Things settled into a bit of routine, over the next few weeks. On most mornings, we'd wake up, start the day with some training, and then head into the ranger station. Getting there at eight AM,

  I got to know my new coworkers better. Sometimes we’d eat lunch, or train together. Occasionally, one or more of them would take over my lesions for the day, when Janine was busy, or the topic fell more in their field of expertise.

  Philip was a master at riding Pokémon. I didn’t even know that was a skill you could develop until he showed me what he was capable of. I would have thought that the steed would matter more than the rider, but the man could guide even the least experienced Skiddos into breathtaking displays of agility and poise.

  We had a single, well-maintained jeep in a garage attached to the station, but the vehicle was poor for use in the forests and foothills surrounding Techne. Sometimes it could get us close to where we needed to be, but Skiddos were our main method of transit for patrolling, and responding to crises.

  That meant learning to ride them. Efforts so far had been… mixed. Clover, the Skiddo assigned to me, was a sweetheart, but still pretty inexperienced herself, and I was having a hard time finding my balance on a moving Pokémon. Taken together, our foibles meant that the days we did ride training were always eventful.

  Unfortunately, riding wasn’t the only thing I was struggling with.

  Donna was, of all things, my primary combat instructor. I thought that role would fall to Janine, but the sergeant claimed that Donna was a better fighter and nearly as good a battler.

  It didn’t take long for the peppy ranger to beat any doubt out of my body. Technically, while battle training was mandatory, combat training was not. If I wanted, I could do the bare minimum practice avoiding dangerous attacks and leave it at that.

  The idea of coasting didn't sit well with me, however, which is why I found myself getting my face ground into the gymnasium’s mat flooring so often by my green-haired instructor. Sometimes, I regretted my choice, but there was no way I was backing out of it now.

  My consolation was that my knights were struggling similarly with Donna’s partners. Plural. In addition to Grinder, the older ranger had a Skarmory named Saber, and a Copperajah named Mitt. All three were tremendous battlers, and gave my poor partners no end of trouble, in spite of the type advantage.

  I couldn’t even help them during their training. Apparently, the point was to strengthen their ability to act independently of me when I was otherwise occupied. No wonder they were having as hard a time as I was.

  My main reprieve from the days where I struggled came from Mark. The man was taciturn, almost to a fault, but he was also dutiful. Those two traits often seemed at war in the ranger corporal, but the latter won out enough that he could take his turns teaching me.

  All things mechanical and electronic fell under Mark’s purview, and the man was a veritable savant in the field. I don’t use the word lightly. Not only was he talented at maintaining and operating anything more complex than a wind-up toy, he was also skilled in instructing others in the same.

  Bolstered by the fact that he was the most patient of my instructors, it was little wonder that I looked forward to my days with him the most. Whether it was practicing setting up or stripping down field cameras, working on the station’s jeep, or maintaining any of the myriad gadgets we might employ on missions, everything Mark taught me was fresh and interesting.

  I also finally got to learn what sort of Pokémon Icebox was. The species was called Arctibax, the second of a three-evolution family, and an Ice and Dragon-type. He was an interesting little guy, very relaxed, and chill, unlike what I’d expect of a Dragon.

  Until he blew up, that was. The first time I saw him raging, apparently over some spilled food of all things, it had me more than a little worried. The permanent Icy Wind around him made it hard to get close, and the occasional roar or tearing scrape coming from the conjured blizzard tickled something primal in the back of my head in a very unpleasant way.

  According to Mark, his partner would bottle things up until they’d bubble over explosively. He’d tried recalling the little dragon before, but he’d just keep raging when released from the ball, so Mark just let his partner work it out instead. I don’t know if it struck me as the healthiest behavior, but it wasn’t really my place to say anything.

  Archibald ‘Wilson’ Dollensworth was the final ranger at outpost seven, and the one I had missed on my first day. In spite of the impression his name provided, the experienced ranger was remarkably down to earth. Somewhere in age between Mark and Philip, Wilson was Janine’s second-in-command, the person in charge of caring for the station’s fostered Pokémon, and the manager for Pokémon-relations with the local wild populations. Wilson wore a lot of hats, but they fit him well.

