The Given

by Colby R Rice

  For what seemed like minutes on end, Burke waited, expecting something else to happen. But all that he could see was the sunshine peering in through his window. Somewhere in the distance, the birds of his eco-dome chirped pleasantly, digging for worms in the garden. He let himself breathe.

  The "child" had said no more to him, but the threat was clear.

  Burke ran his trembling fingers through his hair, preparing to make a case against the Alchemic Order.

  Caleb got to roll call thirty minutes early. Chewing on a ham and tomato on kaiser, he took in the debrief room from the door. The lights were dimmed, and plastic chairs were scattered in broken lines in front of a large projection screen. Political maps of the three Protecteds, livened up by red, yellow, and black circles, were posted at random around the room. As he looked around, he realized he didn't know most of the officers in here.

  Off to the side, a group of APs hovered around a tall, broad-shouldered man with eyes as dark as coals. The cops all looked worse-for-wear at best, most likely from the double shifts. The tall man in the middle, however, had not a wrinkle on him. His eyes were alert, their energy clear and yet muted beneath the seriousness of his gaze. He was talking to the officers with a tone of lofty authority… that is, until he looked up and saw Caleb at the door. Whatever he was saying remained suspended in the air as he bored through him with an unreadable gaze. Following the man's stare, the other APs in the group turned to Caleb, looking at him.

  Here we go…

  Caleb raised an eyebrow and took another bite of his sandwich. Sauntering up to the group, he wiped a crummy hand against his slacks, ready to make introductions.

  "You must be Caleb." A bald dark-skinned man, nearly as wide as he was tall, broke off from the group, walked up to Caleb and shook his hand firmly. He was the only one of them who made a move to introduce himself. "Pleased to meet you, man. The name's Jake."

  Caleb hid his wince behind a smile as he squeezed the guy's hand back good-naturedly. It took nearly half of his strength to offset this dude's vise grip.

  "Same. Are you also a detective?"

  "Yep, just made detective a couple of years ago. Uh, how long have you been on the circuit?" Jake asked, studying Caleb's face quizzically.

  Caleb smirked. He got that look often, and only when people were trying to figure out how old he was. Jake had to be in his mid-thirties, and Caleb had just made twenty-six this past November. Not many APs liked the idea of taking orders from a spring chicken, but most people got used to it eventually.

  "Just a few months," he replied. "They broke me in pretty good over in the 52nd."

  Jake smiled, his eyes alight with surprise. "Demesne of the gods. Impressive." A new respect seemed to come into his gaze. "I hear you're going to be running some teams here."

  Caleb blinked. "That's… new."

  "Oh, Palmer didn't fill you in. Things got pretty crazy when the bomb hit, and the Civic Order wants to investigate. They called him into the Halls of Pact for a debrief. In the meanwhile, I'm running roll call and am serving as interim Captain until Palmer gets back. I looked at your file and saw that you hadn't been assigned yet, so I put you on as Special Forces Tactician. You are a Druidic Alchemist, aren't you?"

  "Uh… Yeah… " Caleb could barely keep the widening smile off of his face.

  "Great. Then, you wouldn't mind running a couple of investigative triads. We don't have too many Druidic APs around here to strategize our beats around Demesne Five. We need it." Jake smiled and turned over his shoulder to wave to an athletically-built long-haired Asian in the group. "Kenji! Get your ass over here and say hey to the new blood."

  Jake bade him goodbye, and breaking off from the group, Kenji walked over. As he approached, Caleb could see his eyes go wide with shock. "Holy shit."

  "Yup."

  "Kenji Sato. Pleased to meet you, man. We've heard a lot about you out of the 52nd. Didn't expect you to be a kid, though. No offense." Kenji said warmly.

  Caleb smiled back. "None taken."

  "Also didn't expect you to be one of us," Kenji smirked and pulled down his bottom lid. "Nice job sliding through the ranks, kid. But maybe they saw the cream in your blood, eh?"

