagnosed the situation.

If the Tabunne are truly the menders, the healing system, of life on our world, Audry could best be called a nonmalignant cancer. One that healed incorrectly.

Their plan was simple. Attack the source of Pokérinian pride, the World Championship, and tear it down, replacing it with their own presence. Dozens of pokémon species had come together to this end. 

Diancie pleaded with Audrey to reconsider, to seek peace. To remember the past of friendship and real cooperation—and how to heal with kindness, like Audino usually did. Audrey didn’t hear it, but she was understanding and answered all our questions. I think she took pity on us. 

She really respected what we were trying to do. She was very proud of Lele’s work, and had left very specific instructions to her people not to harm Lele or her friends in any way, not even if Lele fought back—which was very likely. Even so, she knew there was still going to be blood. There had to be. Or else it wouldn’t be proper surgery. 

In the end, she thanked me for all I’d done. For none of this would be possible without Federation technology; or, perhaps more importantly, Federation ideas. There would have been no way to get everyone on board otherwise. 

Then we asked about Zygarde, and she was visibly upset. She told us he was not going to be a problem. Then she told us she needed to guide the troops. We would not be locked up like common prisoners, but we were not to leave the little cabin. 

We were left alone to discuss our next steps. Diancie was hollow, feeling defeated. Eulogy was rather silent, and Ezri kept trying to come up with plans that ended up not having a chance of working. 

However, Eulogy said maybe we should ask the Porygons. Fosic brought them out, and they performed an analysis. They didn’t know of anything we could do—but the Porygon-Z in the group told us the most important thing. 

“Audrey’s hiding a pokéball in her chest fluff! Wild!”

It was a little detail that seemed so meaningless. Except that the comment prompted the Porygons to look closer into it, and realize that there was a lot more going on there than we realized. Even from inside the cabin we were able to detect massive amounts of power being shunted from a generator beneath the ground to Audrey—to that pokéball. 

But there was nothing we could do with it because she was out ordering the troops to invade while we were stuck in a little cave-cabin. Soon, we started to hear explosions happening above. The earth rumbled, and every now and then we heard cheers. 

Eventually, Audrey returned to the cabin. She told us it was going well at the surface and everything should be taken care of in a matter of hours. 

Then Ezri kicked the pokéball out of her chest fluff. It was no ordinary ball, but a purple one surrounded in a kind of forcefield, several chains, and some weird Psychic/Fairy aura—all there to make sure it stayed closed .

We would never have had time to open it were we not in possession of Dee. It rushed to the pokéball, possessing it. The bonds still held sway, but Dee slowly started breaking them open. As Dee cried out in pain from the exertion, Eulogy was right there, doing all she could to help with her own Psychic abilities. 

Audrey shouted “No!” her vocal attack shattering glass and knocking us over. Diancie stood up to meet her, but the power of a Mega-pokémon is no joke, especially one who’d been training for a war. Audrey called for help while diving for the Dee-pokéball. 

And then something beautiful happened. Ezri jumped forward and fought alongside Diancie, as an equal, even though Dax was physically much weaker and less capable than the crystal fairy. But Dax… took a heavy hit, almost going down. 

Something stirred inside Diancie. We found out later that there was a Mega Stone somewhere within her that may have been partially why she had mutated in the first place. But her connection with Ezri flowered in that moment and she plowed right into Audrey at high speeds. 

Audrey still would have won, eventually, since she knew many support abilities and the remaining members of her army were arriving to aid her. But Mega-Diancie was a force to be reckoned with, and one that was able to buy enough time for Dee to open the pokéball.

Green hexagons erupted from it violently, disintegrating the walls of the cabin. The green geometries congealed together into oblong shapes that at first looked like dogs, then massive snakes, and then… lastly, a truly massive humanoid larger than the entire cabin had originally been. Reality itself warped with the being’s presence, shifting the positions of rocks and stalactites, creating fissures, and healing other cracks in the stone. The various hexagons flashed on and off not unlike the lights of a machine. 

But this was no machine.

This was Zygarde, Lord of Order.

And he was free.  

Chapter Text

Zygarde

Self-Name: Zygarde

Zygarde is evidence of something much, much greater on Pokérin than what we understand. Physically, Zygarde is a composite being formed of many separate cells, yet he is not a hive mind. He is very much a single entity able to split himself up into several pieces and operate each one independently. Only certain parts of him are actually capable of thought, being core “brain” cells, while the others are simple passive pieces that need instructions to do anything. In their default form, these cells are squishy green objects. When together, however, they harden into decidedly hexagonal shapes, gain a black armor coating, and form into just about any form Zygarde should desire. This usually takes the form of a dog with 10% of active cells, a large snake with 50%, and a massive humanoid with all 100%. Other forms are possible if Zygarde should feel creative, and the various forms are capable of telepathy with each other over distances. Notably, however, the full mental connection between cells only comes through physical contact. 

Zygarde’s purpose in life is to restore order. From internal threats to the ecosystem to the chaos of tremendous wars, Zygarde exists to ensure Pokérin doesn’t collapse under itself. Considering how many absurd powers and creatures there are on Pokérin, I have come to believe that Zygarde is quite necessary to maintain the balance. 

Zygarde has been around for much longer than Pokérinian history records, watching over the development of Pokérin, its ecosystems, and, potentially, even the inner workings of the planet’s convection and continental drift. As Pokérinians and other pokémon developed their civilizations, Zygarde’s dominion over order spread to them as well. He generally only intervened when wide-scale chaos was caused, creating other entities to help manage order alongside him as he went. 

One of his most notable interferences was during the ancient Kalos war, where a massive doomsday weapon went off. He prevented the remnants of that war from rising up again, for the devastation it would cause would be too great. In fact, reading over historical records now, I believe Zygarde’s interference is why there have been no Pokérin world wars. The planet wouldn’t have been able to survive it, so Zygarde ensured it would never happen. But Zygarde, despite his ability to split into pieces and process things faster than most of the supercomputer pokémon, can only be in so many places at once. So chaos and wars did occur, and only the largest crisis at any given time was Zygarde’s domain.

When Alola was opening its pokémon League for the first time and all the interdimensional rifts were forming, Zygarde was there, divided up to observe the entire region in case something happened. He interfered a few times and was part of the vague and confusing Necrozma fiasco.

During that time he met a certain trainer, one who impressed upon Zygarde in a way no Pokérinian had. A fighting spirit, a strange power, and a great bond with pokémon. This particular trainer also had a thing for collecting stuff, including collecting the cells of Zygarde until the entire thing was assembled. Zygarde traveled in a pokéball after this, being used to restore order to Alola and to severely limit the interdimensional rifts.

Zygarde remained in the “ownership” of the trainer, finding the bond to be somewhat delightful and “adequate” as a way to get closer to the troubles of Pokérin. This included the encounter with Diancie, though Zygarde himself was never brought out at that time.

But then the trainer stopped taking Zygarde out at all. This was because Zygarde was a servant of the status quo, of order, of peace. And it was becoming clear to the trainer that peace was not an option in Unova, not for what was going on. So Zygarde remained in the ball.

When the trainer fell, Audrey took Zygarde’s pokéball and refused to open it. Knowing that Zygarde was more than powerful enough to break out on his own should he begin to wonder, she used her own power to seal the ball shut and put more and more locks and barriers on it to keep the Lord of Order contained within. If he ever emerged, he would desire to stop the brewing war in Unova. And she was sure it needed to happen, or real peace could never be achieved. 

Audrey’s efforts had been successful. However, she couldn’t risk keeping the pokéball out of her possession—some of her power was what was keeping it sealed, and it needed constant recharging and management with generators and power fields just to be sure Zygarde could not get out. Burying it in the ground and leaving it in a box was risky when, every now and then, a lock failed, or some psychic treasure hunting pokémon might find it, or something. 