  Never had I met a man that could so easily determine what Pokémon we’re thinking. Trained, wild, old, young, local, or foreign, it didn’t matter, Wilson could understand them. At first I thought it might have been some sort of ability, a super-power or something. As I got to know him more, I developed a new theory, that the man simply knew so much about Pokémon and their mannerisms that he could understand them on a level beyond any other person I’d met. The truth ended up being somewhere in-between those two theories.

  Turns out, while people had a hard time understanding Pokémon, there was no such restriction going the other way. Pokémon could understand the words of humankind, as well as those of other species of Pokémon, all without difficulty, from a very young age. It was one of those facts of life I knew, but hadn’t ever really thought all that much about.

  I definitely spent at least a week feeling chagrined about it, once the oddity was pointed out to me.

  The difference was, as it turned out, that while most humans communicated using language, the majority of Pokémon instead speak and hear their intentions directly. It was why they sometimes had difficulties grasping and conveying complex thoughts and ideas, but had no issues figuring out what move a trainer wanted almost every time.

  To hear Wilson tell it, humans were creatures of thought, while Pokémon were beings of action.

  While I knew in my soul that some humans had a lot less thought in their heads than even some Slowpokes, I decided to keep that observation to myself.

  Apparently, and to my utter frustration, synergizing could help teach humans to think like Pokémon at a greatly accelerated rate. This news notably put a damper on my mood for a few days, but ranger training simply kept us too busy for me to mope.

  Still, sensitivity to intentions was a skill that humans could develop like any other, even without the cheat code of looking directly into a Pokémon’s brain to jump-start the process. I was starting from behind, but that wasn’t any reason not to give it my all when pursuing something I wanted.

  Understanding Pokémon better was definitely something I wanted.

  Along with reaching me to read intentions, Wilson also gave lessons on Pokémon care, on interacting with wild Pokémon, and on the apparent politics of the local wild enclaves.

  That’s right, apparently wild Pokémon had a measure of organization that necessitated politics.

  Listening to Wilson describe things, it sounded like maybe using the world ‘wild’ at all was a sort of misnomer.

  I hadn’t gotten a chance to meet Wilson’s partners yet. Apparently they basically never returned to base, instead spending all of their time coordinating wild Pokémon populations. I was hoping that I’d get a chance to introduce myself at some point.

  My final instructor was Janine, and she was by far the most demanding. I could understand why though. She focused her lessons on ranger regulations and wilderness survival.

  We were a few weeks in, and I still wasn’t sure which was more cutthroat and dangerous.

  There were a whole host of rules, bylaws, and ordinances rangers operated under, and we needed to know all of them by memory. Any less, and we risked getting into absolute heaps of societal and legal trouble.

  And of course, if we didn’t have a firm grasp on the wilderness lessons, we could be in a whole lot of trouble of a different kind.

  Neither of these sounded very good to me, so I tried to put a lot of effort into Janine’s lessons, honestly more than anyone else’s other than maybe Mark’s. I think I was mostly successful in these endeavors. I certainly hoped so, because if I missed something, I might not know it until it was too late.

  Stella accompanied Janine the most often, but she did in fact have two other partners. One of them was an absolutely massive Pidgeot named Hayate, whose size and speed meant Janine could be anywhere within forty-five kilometers of the city in less than an hour.

  The other was a sweetheart of an Ampharous named Akaruko. The fluffy Light Pokémon loved hugs, and food, and I wasn’t convinced Janine was giving him enough of either.

  The ranger tried to insist to me that her partner was just being spoiled, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to refuse the Electric-type whenever he requested an embrace or a sneaky bite of my lunch.

  The final human member of the base was the receptionist and dispatcher, Liken. The perpetually sleepy teen mostly manned the front desk, and was never assigned to teach me anything. Honestly, I was a bit worried that the man screening our calls and coordinating missions had narcolepsy.