  For a second, Caleb paused, surprised at the crude reference to his ethnicity. He was Japanese, at least on his mother's side, but he was built mostly like his father, whose Italian name and physical features he'd carried throughout most his life. Not many people put a fine point on his background, or even cared, but Kenji apparently did.

  "Not too many of us in alchemic law enforcement nowadays," Kenji continued. "Nice to see a fellow yellow. Even if you're only a half-breed."

  "Aheh... woof," Caleb snorted. "Didn't know we were still counting quadroons in 2155, but thanks for noticing."

  Kenji's lopsided smirk parted as though to respond, but then the smirk died, flat on his face. Before Caleb could ask what was wrong, he could feel it. Cold silence had fallen over them like a death shroud, and he turned around to see who'd thrown it.

  The man with the dark stare had somehow circled behind him, without notice. Instead of introducing himself, the man just stood there, staring at him with sharp silver eyes. The hot potato had passed round, and this guy had clearly dropped it.

  "The name's Caleb," he cooed, turning to him and reaching out his hand. "Caleb Rai."

  "Ah. So you're the porcelain doll the 52nd precinct sent over here to keep the order." Tinges of an Eastern European accent clung to the man's words, the lips that formed them taut and parallel, driving home the coldness in his gaze.

  Porcelain doll? Okay, asshole.

  Aside from the unwarranted insult, the way he was sizing him up wasn't at all good-natured. Caleb had gotten plenty a once over in his lifetime, but nothing about this dude's aura was inviting. The man looked at Caleb's outstretched hand with complete disinterest.

  "Just in case you were wondering, this is a handshake—" Caleb muttered. "—not an attempt to jack you off."

  "Pity. It just so happens that I have more use for the latter."

  Caleb started to clench his fists, but common sense intervened. Too early to start fights. The reminder slid smoothly in between His sudden anger and his knuckles, disconnecting the two.

  "How long did you say you were out of the academy?" The man asked.

  "I didn't," Caleb replied, feeling his own gaze cool. "And I've been out nearly three years. Who are you?"

  "Cotch."

  Caleb raised his brow. Kaelen Xakiah Cotch. Now things made more sense. "I see."

  "Where is your Vassal?" Xakiah snapped. "I thought all the young pups were kept on leashes."

  Sneers and low chuckles rose up from the scattered group of officers, Kenji included.

  Caleb frowned, his dislike for Xakiah cementing. "Vassal Persaud and I broke relations almost a year ago when I made Proficient. What's it to you?"

  A ghost of a smile played across Xakiah's features.

  "Roll call, ladies," Jake announced from the front. "Fall in."

  Caleb's eyes narrowed as he took in Xakiah's slow smile. Something about this guy and his personal government was off. And it wasn't the nightlight, either. Just as he opened his mouth to ask him what the hell his problem was, Xakiah finally spoke.

  "I've heard about you. I know why you're here." His voice was soft, dangerous. "If your Vassal won't be here to keep you in line, you can be sure that I will do that for him."

  "If any of my 'lines' run as crooked as yours, Cotch, then you won't have to lift a finger."

  "Cotch. Rai," Jake called out. "Would you two like to join us, or are you waiting for Xakiah to propose? Get your asses over here."

  Caleb cut Xakiah one last glare and broke contact to sit off to the right of the group.

  "We'll get to the bombing in a minute, but first I want to catch us up on some news. As you know, two months ago, one of Guild 35's high-priority shipments was jacked by Koa. Xakiah, Joseph, and Bly petitioned for a hunter's cell, and thanks to their efforts, we
've retrieved the stolen property and placed the suspects under arrest. Five points for the Fifth Precinct."

  Hoots, whistles, and claps rose up out of the crowd, and anyone who was sitting near the three men jostled them with congratulations.

  "What was the shipment?" Caleb ventured.

  "Classified," Xakiah interjected. "You'll find out when you become a real cop."

  "Easy, easy, boys," Jake intervened. "Cotch, hop off the bitch pills for a second, yeah?" Then he turned to Caleb. "The truth is that none of us know much about the contents of the shipment. The retrieval was a special ops assignment, and all we got to do was follow Koa's trail and bag 'em."

