Artificial Heart

Chapter 1 If there was one thing Travis could say about the old police station in front of him, it certainly didn’t have the austere presence of the New Detroit building where he’d served as a sergeant on a beat. Being newly promoted to detective though, meant moving to a new precinct and, at least in his case, a new town. Tucson’s Midtown Precinct was where he happened to end up. With a deep breath, he straightened his deep green tie in a nervous little twitch and strode into the squat, beige eyesore that was his new workplace. Inside had a very different feel than the outside, and Travis found himself reluctantly impressed. Simple, sharp, professional, the standard bullpen set-up since time immemorial and a far cry from the stuffy dimness of his last station house. Glass desks, black chairs, and bright steel flickered into sight as the people flittered about the massive room. There were a lot of people. Brightly dressed civilians waited to be helped and scowled for the most part, some of them even in cuffs. Those would go to lock up soon enough, no doubt. Travis chuckled at the more solemn-looking detectives going about station business. Something of the nervous tension he carried around relaxed at seeing all the stuffy suits of his fellow officers, as uncomfortable as he always felt in such clothes. Even the few beat cops in the fancier police uniforms, station patches and ranks proudly displayed on the sleeves with their shiny badges pinned securely to their chests, seemed the same. Granted, the beat cops wore cooler tan uniforms to combat the oppressive heat from the desert sun, but that was the only noticeable difference from his old cop regalia in New Detroit. Same air of wary alertness on every face; same sharp eyes and stiff postures. It felt almost like home. “Sir, can I help you?” Travis glanced to his right. A woman stood at the sign-in desk, dark eyes watching him curiously. Plastering on his best smile, he briskly stepped up and signed the log with a quick wave of his wrist over the chip scanner. It was standard procedure that dated back almost a century now, the entirety of one’s life and identity programmed onto a microchip. While it seemed a little like overkill to Travis, he could, when pressed, reluctantly admit the damn thing came in handy. At least he didn’t have to carry around all the paperwork to prove who and what he was, like people back in the 21st century were rumored to do. The lady watched her screen to make sure Travis’ credentials were legitimate and smiled politely when he checked out, still waiting for Travis to answer her question. Suddenly, Travis picked up the faintly sweet scent of omega from the woman and he relaxed. It was a common response amongst them, feeling safer in the company of one’s own dynamic. “I’m Detective Travis Danten, reporting for duty. Can you point me to the captain?” “Sure.” Her smile widened from polite to genuine. “It’s over there, up the—” A graying, dark-skinned, massive dragon of a beta policeman sidled up behind the woman and tapped her on the shoulder. The smile brightened a fraction more when her dark eyes flickered over to the man behind her. “Hey, Banks! You done with your call?” Banks, with kind green eyes that sparkled merrily when turned Travis’ direction, nodded, and shooed the woman out of his way gently. “Yeah. Abby just had a question about Jacine’s bout with the flu. I appreciate you watching my post so I could deal with it.” “Happy to help.” Sashaying from behind the counter, the lady extended a surprisingly sturdy hand to Travis. “I’m Lydia Medina, one of the detectives for our illustrious precinct.” He shook her hand politely as she jerked her chin toward Banks. “That’s our beta desk sergeant, Matata Banks, and he certainly lives up to his name.” Travis chuckled when the sergeant flashed a mischievous smile and a wink. “Nice to meet you, sir.” Banks waved and Lydia took that as her cue, gathering him with a motion. “Since I’m free until my partner is back from her scheduled maintenance check-up, I will be glad to take you to our captain.” Medina guided him right through the middle of the bullpen, ambling at a slow pace so Travis could drink in the bustle of the place. Hard-working people filled the space with the sound of papers shuffling, chatter about casework, even a few flirtatious comments. Pheromones saturated the air with the sweet scent of his fellow omegas, the earthy scent of the zeta civilians, a tangy smell of betas, and the sharpness of alpha, a little overwhelming because it wasn’t the mix he was used to. His old station had far more betas, which drowned out the others’ scents. This place smelled like the brass kept the dynamics pretty balanced. Something besides the oppressive desert heat to grow accustomed with. Joy. And Medina chattered brightly as they weaved a path through the other officers, the zeta scent falling to almost nothing in the police-only