  Of course, I felt like an absolute cad when Donna confirmed my suspicions over a particularly gossipy lunch break. Apparently, Bakiru was helping him manage the condition, and could snap him awake in case of a true emergency.

  That then begged the question of how Liken got the job in the first place, but that was a thread I resolutely decided not to tug on.

  As for Bakiru himself, the Hypno handled a lot of the paperwork and backroom processing that a ranger station required, freeing up the human staff to focus more on missions, training, and patrols. I was worried a bit about Pokémon cruelty, but everyone reassured me that the Hypno actually enjoyed filing paperwork. Apparently he found it centering.

  To each their own I suppose.

  Bakiru was even paid a salary. No one could confirm for me what he spent it on, but everyone had a different guess. Donna let it slip that there was a betting pool that someone would collect when the true answer came out, but I couldn’t get anyone to fess up on how to get in on the action.

  It wasn’t the gambling that appealed to me, I just didn’t want to be left out. There was no way I was explaining that to my coworkers though, so my guess, that he was using his psychic powers to amass a fortune on the stock market, did not get added to the betting pool.

  The lessons weren’t easy, but they were interesting, and I knew that I would be taking some of the things I learned here with me until my grave.

  -

  “Tell me Fe, how much do you know about ki, aura, stamina, or syn?

  The question came a bit out of the blue. I’d just finished my workout and we were walking to the lecture hall. I took a moment to think, dredging up what I could remember from the research I’d done on the topic at the beginning of the summer. “It’s a type of energy that exists in all living things,” I started. “Usually it’s passive, and people and Pokémon use it instinctively to protect themselves, but certain artifacts like synergy stones allow us to combine our syn and empower one another. Battle AR even allows us to use this energy to communicate mentally and share senses.” I thought a little bit more, trying to grind out anything else from my memory. “Um, Pokemon usually have syn right out of the egg, but humans take longer to develop it. Generally, we start expressing syn after turning ten years old, and in most cases it stabilizes around twelve”

  “A good answer, if a very Ferrum one.” The older ranger replied, as she pushed open the door to the lecture hall, and we grabbed seats at the table.

  I thought I could sense a hint of disapproval in her tone, and I couldn’t suppress my first instinct, to defend my home from the Johto-expats’s scrutiny.

  “Well what’s wrong with that?” I asked, challengingly. “We are in Ferrum, after all.”

  Janine didn’t rise to the bait. “Nothing major, if you’re satisfied with engaging with the topic like any other Battle Trainer,” the older ranger let the statement hang in the air for a few moments, giving it time to sink in and for my expression to twist, before continuing on, “but, depending on who and where you ask, some would say that it can be so much more.”

  I marshaled myself, and I was gratified that Janine’s expression bore neither judgment nor pity. She didn’t care that I couldn’t be a Battle Trainer. She didn’t even view it as any big loss. It was a foreigner’s perspective, for all that the woman had spent nearly a decade here. Honestly, I appreciated it desperately right now. “And what if I asked you?” I bit the hook. “What do you know about syn?”

  The woman nodded. “I know that some Pokemon utilize it to perform or empower their moves. It’s especially prevalent among fighting types. Similarly, some humans can harness it to perform feats often deemed superhuman. Again, commonly, these people are martial artists, though not always.”

  That already raised questions I wanted to ask, but Janine wasn’t done. “I know that all people and Pokemon have the capability to form close bonds through ki that allow us to understand each other with the barest of words. Wilson has taught you a bit about this already. The truly talented can take this a step further, communicating mentally without any verbal expression at all.”

  My mind was racing, considering implications that I hadn’t really grasped, but again, the older ranger wasn’t finished. “I’ve heard that some very experienced trainers can use ki in conjunction with special relics to achieve levels of power otherwise unobtainable, similar to the expressions of strength seen during synergy bursts.”

