Good afternoon, dear followers and subscribers and readers. It is with pleasure I return to posting, but with with sadness I announce the following.
Production of my film has hit a major bump. One of my main actors has become unable to take time away to act in my film. My most likely substitute declined, and one of my other actors is backing away from the magnitude of the film project. My best friend can barely act to save his life... so more or less the movie is on indefinite hold, again. If anyone out there wants a great script... I have one!
Sad news aside, we will return to the posts that have now replaced my script sneak peeks.
A symbol of the progress the United hoped to make global.
Of course, this prison was a big secret on the mainlands. No one knew that the government that ruled everything had such a hell hole under its direction. If they did, faith in the fundamental goodness and well-meaning of the government might be brought into question, and perhaps some of their other prisons might be investigated as well. There might be a popular outcry against all their detention camps, and that could not be allowed. Thus, no one who ever went to Rott ever came back. Ships that sailed there were sunk after unloading, and any planes or choppers that landed were burnt. The only thing that left was the ship that carried the few wares of the prison, the stone and ores of the mines, and the foodstuffs of the hydroponics factories, both of which only went to other prisons where the transports were dismantled.
Security. That's what some of the prisoners, and guards, called the jail, as its name.
Early in February, a new guard was dropped off, shortly after the arrival of Q, who by now had that letter carved in his hair. Q watched him disembark from the ship that brought him in. Slightly different than most guards, probably only because he hadn't been here long. He walked like he was in command at one time. He walked like everything had obeyed him out of habit. He walked like a fox that imagined the whole world was populated with only rabbits. Apparently he had met the fox-hunter, and been sent to Rott.
Guards didn't have names in the minds of the people the guarded. They were just "guard." Most guards accepted that as respectful enough, though Q had found out the hard way that some guards wanted a sir appended at either end.
Q asked the guard in the tower above him, "Guard Sir? Do you know anything about that new arrival?"
This guard didn't require the title, "Please, call me Tower. And yeah, I can tell you a lot." The guard drew up his binoculars and watched the spectacle called "Orientation." In this routine, new guards had their old uniforms taken away, along with their IDs, and were given the same uniform all the lowest ranking guards had. On Rott, seniority ruled, and previous position meant nothing. Tower had been a guard for a long time, and could learn a lot even just at first sight. He went on, "His right hand is used to carrying a gun, not sure if he used it much. His facial bearing says he used to be in command of something. He thinks he's big and important. My guess would say that behind that mask of power he's clueless. Looks like he's a North American. His old uniform confirms he was in command, in fact, I think I can read that exact title off of his name badge."
Q was perpetually curious, even in jail, and so asked, "Got a name? I used to know a few commanders from around North America."
The guard who called himself Tower responded, "Ambrose."