Audrey could not let them know. People who were made aware of the ball and desperate enough to try opening it… they would try. As we did. And succeeded.

~~~

Audrey took a step back, trembling. “No… no, you… not yet… you were to come out afterw—”

Zygarde took one look at her and waved a massive limb. A green, hexagonal construct appeared around her, freezing her as though it were ice, but appearing more like some kind of digital polyhedron. Zygarde took no further action against her; no revenge kills, nothing. There was no point in such chaos. As much as he had a burning hatred against her… it was not who he was. He had a duty.

He scanned the area, reconstructing from context clues the events that led up to his release. The conflict, the cabin… and those interesting beings. He cataloged who was on the side of his release and who was not. Logging the positions of every entity who served Audrey, he sent forth a thousand beams of green light, disabling most of them in an instant. Those that were immune or resistant either ran away or bowed to him in reverential submission. 

Satisfied that the immediate threat of chaos was dealt with, he turned to those who had freed him. Diancie, still Mega-evolved. He remembered her from before, though he doubted she remembered him. She was a prime example of a chaotic event that could be stirred toward Order, a mutant who in the end brought protection and peace. Zygarde was… pleased that she was involved.  As for the others… a Delphox, a Gothitelle, a Rotom. And four Pokérini—no. No, three of those were not Pokérinians at all. They shared the genetic marker, but none of them were Pokérinian. The female was clearly a conjoined being at that! 

They came from the greater cosmos.

Rayquaza must not have been doing his job. 

However… they had freed him, and they seemed to be looking to him hopefully. Perhaps there was a situation for mutual benefit through cooperation. 

“Who are you?” He asked.

The female stepped forward. “I am Captain Ezri Dax of the United Federation of Planets, and we come in peace. However, while I would love to talk with you about the situations between our worlds and yours, we have a bigger problem. Audrey has organized an army that is currently laying waste to the surface. Despite our best efforts, we couldn’t stop her.”

Of course. A war between pokémon and Pokérinians was breaking out. What else could have happened while he was imprisoned? It would have been impossible had he been here. Managing. Working. Uncovering. But no, he had to be trapped. Kept back. By those pokéballs . 

He would seriously consider formulating a hyperphysical virus to disable every last one of them when this was over, but that was an issue for another time. He also considered using the built-in reset operation within Xerneas and Yveltal… but no, the aliens were here, and the range of that effect was only planetary. Furthermore, he did not wish to end Diancie’s life, nor any of the others he had built up in his time. It would have been unfortunate. 

He altered his form to that of a cycling series of rings around a central glowing eye, tapping into the essence of matter and creation. He was inherently a builder, so being destructive did not come naturally to him. But over the years he had learned that sometimes to build, one must destroy in very precise ways. He shot a hexagonal beam out of his center, carving a tunnel through the cavern ceiling all the way to the surface in a matter of seconds. Then he twisted into multiple snakelike forms and flew into the air, forming back into his full humanoid state upon reaching the surface. 

The aliens had not lied in the slightest. Armies of Zoroark, Scrafty, and many others were laying waste to the surface. There were already bodies everywhere, many buildings had been destroyed, and Pokérinians were using their war machines…

So far as Zygarde could tell, there were no doomsday weapons, unlike the war in Kalos. Fortunate. There would be less collateral this way.

It took less than a second for him to gather a full view of the situation, taking in every entity and troop movement within the city. There were the two main sides: Audrey’s forces and the Unovans. But there were others. Some pokémon were actively fighting against Audrey’s forces, and there was one group of trainers and pokémon in particular attempting to do… something. 

He identified them quickly. His information was outdated, but he knew Cynthia, Leon, Iris, and Tapu Lele. They were leading the charge somewhere—and were just barely noticing him. 

He factored everything into his calculations, determining that a simple declaration of “CEASE!” would not end the hostilities, he would need to take more drastic action. However, the unknown of Lele’s group was enough to get him to split up, sending a 10% envoy to them while the remainder split up to perform more analyses of the situation.

“Tapu Lele, Cynthia, Leon, Iris,” Zygarde said, jumping in front of them. “What is your mission?”

Iris stepped forward, hands in the air. “Zygarde! How glad I am to see you, these invaders are upsetting the natural orde—”

“Iris!” Lele shrieked. “Don’t misrepresent!”

“Zygarde knows what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure he is aware this is a complex situation,” Cynthia said. “Zygarde, we were seeking communication with Reshiram and Zekrom to perhaps end the violence through their powers. Do you seek the same?”

Zygarde nodded. “I do. It shall take a complex series of subtle nudges mixed with brutal action, but it can be done. The peace will c—”

“Are you really going to bring peace, or are you just going to lay waste to everything?”

It was a Gardevoir that had spoken, and not one Zygarde was familiar with. She wore some light armor and held an Aegislash in her hands. She was walking among them as an equal. The order really has been changed more than I realize. It was not just the chaos down there. 

“I understand that you wish for peace without bloodshed,” Zygarde said. “But I have been at this for hundreds of thousands of years and that is rarely possible, I—”

The Gardevoir jumped, forcing her mind onto Zygarde. Not to control—not to even attempt to control—but to communicate . Gardevoir were not naturally suited for conveying massive amounts of information Psychically, but Zygarde was well equipped to receive massive amounts of information. Sensing that she had no real hostile intent, he enhanced the connection between them through a direct interface with her brain—it shocked the others but the information transfer would be complete before they could overreact.

And Zygarde saw. He saw… her life, how she was trained, how she fought, how she returned home, how she strived for her people, how she met Bashir, how they journeyed, how they learned… what the Federation actually was and what it intended…

Regigigas… Zygard felt regret wash over him. My builder…

He saw the Malamar, the Ohbem, the efforts of Tapu Lele, the peace talks with Rayquaza…

And then the efforts in Unova to stop exactly what was happening right now. 

“...Change,” Zygarde said, releasing Miranda. “I am a reactionary force, opposed to change. But, despite this, I have seen change do great good in this universe. Sometimes in spite of me.” He paused. “The fate of the world will need to be discussed at a later time. For now… I must salvage what is here.”

“Th… thank you…” Miranda said. 

“And how… are you going to do that?” Iris asked. 

“By calling in a favor. It has been too long since we all came together…” Zygarde restored himself into the full hundred percent form, lifting into the air as a bristling six-pointed star of verdant power. An immense beam shot into the air, sending a call through the very dimensions themselves. “Come, the Creation must Converse!”

Zygarde’s counterparts appeared with rippling portals. Out of one, the pink, smooth, armored Palkia, Mistress of Space. Out of the second the blue, diamond-studded Lord of Time, Dialga. And from the ground rose the being of shadows, antimatter, and deathly spirits—Zygarde’s direct opposite—Giratina. 

There should have been another. The great Lord of Truth and Ideals. But he was no more, not in this world. 

“Dialga, the world is changing,” Zygarde said, addressing the Lord of Time. “We must determine what is to be done.” 

Dialga nodded. “I trust your judgment. You would not call unless it was necessary.”

“I am surprised it took this long,” Giratina hissed through the ghostly winds. 

“There are many complicating factors, of which I shall fully explain,” Zygarde declared. 

“Dialga, for a Lord of Time, you aren’t being very punctual,” Palkia said. 

Dialga nodded… and then roared with time itself.

~~~

In orbit around Pokérin, the Inquiry’s alarms all went off. The Commander in charge raised his eyebrow. “What?”

“Sir… the entire planet just… stopped. Time itself is… frozen.”

“That’s not…”

“Dialga,” an Alakazam said, nodding solemnly. “He is finally acting…”

The Commander turned. “To what end?”

