The real answer? No. Absolutely not. Howard had a team of Rock-types that would be borderline useless if anything green or blue decided to peek its head out from behind a rock or corridor. What was the point of team cohesion when you were an archaeologist whose sole purpose in life was to eek out a meager living by selling your soul to an organization who couldn't even spell your name right on paychecks or cash drops?

So no, not all that ready.

"I am so ready, boss!" Howard saluted the sheriff.

Dammit.

This was not Howard's first salvage. He could discover ancient ruins and unveil fossils, but he was also capable of salvaging underwater wrecks. History didn't discriminate where it could be discovered, and therefore, neither did Howard's talents. This was no ordinary salvage, though. It was located in the Ultra Sea with a small army of rangers and deputies ensuring that both Howard and Navy didn't turn into raving lunatics after getting stung.

No pressure.

If Team Rocket knew that Howard was working with Dewford's sheriff to recover an extremely rare artifact without attempting to secure it for the organization, they would likely wring Howard's head. The man wasn't stupid, though. He didn't want to rot in a prison cell in Dewford for the rest of his life. From what he knew, they stank.

"I'm gonna let you in on a secret, Mr. Navidson: I am NOT a cowboy. Don't tell anyone, though. It'll totally riff on my style." Howard adjusted his hat with a grin. He felt weird calling the sheriff 'Navy'. Maybe after a few traumatic experiences, they could give each other pet names. Maybe Howard could become a sort of Fossil Deputy, fighting against sentient fossils, ancient mummies, and ruin thieves while fighting for truth, justice, and the way of the cowboy.

First, they had to get the necklace. Then, he got paid. Maybe Howard could afford a hot shower when he got back home. Some chased the almighty Pokedollar; Howard chased the dream of being caught up on his utility bills.

"Of course. Easy adventure." Howard offered the sheriff a fist bump. "Lead the way, necklace hunter."

---

Michael Navidson

Howard stared blankly at Michael as he processed the man's statement. He blinked, straightened his hat, and followed the man out into Ultra Space. He really didn't want to be 'that guy' when it came to correcting people. If someone attempted to "Um, actually" him, he'd throw a rock at them. Despite that, Howard was going to be that guy.

"It's interesting you say that. History cares about the facts, but those who casually brush up with history care about the story. I mean, think about it! The Soul of the Sea is nice and all, but do you know how many similar necklaces have gone up for auction over the years? A few! Yet people love the story of the rare heirloom lost at sea, and so here we are, risking our life for something we could buy at my mom's jewelry store."

Michael wasn't that bad of a guy, even if he said things like this. A broken clock was right twice a day, and it showed. Howard could rail on and on about historical artifacts that weren't significant at all but became popular through sheer chance and circumstance. He could lecture for hours, assuming Michael didn't choose neurotoxins over Howard's monologues.

And so, Howard monologued.

He sort of had to.

He had been to a lot of places, but he wasn't a fighter. He was simply some extra help that the Dewford sheriff had picked up due to some expertise in the field, but Ultra Space took it to a whole different level. He conducted himself expertly next to Michael, keeping an eye on their surroundings. The sheriff himself was an presence that oozed authority. He seemed to improve the quality of the people who worked alongside him, including Howard. The archaeologist would not look like a degenerate while he was on a job like this with Michael Navidson. He tipped his hat to a ranger and did a hand slice across his neck.

Translation: they were fucked.

To keep himself sane, Howard continued his explanation from Michael's one-off comment.

"—which is why the Scepter of Steel isn't a particularly rare piece of Galar history. It's just a piece that was stolen at the right ti..." Howard trailed off as he took an involuntary step back. Zombies. Heavenly cocktails of materials that take the sacks of flesh known as 'humanity' from the dusty level of earth to the incomprehensible skies above.

Humanity was a weight. Release it, and potential untold could be unleashed. It was such a shame that being human was so much more exciting.

"To the front, Shirley!" Howard's Aerodactyl filled the corridor as her Ancient Power crashed against several passengers. While Hattori was a precise assassin, Shirley was a monster that simply smashed things apart until they weren't there. "No eating! I'll know!" He barked at the fossil.

One got close, and Howard produced a rock hammer from his pocket. He threw it at the passenger.

Donk. It fell to the ground as the passenger looked at him. Howard looked at Michael and grimaced. "Oops?

---

Michael Navidson

As Hattori took out Howard's botched attempt at whack-a-mole, the archaeologist took a deep breath and nodded to the frog in thanks. Without Michael, Howard would've needed to bust out his survival knife, and he had the sneaking suspicion that if he stabbed anyone on the ship with it, it'd need to be tossed, burned, and buried for a decade.

Michael had some useful teammates, that was sure. Team Rocket Greninjas just performed sting operations and other illegal trades. It was nice to see one that was actually doing some good. Respect for the sheriff grew, as Howard realized that the man seemingly brought along Pokémon that didn't need to confront the passengers directly. It made Howard feel underprepared, putting Shirley in danger. Poor girl.

