A tired looking woman in green military dress leaned over a desk lit with a single dim lamp.
“Maarplot, Danae C,” she said as she scanned down a list of names. “That one’s a troublemaker, I’ll have to double her load. Let’s see… what can I make her do.” She shuffled through a few papers on her desk and found another list. “Cleaning, KP, more cleaning, room services…” she mumbled to herself.
“Ah! There’s the perfect one. Brickwork needs breaking.” She scribbled something on the first list then leaned back in her chair, daunted by the task still ahead of her. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a half-crushed cardboard box. She pulled a cigarette out of it, but did not light it, because that was against the rules. She leaned back over the lists, trying to concentrate. A metallic beep interrupted her concentration.
“What is it?” she demanded. She then quickly remembered the cigarette in her mouth and shoved it into a drawer. A door opened and a man walked in.
“What is it, Mason? Hurry up, I’m busy.”
“I know Dasa, but we have a problem.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “What this time?”
“One of the inmates is not in her room.”
“Which one?”
“Danae Maarplot.”
“Well, where is she?”
“I don’t know, Dasa, that’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“Well find out quickly and report here when you know.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Darn that Maarplot girl! Why did she have to get sent to my camp. There are thousands of others. Maybe I can request an inmate transfer.
Her thoughts were broken by the metallic beep again.
“What is it Mason?” The door opened and Mason walked in dragging a petulant Danae.
“What were you doing outside of you room after hours?”
There was no reply from Danae.
“Answer me!”
Still nothing.
“Fine, Mason, put her in Containment. No food tomorrow for the chit. And triple the normal workload.” That should take care of her. Dasa thought as Danae was dragged from the room. Now, let’s see what I can do about that transfer… once again Dasa’s thoughts were shattered by the beep.
“What now Mason!?” she screamed.
“I-I-I just wanted to report that Maarplot has been secured, Ma’am, and that she still hasn’t said anything.”
“Very good. Now you may go. I have things to attend to.
“Yes Ma’am.”
Dasa picked up a telotransmiter, a device similar to a telephone, but much more sophisticated.
“Voice activation code required.” A female computer’s voice prompted.
“Recognize Dasa Hale. Code 334-8972.”
“Recognized and accepted. Who to do you wish to contact?”
“High General Martinet, Council Authority.”
”Voice activation code required to contact this person.”
“Recognize Lieutenant Commander Dasa Edison Hale. Code 187-6654-32-81.”
“Recognized. Transferring to Council Authority.”
A few moments later there was some static and a thick voice speaks
“General Chiphys Tyran. May I assist you, Lieutenant Commander Hale?”
“General Tyran, I am honoured. Is there any way that I can speak to
High General Martinet?”
“I’m sorry. Her Honour is not accepting contact at this time. You will have to try again at a later date. Transmission ended.”
“Very well, thank you General Tyran.” Dasa sputtered, throwing the telotransmitter down on the desk and ripping open the drawer where she had stashed her cigarette. She pulled it out once more and stuck it in her mouth. Then looked down at the lists in front of her, brooding in silence.
I'm really sorry that I didn't get this on earlier. My week has been from heck.
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