“Who knows? But it will be… something.”

~~~

I am unsure how to conclude this entry. The legends conferred—like gods over the world, speaking of what to do with it. Then, in the end, time resumed, and everyone in the Unovan battle was secluded in a little box until they calmed down. And Zygarde came, alone, to Ezri to discuss the future of the planet. 

The various civilizations of Pokérin—Pokérinian and pokémon—came to sit around a table mediated by Zygarde. The chaotic nature of the proceedings distressed him greatly, I know, but he pushed through it. Diancie always encouraged him to see it through to the end. 

But, in the end, treaties were signed. Certain pokémon nations were recognized as official, independent, and worthy of having their own representatives for world politics. After this, Zygarde himself traveled offworld to the Federation, splitting himself up into many components to represent the interests of Pokérin. I don’t think we truly realized how much power he had until we noticed that his telepathic connection was maintainable over many, many light years. 

A few tried to kill him. A few succeeded in taking out some cells. But he always regrew, and he continued his work of making sure Pokérin had a definite, ordered future. 

And he visited Regigigas, somewhat regularly. I honestly believe our decision to move Regigigas offworld so he could build to his heart’s content was a big part of why Zygarde was willing to trust us through the chaos. 

You all know Zygarde at this point, he’s a massive galactic public figure. There are many stories about him, how he is a lot more than just the guardian of Pokérin, but that he’s actually the sapient manifestation of the collective idea of all matter and structure in the universe. Legends sure are something. 

Curiously, while he was out in the galaxy making waves and establishing connections to the galaxy… my work returned to normal. With the Unovan crisis rather forcefully taken care of, we moved on and started doing work in another region, cataloging more species and studying even more. 

Diancie remained in Unova, taking over the ashes of Audrey’s forces and turning them to peace. It was a rocky road, but she managed to establish a safe haven for them. The Unovans were honestly too terrified to do anything about them anymore.

However… Zygarde has never explicitly stated that pokémon need equal rights. I do not think he really believes they do. 

E: Perhaps 'equal' is the problem, doctor. I would not trust a Yessan with the same freedoms as a Erureido, and neither would I treat the same as a Yukimenoko. There are differences, both by formation and by essence, that would make such treatment unfair, even harsh.

He seeks order and peace, and to that end, peace with the Federation and the galaxy is the most logical approach. Fosic respects him—even though he has emotions, he lets logic and reason largely rule over them.

Iris… Iris became a lot quieter, after that day. She never spoke out vocally again and became somewhat reclusive. I don’t think she was fully able to accept what was happening, that in the end she truly believed things would be worse in the long run. But she was able to recognize that the change was going to happen, and if she fought it, then things really would be worse. 

I think, in the end, she partially blamed herself for those people who died in Audrey’s invasion. 

Lele did as she promised and returned to Alola. And the rest of us… continued our work. Studying, learning, and cataloging. 

Of course, I could never look at anything quite the same way again. Where would Pokérin be without those like Zygarde to manage it on a large scale? Potentially, they would have blown themselves up long ago with a war or a doomsday weapon or a surge of mind control or…

Zygarde and the others are necessary , I have come to believe. Maybe, with time, the Federation can use its resources to hold Pokérin up without the need for such beings. But as I saw that day in Unova… it will be quite some time before that is possible. 

I saw many other things on my journey. But they aren’t exactly relevant to this account. In the end, I am optimistic for the future of Pokérin, the Federation, and the galaxy as a whole. 

Chapter Text

“The Creation Must Converse”

The following account is classified, for the time being, and is revealed only on a need-to-know basis. For the protection of Pokérin itself, even those visiting the world are not automatically considered “need to know.” Too many entities in the galaxy would seek to take advantage of the information within, easily leading to disastrous consequences. Or, worse, view Pokérin as a threat that must be destroyed.

 I, Doctor Julian Bashir, did not mention what happened to us while time was frozen in the public report...

~~~

The next thing Bashir knew, he was standing atop a large, stone pillar nestled into a mountain. Confused, he looked around. With him were Diancie, Ezri, Cynthia, Miranda, and Masamune—no others. In fact, the first sign of life he saw aside from them was a distant bird floating in midair, frozen in time. 

“What…?”

“Where are we?” Ezri asked. 

“Spear Pillar,” Cynthia said, a frown crossing her features. “The Legends must have use for us.”

“That is correct,” a ghostly, deep, but nonetheless feminine voice said from behind them. Turning around, they saw Giratina, existing as little more than a mass of shadow poking out of the ground—Bashir immediately recognized her as the entity seen through the portal during the encounter with the Dusknoir. To Giratina’s sides were Dialga and Palkia, and behind her was Zygarde. 

Cynthia and Miranda dropped a knee respectfully, but calmly. Diancie realized she floated and tried to bow in a half-panic but couldn’t figure out how to do it in her state of extreme nerves. Bashir and Ezri only gave slight bows of respect, tentatively. 

“May I ask why we are here?” Ezri asked. 

“Many reasons,” Giratina seethed. “Ezri Dax represents the Federation’s leadership, Miranda represents the experience of the heart, Diancie represents future potential, and Bashir is the driving force behind all of this, whether he realizes it or not.”

“And me?” Cynthia asked.

Palkia answered that one with her reverberating, echoey voice. “You know us well enough not to tremble or let fear and awe cloud your judgment.” She glanced, annoyed, at the shivering Diancie.

Cynthia put a hand to her chin and nodded. “Practical.”

“You answered the individual question,” Miranda pointed out. “Why each of us are here individually . Why in general? What use could you have for us?”

“We need to make a decision,” Giratina said.

“We have conversed enough that we do not wish to destroy everything and start over,” Zygarde added.

“But where we go from here is still unknown to us,” Palkia said.

“And that is why we brought you here…” Dialga craned his neck back. “To talk. To hear. And to decide where we go from here.”

“And to understand our position, you must listen,” Giratina said, spreading her wings. “What you are about to hear is the tale of everything that ever was, is, and will be. We suspect many of you will simply not believe what we claim. But it will be enough that you have heard and, potentially, understand our situation.”

“And carry what they heard into the future,” Dialga said.

Palkia let out a grunt. “Are you going to tell us why that’s important yet?”

“No.”

“Of course…”

Giratina took control of the conversation—somehow, she seemed to be the de-facto leader, despite being seen traditionally as the lowest. Despite the Legends’ immense stature, Bashir allowed himself to relax a bit as Giratina entered her story. 

“Before time, before space, before anything… there was Arceus. The Federation thinks of Him as little more than the mythological creator of Pokérin. The Pokérinians think of Him as one worthy of worship. The pokémon themselves are largely unaware of Him. To us… He was Father. 

“The entire universe was born of Him. Every star, every planet, every thread of matter in every swirling galaxy, it all came from Him and his Infinity Energy. The name is no mistake. Infinity Energy is not, as you believe, a passive fact of reality, or an energy field. It is Arceus, spread out through all existence. Every “Type” is an aspect of Him, used to form all Creation. The universe evolved, and He watched, and all was good.

“You are largely aware of the cosmic history beyond this point, we have scanned your records. Your Progenitors arose and seeded the genetic algorithms to produce humanoids, as well as terraforming many worlds in the galaxy to have similar plant and animal life. Eons of time passed, the universe shifted and changed, and, with methods and reasons we know not, Arceus chose one planet to inherit His essence. That planet is the one you are now standing on, Pokérin. 

“In the beginning, for it was the beginning, that planet had plants, animals, and all the natural resources anyone could desire. So He created a single being with the potential to access every portion of His Infinity Energy. That being was Mew, correctly called the first pokémon. 

“Mew was no more than an animal, by any measure. But it went into the world, reproduced, and as you’ve all noticed by this point the connection with the Infinity Energy allowed it to adapt over time into many, many different species—pokémon. Those pokémon would either outcompete the animals of the world, or transform the animals into them. There is one notable exception to this, but I’m sure you’ve already guessed what it is. 

“Arceus knew that, in time, the powers of the pokémon would grow far, far beyond what the universe itself would be able to handle. First, He created His Son, His personal servant… Kyurem, Lord of Truth and Ideals, meant to serve as Arceus’ direct influence on the world of Pokérin. Then Arceus took space and time itself and endowed them with His Infinity Energy, creating Palkia and Dialga, meant to manage all of spacetime to keep it from being overstrained. The next pair to be created were myself and Zygarde. I was to manage the antimatter, the spirits, and the cycle of the end. Zygarde was to bring order, protect the physical universe, and in essence becoming the caretaker of Pokérin itself.

“The powers of the Five of us extend far beyond just Pokérin.” At saying this, Giratina nodded to Palkia. With a wave of her hand, she created a portal directly to Earth, showing it and its moon hovering in space. A ship passed by the opening before Palkia closed it.

Ezri whistled. “That’s… impressive.”

“But you have seen godlike beings before,” Dialga said. “It is true that other entities across the universe have uncovered Infinity Energy and found ways to—primitively—use it. Such as the Q.”

“They are not permitted to come here,” Giratina said with a predatory growl.

“But we are different from the Q,” Dialga said. “I am time itself, composed of it, structured by it. Palkia is space. Zygarde is order; the hexagons are naturally the best shapes. Giratina is antimatter—and yes, she would make everything explode if she didn’t have an aura of Ghost energy.”

“And Kyurem… was essentially Good.” Zygard shook his head. “We are lost, without him.”