As Michael leaned down to inspect the body, Howard leaned over the man's shoulder and adjusted his hat.

"Rest in peace." Howard said as he shut the man's eyes. "This stuff is awful. Glad that isn't us. Yet, anyway." The man stood up and whistled to Shirley. She had listened to Howard, and did not eat anything. He straightened at the sheriff's query. He did some quick calculations in his head. "Yes." Howard finally said. "Let me clear the path, and you can clean up stragglers."

A good compromise that relied on teamwork. Howard returned Hattori's thumbs up with a rather goofy grin. He quickly returned to seriousness.

Shirley quickly rampaged forward, tearing apart clothes that cost more than Howard's annual salary. Hattori respected her Lord's orders. Shirley's thoughts were far more simple: why food move? Eat food? Why no eat food? As she tore apart a rather pudgy man, Shirley looked at Howard, and the archaeologist recognized the look instantly.

"No eating! Spit! It! Out!" Howard reached into his pocket and pulled out a slab of saltine crackers. He threw it at the Aerodactyl, who abandoned the body instantly. "We should hurry, before she decides she's still hungry. I didn't pack too many crackers." Howard grimaced.

Howard kicked away debris from Shirley's rampage, clear leaking liquid and all, as he looked back at Michael. "Mr. Navidson, if I can ask you a question..." Howard trailed off as he wondered how to work it. After a few moments, he simply went for a blunt phrasing. "If there's an Ultra Beast in here, what happens? Do you just use me as a meat-shield, or can I write up a will first?

There was a lot of Nihilego venom flowing around. There had to be a chance that there was some alien monster running around, right?

Right?

---

Michael Navidson

"Kill it? You want us to KILL it?" Howard sputtered indignantly as he looked at Michael for the first time. The Sheriff said it casually. You didn't just kill an Ultra Beast like you were going out for a cup of coffee! Howard was out of his league, pun intended. Howard's voice was pleading. "Mr. Navidson..."

After a moment, Howard's gaze hardened and his mouth became a sharp line. He shook his head. No, he was here for a reason. Hell, the two practically had a small army at their disposal if things went south. This was no time for cowardice. He was an archaeologist. An explorer. If he thought about it, Ultra Deep Sea was just another ruin, stuck in another dimension.

"Nevermind. Thank you for your words. You're right. We'll win. Hell, if anything happens, our funerals will be covered by the League!" Howard chuckled grimly as he thought about their next move. "Shucks, you'll make be blush, Mr. Navidson. It's a treasure, circumstantial or no. It belongs to everybody, and it certainly doesn't deserve to rot here. It'd be disrespectful to its creator, and to its history, to leave it rotting.

It belongs to everybody... A small voice in the back of Howard's head murmured dreamily. Like all those other relics you sold to make a quick buck?

Howard stopped, before shoving the thoughts aside. He took the antidote and held it reverently. "This is..." Expensive? Too much? Obscene? This was an antidote that cost Howard's Team Rocket salary a dozen times over. All in this little syringe. And Michael was willing to just give it to him to save Shirley?

He could run away with this. Sell it to Team Rocket. He'd be set for life. Infinite riches or Shirley? A stupid thought. It wasn't even a comparison. He loved his girl far too much for that.

Going down the steps, Howard stopped. His face became pale and clammy as he looked at Michael. He swallowed. "Hell, we can press the button together. Let's not touch the eggs. I'd offer to break them myself, but I suspect that liquid doesn't do wonders for the skin... or life."

With deftness that can only be obtained from years of traversing ruins, Howard picked himself a path for Michael and him to cross the second class deck. It was a slow, methodical, and frankly dangerous mission. If even one egg decided to hatch, the Sheriff and the Archaeologist would be in for the fight of their lives. Until...

Howard stumbled on a fleshy membrane connecting two egg clutches. "Ah." Howard let out as he stumbled. He fell forward.

Yet he did not crash into an egg.

His face was mere inches in front of an egg's shell. He could see the vague body forming on the other side of the membrane. His calves were burning as Howard stopped the momentum of his body with his lower legs alone. With a growl, Shirley pulled him back.

"Don't do that." Pale, Howard tossed a saltine to Shirley as he looked over at Michael and his Greninja.
Michael Navidson

"I'm the luckiest man I know, and Shirley is my gem." Howard nodded, moving himself out of the way of Hattori and the freezing of the Nihilego egg sacks. Howard had a team of Pokemon with moves like Stone Edge and Ancient Power. Broad, powerful moves that would crush Dewford Gym Leaders and Nihilego sacks indiscriminately. Besides, the more force was applied, the higher the chance of something undesirable popping out. That 'undesirable' was likely to be blue and otherworldly and scary.

