The Aeolian Master Book One Revival

by John Northern

  Lieutenant Sharpie looked down the long dining room table at the merrymakers—drinking, eating, singing, talking, and basically making a lot of noise. She reached out with her fork, stabbed another toral steak, and plopped it on her plate. As she cut into it with a knife she looked across the table at her friend and long time lover, Curt, the Captain of the Guard, and winked at him.

  He winked back and gave her that look like ‘what are we doing after the party?’

  She wasn't sure she was in the mood. So she smiled back and took a bite of her toral steak.

  She didn't care too much for the warden and didn't know anyone who did, including Curt, Captain of the Guard. Maybe Roqford liked him. The warden was always doting on him, giving him everything he wanted. Even now as Roqford lay in the front left corner of the room there was a platter of toral steaks and potatoes in front of him.

  But if Roqford liked the warden there was never any indication of it.

  The warden had taken over the prison pit when it first started under the direction of Hurd. And over the years, being naturally paranoid, he was continually reading the records of the prisoners, looking for anything which might indicate that a particular prisoner had the astuteness for escape or for organizing a riot. "He has every room of every building on the compound and even those in the Employee City bugged," Curt had once confided in Sharpie. They were standing in the middle of the prison yard where there were no bugs. "He probably gets his kicks by listening in when we're making love."

  The warden's light blond hair was mostly gone except around the ears. He was short at about five-nine and was carrying about two hundred sixty pounds. Around his stomach, which bulged through his body suit, was a wide leather belt with a holster and phasor on the right and a holster and phasor on the left.

  Sharpie didn't care if he had all the rooms bugged, but if he was listening in while she was making love, that was disgusting not to mention an invasion of privacy. She didn't think he would do such a thing, especially since he was more interested in the prisoners, but the idea was still revolting.

  No, it was a fact. She didn't like the warden.

  She picked up the platter of greens and spooned a couple of heapings on her dish. She set the platter on the table, and then held up her glass. A servant rushed over and filled it to the brim with wine. As she took a drink she looked around at the room. She liked the wood look, the long wooden table capable of seating thirty, the wooden floor covered with toral skins, and even the walls made of finished wood slats. On the interior wall hung a painting of the warden and to the other side were large bay windows overlooking the lights from the spaceport in the distance.

  Along the sides of the table sat the assistant warden, the other lieutenants, nineteen in all and even a few of the sergeants all dressed in their finest guard uniforms. It was a fact. She did like the warden's parties.

  The warden raised his goblet, "Cheers, and to the good life," he said jubilantly.

  The officers and the sergeants raised their glasses and echoed the warden's toast. "Cheers," they said and gulped at their imported wine. By the end of the night the wine would have them feeling good; except the Captain, who seldom drank, and Roqford.

  The servants, under the direction of Jacob, the head servant, continued to bring in large platters of food, but the warden noticed they were getting low on wine. "More wine!" he yelled. It made him angry when the servants weren't paying attention to their duties.

  A moment later a servant rushed in with a large silver platter of silver pitchers, set it on an empty corner of the table, and started pouring wine.

  The warden tapped his goblet with his spoon, and as the clear crystal goblet rang in a high-pitched tone, the group became silent.

  The warden looked at his group of officers and non-coms and then he said dryly, "Before we can get to the serious business of having fun," he paused and laughed. He thought he had made a pun, and he expected the others to laugh, which some of them did, perhaps not knowing why.

  The warden's jowls shook in a lively fashion and then he continued. "As I was saying, we have to discuss some business concerning the mine." He looked at their faces to make sure he had everyone's attention. "Two things, actually." He frowned. "First, as most of you probably already know, we have a very important person being held in a special little cell block built by the Federation. They've locked this special prisoner in a private cell, and they're keeping his identity a secret. Even I don't know who he is. And because of this I don't want any of the prison guards talking to any of the Federation guards outside or inside the little cellblock at any time. The Federation guards will be dining, sleeping, and living in separate quarters. And if you hear any rumors from the prisoners, ignore them. You all know how exaggerated rumors can be." The warden picked up his goblet and drained its contents.

  He waited a moment in expectance. Finally, he turned and gave Jacob, the servant who was supposed to be in charge of the other servants, a baleful glare.

  Jacob quickly motioned to the servant with the wine pitcher. It was obvious to Sharpie that Jacob was most appalled by the incident, and she was certain Jacob would give Hasmau a severe reprimand when the dinner was done.

  But the warden wasn't unhappy for long. As soon as his goblet was filled he smiled and said with an air of authority, "Captain, I don't like keeping this person in my prison, but since I have no choice, I want to make sure nothing goes wrong. And therefore, Captain, I want you to continue to oversee this personally. You will make sure there is no contact between the prison guards and the Federation guards." He paused with a questioning look. "Understand?"

  Almost as though muttering to himself, the Captain answered, "yes, sir."

  "Good," said the warden. He smiled, and then frowned as he thought of the next topic. "Secondly, and I'm sure you've all noticed, there are two G15 destroyers sitting on the pad at the spaceport." Now he was getting angry. "You've probably figured out by now that they are here to protect our very important prisoner. The higher-ups have made it clear to me that they want no harm to come to him." The warden stuffed steak into his mouth.

  Curt looked up from his plate. "Since those are Federation ships, and he's a Federation prisoner, why don't they move him to the Federation prison planet?"

  The warden shook his head back and forth with his jowls flopping from side to side like a bulldog in rage. His mouth was full of toral steak, and his voice was barely audible as he said with a look of consternation, "I don't know." He gulped down his food and took a slug of wine from his goblet. "Nevertheless, he's here, and so are the destroyers, so let's make sure everything goes smoothly."

  "As smooth as a cat's ass," said Curt.

  Roqford opened his eyes and looked up at him. The other Lieutenants and the two Sergeants started laughing. Even Sharpie let out a chuckle.

  The warden waved an impatient hand. The fact that his goblet was in it and he slopped wine on the table didn't bother him. "Captain, I want our computer techs to put lock-in instructions on those two destroyers. If there's any trouble I want our phasors to take them out."

  Sharpie found the Warden’s ignorance amusing. She was tempted to laugh, but didn’t, for one does not laugh at the warden. "Federation destroyers carry a sonic bomb arsenal,” she said. If they decide, for any reason, to take over this prison, it would be wise not to stand in their way. Besides, do you want to take on the Federation?"

  The warden scowled and reddened slightly.

  Sharpie thought, He doesn't like being corrected, but, at the same time, he’s appalled to find out that those destroyers were carrying sonic bombs.

  "I know that," he shouted. "I just want to be ready for any unexpected occurrence. See to it first thing in the morning."

  Sharpie looked at the Captain, and when she caught his eye she raised an eyebrow. She knew the warden was covering his ignorance and being stupid in the process.

  She looked back at the warden and laughed. "Let's hope those destroyers neve
r have a reason to become bad little destroyers," she said in her mirth.

  The warden shook a chubby little finger at her. "That's right," he chortled and then repeating himself, because he knew it was so successful the first time, he said, "And now to the serious business of having fun."

  Chapter Forty-six