Giratina nodded solemnly before continuing her story. “We managed, we maintained, and we kept the world together. After a time, Arceus left us to be on our own. The legends of Pokérin say He went to rest, but He needs no rest.”

“You didn’t always think that,” Palkia said.

“My mistakes are my own, and in the past ,” Giratina retorted. “That is not your domain.”

“Hmph.”

“At first, the Five of us acted in unison, continually returning to the spot of our creation—here. Spear Pillar. But over time, we grew more distant, separate, and began investing in our own differing projects. I took Ghost types and created guardians for my realm.”

“The… Dusknoir?” Bashir asked.

“Yes, Bashir, the Dusknoir are one of mine, as are many other entities you will not encounter for they live with me, separate from your physical reality. Similar to Dialga and Palkia’s creations, few of which occupy anywhere you are capable of perceiving.”

“The Celebi are mine,” Dialga said. “They are a test case, continually prodding the timeline for weaknesses.”

“Hoopa is…” Palkia paused. “My rebellious child.”

“Zygarde, however…” Giratina turned to the Lord of Order. 

“I was the one tasked with most of the planet,” Zygarde explained. “The physical nature of it fell to me, and as such I have created many… many other beings. Regigigas was mine, Rayquaza was mine. Despite your legends that associate me with Xerneas and Yveltal, that was not entirely me. Their association with Life and Death was a joint venture between myself and Giratina.”

Giratina continued. “And there are others. The Lake Spirits were Kyurem’s, for instance. Yes, all these creatures you hear only about in legend are real. Well, most. There are some absurd stories you come up with. But, inevitably, those that gain enough traction will lead to beings of their own…

“Which leads us to you, I suppose. The humanoids, spawn of the Progenitors, Pokérinians. You were the most resistant to the Infinity Energy’s influences, not becoming pokémon nor being driven out by them. You had sapience, and you achieved it first, and it gave you an edge. This did not concern us at first, and we kept at our work maintaining balance and keeping order. But you kept developing, and the Infinity Energy copied your sapience, dragging it onto pokémon in ways that would never arise elsewhere in the universe. You—that is, the Pokérinians—rose up and thought for themselves, and enough of them desired to be rid of us. 

“Utter blasphemy, of course. We were furious when they started joining together with pokémon to defy us. That is… all of us except Kyurem. While the four of us here sought to show you your place, Kyurem sought to know you and to teach you. And… he eventually gave himself up for this goal. Not for Pokérin, not for the pokémon, but for you Pokérinians . He saw something in you. His essence was split in two and what was left behind is what you know as Kyurem in modern times: an empty, cold husk. 

“His sacrifice made us change our ways. We took roles better suited to working with Pokérinians, rather than against them. Sculpting the world around their development, guarding them, becoming their protectors—or punishers, when required. All for Kyurem’s memory, when we could, how we could. This… resulted in most of us becoming more distant. But the world was stable and Pokérinian civilization kept developing in a relatively satisfactory way.”

“You have to understand,” Zygarde said. “Little wars are not an issue on the planetary scale. We sought to bring the world to relative peace, not absolute peace, and we had a nearly endless time to do it.”

“And then they invented pokéballs,” Giratina said. “This was when we truly began to notice that the Pokérinians, the humanoids, were taking the Infinity Energy into themselves. You think that Pokéballs are purely technological innovations that digitize matter and reconstitute it like a transporter. This is only functionally correct. In the absolute sense, pokéballs hold Infinity Energy itself . The matter the Infinity Energy is attached to is incidental and coded easily enough as a stasis-transporter. But it would never have been generated without a controlling connection to Infinity Energy. Have you noticed how the balls seek out pokémon, and have to be forced to store other things? Pokémon are the greatest sources of Infinity Energy. This is why things can’t just be duplicated or directly altered, while the coding itself can easily be replicated, the Infinity Energy component cannot—and the Infinity Energy itself determines storage size and shape.

“At this point, things happened too quickly for us. We work and think on geological timescales, with the exception of Dialga.”

“Dialga cheats,” Palkia said.

“By your definition,” Dialga retorted.

Giratina was clearly getting a little annoyed at their petty bickering, but she forged on. “We were attempting to figure out what to do, but we did not feel there was any rush. Pokérinians were steering towards using them in battles, and Pokérinians had always been dominant, so we saw nothing new. Pokérinians were always changing things.

“We should have considered the fact that we could be captured. But we did not, thinking ourselves above it. And when Zygarde was captured, he saw nothing keeping him trapped and found the connection to the trainer helpful. Until…”

“Betrayal,” Zygarde said. “It was known that I would oppose a drastic rebellion of pokémon against Pokérinians, for it was the established order. So I was locked away. While previously I could have gotten out, now I was trapped . Stuck for… years.”

“And years did not seem like long to us,” Giratina said. “It was a blink of the eye.”

“I knew,” Dialga said. “But I also knew where it would lead. And I know where this is leading.”

“Father told this cryptic temporal dinosaur rules about what he could and could not tell us.” Palkia folded her arms. “I still think he hides things from us he doesn’t have to.”

“And then you arrived.” Giratina pointed a shadowy tendril at Ezri and Bashir. “The Federation, spacefarers from a society that doesn’t realize Infinity Energy’s place in the cosmos. You arrived in a small ship with a small number of people. Zygarde would have noticed, but he was elsewhere. I noticed you first, through the Dusknoir, and I gave my instructions… that, in the end, did not have the desired effect.” She shook her head. “You simply couldn’t understand Infinity Energy, what it meant, and what it did.”

“I think we understand now,” Ezri said.

Palkia snorted. “No, you don’t.”

Zygarde twirled around to the side. “Tell me, Ezri. How many worlds have you found that strangely have parallel cultural evolution with Earth?”

Ezri frowned. “There are… quite a lot, actually, including this one.”

“And how many from other cultures in the galaxy? Where are the duplicate Klingons, the duplicate Romulans, the duplicate Borg?”

“The… prevailing theory is simply that humans are closest to the default-Progenitor genetic code?”

“While correct, that is not the reason,” Zygarde looked to the sky. “The Progenitor society had no similarities to Earth, it was unique. No, it is not them that is being copied over and over and over. It is this planet. This world is the origin of so many cultural styles, ideas, and development patterns, shining through the universe through Infinity Energy and creating sympathetic vibrations in other worlds. Some advance faster, such as Earth itself, but others develop slower. The relation produces two-way sympathetic feedback…”

“This world is the source, you are but the branches,” Palkia said. 

“The branches with souls set after Infinity, an Infinity they are not blessed to use,” Giratina added. “So you explore, expand, search and… eventually, you found here. A world with a gift no other has. A world that was definitely not ready for you.”

“But now it has to be,” Zygarde said. “There is no going back now, not unless we want to wipe the entire galaxy clean.”

“And that would be… difficult.” Palkia let out a sight. “The reset button only works on a planetary scale.”

“And would be wrong, anyway,” Zygarde said. “I considered the potential benefits of starting with a nearly blank slate, and in the end, that is not what is to be done.” He turned to Miranda. “I have seen your struggle, and understand. We may have been acting in Kyurem’s memory in favoring the Pokérinians, but to neglect the other creations was a fault in our methods. Ultimately, this is our fault. We are the ones responsible for order, cohesion, and peace. And now we are in a situation where we are unsure of how to continue.”

“And now… we ask you.” Giratina spread her wings. “What do you think should be done? Can be done?”

There was silence at the top of Spear Pillar. No one wanted to be the first one to speak.

Diancie’s eyes rolled into the back of her skull and she passed out from the stress, prompting Ezri to catch her—effectively breaking the silence.

“It is too much for them,” Palkia said, turning to glare at Dialga. “I told you it was too much, I said they—”

“It’s not too much,” Bashir said. “We’re just thinking. I am not certain how much of your story I trust, or how much of it you believe yourselves, but I know that you are the guardians of this world, and that, in the end, our connection to it is very much your responsibility. I will not deny that. You… have already admitted that you have done wrong by your task, which is more than I can usually expect from beings like yourself across the galaxy. So I… I…” He fumbled for the words.

Ezri put a calming hand on his shoulder before turning to the masters of reality before them. “Come down. Talk to us. And I don’t mean just those of us here, I mean… all of us. Become involved in the day-to-day lives of your people. Oversee treaties, relations, friendships, and activities within the galaxy. Don’t be distant if you can help it. Work alongside and… and try to understand us. Pokérinians, pokémon, aliens… Maybe it’s not enough to just keep order. Maybe you need to… care about those the world is for.”