Ultra Beasts were weird. This was why Howard didn't like Alolan history.

"Saved her from a hunting trap on a nature preserve when I was about fourteen. Fossil Pokémon weren't as easy to snag, way back when. Fetched a hefty sum. Still do. Shirley was the largest Aerodactyl, and female. Good for breeding, mate." Howard's typically light tone became dark, and his eye burned slightly. "She followed me off the preserve, and when I came back, she wouldn't leave me be."

Another saltine cracker disappeared into Shirley's jaws.

"Plus, she's decided crackers taste better than Howards. Smart girl, given I taste terrible." Howard's voice returned to normal, and he grinned at Michael. "I could say the same for your Greninja. He's acting like a pro."

The door down to the lower levels was bolted shut. Maybe it was done in a last ditch attempt to keep the toxins from spreading. Howard didn't recall seeing it from the schematic of the ship, but he wasn't exactly the premiere ship knowledge guy. He was a fossilologist, not a boatologist.

"Flood door." Howard finally decided. "I'm gonna knock this door off its hinges."

That, he did. The door was smashed off its hinges by Shirley's Stone Edge, and Howard peered down into the darkened hallway. Nothing. He at least expected several corpses to come flying out at him and Navy. Maybe with some roars or unnerving shuffles.

Suspicious... and disappointing.

---

Michael Navidson

So these are Ultra Beasts. Aliens from another dimension that were hatched in the Cave of Origin and used in the interdimensional war. They had appeared in Alolan manuscripts as vague creatures with little description beyond eldritch drawings scribbled the depraved.

They were greater and more terrible than Howard could've possibly imagined.

Ah, the siren's song. It echoed and rang aloud. Howard took a few steps forward alongside Michael. The sheriff is called forward due to his duty as a warrior. It is in his nature to fight, and to battle. Even as they beckon him forward to die, they beckon him forward due to his honor as a warrior.

Howard and Shirley, though? Shirley is too primal to be tempted by such trivial callings. She was a predator of a time long before these things walked the earth. Howard is not as fortunate. He is not as strong-willed as Michael, nor does he have such burning passion as Hattori. He has...

Nothing.

Flashbacks and memories pour through Howard's heart as he takes steps forward. That moment where he cracked open that trap to save Shirley, as clear as a fresh memory. Excavating his first fossil and reviving it into Anorith. Yet those are mere islands of joy in a sea of despair. His first year with no work, traveling the world. Joining Team Rocket. Helping line their pockets. His vacant eye throbs in a phantom pain.

When he tore it out to escape that ruin—

What he put it in its place—

"Guh..." Howard's fingers slip into that empty socket. Yet nothing happens. Instead, Howard stopped moving, and glances at Hattori's resolve. It's a brief glance. Yet, like briefly staring into the sun, it is easy to recall. Shirley growls and turns to him, and to Hattori.

Of course. For her. His remaining eye cleared.

"You heard the man, Shirley." Howard made a fist. "While that Greninja takes you for a ride... Take 'em for an IRON HEAD."

Shirley let out a roar as she and Hattori charged towards the Nihilego.

"Let's go, sheriff. Don't think, it's easy for them to worm in here if you think." Howard grunted and grit his teeth. "Head empty. Go primal. Nothing but the most base emotions." Howard vaguely felt on his belt for another Pokeball. Which one to choose...?

---

Michael Navidson

"Victory..." Howard murmured as they descended. A funny word. A tasteless word. Victory was a whore who gave rough kisses tasting of dust and blood, all while heralding the pain of the defeated. Michael was the Dewford Gym Leader. When the town was used as a warfront, were they thinking of victory?

No.

Yet... They were not warriors. Michael was. There was a clear distinction. Maybe victory was only appealing to those who could bask in its glory.

Reaching onto the pedestal, Howard grabbed the Soul of the Sea and inspected it for a moment. It was in remarkable condition, given it had been lost in another dimension. It was also stuck inside a display box. Leaning down, Howard quickly cracked it open.

"Thanks, ma." Howard murmured as he worked. She would've done it in eight seconds. Howard did it fourteen. After inspecting the jewels, Howard moved them to a container that was in his bag.

"We got lucky. I half-expected we'd need to dig through the entire hold. Hell, I thought we'd need to go grave-robbing." Howard grunted as he scavenged a handful of vaguely useful items from the hold. A ticket, some paperwork, a crewmate's uniform... These were things that could go into a museum. It wasn't a common occurrence for an entire ship to get lost in another dimension, at least. These, when combined with the jewel, would make for a decent set of items to show at a museum.

Assuming they even made it out alive.

"Wish we had more time to go through all of this. None of this stuff is gonna see another person again, once we're gone." Howard stood and looked towards Michael. "Pretty sad, y'know? Nothing worse than lost history. Let's go." Howard walked towards Navy, and then up the stairs.

---

Michael Navidson