  I tried to raise a hand, but the sergeant Taurosed on. “Finally, and most importantly, I know that there are ways for people to quickly strengthen their ki, improving their internal power to help fortify themselves against harm,” the woman clapped once, signaling that she was done, and leaned in, over the table. “Now, any questions?”

  There was… a lot to think about, and to ask, but Janine did me a favor and honed in on the most important part herself. “Would you be willing to teach me that last part?” I asked her, without hesitation.

  Infuriatingly, the older ranger shrugged, apparently non-committal. “Normally I would, but I don’t think I need to, for you.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  I felt something ugly rear up in me, but I clamped down on it, merciless. I buried the roiling displeasure as far in my gut as I could and did my best to ask my next question as innocently as I could. “Why not?”

  The woman blinked back at me Noctowlishly for a moment, and then two, and then ducked her head. “Apologies, I think I phrased that badly. Rather, I don’t need to because you’ve already happened upon the main method I’d recommend yourself.”

  That sent my brain scrambling, trying to claw out the answer to the implied question. What was I doing differently from a normal trainer? There was… a lot, actually. Most trainers don’t exercise the same way I do, but all rangers do, and apparently Janine usually needs to teach this to new rangers.

  Was it catching Pokémon? I did quite a bit of that, but it didn’t seem like the right answer. Nothing about it seemed like it would strengthen my syn.

  Maybe I was thinking about this the wrong way. Primarily, syn blocked attacks. Janine said it could empower or enable Pokémon moves, but I certainly wasn’t using any of those, so that was out. I also didn’t have super-powers, so that wasn’t it either.

  So, blocking moves. I did that, right? Sure, I was wearing mitts, but I took attacks from my knights all the time. “Is it getting hit with Pokémon attacks?” I asked finally, and with a bit of trepidation.

  To my utter relief, Janine offered a satisfied nod. “That’s right. Like a muscle, ki can be exercised. By breaking it down and rebuilding it repeatedly, you can strengthen it over time.”

  “And Pokemon moves are the best way of depleting it,” I continued, seeing the logic. “Is that why Pokemon toughen up much faster when fighting each other, as opposed to just training on their own?”

  My question elicited a nod. “Very astute. The power that Pokemon wield in their moves is the most effective tool for disrupting ki, other than ki itself, and certain types of power are more effective at disrupting certain types of ki.”

  “Hence type advantages,” I breathed out. “That makes so much sense.” I was satisfied with my revelation for a moment, before a thought struck me. “Wait, why aren’t we taught this in school? Or by our parents?”

  Janine shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you for sure, but I have my guesses. What would most young people do if they learned that they could strengthen themselves and their partners by repeatedly subjecting themselves to attacks and battles.”

  I winced. I could see the logic. Also, I felt gratified to realize that Janine deemed me smart enough to share this knowledge with. Or at least, restrained enough. “You’d see a lot of twelve-year-olds running into the wilds with their partners in tow, determined to battle everything they ran into.”

  I’d done similar things myself, though I made sure to stay close to the roads, and to make sure that anyone we were battling was either a willing participant, or a Pokemon I intended to capture. I wasn’t sure how much I’d trust my peers to show that much restraint. Sure, most of them would probably be fine, but it would only take one…

  “That’s exactly right,” Janine nodded, “and then you’d see the sorts of statistics you would expect from that sort of behavior.” The older ranger spoke with the sort of bone-deep weariness that spoke of painful experience.

  “Is this common knowledge in Johto?” I asked, feeling some trepidation.

  “Common enough,.” Janine spat, bitterly. “In Ferrum, children go on a battle break. Many other regions share something similar, but call it a ‘journey’ instead.”

  “A journey?” I asked, morbid curiosity welling up in me. “As in, going somewhere?”

  “More like going everywhere,” the woman replied in a mirthless tone. “Most regions have a series of challenges headed by experienced trainers called gym leaders. These are prominent figures and public figures that set up facilities in major population centers. Young trainers travel between cities to challenge these gym leaders to earn the right to compete in a tournament at the end of the year, called a conference.”

