- Joined
- Mar 26, 2011
- Messages
- 2,070
- Reaction score
- 0
[Transport, just outside of Brentaal orbit and preparing for stand-by lightspeed jump.]
"...nine, ten, eleven, twelve. All signed. They are mine?"
Zsaekriel slid the projected window up into the corner of the blue screen to allow the Warden's image to enlarge. One deal nearly completed, before moving on to the next.
"Yes sir. All selected death row inmates are now under your custody and are being moved for pickup."
Zsaekriel's pressing finger held the overlapping windows of twelve inmates, all gray skinned with scars on their faces, all with long white hair and similar eye color, all with a strong build and nearly the same height, all chosen for a specific purpose.
"Good. They will be moved seperately. My men are already on route."
A soldier walked up beside his temporary desk and leaned in, nodding in confirmation to the line's untampered and clean state; then tapping on his wrist watch to keep him on the time-table. Zsaekriel nodded back. The Warden did not know why the inmates were being moved, though assumably to carry out their sentence of death quietly. The inmates were selected from a variety of maximum security prisons, almost completely at random; at least on paper it would appear so. Since no one had tapped the line, the Warden didn't know enough to make a guess or even care to, Zsaekriel's men wouldn't even know or see what they were moving, and all records would soon declare the men deceased on various Alliance controlled prison worlds; no one would know that he had just acquired his doubles-in-training. But just to make sure nothing got out, he'd lock the Warden away in a nice records vault for the compensating retirement package.
"Oh, and Warden. You've just been promoted."
And with that, Zsaekriel ended the transmission. The paperwork was already done, and that Warden would happily never again see the light of day. His family would thank him, as the increase in pay and medical coverage included them.
A very specific knock sequence at the door seperated his thought proccess, fixing his grip on the corner of the large face computer and bending it down flat with the desk top. It shut down and Zsaekriel leaned forward with his hands folded together. The assistant went to the door and unlocked it, opening to reveal another soldier.
"Sir, message confirmed. They have received our secure frequency codes and are preparing the encription and communications decoders now. We are 'ghost', sir. Please follow me to the secured room, sir."
Zsaekriel released his folded hands and tapped his right finger twice onto the desk top before pushing out his chair with a stand and bending around it towards the soldier.
"Lead on."
Leaving the room and speedily walking with a purpose, the two made way for Zsaekriel's requested safe room. It was thoroughly swept for bugs and made both physically and technologically secure. He was becoming quite thorough, possibly even paranoid. Just as he left the other room, that military assistant exiting the room and shutting the door locked behind him, without any permitted in Zsaekriel's absence or otherwise order, this room was also guarded and empty. The soldier showed him to this guard, both saluting, then the guard unlocked and opened the door with an extended hand. The soldier would only extend a hand and not enter himself.
Zsaekriel stepped in, the door shutand locked, and he sat down at this wide display of projectors. It was time for his next meeting.