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Sir Jack Fraser had been arrested on Southampton Shipyard. The news had shocked the Privateers, who had waited with baited breath for news of their illustrious leader. Somewhat conversely the government saw it as the single largest public pain in the arse since Lady Elizabeth Mountbatten got her head stuck between the railings of Buckingham Palace in front of a flotilla of Rheinlandic tourists. There was a very good chance that this incident could be even more embarrassing.
Then the news had filtered back to the Tau 31 Gate Construction Site through contacts in the BPA. The government was dealing with the Privateers seriously this time: he'd been locked up on Newgate. Newgate - considered by many to be one of the single most secure prisons in the entirety of Sirius. Speculation was rife; would he serve a sentence or face the firing squad for war crimes? Anonymous sources within the Home Office indicated that they were going to throw him to the wolves and put a bullet in his head.
Sir Fraser himself had hoped for neither, but things hadnt exactly been going according to plan. Two stone faced BPA elite escorted a hooded figure down a short corridor; a hand on each shoulder, a stun baton in the other. At the end, a cell awaited. It was divided into two sections - the first was a small space designed to hold a guard, with the second section, the prisoner's, being accessed through the guards. It was a small metal box with a flimsy looking bunk.
A pale youth snapped to attention outside the open door, the uniform that hung off him flapping like a loose sail. His attire appeared to have been tailored to a man several sizes larger.
One of the escorts (an Inspector according to his epaulettes) turned to the cell guard. The other roughly hauled Fraser into the prisoner's cell and hefted the door shut. Which wasn't hard, seeing as it was made from light-weight materials and the hinges were corroding. Shuddering in its frame, the lock unclicked and the door juddered open again. The escort hissed with fustration and booted it shut.
"Guard, make sure the prisoner doesnt leave this cell until I come and get him." The ill-clothed guard saluted again.
"Not to leave the room, even if you come and get him."
"No, no. Until I come to get him." The inspector turned to leave.
"Until you come and get him, I'm not to enter the cell."
"No, no, no! You stay in your cell and make sure he doesnt leave his." The young guard blinked.
"And you'll come and get him."
"Right." The inspector gave an exasperated sigh. He could see the imbecile's lips silently moving, no doubt framing another idiotic question.
"I dont need to do anything, apart from just stop him entering the cell."
"No. Leaving the cell."
"Leaving the cell, yes."
The inspector was now ever so slightly shaking with rage. "Got it?"
The guard beamed happily. "Yep."
Before the guard had time to misinterpret his orders yet again, the Inspector and fellow escort about turned, locked the guard shack door behind them and route-marched away. The guard shuffled his feet for a moment, then opened the viewing slot to the prisoner's cell. Fraser had pulled his hood off, and now stood blinking in the light, bemused by the verbal exchange.
"Hullo?" The guard called. "You're a very important prisoner, you know. They ordered me to keep you here when usually everythings done by the cameras and computers. Mind you, I was told they're turned off on this floor for fixing, or something." He scratched his armpit and fell into silence.
After a few awkward moments of silent fidgeting, he continued. "It's really cool they chose me for this job actually. Usually I get turned down because of my sleeping thing." He rummaged in one of his pockets. "This is awesome as well! They signed me on as the duty shuttle officer for if there was an evacuation!" He jingled the Clydesdale's keys in front of the observation slot. Ive never flow-..." He crumpled to the floor and began to snore.
A moment later, the door's lock popped open again.