Read Online Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel by Colby R Rice - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colby R Rice
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care is that you do . You gettin' me, son? You stay out of my ass, and I'll stay out o' yours. If you play nice while you're here, I might just forget all about your closed file, and we can get on as sweet as schoolgirls."
Palmer waddled to a stand, took a box of files off of a nearby cabinet, and dropped it at Caleb's feet. "There's a bunch of cases piling up that we haven't been able to pursue, due to lack of manpower for one, and secondly, because the organization of the police reports is shot to hell. You could start by going down into the cold room and organizing our paperwork." Then Palmer looked around his own office and made a face. "Actually, start here . I haven't been able to get my files together in ages."
Caleb's face screwed up. This was BS. "Sir, there's got to be something more hands-on I can do than this. I'm a cop, not a fucking maid. There's nothing else I can do here?"
"Well, our resident masseuse is out for the month, if you're interested..." Palmer walked past Caleb, heading towards the door, ending the conversation.
"I'm not joking, Captain."
Palmer stopped at the door, giving Caleb a look that said he wasn't joking either. "Get this place together, will you? Cotch will be back in a few days, and he hates clutter."
With that, Palmer closed the door behind him, turning over the hanging sign on the door that said "Out to Lunch".
Prick.
Snarling, Caleb kicked the box at his feet. It slid across the office and crashed against the far wall, regurgitating random slips of paper. The gesture made him feel better and yet more impotent all at the same time. All those years of cracking cases, of climbing the ladder, of special ops training in the 52 nd Demesne, and this is what he came halfway across the goddamned world for?
He walked over to the window, chewing on the bitter thought, cursing at how badly things in his life had gone in the past two years. He hadn't picked Demesne Five for the transfer, but at the time, he hadn't had a choice. He hadn't really had much of a say in anything. The Fifth Demesne Headquarters had been at the top of the list of the most understaffed and highest priority precincts, and one that would be the least likely to ask him questions. And likewise, he hadn't asked questions either. He had just been happy to be alive.
Guess I should be grateful for that much.
He sighed, already knowing the end to that tune. In the aftermath of his little "incident" in Demesne 52, he had spent nearly the entire trip over here mustering up some inklings of gratitude for what he had left. He had come up dry every time. So he had tried something a bit more practical and less infuriating: reading up on Demesne Five.
From what little info he had gathered, politicians of the Protecteds were afraid that Demesnes Five, Six, and Seven would soon lose their ground as Civilian sanctuaries. All the other demesnes surrounding the Protecteds had been getting hit with Koan metal. Hard. Outer Civic Demesnes were crumbling beneath the clashes between the Alchemic Order and the Koan insurgency, and guerilla warfare pressed harder and harder on the borders of the Protecteds as power shifted from Civilians to Koa... or so the files had said.
Either way, the reports didn't make sense.
Everyone, even Azures, knew that Koan insurgents considered the Protecteds sacred ground. Most Koan soldiers were rogue Civilians of the Civic Order, waging war on its behalf, not against it. To them, the Protecteds not only served as the capital of the Civic Order, but they were also the last three demesnes where Civilians were relatively safe. They would never breach them. It just didn't make sense.
The more Caleb had researched the situation in the Protecteds, the less sure was of the truth. He had only hit more dead-ends, more questions, and now that he'd been given bitch work, he definitely had doubts. Of all the things he thought he'd be doing here, he hadn't imagined that this was the kind of help the
Palmer waddled to a stand, took a box of files off of a nearby cabinet, and dropped it at Caleb's feet. "There's a bunch of cases piling up that we haven't been able to pursue, due to lack of manpower for one, and secondly, because the organization of the police reports is shot to hell. You could start by going down into the cold room and organizing our paperwork." Then Palmer looked around his own office and made a face. "Actually, start here . I haven't been able to get my files together in ages."
Caleb's face screwed up. This was BS. "Sir, there's got to be something more hands-on I can do than this. I'm a cop, not a fucking maid. There's nothing else I can do here?"
"Well, our resident masseuse is out for the month, if you're interested..." Palmer walked past Caleb, heading towards the door, ending the conversation.
"I'm not joking, Captain."
Palmer stopped at the door, giving Caleb a look that said he wasn't joking either. "Get this place together, will you? Cotch will be back in a few days, and he hates clutter."
With that, Palmer closed the door behind him, turning over the hanging sign on the door that said "Out to Lunch".
Prick.
Snarling, Caleb kicked the box at his feet. It slid across the office and crashed against the far wall, regurgitating random slips of paper. The gesture made him feel better and yet more impotent all at the same time. All those years of cracking cases, of climbing the ladder, of special ops training in the 52 nd Demesne, and this is what he came halfway across the goddamned world for?
He walked over to the window, chewing on the bitter thought, cursing at how badly things in his life had gone in the past two years. He hadn't picked Demesne Five for the transfer, but at the time, he hadn't had a choice. He hadn't really had much of a say in anything. The Fifth Demesne Headquarters had been at the top of the list of the most understaffed and highest priority precincts, and one that would be the least likely to ask him questions. And likewise, he hadn't asked questions either. He had just been happy to be alive.
Guess I should be grateful for that much.
He sighed, already knowing the end to that tune. In the aftermath of his little "incident" in Demesne 52, he had spent nearly the entire trip over here mustering up some inklings of gratitude for what he had left. He had come up dry every time. So he had tried something a bit more practical and less infuriating: reading up on Demesne Five.
From what little info he had gathered, politicians of the Protecteds were afraid that Demesnes Five, Six, and Seven would soon lose their ground as Civilian sanctuaries. All the other demesnes surrounding the Protecteds had been getting hit with Koan metal. Hard. Outer Civic Demesnes were crumbling beneath the clashes between the Alchemic Order and the Koan insurgency, and guerilla warfare pressed harder and harder on the borders of the Protecteds as power shifted from Civilians to Koa... or so the files had said.
Either way, the reports didn't make sense.
Everyone, even Azures, knew that Koan insurgents considered the Protecteds sacred ground. Most Koan soldiers were rogue Civilians of the Civic Order, waging war on its behalf, not against it. To them, the Protecteds not only served as the capital of the Civic Order, but they were also the last three demesnes where Civilians were relatively safe. They would never breach them. It just didn't make sense.
The more Caleb had researched the situation in the Protecteds, the less sure was of the truth. He had only hit more dead-ends, more questions, and now that he'd been given bitch work, he definitely had doubts. Of all the things he thought he'd be doing here, he hadn't imagined that this was the kind of help the
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