“The world is for Father,” Palkia said.

“Is it?” Miranda asked. “Did He create it all for Himself? Or was it created for its own sake?”

It was the Legends that were quiet, this time. 

Zygarde spoke first. “...I will do it.”

“Do what?” Palkia asked.

“I will live among them. I will connect. I will… guide.” Zygarde took a few steps forward, taking position in front of Giratina. “My duty has always been to the physical world, while your domains are more immaterial. I will connect. I… will bring order through the chaos.”

“It will be difficult for you,” Giratina said. “Are you certain?”

“I despise change… perhaps, in the end, this is all here for a reason. And part of that reason may be for me to learn.” He moved to Ezri and kneeled down. “How do we begin, Ezri?”

“Well, we—”

~~~

The Legends agreed to Zygarde and Ezri’s plan, and sent everyone back to where they were. And then… time resumed. 

Bashir looked down at his hands. What had he just witnessed? What had he just heard? How… was he supposed to make sense of all that? How was he going to write a report on that!?

“They have shown you much more than I will ever see…” Eulogy said, startling him slightly. “How does it feel to have the tables turned, good Doctor?”

Bashir wasn’t sure how to respond to that. 

~~~

Miranda, Diancie, and Ezri walked out of a meeting together, leaving a Metagross to argue with Bashir about some unimportant detail while Zygarde split up into multiple pieces so he didn’t have to give his full attention to the boring conversation. The three women talked about small, insignificant things, walking down a small path through a beautiful city park. The grass was unnaturally green, the air supremely sweet, and there were no other people there. It was empty, but perfect.

As they walked, they became aware of another walking alongside them: a tall, white, quadruped with a golden ring around its midsection.

The three of them slowed down, but never truly stopped walking. 

“My Children are not yet ready to see me, and Bashir would treat this as an exercise in scientific inquiry,” Arceus said, looking at them with an expression neither could read. “But I am not gone. I am always here.”

Somehow, Diancie managed not to pass out this time—instead looking up at Arceus with a big smile. “Th-thank you.”

“There is much my Children do not understand, as with you. But the purpose of life is not to understand, or to get to the bottom of every mystery or reason.” He leaned down until his head was level with the three of theirs. “Remember. And strive.”

Ezri gave Arceus a coy smile. “I think you know we will.”

Arceus jumped into the air, a booming voice ringing out that only the three of them could hear. “Bring the gift of Pokérin to the universe! Live long! And prosper! ”

Ezri couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ll take them where no pokémon has gone before!”

Miranda faceplamed. “Did you really have to do that?”

“I couldn’t think of a common Pokérin expression to respond in kind, so…” 

“...I think everything’s going to be okay,” Diancie said, ignoring both of their little grumblings. “Come on, let’s go. There’s an entire universe out there!”

Chapter Text

The State of Pokérinian Civilization

As I write these words, preparing to end the Inquiry’s mission on Pokérin, I find myself struggling to describe all that has happened in these years, and what it all means. Perhaps I shouldn’t try to explain what it means, and just describe what’s happened.

The Pokérinians themselves are, as a general rule, following Zygarde’s lead and working towards eventual inclusion in the Federation. Only Unova and a handful of other regions are still directly opposing this, and models predict they will eventually back off entirely as pressure from the rest of Pokérin increases. They continue to become more and more unified culturally and are much more excited about scientific research and development of the warp drive than before we arrived—Even though they know inclusion in the Federation will give them most of our technology, they are still striving to develop new Pokérinian devices, often offshoots of pokéballs. And, of course, battling is as big as ever—in fact, with the inclusion of trainers from other worlds being added to the mix, the entire sport is seeing an overhaul. Cynthia traveled to Earth just to show off the sport, holding a small tournament among herself and some hand-picked trainers to give the Federation a show. Naturally, with both Pokérinian and pokémon trainers. Inferno Cat! made quite the splash. 

But there are many other societies on Pokérin besides the Pokérinians themselves. Here are the highlights. 

The Dusknoir have continued to be elusive and mysterious, and Zygarde has advised we continue to give them a wide berth. They seem to have no desire to leave Pokérin. 

The Latis have already figured out how to augment their bodies with technology and fly out into the vacuum of space, achieving warp speeds. They are going to be particularly suited for the exploration of deep space, I think. Hearts of explorers. They are petitioning to become members of the Federation ahead of the rest of the planet, arguing that their civilization was in the air and has such a small population that, if full inclusion is not legally possible, then we should just give each of them a commission individually. Talks are ongoing. 

The Metagross have established diplomatic ties with the Federation and Pokérinians. They seem to dislike being required to talk and discuss, but they are also being very reasonable and comprehensive. They show only a mild desire to join the Federation, likely only because they think it’s necessary for societal betterment. 

Last Chance’s kingdom of ghosts has remained exactly the same as ever. She arrived at the treaty talks to secure her position as a world leader, said a few cryptic lines, gave everyone a vision of their worst nightmares, and left. Her ghosts are starting to make their own spaceships separate from all the other nations’, which is both interesting and concerning. 

The large Mismagius Covens have mixed reactions. The scientific-experimentation ones are vying for Federation membership, while the others are of the mind that the aliens are backward blasphemers who must be avoided at all costs or purged. It’s an ongoing issue. 

The Malamar never showed up to any of the talks. We assume they are still up to their tricks. 

The Musharna still have their dream-world, and they have opened up a pretty popular tourism board to it. They are still working on opening it to non-psychics and non-empaths, with limited success. However, the contact they do have has resulted in them bringing psychics and empaths from other planets into the Dream. This has given them enough of an interest in the real world to consider how they can overcome the biological limitations of Musharna and extend the Dream to other planets. It certainly seems impossible now to extend such a complex psychic connection over interstellar distances, but who knows, they might succeed one day. 

The Beheeyem have started to slowly merge their culture back with that of the Ohbem, giving Pokérin the strange situation of both being an independent planet and the site of many colonies from an alien power. The Ohbem did their part in the treaties and declared only the land owned by Beheeyem to be theirs, the rest was free for the inhabitants of Pokérin to claim as they pleased. The Ohbem have shown a desire to remain out of galactic affairs, thinking their connections on Pokérin should be enough to get them by. 

And how can we forget the newest nation on Pokérin, led by none other than Diancie herself, the pokémon Communion. During the peace talks over Unova, it was decided that the pokémon in Unova could leave and be provided transport to a haven—and it just so happened that Diancie owned a massive nature-preserve system of caves filled with Carbink and the land on top of those caves. She brought the remaining forces of Audrey’s army, the Zoroark Clans, and many others who sought to leave oppression to her home and they have been building ever since. 

I suppose I should mention Alola. Tapu Lele went back home and has returned to her role as ruler, but is known for trouncing most trainers who dare challenge her. One day, she says, Alola won’t need her and she can go out to explore the stars, but that day is not today. And, she admits, probably won’t be within my lifetime, as extended as it may be. 

I suppose that’s what I think about most, these days. What happened to the various people and friends we made along the way. Naturally, for myself and Ezri, we are returning to the Federation—though Ezri really doesn’t want to leave Diancie behind. 

Miranda and Masamune are leaving on the Inquiry with me. By her words, she “might as well keep doing what works.” She considered going to Starfleet Academy, and still is, but she thinks she’d miss all the early excitement of Pokérin in the galaxy if she did, so she’s occupying a somewhat unorthodox position under Captain Ezri. Noran and Gilligan are coming with me. I currently have no plans to develop Noran further. I often wonder if that’s the right decision, or if it’s selfish on my part.

To the shock of everyone I’m sure, it’s Siren who ended up going to Starfleet Academy. When it was time to leave and she’d decided she wasn’t made of the right stuff to try to help the rest of her kind, she decided to choose the most difficult thing she could think of: getting through Starfleet Academy without being able to talk and being extremely extremely tiny. I’m sure she’ll be a capable officer if only she can get over that violent streak of hers. 

The rest of the team, however, is remaining behind—including Fosic, who wants to devote the rest of his time to Porygon-research. Yuki is staying behind as well, but not to do any research, rather to “do things on my own for once.” I have no idea where she is now, and neither does anyone else. Dee has gone off to be in the hands of another explorer, likely to scan more and more pokémon. 

