The Poor Frog
Zelski II, February 2875, Taurian Concordat Briefing Room, Location Undisclosed
“Don’t worry, Envoy Grevin, they’re only going in to determine resistance level and soften up any defenses,” Ivan droned, “Follow up in a couple of months and you can bring sufficient forces to bear to take the prize.”
He looked up at the hairy ambassador with watery eyes before slowly continuing. “Besides, they’re mercenaries, an expendable resource…”
The ambassador growled low in his throat. “What, exactly, do you get out of all of this? The fact that we’re meeting here suggests Comstar general command either doesn’t know, or is content to have you run this off-book. Either way, that’s a big bet for a mid-level drudge.”
Ivan’s affront almost appeared genuine. “Why, the greater good, of course! A strong periphery would make a competent ally for a change.”
The ambassador nodded, unconvinced, “Of course. All the same, I still want at least one pair of eyes onboard that dropship.”
“It’s already done, ambassador.” Ivan’s smile left Grevin cold, dark thoughts clouding his mind.
They should put a bullet in the back of his head before he ever reaches that planet.