My new palace: Prisoner Containment Facility 2476-K, Kusari Space. Planet and System Unknown. What a dump. Tropical. Flies everywhere. Smells of feet.
Roll-call for Building 34867-F: Mark Jefferson (navigation officer/idiot), Victor Armstrong (turret gunner/idiot), Ross Millar (turret gunner/wounded/idiot), Doctor Benedict Mason (medical officer; QCID), Kip Norris (mechanical officer/complete moron), Niall Keane (communications officer; Molly by birth), Chris Campbell (helmsman), Peter Doherty (QCR/disgusting berk), Sir Roger Brinkley (QCO, me) and Fr. Dafyyd Jones.(religious nutcase and helmsman) Many of the men were initially very scared when brought to the camp, having just lost their ship near Harris. Their Gunboat was ambushed by a squad of bombers.
Mason at least can play whist, and it's a nice change to smell farts emanating from someone other than Doherty.
Due to a severe attack by BAF forces on the Nagasaki, we were evcuated aboard a transport to head for interrogation, (or sentencing in my case), in New Tokyo.
All prisoners subsequently beaten upon arrival at Planet Kyushu by Kusari soldiers armed with sharpened chopsticks and bamboo. We were then separated from each other into units of ten and moved to a remote planet, where we landed in a tropical forest and were marched through jungle to a camp where we met some other BAF personnel who have also been captured.
Our host is the delightful Commandant Yamauchi, a deeply traditional Kusari soldier, who regards the prisoners as "fourth-class men". He and I get along just splendidly as he shares my opinion of the lower classes as good for nothing other than being a cheap substitute for furniture. His sadistic deputy, Lieutenant Sato has been dubbed "Fluffy" by the inmates for reasons I would not go into even in the most uncouth mess-hall frequented by the Regulars.
Conditions in the camp are harsh; there is no clean water, and little more than rice and water for the inmates to eat and drink. No one will polish my boots. They don't even have a decent claret to go with the gruel.
A group of Blood Dragon prisoners are also interned in the camp. I've used my little smattering of Kusari to speak to a few of them; Shintaro Katsu, who is the C.O. and Sengo Muramasa, who is well-liked by the men because he can belch opera songs.
Jefferson contracted some disease and appears to be delirious. He keeps calling me "Mummy" and asking for his "ickle bockle". I suggested shooting him to put him out of his misery, but apparently that's excessive when you're dealing with a head-cold.
Doherty attempted yet another of his ridiculous escapes (his fourth) using a laundry basket. He was recaptured and confined to solitary. We had a party that evening to celebrate. Muramasa performed the "La Donna e Mobile" using a quart of fizzy orange and was sick on my shirt.
I am becoming close friends with Mason. He has begun working for the commandant as an interpreter and medical assistant. The commander is a martyr to the piles. Mason is QCID, and rather cleverly has found a way to access the commandant's correspondence. We are to be moved to another location. The commandant is finding it hard to cope with no medical supplies for his rear end out here.
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