Eulogy remained on Pokérin as well, though she’s staying around the new Federation embassy. Sometimes I wonder why she didn’t come with us. Perhaps she knows something I don’t. Maybe there’s something on the planet she still needs to do, I’m not sure. 

E: Oh quite a bit, good doctor. Though none of what I need to do has to do with why I have allowed you to depart without my guidance. And if you cannot grasp the implications of my emphasis, do ask Ezri, or Garak perhaps.

Audrey is still alive, though in prison. There was a large diplomatic concern about whether to execute her or not, but Zygarde put his foot down—she lived. If she were executed she would no doubt become a martyr. A lot of Gothitelle attend her now, though I hear she’s a sad and broken individual. 

E: The Gothiruselle took her in after all had been settled. Certainly, we sought help from the Erureido to mend her—she was, in the beginning, a creature of life—but the plan for death and the shadows of guilt weigh her more than they are able to help at this time. For purposes of justice, this has taken place in a jail of Unova; our actions will not interfere with Pokérinian laws.

I have seen her end. I will not write it here. But the journey she shall take... truly, it is a fitting irony, for herself and for another.

Iris is in a similar situation, though she’s not in jail. She no longer speaks out openly against us, but she has admitted she still believes our way isn’t right, it’s just that the ball is already rolling. She’s resigned to it, and more than a little guilty. She didn’t hold onto the title of Unova Champion for long after Audrey’s invasion. 

Leon, naturally, beat Lele eventually and reclaimed the title of Galarian Champion. However, he didn’t keep it long, but he’s still an active battler in Galar and beyond. Cynthia kept her Champion title until she resigned it willingly—not because she was old, but because she was spending much more time offworld, showing the galaxy Pokérin culture. I swear, in a few generations, there’ll be a galactic pokémon League. 

Thiver and Valyez still serve Lele as her trusted aides, though many see Thiver as the court jester. He doesn’t mind. Dominus, wanting to continue battling, actually gave himself to Leon, and the Galarian gladly took him in. 

Rayquaza is still napping. So far as anyone knows he hasn’t woken up since he hammered out the agreement with the Pokérinians. Regigigas is still building things on that planet of his, and is very glad to have occasional visits from pieces of Zygarde. Zygarde, to his credit, has expressed a feeling of missed opportunity with Regigigas and his other children. 

Speaking of Zygarde’s other children, the majority of the Legends of Pokérin are still taking a background role in the planet’s future. The notable exception are the Lake Spirits of Sinnoh who, upon hearing all that happened, started making public appearances and encouraging altruistic acts. I never got to do anything more than interact briefly with them, so there are no entries on them, but their goal of increasing altruism is an honorable one. 

Soma, of course, is leaving with us to explore the universe, as he always wanted to do. Sometimes it pays to have a simple desire. 

And now, as my things are packed up and I’ve finished recollecting all that’s happened, I can’t help but feel regret about leaving this place. No doubt I’ll be back, but never for a stay as extended as this one. There are many other places in the galaxy, and while this one may be the most interesting out of all of them, it is not the only one. There is much out there just waiting for us to discover it. With our new pokémon allies, I doubt there’s anything that can truly stand in our way. In the end, we’re all going to do the same thing we’ve always done—strive earnestly to go where no man has gone before. 

    -Dr. Julian Bashir. 

Chapter Text

Captain’s Log

Captain’s Log: Tapu Lele, in command of the U.S.S. Thiver.

It’s been thirty years since I left my homeworld, Pokérin, to explore the stars as my old friends did. To me, such a time usually seems like little more than the blink of an eye. I can recall many times on the Alolan islands where it seemed like every time I opened my eyes, another year had gone by. 

Now, thirty years feels so long. I left Pokérin a very different person than I am now. I’ve seen so much—faced impossible odds, stood toe-to-toe with the Borg, skirted the edge of the galaxy, and, most importantly of all, made a family out of this crew. 

And what a crew it is. An artificial life form working alongside an energy being, a Mismagius, a Hatterene, a human, a Vulcan… every last one of them is more dear to me than I can express in words. 

Still, there is something to be said for that home where I spent so many centuries. Living, ruling, guarding, and learning. I still remember the other Tapus, how we hated each other at first, but how we began to understand each other and became a family all our own. I still remember the disastrous freak tsunami that almost wiped out all the islands. I still remember the advent of television and video games—such delightful inventions. I still remember Necrozma, Zygarde, and the early days of the League. And I remember when Doctor Bashir came and introduced me to new ideas. 

I remember guiding Pokérin toward acceptance into the Federation. It was a rocky road, and it took longer than even I could have imagined, and even now there are races on Pokérin that aren’t members… but really, did we ever think we could be fully adapted? So divided, so alien, so varied . 

I left only when I knew it was stable. And then I sailed the stars. I’d always dreamed I could reach the stars, even as a little Tapu. It only took a thousand years to get there!

I see pokémon everywhere, now. Hardly is there a Federation planet without one. And it’s not just the sapient species—a definition that had to be heavily modified from Bashir’s original survey. It’s the Pikachus, the Butterfrees, the Corsolas, all finding their niche in galactic society. Even outside the Federation, you see us, the pokémon, creatures brimming with Infinity Energy.

A success story that, no doubt, will have even more unintended consequences down the line, but that’s what the millions of Zygarde divisions are for, right? 

But still, nothing compares to Pokérin itself. Looking at it now, from orbit, I see the beautiful verdant colors that result from the unrestricted Infinity Energy. I see a few sparks of battles happening in space, entirely for the spectacle. Hundreds of ships from all corners of the galaxy are here to watch the games and trade for items that can’t be found anywhere else. 

I find it sad that so few of my friends had lifespans long enough to see this. Pretty much the only ones left are Dax and Diancie. Dax, when Ezri got old, did return with Bashir to Pokérin to be with Diancie and watch the world develop. But Dax eventually had to be passed to a new host, and this new host, while still holding a connection with Pokérin, is currently preparing for the Intergalactic Voyage. It isn’t for many years, but she will be gone potentially for the rest of her natural life. 

I wonder what I’ll do if I’m selected to go. I’ve been a distinguished Captain in the fleet for a while now. I don’t know if I’ll accept. On one hand, completely unexplored territory. On the other… I’d be so far from my home and potentially never come back. 

There’s no use worrying about a decision I don’t have to make yet! Diancie has invited us for a royal feast, and I intend to enjoy myself and meet up with some old friends. 

I suppose I waxed a bit too poetic in this log. But I think I’ve earned the right to do this. This is my home , and it will never be otherwise. No matter how far pokémon spread, this will be the world where it all began.

And there’s a part of me that thinks it’s where it all will end.

    —Captain Tapu Lele. 

Chapter Text

Credits

Intelligence Factor:

The End

By G. M. Blackjack

Starring…

Julian Bashir as The Good Doctor

Ezri Dax as Moi Capitan

Miranda as Hack and Slash

Masamune as For the Worthy 

Eulogy as E

Siren as I Can Word Good

Fosic as Porygon Code Documentor

Cynthia as Every Trainer’s Worst Nightmare

Iris as The Face of an Ideology

Yuki as Obvious Ghost Reference

Tobias as The Collector

Last Chance as An Unpleasant Mirror

Dee as Fancy Pokédex

Regigigas as Continental Drift

Valyez as Anyone But Himself

Inferno Cat! as YOU DARE GIVE INFERNO CAT! A NAME BESIDES INFERNO CAT!?

Soma as Pink Philosopher

Taku Koko as Zappy McFlappy

Tapu Fini as Cold but Rational

Tapu Lele as Eagar Future Captain

Leon as Champion of Champions

Ur as You Thought There Wouldn’t be Villains?

Enkayel as Alien? No, but Actually Yes.

Rayquaza as Taking a Nap

Thiver as Gex

Dominus as Big Brain Time

The Dryad as Local Witch

Diancie as Mutant Rocks Don’t Make Sense

Braix as I CAN SEE THE FYOO-TURE

Audrey as Nonmalignant Cancer

Zygarde as I Will Have Order!

