Kester most wanted to know how things had fallen out in the Disputed Zone between Leyra’an space and the Republic, seeking clues to the fate of his friend James Calavone, instigator of the failed coup. His overreach at the Pr’pri Star System had failed horribly and drawn the RDF fleet into the attempted coup, which they promptly brought to an end. He wanted very much to know what was going on. Kester had long since given up trying to draw people out and gain news of the universe beyond the dull gray bulkheads. Once had been quite enough, on that count. If he resisted those orders, stunners were used. They spoke to him only when necessary, giving directions and issuing orders. Men for the most part that there were women on the crew was no source of comfort, for they were as hard as their male colleagues. Grim people, those who managed the facility. His black-clad keepers would tell him nothing more. Of his current situation, this was all Kester, formerly a Commodore in the Republic Defense Force, knew for certain. The prison station itself had no proper name, just the designation RDF DET 1167. He’d recognized it as soon as he was brought on board. All of this he knew because he had, very early in his career, been assigned here as part of an interrogation crew. Outward from the prison was the sparsely and recently settled frontier of the Trans-Rift sector. Between the facility and the Republic was a zone in which stars, and their associated trans-dimensional nodes, were very few and far between. For Kester’s prison was near the fringe of known space, the far side of what star charts of the Republic labeled The Rift. He expected to live what was left of his life in this dull, gray place, marooned out on the edge of civilization. Kester took that to mean there would never be a trial, fair or otherwise. When he had inquired as to his trial date, the prison staff actually laughed. He believed it implicitly and absolutely. For Kester, this was an article of faith. He would never again live outside the facility holding his bare cell. He would never have the chance to make that apology in person. Kester tried not to, but really had nothing better to do with his time than dwell on his failure. The expression on his blunt, square face was as bleak as his surroundings, that of a man no longer young, holding inside himself a toxic mix of resentment, betrayal, and guilt. Certainly, there were none beneath the toilet and sink that were the only other furnishings. The lighting in the cell had a flat, lifeless quality that he believed was incapable of casting shadows. Either way, and as always, thanks for reading! Thomas Watson The Traitor and the Faceless Andrew Kester sat on the gray cot, feet on the dull, scuffed floor and bald head bowed between hunched shoulders. Better still, may it motivate you to give these books a try. I hope readers as yet unfamiliar with these books will enjoy it all the same. This offering – developed from that discarded prologue – will of course be of most interest to those who have read the War of the Second Iteration, just as a deleted scene included as a DVD bonus feature makes more sense after you watch that movie. The following “deleted scene” gives the full story of how Kester first encountered the Faceless, and glimpses the horrifying truth about the nature of the enemy. Something of what follows was ultimately incorporated into The Courage to Accept, when Kester explains to Jan Costa how he came to possess the answer to a major question regarding the Faceless. It was removed when I decided against making Andrew Kester a viewpoint character in the story. Explanatory Note While organizing files associated with previously published work, I came across material that originally served as a prologue for The Courage to Accept, the fourth book in the War of the Second Iteration series.
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