Du Puteron sat on the coastal wall, looking out past the island of Herm to the horizon beyond. He let the heat of the late afternoon sun wash over him and licked at an ice cream, the flecks of vanilla pod delighting his senses. A melancholy feeling drifted over him at the thought this might be the last time he could do this, the last echos of freedom.

The ship came at speed, driving a furrow between the waves. He expected them, but they were faster than he presumed they would be, almost as if they knew when set to off, almost as if they knew that a large part of the rebellion had left the island. He hoped it was just luck on their part, that they had checked satellite imagery at the right time, noticing the airships taking off. But something told him that explanation held no weight.

Still, if they were to take him, charge him and throw him in a cell to rot, he would take every moment available to enjoy the delicious ice cream. A blob dropped, he wiped it off his hessian trousers. It would leave a stain, but this time he did not mind. He just chuckled to himself and carried on eating.

The ship was quick, but they would need to slow to manoeuvre in the harbour, he had plenty of time to devour the cone before ambling up to his office. No use waiting for them at the port, they were on his island now, in his home, he would influence the meeting with whatever power he had left.

~

The door rattled against the wall, no knock, only a hefty kick. Through the entrance came six Princips guards, each donned the signature blue combat suit and jet black armour. They held guns out in front as if they were expecting to be attacked. The only defence from the island was Du Puteron, sat behind his heavy wooden desk. Who he deemed to be the leader, the white helmet at odds with the black of others combined with a white stripe on each shoulder, lowered their weapon. The other five followed suit.

"I suppose you know why we are here," came a gruff male voice, denoting someone in their mid-forties.

"Is it for the ice cream?" Du Puteron did not try to hide the grin, "the ice cream is very good."

The gun slammed to the table, "we are not here to make jokes."

"I can see that, your comedy timing is terrible."

"If you carry on like that, I'll just shoot you and be done with it."

"May I remind you that you are on independent soil, shoot me and it shows that Princips have no regard for the law of the land. Don't think the little people would be too happy about that, might even start a revolt." The leader stared intently whilst Du Puteron internalised his relief so as not to appear weak, he was just happy that this leader had taken the bait. It would be so easy for Princips to kill him here and now then cover up the crime. Plus, he played the despised slaver so well he was sure no-one would care if he went missing from the world. After an inordinately long pause, Du Puteron felt safe to carry on, "so why are you here then?"

"Let's not play games, you know why we are here. Some strange craft were spotted on satellite imagery, leaving this island."

"Strange craft? What, like a boat?"

"You know they are aircraft of sorts."

"Well, yes, I suppose I do, they are a new design we have been developing. We have been doing some test flights."

The desk thudded again, "don't play games with me, we know what you are up to."

"Then enlighten me, because I'm not sure I do."

"You are going to attack Princips," the leader screeched.

"What evidence do you have for that?"

"Recently, a girl you know well who is on the run, escaped from Sector 15. It seems that one of your airships was involved in a rescue, killing many Princips guards."

"Strange," Du Puteron understood it would reveal the truth, but they knew that already, better to call them out and see how they reacted, "given the timing of when that happened you would not be able to get here so fast. So, it is clear you are spying on me, which I do believe is against the law."

The guard grabbed his gun from the desk, pointing it between Du Puteron's eyes, "you're under arrest."

Du Puteron was unmoved, an angry grimace forming on his lips, "tell me, who was it?"

"I said, you are under arrest, I suggest you do not make us take you with force."

"It was the girl, wasn't it? Her story was all too convenient, and now she has escaped from the island."

"Stand up, hands above your head."

"And there I was hoping for the second Magna Carta. Far from peace, I get a gun stuffed in my face."

"This is your last chance, stand up slowly and put your hands above your head."

As he rose, the guards could not see his hands move under the desk, pressing his watch multiple times. By the time Du Puteron's hands were above his head the message had sent, and the guards were too overjoyed by their capture to bother about checking his watch.