  That didn’t sound so bad to me, but I had the feeling I was missing some sort of cultural gap. I made a stab at what it might be, based on the flow of the conversation. “I’m guessing that traversing between cities in Johto isn’t as easy as it is here?”

  That got a shrug, so I wasn’t wholly right, but not totally wrong either. I’d have to take it.

  “Depends,” Janie said. “There are bus lines that can get you anywhere in the region in a day or two. They’re not as convenient as the trains here in Ferrum, but they use well-maintained, protected roads, and they rarely run into any issues.”

  “I’m guessing that’s not how most trainers get around though?” I was starting to see where this was going.

  “No. That would make far too much sense. Instead, we send impulsive children through kilometers of untamed wilderness with only their partners, making them walk from city-to-city on routes, some of which take days to traverse.”

  I reeled at having my suspicions confirmed. The idea was… ludicrous. “Wait, Johto sends twelve-year-olds to spend days out in the wilderness, navigating between cities, on their own?” I tried to clarify.

  “I wish the most common age was twelve,” Janine shook her head. “The official starting age is ten, though some youngster programs have ‘safer,’ more defended routes for eight and nine year olds to start on.”

  I felt my mouth open and close like a Feebas, gasping for air. “But that’s…, that’s…” I couldn’t complete the thought, but Janine had me covered.

  “Ridiculous? I agree,” she told me, darkly. “You wouldn’t believe the things I saw working those routes for twenty years.”

  Probably a lot of dead kids and Pokémon. Yikes. “And that’s why you left?”

  Janine nodded. “I couldn’t take it anymore. And there are plenty of other regions that can use a good ranger that do things in ways that make a lot more sense to me.”

  Which raised another question. “Okay but… why? Why do people send their kids on their journeys? Especially if they’re as dangerous as you’re implying.”

  “Because they make you stronger,” Janine sighed. “A few years out in the wilderness, fighting, striving, surviving, all when you’re young and your ki is at its most malleable? It can forge young trainers into potential masters.”

  “And is that worth it?” I asked, quietly.

  I’m not sure what I meant by the question.

  “I didn’t think so,” Janine responded.

  I did know what she meant by her answer.

  -

  “What do you think makes a good fighter Fe?”

  Now wasn’t the time to be waxing philosophical, in my humble opinion, but I guess Donna had the right to it since she was so effortlessly keeping me pinned to the ground.

  Turns out, getting someone off of you is very difficult. Especially when that someone is bigger and stronger than you.

  Supposedly the older ranger was leaving me openings to buck her mount, but I was currently (and historically) having trouble identifying them. I tried for a few more moments to find the supposed opportunity, before slumping back to the ground with a frustrated sigh.

  “I don’t know, Donna. What makes a good fighter?”

  The older woman wore a peppy smile as she shook her head. “It wasn’t a rhetorical question, silly. I really want to know what your answer is.”

  I was starting to think the green-haired ranger was lying to me about there being an opening, and that she just wouldn’t let me up until I answered her question.

  “Um, strength, I guess?” I told her after thinking about it for a moment. “I mean, obviously. Speed too, right?” I considered it a few more seconds, “and technique. Those three things.”

  “Hmm.” Donna hummed through her lips, apparently evaluating my answer. “So if I’m stronger than you,” she jokingly flexed a bicep for emphasis, but didn’t move a muscle when I tried to buck her while she was distracted; “faster than you,” I tried to squeeze out from between her legs, but she tightened them, pushing the air out of my lungs; “and have better technique than you,” I went to roll her off, hooking a leg under hers and throwing it up, but she disentangled me easily and left my spasming leg without purchase; “then I’m a better fighter than you?”

  I gasped some oxygen down, and forced out an, “Obviously?”

  Donna snorted, and relaxed her thighs a bit, letting me get more airflow. “Sure, those three things can make you a better fighter. What else.”

  I suppressed a frown. “Um, determination?” I tried.

  She nodded, but gestured for me to keep going.

