Chapter Reading: Draft of Prologue for Premiere Book
- Casey Hudson
- Jun 30
- 3 min read
Hi. I’m Casey Hudson, and I’m working on my first sci-fi novel. I’ve been getting questions about what I’m writing and when I’ll be ready to share a draft. So I figured I’d read a bit to you. I’m sure it’ll change with edits, but for now, here’s the first draft of the prologue. Enjoy.
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“Technician update: The joblist assigned to you is behind schedule by 2.37 company-standard hours. Failure to reach your quota will result in reduced pay. Consult your timing screen for recommendations on better managing your time.”
“Manage my time,” Sage huffed as she looked at the joblist screen. The next 17 jobs flashed to indicate their tardy status.
Her shoulders sagged and her eyes drooped slightly as she thought of her late rent. Long gone were the days when this work had been fulfilling. And the days when it was gainful? Those were slipping by, too.
Sage sighed heavily and huffed again before accelerating towards Straephrob.
The second-rate ship responded with a lurch, and Sage looked to her workmate. She bobbed her head slightly at the sight of Cedar continuing to nap soundly–curled in a tight ball. A slight tail flick was the only indication that he felt the jolt.
As the ship entered Straephrob’s atmosphere, the automated controls took over. Not having anything better to do during the landing, Sage idly watched the rosettes along Cedar’s front legs. They began to shimmer with the nanobots that had been programmed to rouse him. He methodically unfurled himself before leaning his front limbs as far as he could and lifting his hind legs in an extended back stretch. Claws out, he tapped his cushion a few times before looking at Sage with the alertness of someone who had been awake for hours.
“Hey,” Cedar offered by way of acknowledgement of Sage.
“Landing in five.” Sage replied.
As the ship’s airlock opened, Sage secured all her safety gear. There had been a time when she didn’t bother with these things, but repeated exposure to non-red suns had dimmed her eyesight. And the dangers of microbial infection were well-known to the many technicians in her line of work.
Thankful that the ship’s opening connected to the greenhouse, Sage walked to the maintenance readout screen and rasped a command to activate the diagnostic panel. Like most greenhouse repairs, these were straightforward.
They’d recover some time with this one.
“I’ll unclog the system while you do a walk around outside,” Sage said to her workmate. Then, remembering he was a newbie, “Leave no trace.”
The company didn’t like “locals” to know about the resourcing of their planet. It would be irresponsible to inform barely sentient lifeforms about complex business endeavors. That was the official stance anyway.
Sage didn’t really believe that Cedar would cover his tracks or leave the flora and fauna unsettled. Nonetheless, if there was an incident, she could truthfully say that she tried to warn him.
“Don’t forget your checklist,” Sage reminded as Cedar wandered off to examine the seals on the float-glass walls.
As Sage reflexively flushed the system, she heard a series of loud knocks and could see that Cedar had clumsily unsettled much of the surrounding brush and vegetation.
Becoming distracted by her work, she lost sight of Cedar for a bit. When she looked up, she saw him leap to the top of the greenhouse only to lose purchase. He attempted to scrabble his way back up before landing on his flattened paws and trying again. The dirt billowed before settling into a clearly visible pawprint.
Deciding they had done enough, Sage tapped on the glass and motioned for Cedar to return.
“Did you remember to… Are you eating?” Sage’s stomach dropped as she saw the tiniest tip of a feather at the corner of Cedar’s mouth.
“One of the ‘stone-using birds’ saw me. Leave no trace, right?” A sentence spoken around a mouthful of quickly disappearing meat.
“You could get fired for that.”
Cedar just cocked his head and squinted at Sage.
“Whatever. Did you remember to latch the door?”
“I did,” Cedar replied.
He didn’t.
Until next time, keep creating.
