Counselor Evans entered the meeting quietly. He had a message for President Stevens. President of the Company, Richard Stevens, that was. Evans wasn't the only one who hated everything about Richard Stevens. The man was a prime example of what a leader shouldn't be. But that didn't matter now. Now, Evans had a job to do. And that was to give President Stevens a message and then get the fuck out of the room before the defecation hit the rotating oscilator.
"Yes? What is it Evans?" Stevens barked. His bright blue eyes bore into Evans, causing him to become increasingly nervous.
"Um, you have a call on line five Mr. Stevens. It's Prime Minister Ashal from planet 566 in the Nazarek system."
"Dismissed Evans," Stevens said, punching a button on the holophone pad. A picture blinked onto the screen, and Stevens knew that he was connected to the caller, even though the picture was completely black.
This was the standard for Ashal. Stevens had been talking to the man for over ten years now, and had yet to see his face. Rumor had it that Ashal had been badly burned as a child and refused to be seen in public without the aid of makeup or a mask. That included holophone screens.
"Prime Minister Ashal, what a pleasant-" Stevens started.
"Cut the bullshit," Ashal grated into the speaker, loud enough for Stevens and everyone in the boardroom to hear clearly. A few in the back smiled, but made no sound. President Stevens wasn't a man to laugh at. Not in his presence at least.
Though Ashal was the biggest supporter of the Company, Stevens hated talking to the man. He was the most arrogant, egotistical bastard that Stevens knew of. Unfortunately, along with being the biggest supporter of the Company, Ashal was also the richest. And Stevens wasn't about to turn down the kind of money that was sent to him yearly. Of course Ashal knew this. Therefore, his hostile attitude and constant barking tone directed at Stevens.
"Do you know," the Prime Minister continued, "that a full force rebellion has broken out on 565 in the Nazarek system, Stevens?"
"No, sir. No, I did not," Stevens replied. He was in deep shit now. How this situation had digressed this far was beyond him.The last thing he had heard about 565 was that they had closed all their ports to any ships other than their own.
Years ago, 565 had been a prison planet. Maximum security to be exact. It was one of the Company's babies, but thankfully it hadn't been Steven's idea. He wasn't even in office when 565 was converted into a prison. Regardless, he was the one who had to clean up the shit now. All but one third of the Company's informants were working on this case, as were over half of it's troops. Even so, the only information Stevens had was that ex-cons had taken over the planet, released their friends, and had formed an army of their own. Well, that and the Company had finally cracked the port access code that they had been working on.
Besides all that, 565 had been relatively quiet for years. No attacks on nearby settlement planets, or on ships for that matter. Basically, these ex-cons just wanted a place to call their own. Too bad they had to go about getting it in such an illegal way. Too bad for them.
The military knew about 565 too. Of course, the Company owned the military, but things like that weren't exactly printed on a flag and waved in the public's face. That was the point of this whole meeting. Stevens had called the Nazarek Military Corps leaders to see if they had any information on 565. He had been becoming increasingly nervous due to the large amount of calls from merc vessels saying that more and more ships were heading towards 565. And more ships meant more supplies. More manpower, more guns, more everything. And that spelled shit for the Company. He had been in the middle of asking if the NMC had any new information. Unfortunately, this little call had interrupted them...
"Well Jesus Stevens, I'm glad you're right on top of things!" Ashal roared.
"Sir, please-," This was getting ugly now.
"Listen here Stevens," came the reply over the holophone. "You have the power to do this, I know you do. Get the Nazarek Military on this, or it'll be your ass. I will- shit what is it NOW?"
Sevens heard Ashal mumbling over the holophone, and then an answering voice. Ashal and the other person spoke for a few moments.
"Stevens?" Ashal was back.
"Yes," Stevens answered.
"I've just been informed that you won't need the assistance of the NMC." He sounded excited to say the least.
"Excuse me sir?" Stevens' interest peaked.
"There is a man by the name of Dio Ruiz. He is reported to be the leader of this rebellion slash war on 565. Supplying weaponry, keeping moral up, et cetera. I believe that if you get the NMC to find an assassin, this whole war can be over within a week.
And don't be stupid on this either Stevens. This man Dio is heavily guarded, and very well trained. Military, defense, and offense techniques; these are just some of the things this man knows. He is also trained to use most forms of weaponry and is a mechanical genius. You'll need your best. No matter the cost, Dio Ruiz has to die. What is that old saying? When the leader dies, so dies the rebellion?"
"Yes, sir, I do believe that is it." Stevens said. This was going to be easier than he had previously thought.
"Well then Stevens, get this ball rolling and I'll stay off your back. I expect Ruiz to be dead within six days. I will be sending you more information on Ruiz soon. Don't disappoint me."
With a beep, the holophone clicked off. Stevens turned his off as well, and looked up to the NMC leaders seated around the large table.
"Gentlemen?" he said, placing his hands on the marble table, palms down. "Do you remember a project entitled CDF-10?"
There were a few nods from the older members at the table.
"For those of you who haven't," Stevens continued, "CDF-10 stands for Cryo Deep- Freeze Ten. Seven years ago, thirty of the deadliest cons were captured and cryo-frozen. Scientists were testing the limits of the human body to freezing. The two and five year tests had come out successful, so the next obvious length of time would be ten years. Now, you all heard what Prime Minister Ashal had to say. We need a good man. An assassin. A killer."
"But sir," one of the younger military men said, "This could easily be accomplished by one of the NMC's best."
"No, it could not," Stevens said, more than a little annoyed. "In case you haven't noticed, cons can smell authority miles away. He wouldn't make it within three hundred feet of this Dio character, especially with him having such good training. Besides, if we send an ex-con, there's a good chance that someone on 565 will know him and automatically accept him into their little gang. So, if we send one of us, he'd most likely get killed and leave us with our thumbs up our asses. If we send an ex-con, he'll either kill Ruiz, ending the rebellion, or get killed himself, leaving us with one less piece of shit in this fucked up universe."
"How will we get the con to do this, sir, if you don't mind me asking." It was one of the older men.
"Why, we'll lie, of course," Stevens replied smiling coldly.