  “Size?” It felt bad to admit, considering my own small stature, but Donna just kept gesturing. “Smarts? Cunning? Freaking, super-powers? Which answer are you looking for?” I could hear my voice getting a bit heated, but I was also getting sick of having the older ranger sitting on my stomach.

  “Which one do you think?” Donna asked with a quirked eyebrow.

  “You’re the one who asked the question!” I was getting louder, but I was having a hard time stopping myself. “Don’t just jerk me around, Donna. What’s the right answer?”

  The older ranger sighed. “I didn’t ask for the right answer Fe, I asked for your answer. Tons of things can make you a better fighter. You need to pick one of them, and you need to really, really believe in whatever you choose.”

  I huffed. “Super helpful advice for right now.”

  “Of course it is,” now the peppy ranger was smiling again, but there wasn’t anything friendly about it. “I’ll tell you Fe, I know my answer.” She settled more weight on my stomach, tightening her hold. Suddenly, it felt like her legs were made of iron.

  I looked at them, and could make out the barest hints of a silvery glow. She rapped a fist against her leg, and a resulting impact made a distinct clanging sound, like one pot, clattering against another. I looked back up at her face. The grin splitting it was almost feral.

  “Let’s find yours.”

  -

  “Listen.”

  Wilson’s droning voice filled the room.

  “Falinks, Fa!”

  Lance’s call sounded through the room again, the exact same tone, timber, and duration as the last three times.

  “Um, You’re hungry?”

  “Falinks!”

  I recognized that call. I’d hit the nail, finally.

  “Good. Onto the next.” Wilson said.

  Lance stepped away, and Percy took his place. “Falin, Links, Lin, Fa.”

  And the process began again.

  According to Wilson, the fastest way to improve my ability to grasp intentions was to memorize the various calls and responses my knights would make.

  I thought we’d been doing that already, but apparently they’d been using a pidgin to ease our communications so far.

  Much less intent than usual Pokémon speech, with fewer words and clearer meanings.

  According to him, this was pretty common amongst trainers in Ferrum, and would fit the needs of people who only planned on having one partner well.

  It didn’t. However, set me up for success with interacting with a wider variety of Pokémon, like ranger work might often require.

  Hence, spending hours each day memorizing more and more complex expressions of speech from my knights.

  I’d worked it into our training schedule, once I knew it was possible, but we made more progress on days where Wilson was helping us than on any other, and it wasn’t particularly close. Thankfully, the man was an eager teacher, and had agreed to offer extra lessons beyond the norm.

  It didn’t count towards my thousand-hour requirement for the exam, but the additional training was nice all the same.

  I’d wrung the same from most of my tutors. Not Janine, she was too busy, but between the other four, I was often spending six to eight hours on base per day, instead of four.

  I didn’t mind it. We’d just have spent that time training on our own anyway. Better to have someone to teach us.

  When my training didn’t involve my knights, they’d often learn from the ranger’s Pokémon. And by learn from, I meant get beaten up by.

  Not that they seemed to mind.

  “Falin, Links, Lin, Fa.”

  And if they did, hopefully I’d be able to understand why soon.

  -

  “Fe, d-d-d-do you have a minute to stay after?”

  I looked up, a bit surprised. Mark wasn’t usually one to start conversations.

  The shy ranger had a stutter, and spoke in as few words as possible to minimize the odds of it cropping up. Apparently, he had a bit of a complex.

  “Sure Mark, I don’t have anything going on.”

  It was the end of my day at the station (right around two PM today), and the tech-expert had caught me right after my final lesson with Janine. He led me to a small office, one absolutely overflowing with machinery.

  Each of the five rangers at the station had their own personal office, an advantage of being under-staffed I suppose, and they were all very telling about the individual in question.

  Mark liked tech.

  He really, really liked tech.

  The space was almost unnavigable, overgrown with wires, cables, tech, and machinery as it was.

  Most of it seemed to be plugged into a massive computer underneath his desk, which had not one, but two monitors connected to it. They were LCDs, too, not like the CRTs that most of the station used, or like we had at home.