areas. Small bits of gossip mostly, like who was dating whom and the supposed troublemakers. She also picked out for him the little necessities of any office, such as the break lounge and bathrooms. Nothing spectacular or deviating far from the traditional station layout. A short rise of stairs in the back of the room brought them up into the station commanders’ territory and Lydia immediately directed Travis to the farthest door on the right. “Captain Faolan is in there. Don’t forget to knock!” Smiling, Travis flipped a jaunty wave and squared his shoulders in an attempt to hide his flutter of nerves. Blithely ignoring the little voice that reminded him the captain would smell Travis’ emotions from a mile away regardless, he quickly rapped his knuckles against the solid door. The soft voice that drifted through the door bidding him to enter was not what he expected. Faolan had a reputation as an almost brutal taskmaster, able to force even the worst officers and detectives to comply with every order he gave, regardless of the order. However, the solve rate of any department he ran was just about perfect, which spoke well of whatever methods Faolan used. How such an accomplished captain ended up running a precinct at the ass end of the States was something Travis only wondered about in passing and never dared to mention. Travis fortified his nerves one last time and walked into the office. “Uh, Captain?” Faolan turned out to be a lithe man, hair short and plain brown, piercing eyes almost too pale in color to be called blue. The captain would be handsome as hell if he smiled a little. Travis couldn’t tell what his dynamic was either, nose too full of others after the walk through the precinct. The man c****d an eyebrow, waiting. “I’m, uh, Travis Danten, detective from the 17th New Detroit Precinct. I’ve been assigned to your station, effective immediately.” His new captain just continued to stare, and Travis shifted anxiously on his feet, not sure what to say. He started babbling. “I’m supposed to be added to your Homicide unit. I don’t know how though, considering regs explicitly state that omegas can’t be doing such a high-risk assignment without an alpha partner. An alpha wasn’t partnered with me; at least, one isn’t listed on my transfer file.” The other eyebrow rose, and Travis just couldn’t stop himself. “Unless, of course, I’m tasked to Homicide as the assistant to the administrator. I guess I wouldn’t need an alpha then, but I was told that I would be handling cases, so I assumed that—” As soon as Faolan lifted his hand, Travis deflated like his strings were cut. Have I f****d this up already? He started fidgeting again when the captain gave him an unimpressed once-over. Damn, that one look made him feel five inches tall. “You haven’t been partnered yet because we do things a little different here.” Faolan’s voice didn’t rise any higher than library quiet, but the mild sound had his full attention. “And yes, you will be working cases. I’ve seen your personnel file and was impressed. So impressed that I requested for you to work for me.” Definitely not what Travis expected to hear. “Now, I’m going to run this by you once, so pay very close attention.” Finally Captain Faolan moved, leaning forward over the black monster of a desk and planted his elbows on it. For such an unassuming man, he intimidated the hell out of Travis with that pose. “We were selected two years ago to field a trial for the integration of artificial humans into police work, to protect our officers. There’s a short selection process that you must go through, to find an alpha synthetic that’s compatible. Afterwards, you and your new partner will have a couple of days to acclimate to each other on routine calls before starting Homicide in earnest.” Icy eyes narrowed. “Understood?” “If I’m understanding right,” Travis started slowly, to feel out his explanation, “it’s like the military units. Alpha combat troops paired up with their own omega humanoids to keep the alphas out of their rage. And the synthetics are hardier than an organic omega.” It sounded right and Faolan confirmed it with a sharp jerk of the head that Travis took as a nod. “Exactly. Since omegas are the ones best suited to being effective investigators now, the alphas are partnered with them as bodyguards and muscle.” “I’m going to be part of the law enforcement test program?” “Every cop in this city is.” Faolan’s smirked had a strange curl to it, almost brittle. “The powers that be tried this trial run before, but a rookie beat cop screwed the program to hell. It’s been ten years since that incident, so it’s being attempted once more, now that public scrutiny has finally faded.” The captain was slow to stand and move, shoulders not quite as straight as when he was seated. “Anyway, welcome to Midtown.” A firm handshake and Travis was being shuffled out of the office, with his new boss by his side, to meet his new partner. Joy.