  "Are they planning another heist?"

  "We're not sure. We're questioning some suspects now to press out more info, but it's not guaranteed that any of them'll crack. There's no telling whether or not they'll put another hit on one of Guild 35's shipments, so we've taken measures to increase the security around their assets. Patrol is being fortified in and around the 35th Demesne, but of course—" Jake turned his attention back to the rest of the team, "—none of you will be walking that beat."

  "So then why do we need to know about it? This shit is practically happening on a completely different continent," Kenji piped up.

  "Because we believe that the hit was planned and executed right here from inside the Protected Demesnes."

  The entire room buzzed with murmurs of surprise. That Koa had operated on the borders of the Protecteds was a well-known fact. Bringing their operations inward, however, was a different matter entirely.

  Jake held up a silencing hand. "According to one of the detained suspects, Koa is beginning to plant seeds here. We can all agree that the bombing is a very clear indication of that. There are even rumors of Koan hollows being built right under our noses. Our task in the next coming months is to smoke those seeds out and keep them out."

  "But if they want to stay secret, then why bomb the Lakeside?" Another officer asked.

  Caleb stepped up. "Because it's close to the Converge where everyone in the other two Demesnes can see it. It's a warning sign. To instill fear in the Civilians… and in us too."

  "Well look who's the little forensic psychologist," Xakiah sneered, not bothering to turn to him.

  "It's a part of my training—" Caleb cut a smirk at Cotch. "—which is outside of Corporal Alchemists' jurisdiction, unfortunately."

  From where he was sitting, Caleb could hear Xakiah snarl. The age-old rivalries between the three alchemical alignments still ran strong, apparently.

  Xakiah tore his predatory gaze away from him, looking back at Jake. "If we have to waste time on Civilian matters, we could at least do it efficiently. Why don't we just form another hunter's cell? We'd find the Koan hollows much easier with a concerted effort on all the detectives' parts."

  Xakiah shot a look at him, venom dripping from his voice. That's when Caleb understood. He'd clearly gotten a look at his file, just as Palmer had, and he didn't like Caleb being a pencil pusher, protected from the shrapnel and scumbags of the Civic Demesnes.

  You and me both, buddy. Caleb met Xakiah's gaze, and instead of responding, he took another bite of his sandwich.

  "Forming a hunter cell requires special clearance by the Order itself, and we'll need a good reason for doing so," Jake replied. "It's just a lot of bullshit red tape that we don't need right now. Guild 40'll be up our asses trying to regulate every aspect of the investigation. Right now, it's just better that we work through protocol.

  "The first initiative is to keep the borders of the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Demesnes tight. Step one is firming up security at the Converge. No one goes through without special clearance from the Alchemic or Civic Orders. We've also been asked to institute a strict ten pm curfew, until we can get a decent lead on the bombing. So what's going around now—" Jake lifted his chin to the clipboard that was floating around. "—is a sign up schedule for watch-duty. All APs and CPs in the three Protecteds are required to guard the Converge and the borders, and this will become a part of your daily patrol."

  Xakiah stuck a thumb out at Caleb, seeming intent on getting a reaction. "And what about dollhouse over there? Is he going to work too, or is he just here for decoration?"

  "Caleb will be operating solely as an imported consultant for Special Forces. His training as a tactical Druid makes him far too rare and valuable to dispatch for fieldwork. He'll be working from the precinct, advising you and the other agents on your missions."

  "But Dilettantes and Proficient-level APs like us are expendable?" Xakiah snapped back, suppressing a growl.

  "No. But you know the score and you know the rules, so stop being a Mary about it. Otherwise, you can take it up with Captain Palmer. Or better yet, with Vassal Moss." Jake eyed Xakiah coolly.

  Caleb watched the liquid mercury in Xakiah's gaze settle, not resigned, but calm… and clearly marking Jake. For what, he didn't know, but it put a chill in him.

