The United Nations only has one prison. This ‘black site’ is the same ship that the Special Security Officers of the Special Operations Force operate out of. Neither the prison nor the SOF is known to exist. Back in 1945 when the League of Nations was dissolved and the UN charter was drafted chapter VII article 43 point 2 was slid in: ‘Special agreements shall govern the numbers and types of forces, their degree of readiness and general location, and the nature of the facilities and assistance to be provided.’ A special agreement was immediately issued for a self governing covert branch; Command, Control, Communication, Computers, and Information, or C4I. They stay under the radar of the Office for Internal Oversight Services. Instead of drawing from the four billion dollar yearly budget of the UN they print their own money; electronically feeding their accounts with forged funds according to what is needed. Like this ship. The Ronald H. Brown is officially an oceanographic research vessel registered out of the Bahamas. In its history C4I has only ever held twelve people. Room for ten inmates is available at the current site but only two are in use. No one has ever escaped and none have ever been released but a few suicide attempts have been stopped. When a citizen goes too far they go to jail, when they go way too far they go to prison. If they go too far in prison they go to a maximum security penitentiary. If they go too far in a maximum security they go into administrative control. Administrative control would be a nice vacation for the inmates of the Ronald H. Brown. They spend twenty four hours a day in their six by ten foot cells that ‘float’ in soundproofing, the same that sealed the door. Even the loudest bang would make less noise than a fly hitting the window. The toilet and shower pipes have reservoir locks so they can’t be banged on to transmit any message, this also prevents flooding. The room is a single steel unit, including the bunk, toilet, stool and shower. No one showed the prisoners the ropes but they caught on quickly, if they had to go to the bathroom then they had to use the shower and air dry afterward. The shower had three buttons that provide a minute’s worth of hot soapy water, hot water, or cold water good for drinking. A foam mat provides the only color besides that of their birthday suits. Food is deposited twice a day in flushable containers via a dispenser. Gas is pumped in to knock out those on hunger strikes so that an iv can be administered. A television is encased like the dozen cameras and plays selected decades old programs and audio books. The tv was upgraded about a decade back. A tennis ball is also provided. Alexander, a psychological operations and information warfare officer (or pysop) has acted as warden for the last thirty years. This was the first time he was ever asked to transfer a prisoner. His first reaction was that this was a con, an escape attempt. He didn’t know the special envoy in front of him but he was told by the C4I’s commander that her clearance checked out. This isn’t what they did; they kept nuclear power out of unstable hands, they made sure companies didn’t gain too much power, they made sure UNICEF funds went to kids and not genocidal warlords. They did not let out their prisoners. But it wasn’t his call. Since the commander said open the door then all he needed to know that the commander was in fact the commander and not under duress. The bevy of biometrics and codewords checked out and his brainscan and polygraph was clean so he unlocked the safe, removed the small electronic device and hooked it up to control panel causing the alarms to go off, all part of the process. The first two keys, the commanders brain scan and the electronic encryption, were in place the third was a large steel wheel valve that a mechanical key with a hidden radio transmitter unlocked. The key was simply hidden in a secret compartment elsewhere on the ship. A half hour of spinning the valve finally unlocked the door. “SOP is to gas and bind him, you’ll have to wait five minutes to go in. I can also get some Special Security to carry him for you ma’am.” “Get him some clothes and some real food, I want him ready and in the Captain’s Berth in five minutes.” She was freckled and had a tight body though her plain face was as set in stone as a gargoyle’s. The warden looked to the tall lean balding commander who said, “SOP isn’t a requirement, we’ll call this a different operational procedure. Now you heard the lady, chow and dress stat. I have the ward.” Five minutes and thirty six seconds later the man was dressed, sitting in the somewhat niceish quarters and savoring a leftover turkey sandwich. The first he had in twenty years. “Hell of a time to leave, the tv just started to show programs from when I went in. That Law & Order looked good.” he said with his mouth full. Don’t get me wrong now, I’m happy to be free.” The woman turned around from electronics equipment she was fidgeting with. “You’re not free. You are in fact very, very expensive. Now just think about that and try to be discrete for the next minute. As she turned back around he managed, “Whatever is going on I’d just like to say thanks, and I hope the day finds you as well as it can.” He hadn’t had the chance to be polite to a woman, or any person for that matter in twenty years. She smiled and her face blossomed into beauty and warmth, then she was slid out the door and was gone. The equipment she had just set up came to life: The screen showed a room with a large stained wood table surrounded by a dozen and a half seated men. Most were dressed in some middle eastern garb, the man at the head of table wearing a black pinstripe suit stood as he entered. Artwork was everywhere, the architecture of the room, the design of the chairs, the design of the clothes, the original oil paintings on the wall, (two he could name). It was all so much that he lost his voice. This was a good thing, restraint and confidence impressed the room, even though it was just silence from being flabbergasted. Then men sat, and a voice came from one of them “Please state your full name for the record”. “My name is Zoltan Forsythe Waters the third.” “And you are how old Mr. Waters?” “Forty two.” “What is your occupation?” “I’ve recently been released from being held captive but I’m unsure if I am currently free or simply have been moved.” “What was your crime?” “To my knowledge I haven’t been charged with any crime or have had any judicial jurisprudence exercised on my behalf.” “To what do you attribute your incarceration?” the voices came at random with perfect timing; it was either unsettling or quite nifty. “I don’t feel comfortable discussing that.” “And why not?”