Prologue

[ This is an early draft of a chapter of a book I am working on. I am unsure if I will even use it, but I thought I would share some of my writing. I’ve changed some of the words and names since.]

A soft, azure glow filled the cramped quarters as Lawrence Boone stirred from his slumber. The muted hum of the ship's engines accompanied the gentle swaying of the room, a lullaby he had grown accustomed to aboard the Artemis. His eyes roved around the spartan space, assuring all was in order. A metal-framed bunk, the sleek computer terminal embedded into the compact desk, and the faint scent of engine oil that clung to the air all greeted him just as they had for the past two weeks.

Waking with a sense of purpose, he cast a glance at the digital display mounted above his narrow bed. It read 06:00 hours, the appointed time for his routine self prescribed security check. He dressed in his form-fitting, dark-gray uniform, thumbed the insignia of a contract security officer emblazoned on the sleeve, and ran a hand through his tousled coffee locks whose length had grown somewhat unruly for his liking since leaving Prime-Base 3.

Lawrence stepped up to the cold framed door catching a quick glimpse of himself in the reflection of the metallic passage before it slid open, causing him to wipe the tired from his cerulean gaze. With a stiff spine, he stepped into the hall. As he navigated the dimly lit narrow corridors, Boone's thoughts turned to the small crew he was entrusted with protecting. The faces of the scientists, engineers, and marines under his command flickered through his mind like a series of document snapshots as he rattled off their names quietly. 

The Artemis, a midsized transport vessel, exuded a utilitarian charm as it sliced through the inky expanse of space. The windows were a pointless expenditure as darkness created a backdrop for his reflection to greet him as he glanced out. Its box-like design, a testament to function over form, lent it a workhorse quality that belied its importance. As the contract soldier confidently strode down the corridor, the muted thuds of his boots echoed through the passage.

In an effort to simulate the familiar comfort of nighttime, the interior lighting was kept subdued in common spaces where crew did not work, casting the hallway in an atmospheric penumbra. The sharp angles and exposed machinery of the ship's design betrayed the architect's surrender to the vessel's mechanical nature, creating a stark, unpretentious aesthetic.

Despite the bare-bones appearance, splashes of color adorned the space, softening the harshness of the metallic surfaces. Holographic plants flickered at each doorway, their ethereal leaves swaying in a silent breeze. His eyes lingered on the synthetic drops of dew that adorned the virtual foliage as he waited at the end of the hall for the lift. The droplets glistened along the semi transparent leaves' edges, capturing the dim light and refracting it into delicate, shimmering patterns. One droplet in particular caught his attention, its slow slide down the leaf momentarily halted, stuttering in its path, before resuming its unhurried journey. Lawrence let out a disappointed breath as the door opened to a small cylindrical space, and he continued his journey to engineering.

The gentle sound of a thunderstorm reverberated through the corridor as he walked, a nod to the crew's original home world. The familiar rumble of thunder and patter of rain provided a soothing auditory blanket, offering solace during their long journey through the unforgiving void.

As Boone made his way through the ship, his confident gait portrayed a hint of pride. His posture straightened and his chest puffed out ever so slightly whenever he caught sight of doors, anticipating crew members. Boone's imposing presence was both reassuring and commanding, a testament to his years of experience and work with the Concordium Astralis.

The Artemis's interior, an amalgamation of stark design and comforting details, encapsulated the duality of its purpose: a steadfast transport ship carrying its precious cargo through the treacherous vastness of space while providing a sanctuary for its crew in the cold, endless abyss. The dim luxuries of nostalgia faded as he entered the engineering room, where a few crew members were running their diagnostics and routine checkups. He approached the center console that sat nestled under the large glass casing of the energy source that powered the ship. He flicked through the screens, preferring to see the reports for himself instead of interacting with anyone, not wanting to disrupt their habits. 

The sudden welcoming smell of warm tea brought his attention to a cup being offered to him. The brunette looked to the source and smiled lightly at the gruff ginger offering it. “Right on time like always, sir.” the portly gentleman stated as Lawrence took the beverage and gave it a quick sip. 

