Ordis Warden

393 AC - The man wedged comfortably in his chair is snoring. I walk slowly along the rows of prison cells to the office. Most of them are empty. Only two are occupied: one by a Bravos still pickling in a heady cloud of alcohol, and the other by an irritated recruit who must have tried to stand up to him. I walk past the isolation cell. Luckily for her, the offence wasn't serious enough for her to be placed in solitary confinement. I remembered a soldier who had received such a punishment once. It wasn't just the padded cell that was torture; it was the solitude. Complete and total isolation. Being cut off from the Gestalt, even temporarily, could be the worst punishment imaginable. It was like swimming on the surface of a deep, dark sea and feeling the emptiness beneath…

I stand up straight in front of the guard and clear my throat. He opens his eyes and looks at me, without a hint of guilt at being caught napping. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Maybe he's waiting for me to beg for the release of the young cadet? He probably doesn't suspect that it's him I've come to see. According to my information, the man in front of me – how old is he, 40? 45? – was the personal assistant of General De Graaf before becoming a prison officer on the Mandjet. Obviously he was far too young to have been in that position at the time of the incident, but as a secretary, maybe he'd got wind of something interesting before he took office…

ZHEN