Giratina as Vague Redemption Backstory

Palkia as Annoyed at Dialga’s Time Shenanigans

Dialga as Vague Time Shenanigans

Arceus as Infinity Energy

Pokémon belongs to Nintendo

Star Trek belongs to ViacomCBS

RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth (yes, there was a subtle offhand RWBY reference early on)

Special thanks to Masterweaver first of all, for not only providing a lot of creative drive but also writing a fair portion of this. Eulogy is his creation.

And thanks to Nitro Indigo, the only regular commenter on the published version. But I also want to thank all of you who commented before it published, and who talked with me on the Discord server, putting up with all my crazy ideas of Pokémon sapience.

This was a very… strange adventure, and it was a story that was not meant to exist. It’s not up to my usual standards of quality, but you know what? It was fun. I appreciate it for that reason. I hope you had fun as well.

And if you like the world built here, you don’t need my permission to write things in it. You can borrow the ideas as much as you want!

For the record, the sapient pokemon Julian did not write entries on: Dialga/Palkia/Giratina/Arceus, Megearna, Calyrex, Force of Nature Genies, Lake Spirits, Swords of Justice. Basically, just legends that he never had an opportunity to encounter or were relevant to the story in only a sideways fashion.

Conclusions of the "Scientific Survey":

Humanoid is the most prevalent egg group. 

Field is next (tells us nothing)

Then we have Amorphous, with some success in Fairy and Water1.

Psychic is the most successful type.

Ghost and Fighting come next.

Normal, Fairy, and Dark are also successful.

Rock is the dumbest.

Thanks for reading!

If you want to read more of my stuff, check out My Site (https://gmsteward.wordpress.com/), my Fimfiction (https://www.fimfiction.net/user/275276/GMBlackjack), or my Discord Server (https://discord.com/invite/eTuseTh)!

-GM, master of gari are not gardevoirs.

Chapter Text

Supplemental: Various Quotes from Eulogy as Recorded by Dee

(by Masterweaver)

“You ask why I approach? Do you ask for the Gothiruselle in general, or perhaps for the one that stands before you alone? For both answers are the same, and yet, each flavored by different intensity. You bring chaos. You are chaos. Not evil, not destruction, chaos. Even finding you among the stars would have been disruptive enough, and you are unavoidable. And you know this, and so attempt to direct it. We have walked the balance for generations, and I myself stood upon the precipice. We come to you to watch the chaos from the center. I come to you to watch the chaos unfold.”

“I find your obsession with names amusing, in a way. It is a reflection of your desire to know and understand, unending till you at last end, and perhaps even not then. The universe itself does not care—ah, but you already have an answer to that too. Names... the beginning of identity, of cutting oneself from so much alike, a label to provide direction. A beginning, to an end... Very well, I shall take the name of Eulogy, to remind you of what shall be.”

“Your goal makes many false presumptions and were I to list them all at once I know you would not hear them. So I shall wait for each till you are ready to listen. Each will be painful for you to learn, I have little doubt. Though, I will say this: I do not believe you will fail, but rather, that you will not succeed. The end you have set yourself cannot be achieved, not in your lifetime or many others, but what can be achieved upon the path has virtue of its own. Your own race, I believe, has said it once—often it is the journey, not the destination, that can provide worth.”

“Yes, the Gothiruselle have similarity to the Erureido. We bond, we love, we grow close. But where the Erueido are creatures of warmth and light, we are the cool and shadow. We know well of death, and of suffering. The Erureido are healers, of mind and of soul. We are the ones who comfort those who would not, could not heal. Do not misunderstand, I do not claim her to be weak—though some of us would. I see her continued push for betterment strength indeed. Still... I walk behind so that when some trip—and they shall—I can stop for them.”

“You are ready, I believe, for the first presumption. And it is one you know already, though you do not fully understand it. Intelligence, sapience, sentience, sophancy... that which you seek to mark. It is not the end point of a path, not a destination. Oh, you know already that it can be caused by chaos, but again you think that because a pattern exists a direction will always be inherent. And you make the assumption that... hmm. No, you are not ready for that yet. You will be. I will give you time. It is something I have much of.”

“Dax has interesting tales, as does Ezri. And Ezri Dax is interesting as well. It is pleasant to speak to one who knows the illusion of divide. There is much among the stars that we will explore... though, perhaps, I shall remain. And there you are again, attempting to define what I mean by such. Such a silly creature—very well, I ask you this. Are you human, or a human? If you can answer that, you may yet begin to understand.”

“Why yes, I could absolutely make you dance for my amusement at any time. So could Miranda. And many others, in fact. If I were to understand, some have already. Ah, but you refer to the powers of mind and soul we possess. I suppose, were I to relegate myself to such a blunt sort of instrument, I could ‘dominate’ your ‘body’ as you so crudely put it. It is not my specialty, though. Oh, but far more interesting, doctor, far more interesting... is not whether I could, but why I would.”

“Garak sends his greetings. No, he has not contacted me, it is you he shall contact, right about... now.”

“It is time to enlighten you once more. You seek out an abstract concept, and truly believe that the only factor is in what a being is—that all of a kind are alike. Yet are there not children of humanity themselves who lack what you desire? The ones you say are raised by... wolves, they were called. Across all the races you have found, are there not always some who have no wound to their head or heart or soul, yet act only as animals? The potential for growth is no assurance of such. And to attempt assurance... I applaud your efforts, doctor, futile though they may be.”

“I understand it is customary to forewarn an absence. My former trainer is dying—of age, doctor, her body failing. Your wonder medicines might have helped earlier, yet... a week more. That is all you shall be able to grant, should you come with. And showing favor, to this one instead of any other... I appreciate the offer and its intent. It is not for me to decide. She has few days left, and I go to her side to ensure their comfort; I will accept your presence.”

“You believe it is I that requires such consideration? Her family, yes. Her friends. All whom she met, who still recall her. They will mourn... but I? I mourned her already, when I first met her. For that is the blessing and the curse of the Gothiruselle; our sight of the future is of the soul. I knew how and when she would die, and though I have fought to push it back, the end was and is, in fact, the end. I mourned her then, so I could enjoy every moment I had with her afterward, and at her funeral, I shall recall the moments for those she leaves behind.”

“Why yes, doctor, I do know how and when you shall die. Or rather... I know the end that you are set toward. It is a result of growth, of your path, of every step you have taken and will take. And perhaps, at some point, you will take a different step—but at that point, you would have become something different than you are now, entirely.”

Video file: Long Intense period of Eulogy staring Julien Bashir in the face. “...Dolphins.” Eulogy leaves without further explanation.

“It might be easier for those of this world that wish to join your Federation to simply gather themselves up, find a rock floating in the stars, and build a new home there—one that would follow your regulations from the start. Do not pretend this is the first you’ve heard of the idea, doc... oh. Oh, it is the first you’ve heard. Miranda, you must have heard the whispers, why did you not tell him? ...Tch. Well, I doubt you will abandon your studies even if such comes to pass.”

“Ah, so approaches death. Do not mistake calm for resignation, doctor; I have danced with death before. Admittedly, it’s usually a waltz and this seems to be a tango.”

“Hmm. I am considering which of two revelations to give you. You are ready for each, but not for both. And should I grant you one, you may require time to consider it before the other. This will take deep meditation... and, yes, I have found that some Earth cuisine does, in fact, help with meditation. It is no waste for you and your replicators, is it? ...Ezri, I believe the doctor is seeing insight into something that does not exist.”

“Klingons, you say, are warriors. Betazeds empaths. Ferengi, merchants, or something akin. What, then, are humans? Explorers... perhaps. Perhaps that is a good word. Explorers, of both the physical and the mental, of sciences and of arts, of reason and madness. But what would I know? Perhaps instead you should ask your companions what they think humans are.”

“It would appear that my next revelation is forced, and it is this: the ability for intellect may yet be overridden by baser instinct. Look upon the Vulcan, so logical and contained, yet once every seven years gripped by emotion and lust. Do you truly believe such to be alone in the universe? And that only one such instinct can exist, in the complexities of mind? I leave this to you in such contemplation, and I leave also because I cannot endure feeling that from your staff. Ensure that Fosic knows I take no offense, I leave only by preparation. Miranda—I know I cannot convince you yet, but I will assure you a place to rest when you discover what comes.”

“...Ah. Yes. The information. How can I assist without studying what you already know? Yes, it is an odd branch of information, to be sure. Have you heard the old stories? Of Pokérinians who once wed, once were pokémon? This... collection of information, regarding couples of different races, different species... the Federation is quite... interesting. But I assure you, my interest in this is strictly to better ensure your understanding of your path.”

