Novel is coming along quite well! Our Halloween party was successful in that for hours and hours after midnight we wrote. We woke, we wrote. We ate, we wrote. We went home, took naps, and wrote. I am currently 1,000 words away from my 10,000 word goal for the night.
To those of you who are curious, here is an excerpt from my work in progress:
***
“You look ridiculous. You know this.” Dice glanced up at Ashland before kneeling beside the bloody pool of the Captain. His eyes stared up, shocked beyond anything he could have expected, at the hot light of the ceiling. The medic took his pulse. It pumped once over the course of two minutes. She shook her head. “Dead.” She took a pen from her pocket and pushed it into his throat, holding aside the gore to look at the source of the death. “Larynx is torn. Jugular also, obviously.” The blood was still pouring out of him.
“My God…”
"It’s a clean swipe. I wonder if the thing has teeth. Looks more like a knife wound than an animal bite.”
“No more details, please.” Ashland looked positively pallid, even considering her normally pale complexion. She’d turned away, as far away from the blood as she could manage.
“I told you!” Marc laughed almost giddily, wildly. “Nobody listened. Please, let’s go home…”
There was a silence then as it sunk in. Their Captain was dead. NASA would be pissed. Who knew what might come of the bad media coverage.
Then again, NASA might never know he’d died, or that they were now hurtling in an alien ship toward whatever fate said creatures had awaiting them.
Boris’ machinery buzzed, beeped a little as he blinked and looked around. “If it would help he may have my spare larynx.”
They all looked at him, uncertain what to say. Dice laughed darkly. “No, I’m afraid that won’t help.”
“It is within easy reach. I suppose we can wait until a proper doctor with replacement parts can look at him.” He shifted, as though he were uncomfortable, frowning slightly.
“I take offense to that,” Dice said.
“I meant none,” he replied.
"You know he’s dead, right? He’s not like you. He doesn’t get to have replacement parts.”
Boris frowned, eyes scanning those around him, and then landing on the body in the middle of the room. They were quiet, letting the facts sink into him, though none were sure just how much he could understand. Did he feel grief like the rest of them? Perhaps they would never know. He jerked suddenly, blinking a little. “There is something wrong near my batteries.” He jerked again, catching himself before he could fall over. “Does anyone have a screwdriver?”
Hugo did. It was on a small clip in his pocket, among other handy things. He didn’t know if it was big enough to try to fight the wild bird-thing if it came back in, but it could at least do what it was made for. He knelt on the ground next to Boris, lifted the shirt up around his chest, and deftly unscrewed the four tiny screws in Boris’ lower back. The plate, soft and fleshlike to the touch, came off. Hugo reached into the cavern, felt the myriad of wires and compartment of warm batteries, and something soft. And tiny teeth. He hissed, drawing his hand back in surprise, before slowly reaching in again and lifting the ball off furry black fuzz out of the android.
Ashland let out a cry and laughed. Dice grinned, and even Marc was wide-eyed, smiling a little. “Imagine that,” Hugo murmured. The black kitten mewled, digging its claws into Hugo’s vest as it clung to it. He returned the plate to Boris’ lower back and screwed it back in place, before pulling the kitten from his vest and handing it to someone who had a greater affinity for animals. It was Boris who took it, cupping it carefully with both hands.
“I thought my wiring was a little off.”
“Mew,” said the kitten.
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