Ghosts of Koa

The Converge

The Converge

CouncilmanMicah Burke set the new legislation on his desk—  slowly— as the Earth moved in the distance.Clearly, all had gone to shit down below. 

And on the border of a protected Civic Desmesne, no less.

Or so he imagined. He wouldn’t actually know; his binoculars only saw so far. The most recent explosion had come from at least a mile or two westward, but it wasn’t his business anyway. So when the ground groaned and the sickly-sweet scent of charred flesh gushed over him minutes later, he barely budged. So long as they didn’t bring that shit over here, they could blow each others’ brains out for all he cared.

He turned back to the bills he had been editing, looking between them and the political map of Demesne Seven. The hot issue of the day were the zoning laws that Azures were lobbying for, on the grounds that Civilian presence in Azure neighborhoods would bring down property values. As obnoxious as the sentiments were, Burke couldn't ignore the facts: Azures just didn't want to live with Civilians, even if the Seventh was a part of the Civic Order. Though that wasn’t going to be the greatest selling point on the council floor.

He grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and started to jot down a list of pros and cons, the very effort making him feel traitorous. Damned Azures. Much as they were his people, they knew how to piss on a party, and he was always charged with clean up. The Civilians didn’t deserve this, really, but truth was, if housing zones weren't established, the market would plummet and hurt Azure investment in Demesne Seven— 

Burke straightened, feeling hopeful. Yes, that was the angle. He began to write. “A loss in revenue is the last thing the Seventh needs, especially now. As the three Protecteds are all yoked together— politically, financially, socially— a good move in the Seventh means security for the Fifth and Sixth Demesnes as well. Security is top priority, especially with the Koan insurgency at our doors…”

…and how about a side of shovel to go with that bullshit? 

He sighed, balled up the paper, and threw it over his shoulder. Stand against Koa by letting some fat Azure build his million-dollar condo over the local Civilian school? It was a stretch.

The phone rang, and he picked it up.

“Go suck on a blood bag, asshole,” he snarled, and slammed the phone down, uncaring if it was a reporter or lobbyist. He didn’t feel like talking to ass-headed Azures on the issue of zoning laws, he didn’t give a damn who it was. He’d been pushed enough already, and it was time to make some decisions on his own, in the quiet comfort of his own crazy. Especially after what happened last spring.

Could’ve been a Civilian lobbyist, though…

Yeah, right. It also could’ve been a high-nosed hooker with a pound of hash, but even that would’ve had to wait. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, irked that he even had to care about this. He’d done so much for these ingrates over the years, dodging bullets, dealing with death threats, all while lobbying for a people that hated him. The hearings were Friday, and for all his hard work, the Civilians were going to sink their fangs into him, accuse him once again of favoring Azure interests over their own. The room would explode, the debate turning into a political mud fest of who lost most in the war, and how Burke himself couldn’t be trusted because he was an Azure. In fifteen years, nothing had changed.

He got up and walked out, heading for his gardens. He needed some fresh air.

The cool croons of swallows met him as he stepped out, and the sun he hadn’t seen for nearly ten hours drew pink across the sky as it sank. Most Azures in the Seventh would be heading home and locking their doors for fear of having to meet— or sometimes, exchange blows with— the local civvies. He was safe, of course, as he lived right at the heart of the Seventh Demesne on a hill, his abode set up comfortably in an Azure-built biosphere. Nothing was more secure or more beautiful, and it was an appropriate gift for his service. Still, in war, nothing was safer than a Colt Government .45, and he kept it with him at all times. Aside from his daily regimen of bullets and gunpowder, nothing had changed. Nothing was goingto change.