“I appreciate the work you and your crew do, Dargan. Honestly, I’ve been on transport ships that make me quite nervous, but here there are always people tinkering and working.” A soft hum of comfort followed a longer sip of the fragrant floral tea.

“If we’re being frank, being contracted by the Concordium Astralis is not something we’d want to mess up. This is good for us, for the crew.” His cheeks rounded as he let out a laugh and stood up right. “I trust you’ll be giving a raving review to your boss after this.”

“Right, you don’t have to worry about that, I’ll be requesting you personally to them after this.” Lawrence watched the man turn to the monitor and flick to the navigation screen. 

“Good, good. You’ll also be happy to hear we’re a day ahead of schedule. We redid some of the calculations on the last booster ring and were able to burn a bit more fuel thanks to recent upgrades. Not the most efficient but there is a trade port nearby where I get a better deal on cell charges anyway.” The engineer’s calloused hands pointed out the route and change in time, which earned a satisfied nod from the contractor as he looked down to the man with a pleased expression. 

They ran through a few of the diagnostic reports before Lawrence left, heading for the commons area to check in on the staff being transported. The auditory storm had since faded and the lights had warmed. The corridor opened up to a large box of a room that felt more like a glorified open office concept than a space to relax in. It was an unusual choice, but he assumed it was to accommodate the scientists and was a temporary adjustment, a few of whom were already up and working on their tablets. Lawrence had learned each of their schedules and there was not an early bird out of place. 

A familiar short haired blonde was standing at the drink station. With a few firm steps, he walked up beside her. “Two sugar cubes or was it three?” His lower voice startled the lanky woman, her long pale fingers fumbling with the spoon and dropping the sugar into her black steaming beverage. “It was two, wasn’t it.” He quickly followed, catching the dissolving shapes trying to float.

Dr. Elizabeth Hayes let out a tired grumble. “Yes, two. Excellent memory Boone.” Her grey eyes caught the warmth of the light strip from the counter. “Have you counted the number of steps it takes to get from here to your room as well?” 

“173 if I’m walking.” His cheeky remark spoken with intent drew a helpless smirk from the scientist. 

“Having an answer for everything is going to get you in trouble one of these days, you dolt.” Her eyes rolled as they walked to a standing bar along the far side of the commons room. The reflection in the large panel of glass captured both of their forms. Though Lawrence was a taller man of broad build, Elizabeth was not much shorter than him. Her narrow face and sharp angles complimented her sarcastic demeanor that the contractor had come to appreciate about her over the years.

“I’d like to think that’s why you enjoyed cheating off me at the academy.” Her head whipped to the side, eyes narrow and lips rolled into a thin smile. 

“That was me pitying your answers. How you ever made it though, I’ll never know.” The two had known each other since their early 20s, and not much had changed in 10 years for either of them aside from job positions. “Why you’re taking this mission though, I still can’t understand it. I thought you wanted to get away from the science field.” Her words trailed, prying bluntly for answers she wanted more and more as each morning they would talk briefly before she set off to organize and work.

Lawrence smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, Dr. Hayes,” his words spoken with playful admiration, “it was a job that was hard to resist. The pay was good, the outpost sounds quiet and easy enough to manage," he added with a wink, "how could I resist the opportunity to work alongside such an esteemed colleague? Now you don’t have to tell me your work is classified."

Elizabeth laughed, a melodic sound that echoed in the room. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Boone." Her eyes gave him a hesitant look over, searching for something more from the brunette. “Of all the people who could have taken this job, I am glad it was you. You’re in for a treat indeed.” 

With that, she sauntered away, leaving him to ponder the strange twists of fate that had brought them together on this expedition. Elizabeth was someone whose company he always enjoyed but she was direct and kept her work to herself. Her family, father most notably, was famous throughout the science world. They had expanded the understanding of biomolecular engineering that helped propel humans forward hundreds of years technology wise. Seeing her here, he couldn’t help but wonder what the research topic was for the outpost and why something she was working on would be so far from the Concordium Astralis operational stations. His thoughts ended as his body continued through the motions and he arrived at his  next stop.

