Hodge kicked at some gravel as the coachman bent over the engine, fanning away some residual smoke. This sort of thing was supposed to be men's work but the fellows standing around with him clearly felt pretty useless. They'd all piled out to see to the engine, which sure enough was belching smoke.

The blond teenager who'd been riding up front leaned out of a window and looked from the coach driver to the gentlemen.

"Would it help," he said acidly, "If I got out and pushed?"

One of the men who'd gathered around the front of the coach spat into the dust. "It might, sonny."

Hodge ignored them. "Well?" he asked the driver, who shrugged helplessly.

"This motor is brand friggin' new!" he exclaimed, briefly dropping the diplomatic manner. "I oversaw her installation last week! You wouldn't know it from looking at her; she looks like she's been rattling around in there a century."

"Was it switched for an older model?"

"No! This design is cutting edge. It's the same girl but it's like she's four miles old goin' on three hundred thousand."

He spoke with familial indignation and Hodge felt sorry for the driver, who clearly cherished his machine.

None of them really seemed in any place to contradict his assessment. Hodge barely knew the back end of a car from his own ass. The coach door swung open and the blond boy stumped out, shielding his eyes from the glare and scowling at the lot of them as though each and every man were responsible for the delay.

"How far are we from the nearest…anything?" another passenger asked.

The driver sighed. "Maybe…a four hour walk to the nearest phone or telegraph line."

Four hours wasn't so bad, thought Hodge, reckoning back to his army experience. They'd marched for longer a day than that, when tracks and trucks couldn't conquer the terrain.

The teenager brushed past him to get closer to the engine. His frown thinned at the sight of the motor and he pitched forward, frowning and prodding at the metal with a white-gloved finger.

"Careful, it's still hot," warned the driver but the boy ignored him, tapping a spot with the index finger of his right hand.

"This is a transmutation mark," he said, pointing it out to the startled driver. Then he peered over the rest of the hissing metal, harrumphing in some kind of professional enlightenment. "Yeah, they're all over. It wasn't enough to shatter the steel right away, but it definitely weakened it. Kind of like setting a timer."

"You're sure?"

"I don't know anything 'bout engines, but I know alchemy when I see it."

"But it was deliberate?"

"Uh huh. You don't just trip and transmute."

"An alchemist did this?" Hodge wondered aloud, drifting closer.

"Not necessarily," said the kid. "Could be an amateur, it's not a hard transmutation."

Most transmutations were hard transmutations. Hodge gave the kid a sidelong look as he got closer to the motor. "You know about this stuff?"

"A thing or two," the boy said with what Hodge interpreted as irony. Probably the kid was a student who had unexpectedly found himself in his element among strangers.

"Well," the kid continued, "let's give it a shot."

"Give what?"

The teenager gave the coachman a funny look. "Repairing the engine." A nonverbal 'duh' trailed the end of the sentence.

Stepping forward, he slapped his palms together with an enormous clap. There was a loud, clear chime, so near to Hodge's ear that he nearly looked around for the source. Lightning, as though from a transmutation circle, suddenly erupted from the boy's palms and he pressed them to the metal.

They squinted against the brief, blinding flash and hardly knew what they were looking at before realizing the engine sat there looking like it must have a few days before, shiny and new.

"Ow!" The kid whipped his glove off his left hand where the skin was red from contact, even through a glove, with the hot metal.

"Told you," murmured the driver absently, agog at his motor all pristine again. "How—how did you—"

"Alchemy," said the kid matter-of-factly. "Can we get going now? Actually—no chance you could drop me off at Falstadt, as a little thank you…?"

He stared expectantly at the driver, who hadn't heard a word and was checking over the motor in wonder.

The boy sighed.

"Well, let me know if a wheel falls off or something," he said grumpily, and turned to reenter the coach.

Hodge glanced around at the astonished company. It was not so much the transmutation that startled them (although that was novelty enough; there were few alchemists in this region and all of them were past forty years) as the means by which the boy had done it—was there an array they hadn't seen?

"We don't know why someone did this," Hodge said to the kid's retreating back.

He paused at the door. "Does it change the route? Unless we reroute to Falstadt or, you know, blow up, it's got nothing to do with me."

"Thanks," said another passenger, halfway between dry and bemused, "We'll let you know if we blow up, shall we?"

All they saw was the white glove's casual wave as it disappeared inside the coach.

Hodge looked around with a half grin. "I guess we're off again. Once we get to Duros I'll file something with the sheriff and we'll corroborate your report to Monarch Lines," he added to the driver, who nodded and with a last look at the engine, slammed the massive hood down. "Lucky we had an alchemist on board."

The fellows laughed and shook their heads. Hodge shepherded them back into the coach as the driver regained his seat, careful not to allow his own consternation to show. It bothered him—that was sabotage, and there was a reason for it. It was probable the offending alchemist had remained at the train station after setting his "timer." Was it really happenstance that another alchemist—not really a cenz a dozen out here—was a passenger on the same shuttle that had been set up to break down?

"What in the world happened?" asked Mrs Besk from her seat beside Ms Somers. Both women had graciously swept up the broken china from the floor, picked up the debris, and straightened the furnishings, for which the men (who had been rather useless in their own endeavor) had thanked them.

"Motor trouble," said Hodge with a smile. "We'll be up and running again in a sec."

On cue, the driver called: "Take two!"

The engine started to nervous laughter from most of the passengers, save the blond boy and the gentleman who'd been sitting in the back and hadn't ventured out with the rest of the men. In fact, the teenager seemed positively stormy at the piling inconveniences.

