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What if he knew about us?
We had tried to be discreet during our session the previous day in Lily’s office but we must have made some sounds, something that might have gotten the Prizes’ attention.
And not all of them would be on our side.
Some would be spies for the Supervisor — perhaps not this one, not yet — but there was no doubt in my mind that some would turn in their fellow Prizes in exchange for preferential treatment.
Everyone wanted out of Ikmal.
What wouldn’t a Prize do to get out of there?
What if the Supervisor knew about me?
If he knew who I was, he could have gone back through Lily’s records and seen that I had been the last — and only — prisoner she had been with. That would be a good cause to call her into his office, question her…
Torture her?
My stomach churned harder than the muscles in my legs that took me up to the guard on duty.
“I need to see the supervisor right away,” I said, stepping to move around him.
The sentry shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. The Supervisor told me not to disturb him under any circumstances.”
Under any circumstances…
I was not armed — as the Lead Guard, there was no need for me to carry weapons as I could assign a security detail to myself at any time.
But by the Creator, did I wish I was carrying a weapon now.
Although, how I was supposed to escape Ikmal with a hostage, and against guards who had locked the prison down tighter than a Vaccarian drum, was anyone’s guess. The rational thought got swept away in a river of panic.
I would do whatever I had to to keep Lily safe. “Stand aside,” I growled, towering over the guard. “I have pressing business to discuss with the Supervisor.”
The sentry wore a visor identical to mine and he glanced one way and then the other, shuffling his feet, and backing up to the door.
“I… I…”
“Soldier,” I snapped. “Page fifteen of the Prison Guard’s Handbook. Section C, Part Two. Do you remember what it says?”
During my five-year research period, I’d become intimate with everything the guards needed to learn and memorize as part of their training.
First among them were the protocols. Protocols in case riots broke out. Protocols on how to conduct themselves during morning drills. And protocols on what to do in circumstances such as this.
In his panic, the guard recalled none of his training and he shook his head.
“Well?” I said. “I’m waiting.”
“I… I…”
The Supervisor might be in charge of the prison but ultimately, the guards took orders from their superior, and that was me.
“Let me remind you: ‘All guards on sentry duty will maintain their positions and not leave under any circumstances unless they are informed by superior officers of a Level One concern. So,” I said, leaning into the sentry so close that our visors almost touched. “I will tell you once more: stand aside.”
And still, he resisted.
I wanted to snap the rifle from his hands and toss him over the railings to teach everyone that they should never get in my way.
But the very last thing we needed right then was another reason for the guards to become even more skittish than they already were.
