MY LADY GREENSLEEVES
BY FREDERIK POHL
This guard smelled trouble and it could be counted on to come—for a nose for trouble was one of the many talents bred here!
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IHIS NAME WAS LIAM O’LEARY and there was something stinking in his nostrils. It was the smell of trouble. He hadn’t found what the trouble was yet, but he would. That was his business. He was a captain of guards in Estates-General Correctional Institution—better known to its inmates as the Jug—and if he hadn’t been able to detect the scent of trouble brewing a cell-block away, he would never have survived to reach his captaincy.
And her name, he saw, was Sue-Ann Bradley, Detainee No. WFA-656R.
He frowned at the rap sheet, trying to figure out what got a girl like her into a place like this. And, what was mor