  Jake either didn't notice the look or didn't care, but he glowered at Cotch before he continued. "That's it for light duty. As for targeted investigations on the bombing and Koa, we've assigned you to triads. After I announce your teams, you can get to work. Just make sure you drop your case files at the front before you leave. Caleb will be analyzing the evidence in the coming months, and he'll be in touch with you for dispatch as strategies are formed. Hank, Bly, and Kenji, team one. Joseph, LC, and Drew, Team two…"

  As each team was called, they came up to the front and dropped their case files into a box.

  Guess that's my cue. Caleb could feel the tension and excitement well up in him as he walked over to the box, already wanting to pore over the first dossier. But he resisted the inclination and decided to wait. Not many of the cops in the room seemed particularly thrilled at having to report to him, and flipping through the files over a ham hoagie probably wouldn't win him any popularity points.

  When Xakiah's triad was finally called, he "handed" Caleb his case files by hurling them into the collection box. The force caused the box to slide, almost sending it toppling off the table. "Have fun, pencil pusher. Don't break a nail if you can help it."

  Caleb lifted an eyebrow, finally giving into temptation. "Don't worry, Cotch. My manicure will stay super clean as I dispatch you to your assignments."

  Xakiah turned to him, eyes blazing, but Caleb just smiled back. Without another word, Xakiah turned his back on him and walked out of the debrief room.

  When Zeika finally crashed through her front door, there was a tight crowd of bodies in her family's hut, trying to calm Mama down. Her parents had heard about the bombing; in fact the whole lot had heard, and many were still standing vigil by her family's side when Zeika finally made it back.

  The sight of her stumbling into the doorway tattered and bruised must have knocked out the last of Mama's reserves because she immediately swooped down onto her, poring over her wounds and asking her frantic questions amidst the smothering of hugs and kisses. Baba and Manja joined, not nearly as frantically, but no less relieved.

  "Demesne Seven has been breached," Zeika gasped out when she could finally get a breath. She slumped against Mama's shoulder, breathing hard. Every breath stung.

  The crowd didn't seem to need any more information than that. People quickly dispersed, some of them going off to phone relatives and friends, others strapping up to go find their families or children who had crossed over into the Seventh for work, and a few others going for their gardens to start moving out their things.

  Baba didn't say much, except that they should go to the Guild of Almaut to get Zeika patched up.

  "I'm fine, Baba," she groaned, sitting up. "It's just a couple of bruises. I'll walk it off."

  "Yeah, okay. You're getting checked out, and I'm not arguing with you about it. Besides, I've been meaning to move some of our stuff from the garden safe to the Guild anyway."

  "Okay, just pass me a list. I'll go."

  "Me too," Manja piped up, throwing on her yell
ow dinosaur and grabbing her flashlight.

  Baba took a minute to scribble out the things he needed before Zeika took the list and limped out the door, Manja in tow.

  The garden plots were practically empty by the time she and Manja reached them. Zeika herself was almost done getting everything that Baba wanted from the safe: a couple of pounds of beans to be dried, five onions, three bulbs of garlic, and some old clothes.

  Where is it?

  Zeika winced as she reached down and rummaged through the safe. Manja was going to be five in a few weeks, and in order for her to keep getting services from the Guild of Almaut, they needed to officially register her. But to do that, they needed her birth certificate.

  "Here." She handed Manja the two of the three most important things. "Zip it up tight."

  After Manja put her medicine and their can of savings in her dino bag, she shined the flashlight in the hole, lighting it up as Zeika tossed the contents of the entire hovel. She unearthed blankets, old clothes and socks, dried herbs, beans, flour, and finally, she found the old briefcase. In it were the deeds to their hut and the garden plot, along with their prior registrations to the Guild. But for the life of her, she couldn't find either of their birth certificates anywhere… where were they?

  "Zeeky!" Manja cried out, the light suddenly going wild.

  Zeika jerked her head out of the hole, coming nose to muzzle with a gun. She froze, as much in shock as from awe of the towering, ghostly man standing over her. He was dressed like she was, robes and hood all, except with military attire, and the face beneath his hood was covered at its bottom half in shining porcelain molded to his features. She didn't have to guess who he was and what he represented: she already knew.

  Koa.