  There was a single bit untouched by clutter. It was a small platform, covered in various beddings and sheets. It looked like a nest of sorts, presumably for Icebox. In a feat of ingenuity, Mark had run a set of fluid-carrying tubes between his PC and his partner’s space.

  As long as Icebox was willing, there must have been all but zero chance of Mark’s PC overheating. Very clever.

  The big man stepped with impressive agility around the various hazards spread throughout the office. He hadn’t bid me to come in, and until he did, I wasn’t going to risk the attempt.

  Luckily for me, he didn’t need me to come in. Instead, he grabbed a device from his desk, unhooking it from the PC, and yanking a charging cable out from a power strip. He waded back through the clutter to the entrance, both items in hand. He held out the gadget. It looked tiny in his massive hands, but it was still big enough that I could barely hold it.

  “That’s a C-c-c-cosmos Gear. It’s like a G-g-galarian Pokégear. Macros C-c-cosmos makes them,” he took a few moments, breathing deeply. I knew better than to interrupt him. Sometimes Mark needed a few moments.

  Sure enough, after a bit, he continued. “I jailbroke it, so it should work without a subscription. You can use it to c-c-c-c-connect to the Macro Net, the Galarian version of the FerreNet.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “Wouldn’t that be illegal?” I asked quietly, almost hissing.

  “N-n-not… yet,” Mark told me, also whispering. “Mostly because legislation h-h-hasn’t caught up. Devices made in Ferrum can’t connect to nets from foreign regions, but t-t-t-there aren’t any laws above devices brought in from outside Ferrum. Plus, we’re not in Galar, so n-n-no worries about jailbreaking this thing. Here.”

  “So no laws are broken,” I nodded, thinking, as I took the device. It still seemed a bit off to me, I’d probably need to do some research, but the temptation of the device was clear. Here, finally, could be a way to connect to Galar’s net and learn more about Falinks.

  “Y-y-yeah. I still wouldn’t tell anyone else about it, but you won’t have city-security coming after you. It’ll be slow, but it’ll w-w-w-work.”

  I looked down at the device, noting the red MC stenciled atop the hard, plastic casing. I clicked a latch, flipping it open, revealing the tiny screen, and the attached keyboard. It would be tough to use, but it would also be an invaluable resource, if it worked.

  “Seriously Mark, thank you,” I looked back up from the device at the large man. “How can I repay you?”

  The ranger Mareepishly rubbed the back of his head. “N-n-n-no need. Just got a hold of it by chance, thought maybe you could use it. Wasn’t a big deal to jailbreak the thing.”

  I narrowed my eyes, but I couldn’t tell whether or not he was lying, so I let it go. “Still, if you ever need anything, just let me know.”

  “Just k-k-keep trying your best Fe. That’s all any of us want from you.”

  -

  “Now you’re getting it girl!”

  “It only took a month!” I shouted back.

  Philip, astride Pauline, was weaving through the trees around the Ranger station. I was doing my best to follow, riding Clover like usual.

  We still couldn’t hope to match the older ranger and his partner, but I think Clover and I were starting to reach something approaching an understanding.

  She hadn’t accidentally thrown me off in over a week, and I barely ever jerked too hard on her horns anymore.

  We weren’t experts by any means, but it was definitely progress. Especially considering how rough things were at the start.

  We darted between a couple of trees, and had to wrench ourselves to a stop, to avoid Philip and Pauline, standing in the middle of a clearing. The older ranger had a radio out, and was speaking with someone through the device.

  I caught the very tail-end of the conversation. “Roger that, I’m available to respond. Also, tell Donna to settle the pool. I’ve got the kid with me, and I think she’s ready, over.”

  The device crackled off, and he turned to me. “Buckle up, Private. Playtime's over.” He stowed the radio, and pulled out a map, showing something on it to Pauline. “Hope you’re ready, because it’s time for your first mission. Try not to fall behind.”

  And we were off.