WoS#3 Prologue

Hey, guys. So while working on Wings of the Seraph #3, I've been throwing around the idea of trying something a little different. I'm planning on having some short "interludes" between chapters where readers get to see things from the perspective of Spider Zero, the woman Cole still knows nothing about. After a little bit of drafting I think they'll work out fairly well. 

So on that note, here is the Prologue teaser from that POV. I settled on 3rd person for these to make it clear Cole isn't the narrator. Let me know if it whets your appetite for some more answers!

(And don't worry, there's some actual sex in chapter one. Shandris is still thirsty. :P)

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How could he possibly be alive? How could he possibly be here?

The questions looped over and over through Spider Zero’s mind as she stared out the viewport, and no matter how hard she tried she could not even begin to calculate the probability of such an outcome. According to her memories—according to the far more accurate Dominion records stored in her cybernetic implants—Cole Vontera had died on Talasea eighteen years ago.

But then again, so had she. 

Her implants told her that Cole had been killed in the final bombing run just like several thousand other Dominion citizens. The reports were cold and sterile: identification numbers, holographic images, Intelligence Directorate profiles. But Spider Zero’s memories—the ones that had been cordoned off inside the remnants of her biological brain—weren’t nearly so impersonal. 

She could feel his body lying still beneath her just as clearly as she could feel the shrapnel piercing through her own chest. The metal shards should have killed him, but they had killed her instead. She could remember those final desperate moments of shallow, blood-choked breaths. She wasn’t bitter or sad; she was pleased that she had shielded him with her own flesh. She had only been a child, but she had still understood Cole’s importance. He had needed to survive, no matter what the cost. 

“Incoming transmission from the Terminus, Commander,” the transport’s semi-sentient AI said in its flat, hollow tone. “Shall I open a channel?”

Spider Zero blinked and glanced down to the tactical hologram on the right-side of the transport’s bridge. The admiral’s flagship had just appeared on sensors, as expected. By now he would have heard about the failed attempt to capture one of Wynn Mosaad’s students, though he wouldn’t realize the full truth about who had slipped through his claws. And it was imperative he never found out. 

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath and clasping her hands behind her back. The communicator flickered, and a moment later the translucent holographic figure of an angry Baalir-caste Tarreen shimmered into existence. 

“Spider Zero,” Admiral Ferron said, his voice a cold, bitter snarl. “Report.”

“The Wings of the Seraph have escaped our custody, sir,” she told him. 

He leaned forward, his orange, vaguely reptilian eyes narrowing. “How is that possible? You had them on your transport!”

“They were more powerful than we anticipated, sir. The Velothi in particular is quite dangerous. The Last Blade must have completed her training.”

Ferron’s maw widened into a scowl, and his fangs glinted even through the distortion of the holo-projector. “You are a Spider. You are the Spider—your mistress promised me that you are more than a match for a lone Blade of the Seraph, especially a glorified Velothi whore!”

“Now that I have had an opportunity to evaluate her powers in person, I am confident in my ability to defeat her given a second opportunity,” Spider Zero said. Her mental conditioning screamed at her to tell Ferron the truth about Cole’s identity and abilities. The pressure in her skull began to build, and her cybernetic implants threatened to trigger her pain receptors. But somehow, she managed to ignore them. Until this moment, she hadn’t even realized such a thing was possible. 

“That almost sounds like an excuse,” Ferron seethed. 

“It is a simple statement of facts, Admiral,” she told him. “The Veloth killed Spider Seven, and I was unable to overpower both she and her companion at once.”

He growled and barked something in Tarreen just outside the projector. “The Intelligence Ministry has placed too much faith in the Spider Program,” he said eventually. “I have been repeatedly promised that the Widow’s operatives were more than capable of neutralizing a few scattered psionic adepts.”

“Despite this setback, I still calculate a ninety-two point three percent probability that the Last Blade and all of his students will be eliminated before the Nelphari Shipyards are fully operational,” Spider Zero assured him. “That is only a two percent adjustment from my last estimate.”

“You’ll forgive me for not trusting the calculations of a dreega cyborg,” Ferron sneered. “Or whatever you’re supposed to be.”

She braced her hands upon the console. They had started trembling—the more she lied, the more her neural implants seemed determined to take control. “Do you have new orders, Admiral?”

He sheathed and unsheathed his claws. “Return to the Terminus immediately. This ruse of yours was an abject failure. We will need to continue the search pattern.”

“As you wish, sir,” she said, nodding. “Spider Zero out.”

The instant the hologram dissipated she nearly collapsed to the deck. The pain had become intolerable, and the more she resisted her primary directive the worse it became.  

You exist for one purpose, Spider Zero: to save as many lives as possible. If the Last Blade succeeds in resurrecting his order, psychic adepts from across the galaxy will flock to his banner. The Seraphim Covenant will be reborn, and the war will continue indefinitely. Billions will die. Trillions will suffer. Eliminating Wynn Mosaad is the only way to guarantee peace. 

Spider Zero squeezed at the edges of the control console and struggled to keep herself upright. Until today, the Widow’s logic had been her clear, guiding principle. She had tracked down and destroyed the last few surviving Blades and Covenant operatives. She had hunted psychic adepts all across the galaxy. She had done everything the Widow asked because it had been the only way to guarantee peace. 

But now…

If Cole was alive, her calculations needed to change. Alone, the Last Blade and his students had less than an eight percent probability of triggering a significant resistance movement. Cole’s presence doubled those odds, but it also injected an enormous amount of statistical uncertainty into what was otherwise a relatively straightforward calculation. She was no longer capable of predicting long-term political ramifications without making numerous unverifiable assumptions.

In other words, the route to achieving her primary directive was no longer clear. In most scenarios, his quick and expedient death would probably minimize overall potential casualties. But in the long term, the eventual dissolution of the Convectorate would radically change the balance of power in the galaxy and potentially save even more lives…

The door behind her abruptly hissed open, and Spider Seven stumbled onto the bridge with one of the medical drones in tow. “What happened?” he asked, removing his helmet. His forehead was spackled with dried blood, and Spider Zero calculated an eighty-seven point three percent chance that Cole’s attack had induced a mild concussion. 

“The Wings of the Seraph escaped,” she said. “I am preparing to return to the Terminus for new orders.”

Seven’s face twisted into a scowl. “The male could have killed us both. The dossier never mentioned anything about adepts with temporal acceleration capabilities.”

“The dossier was incorrect.”

He walked up next to me and studied her face. “You aren’t wounded?”

“No.”

“Then how did he escape?”

“Because I allowed him to leave,” Spider Zero said. “The calculations have changed. My primary directive is no longer valid.”

Seven frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The calculations have changed,” she repeated. “And you are no longer a necessary part of the equation.”

Spider Zero drew the pulse pistol from her hip, pointed it at his head, and pulled the trigger. The clatter of his corpse striking the cold deck plates echoed throughout the ship.

She closed her eyes, expecting another crippling wave of pain to wash over her. But it never came. The pressure in her skull abated, and she was able to stand fully upright once again. 

Behavioral imperatives updated. You will aid Cole and the Last Blade. You will find a way to ensure their survival and spread their message across the sector. It is the only way to ensure compliance with the primary directive. You will save as many lives as possible. You will ensure peace. 

Spider Zero returned her pistol to its holster and activated the piloting console. “Plot a return course to the Terminus. Admiral Ferron is waiting.”