“Doctor, this was not the end I saw for you. If you dare to perish here, you will encounter my own grandmother. And, I assure you, she does not bear foolishness nearly as well as I. Now tell me which of these tools I must use to repair your fragile body.”

“Oh, I’ve always found that the best way to deal with enemies is to invite them in for a cup of tea. It’s always a relaxing experience, mixing a brew; the right leaves, boiling the water, a pinch of arsenic, cream, and two sugars...”

“My word, doctor, why did you not introduce me to Elim Garak sooner? He is a true marvel!”

“Ah, Siren? Yes, she does appear to be quite frustrated with me, doesn’t she? I am not easy to startle, you know, and given how much of her style is based on surprise... well, it must be quite the trial to hunt prey that cannot be caught. Ah, hello Siren, we were just speaking of you. A clever use of the transporter to attempt ambush, I’ll admit, but it isn’t instant.”

“There are many ways to view the future, both literally and metaphorically. And there are many futures to be viewed—the future of an individual, of a society, of a planet, of the stars. It is as much a field as any other form of science or philosophy, that can be woven into myriad ways and to myriad degrees. And of course, viewing changes, both what is viewed and what is viewing. So yes, in a way, I did view the future just now. Though the manner I used was as mundane as could be used by any.”

“They’re lesbians, Julian.”

“Doctor, you have seen what pokémon are capable of. How easily we can destroy rock, and iron, and flesh, and minds. Why, then, do you believe the Pokérinians are the dominant species? Simply because they build cities? Because they resemble you, and your world? Ah, the governance. If we wanted—not even all of us, just enough of us... the cities could belong to us, to be enslaved or razed, in a day. But then again, your Federation could easily conquer its neighbors as well...”

“Perhaps it is time now for another revelation. How to put this, politely... You are taught, I presume, of food chains. And yet, nature cares not for such a hierarchy. A food web is more accurate, and then again, it is spread out, more chaotic than it at first seems. You presume the same with the structure of the mind—that some are above, and some are below, when in truth there are others aside on all layers. Yes, yes, I know your tests cover many forms of intellect, and yet, and yet.”

“Why yes, I am reading a book on dating advice, doctor. Shall I elaborate on how I intend to use it to fulfill my deep and abiding carnal lusts with a chosen partner? Oh ho. A protector of life, so easily embarrassed by its origin. You are quite the amusing contradiction, doctor. I can see why Garak is so fond of you.”

Video file: Eulogy looms over Bashir’s bed as he wakes, thereby startling him into flat out jumping out and landing on the ground, all while she watches emotionlessly. “Your choice of sleepwear is hideous. And breakfast is ready.” Eulogy leaves the room, emotionlessly.

“Ah, yes, the incident with the Malamar and Ohbem. Far from the first world-threatening event I have endured, and unlikely to be the last. I say this with the onus of experience, and also the knowledge that you are about to receive a severely worried transmission from your ship as soon as I finish this sentence.”

“Have you ever had something so central to your life, so permanently ingrained in your identity, that you presumed it would be there forevermore? Maybe something that existed in your entire family line... or your whole culture. Or something more personal. Ah. And then it was torn away by happenstance... Ah, yes, you have something like that, I see. The Gothiruselle on the whole are experiencing something similar. I would say ‘because of your arrival’ and yet... no. It is the trigger, not the cause. You have good intent, Julian, and more than the wish to correct what you have damaged, even by accident. This, though, may be beyond you.”

“Ah, yes, Miranda would be somewhat distressed, wouldn’t she? Galar is the only region in which she would receive such... advances. Incredible, is it not? A regionally unique form of... well, let us call it ‘love’ since you, doctor, are so inexplicably shy.”

“Doctor, while your pursuit of knowledge is laudable, I believe it is time to direct you to the one lesson that all cosmic horror stories share—that to pursue knowledge without restraint comes with risk to both mind and body. Perhaps a touch more restraint would... no, I see now that even should you heed my advice you will continue. It is... rather frustrating, I suppose, seeing you wander off toward ends I am not prepared for. I fully believe in the power of choice, and you seem to believe in using it to give me a migraine.”

“Oh my. A dead body. How utterly horrifying. Let us all stare in abject shock at this reminder of one of the fundamental rules of nature. And while that is going on, allow me to identify the soul that once dwelled in it...”

“...Very well, doctor, since you are so insistent upon learning. You are familiar with the concept of soulmates, I trust? It has been, since time immemorial, the tradition of the Gothiruselle to meditate when they seek romance. To set our senses afloat among the sea of souls till we find the one with which to bind. But the sea of souls is built upon souls, souls that have been set to chaos by your arrival, and such chaos is it that many of us cannot endure such a travel. I’ve little doubt we’ll survive this travail, though there has been much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and yet I suspect adaptation will be required. Hence, yes, my interest in your federation’s stories of interspecies couples and, yes, the books on dating advice. And, yes, since you are wondering, someone has caught my attention as a potential partner, but I will not tell you who; not only are the affairs of the heart private, I also find you wondering amusing.”

“Your starships run on anti-matter, and you call Rose insane. Yes, I fully acknowledge you take precautions and actually know what you’re dealing with, I just wanted to point out that Rose’s madness has nothing to do with the particulars of the power source he was using.”

“Of course I know Garak lies, doctor. But his lies are entertaining for how interwoven with truth they are. You cannot say you do not find them attention-grabbing.”

“Would you believe that in the culture of the Gothiruselle, the awarding of a feather duster is, in fact, a sign of deep affection and romantic inclination...?” [Bashir’s long, extended apology has been removed] “I see that is a yes. A yes, that you would in fact believe it. Your gullibility is noted, doctor.”

“...your wonder medicines are increed indedible, doclian. I was uncert... ain? Uncertain. That I would survive that... all I knew was that you would try to save me. Ever the protector of life... do you know, I once foresaw that to be my end? That, or something similar. Chaos indeed... I shall pass out now.”

“Ah, Jul—doctor. This is the part where your patient stubbornly insists she is fine and you inform her that she has yet to fully recover and then she gets up and walks two steps before collapsing dramatically and, quite frankly, I find that whole process tedious, so might I ask you assign a living assistant instead? I do have things to which I must tend and—ah... Yuki? Yes, I, I suppose she would be... quite helpful. Yes. Oh, very well, I shall sit through your doctorly diagnosis...”

“Doctor, fragile I may be, but glass does not shatter at every impact. Truly such a fuss... I would ask if you have ever considered raising children, but I know well how shy you are. I suppose adoption would be more fitting of your personality.”

“The answer to your question lies in the question itself. No, doctor, you did not distract me from my mediation; if anything, you focused it. Uncomfortably so.”

“Yuki has been quite the help during my recovery, yes. She... has come a long way, from the crux of pain you found her in... truly, such a soft soul. Hmm? Oh. Am I supposed to be flustered by such accusations, doctor? Not all of us are as shy about affection as you are. ...Ezri, I believe the doctor requires correctional education on the acceptable manners of support.”

“I have heard of Erureido as caretakers, soulkeepers, guardians of love and heart. Yet before today, I did not truly comprehend the terror such position could present. I had known of the power of a protector’s fury; never once had I seen it directed at me. And though she contained it, though she only showed what could be if I e’er wounded Yuki’s soul... fret not for me, doctor, for though I have seen the abyss of torment, I know its gatekeeper will only seek me were I to commit a deed unrecognizable to myself.”

“Oh? Asking for a revelation now, are we? Oh very well. Why don’t we go with ‘why should your version of sapience be the only valid one’ then? It’s a very basic, blunt contrast to your current methodology and... No, no you’re right. I should have given more lead-up. I would personally attest my failure to properly discuss this to my continued recovery... no matter your doubts.”

Video File: Juilan Bashir is being wrapped up by a Leavanny, who is apparently treating him as some sort of child. He cannot escape his cocoon. Eulogy walks into the laboratory and sees the situation. After a moment, she starts to laugh; it is ethereal and disturbing, and even the Leavanny seems perturbed. Her laughter lasts around a minute, after which she waves a hand; the leaf-cocoon unravels, and as Julian sits up Eulogy walks to the Leavanny and begins stroking her head with comforting murmurs.