With practiced efficiency, Boone began the security check protocol in the control room. His fingers danced across the smooth touch-sensitive console, examining every detail of the ship's performance and the crew's vital signs. The anticipation of their arrival at the remote planet hung in the air, an unspoken promise of discovery and new beginnings. His mind tried to stay focused at the task at hand, but the voice in the far corners of his brain was winning: everything is fine, just like yesterday and the day before. Giving in and wanting to be fresh for the landing, the young contractor stood tall with a stretch. His eyes flicked between screens, a volley of duty and practicality still tugged him back to sit, but he stayed firm. 

Convinced that all was well, Boone returned to his quarters, eager for a few more hours of rest before their descent. The brunette was quick to drift back into slumber, though his dreams were violently torn away by the agonizing wail of sharp mechanical cries in perfect repetition.

 The warning signals tore the air in two with a violent bombardment of thrashing soundwaves, ricocheting off the ship's metallic skeleton and jolting him awake. His heart hammered in his chest, and the ship's trembling floor added to the disorienting chaos. The once soothing blue glow of his room had vanished, supplanted by the harsh, pulsating red glare of the emergency lights. Ominous shadows danced and flickered on the walls as he moved, stepping into his boots as he stumbled out his door.

With adrenaline flooding his system, Boone hurtled down the corridor. Sweat beaded on his brow as the panicked voices of the crew crackled through the intercom, their distress palpable even through the static. No one knew what was going on, but through the glass he could see the tan, white, and green planet growing closer before the window was overcome with shades of yellow, then white, but their frantic urging for everyone to abandon their posts and retreat to their escape vessels spoke volumes, and all the brunette could do was parrot the calls, getting scientists to their rooms and into the emergency evac pods that served as their beds. 

The pods were both a haven for hibernation during long journeys and a lifeline in times of crisis. Only the important rooms had them, other escape pods and small ships were housed elsewhere on the ship for crew and any military personnel as they would be the last to leave on transport vessels.

Boone's mind raced as he considered the magnitude of the situation that would warrant their use as emergency escape vessels while the marines under him followed orders he spat out. The ship trembled once more, sending them against a wall in the corridor, and a voice nervously spoke something about engine failure over coms, then static. The team pressed on, following the contractor’s orders to the escape pods.

As he sprinted through the ship, the violent tremors threatened the very foundations of his world. His mind reeled along with the lurching vessel, sparks flying like fireflies in the dim, bleeding corridors. Fear clawed at the edges of his thoughts, but he dared not let it show. He had trained for this, endured countless simulations, yet nothing could compare to the intensity of the real thing.

He dispatched his men to evacuate to protect the others from whatever would be waiting on the planet before making his way to the command bridge, the nerve center of the ship. Like the rest of the vessel, the bridge was a box-like chamber, its square lines and utilitarian design echoing the functional aesthetic of the transport ship. Damage was evident all around, the result of the unknown force that had brought them to this dire situation. The air crackled with tension as the captain and a handful of resolute crew members worked feverishly to save the ship.

Catching snippets of urgent conversation, Boone pieced together the vital information: the pods were in route to the planet, set to land in a cluster formation. "We've got just enough thruster power to slow us, captain," the pilot announced, his voice strained.

"On my mark," the captain replied, his eyes locked on the viewport. The man, a 40-something blonde with a usually gentle demeanor, now exuded an air of unwavering conviction and visual trust in his crew. "Land this ship – I refuse to lose her."

The pilot nodded, his hands moving with spider-like grace, weaving a web of commands to the computer before planting firmly on the control sticks. "Sir, going manual. I can do this."

"I know you can – you're the best damn pilot I've ever seen."

With the plan in motion, Lawrence secured himself in a chair, the straps digging into his shoulders as he buckled in. His blood simmered with his controlled breaths, head pressing back into the cold metal of the seat. The young crew member beside him, a bald woman with a scar wrapping around her head and across her left eye, looked over at him as she licked the salt away on her lips from sweat. “First time? Don’t worry, we’ve done this before.” His only response was a cocked brow and an unsure smirk. 

The bridge crew moved with practiced efficiency, their hands flying over the controls as they fought to bring the crippled ship to safety. Boone watched, his own skills and knowledge at the ready, prepared to assist in any way he could. The ship groaned and shuddered around them, but the crew's determination never wavered – they would fight until the very end.