Hodge paused, then strode forward and took a seat near the kid, who raised an eyebrow.

"Owen Hodge," said the constable, offering the boy his hand. "Thanks for your help."

The kid hesitated, eyeing the proffered hand, then shrugged and shook his head. "No big deal."

Hodge hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and leaned back in the armchair. It kind of tickled him how they fixed up the coach so as it almost resembled the front parlor of Hodge's old ma. He could almost smell the peppermints she kept in a little glass swan on the coffee table. "Are you an alchemy student?"

"No. I'm Edward Elric, a state alchemist."

Hodge stared at him a moment and then laughed.

"What's funny?" The lad sounded a little defensive, assuming Hodge was laughing at his expense. Surely he ran into plenty of disbelief on account of his age. Well, maybe Hodge did laugh partly from surprise, but he covered for it quickly.

"I've only ever met one other alchemist, and he was a statie too. What're the odds?" Hodge grinned at Elric, who seemed interested.

"Really? Wouldn't happen to be Roe Drury, would it?"

"No…" But the name seemed familiar, and Falstadt floated up from somewhere in his memory. "That's the one in Falstadt, right? No—but I didn't know Drury had a state license."

"Back in the day."

"The 'day' usually means Ishval," Hodge observed blandly. Elric didn't contradict him.

The same old song. Many alchemists had resigned after Ishval, far more than had enlisted since. They must have been hurting for new blood to go hiring surly teenagers. Hodge had a hard time reconciling the public image of state alchemists as living weapons with this wry, ornery boy who had sat for the better part of the ride with a book in his hand.

"Guess that day ended for Drury too. Never met him, but I was in the military a few years ago. Not Ishval; southern border. The Ashlar Alchemist, you know him?"

"Heard of 'im. He's never been up eastways." Elric drummed his fingers on his knee, and peered at him with disconcerting yellow eyes. "What do you know of Drury?"

"Is he in trouble?"

"He's missing. You hadn't heard?" Hodge shook his head. "He was last seen in Falstadt, so I'm headed there to trace his steps. Assuming they don't stop short," Elric added under his breath. Belatedly Hodge realized he meant the man could be dead and was taken aback by the youngster's frank appraisal.

"I only know he operates in Falstadt. Or did, I guess. No offense, but what does the military care about a missing alchemist? Even a former statie?"

Even as he said it, Hodge realized that the military probably kept tabs on all their former dogs, and probably other alchemists as well. Any scholar well versed in the field was certainly watched by a military that, if it could not recruit the alchemist, would at least satisfy itself that the person posed no threat to them.

Elric shrugged, only willing to divulge so much of the case, and pulled out his book again. Now that he'd confirmed Hodge had no knowledge of the missing alchemist he'd visibly lost interest in continuing the discussion.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Hodge said, shifting in the chair, "but I'm a little surprised you're the only one they're sending out to handle this."

Elric looked back up and glowered. "Why? Send an dog to find a dog."

It surprised Hodge to hear the alchemist be so flippant; he would have thought they would all be uptight in the manner of men who were compelled to defend their choices.

"It just seems like more than a one-man job."

"I usually work with my brother." Elric flipped a page.

"Where's he?"

"Hopefully making more use of his time than I am."

Behind them, Hodge spied Marsia Besk straining almost comically to eavesdrop on their conversation. Even Ms Somers didn't appear indifferent, and from time to time she glanced shyly in the alchemist's direction. Both men were speaking quietly but Elric seemed unconcerned about revealing his state license. He might have to go about it more carefully in Falstadt.

Hodge stretched his legs. "Will you report the alchemy to your superiors?"

"I'll sign off on the coachman's report to Monarch Lines," said Elric to his book.

"Aren't you even interested in who sabotaged the engine?"

"One investigation at a time," drawled Elric. But then he frowned, and ever so slightly glanced at the other passengers from the corner of his yellow eye.

Then he turned that startling yellow eye on Hodge, only just catching the constable's tone. "Hold up. You don't think I did it, do you?"

Hodge grinned at him and shrugged. "Up 'til you pulled out that pocketwatch, I wouldn't have ruled you out. But I figure a statie's got better things to do."

Elric scowled at him. "Why the hell would I sabotage a ride I don't even want to be on?"

"You wouldn't be the first teenager I've seen who just wanted a chance to show off to strangers."

The kid took offense. "Like transmuting steel is showing off," he scoffed. Hodge laughed.

Elric snapped his book shut and lowered his voice. "Listen," he said, "I'd prefer it if the rest of the ride went off without a hitch. If that 'alchemist'"—he used air quotes to denote his refusal to automatically grant the title to anyone who had only shown themselves capable of cracking steel—"stayed at the station, it will go off without a hitch. And if it doesn't, it means your alchemist is on this coach. It sure ain't me."

"It's not my alchemist," said Hodge. He rescued his coffee cup quickly from a jolt by a pothole on the road. "Besides, even if you weren't a statie, you've been bitching about the route since you got to the coach. I wouldn't really figure you'd want to delay it even more."

"Damn straight," muttered Elric.

Even if there was another alchemist on board, having seen the ease with which Elric had dispatched the sabotage would surely discourage further attempts. Surely.

Yet there was a little tension that Hodge couldn't quite roll out of his shoulders, and if the kid was half as smart as he seemed, he felt it too.

.

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I hope I won't have to go back and edit this...it should be fine. There will be action...

Any thoughts are appreciated!