Weekend Writing Warriors - responsibilities

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

 

 

Continuing with a scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence. Commander Gregor Pavlenko is overseeing maintenance on a giant plasma cannon on board battleship Wrath of Empire. Last week ended with his lieutenant saying: “You always get that faraway look in your eyes.” She grinned. “It’s kinda cute, you know.”

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“There’s nothing cute about taking your responsibility seriously.” He glanced once more at the dancing lights of the dashboard. Progress was good, but they’d be at it for hours yet.

Gregor swiveled in his seat and gazed across the room to where a small army of intruders crawled behind and under his familiar battle consoles, wrestling a snake pit of wiring harnesses out from open floor panels and knitting them into the fabric of his world. In some sense, he felt violated, but he brushed off the feeling. This was the empire’s new toy. New levels of automation to bring a clinical calculation to battle decisions. Progress. He’d better get used to it.

That’s nine sentences. The scene continues ... 

Following the line of his gaze, Una said, “The techs report they’re close to finished hooking their control lines in.”

“So,” Gregor whispered, “it’ll have its finger on the trigger for real this time.”

“With loads of safeties and aborts in between.” Una’s voice was light, but the set of her shoulders said otherwise.

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Weekend Writing Warriors – it’s kinda cute

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

Continuing with a scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence. Commander Gregor Pavlenko is overseeing maintenance on a giant plasma cannon on board battleship Wrath of Empire.

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Gregor settled into his seat and nodded thanks as an orderly placed a cup of unsweetened tea on the desk to one side. He sipped the bitter brew and cleared his mind, then turned his attention to the spread of consoles that surrounded his command post.

One by one, stations reported in. Maintenance crews cleaned pipes and nozzles, reattached wires the width of human hairs and jumper cables thicker than his forearm, replaced worn parts, closed hatches and tightened fastenings.

The plasma cannon was ancient technology, and so simple in concept—rip apart atoms of feedstock to create a star-hot plasma, and belch it out in magnetically-confined parcels of destruction—yet so complex to execute. It had been mastered by the navies of the six Families and used by many Freeworlds and brigand outworlds.

Even after all these millennia it remained the most powerful weapon in regular use. Technically, it ranked second place to the quark bomb, but nobody counted that. Attempts to assemble quark bombs had a ninety percent failure rate, along with lost lives and irradiated continents. They were not practical weapons of war.

That’s nine sentences. The scene continues ...

The plasma cannon was meek in comparison, but controlling a high grade plasma and directing it in a tight beam was still tricky. It still needed a small industrial city’s worth of power generation, containment systems, cooling systems, and all the attendant controls and sensors.

As a technology, it was commonplace, but only the Skamensis navy had successfully scaled it up to this level.

“You’ve been to see Violet again, haven’t you?” Lieutenant Una Spelze, Gregor’s most senior weapons specialist, plonked herself down at the next station.

He gave a non-committal grunt.

“You always get that faraway look in your eyes.” She grinned. “It’s kinda cute, you know.”

 

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Just a reminder, I am looking for one or two people to act as alpha readers. This would be for a full read through the rough draft to give feedback on the big picture. Does the plot hang together, how do the characters come across, does the story flow and reach a satisfying conclusion ... that kind of thing.

I’m happy to reciprocate if you’ve got work that you’d like an independent read through.

If you’re interested, send me an email (if you have my email address) or reach me through the contact page on my website.

Weekend Writing Warriors – overkill

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

Continuing with a scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence. Commander Gregor Pavlenko is overseeing maintenance on a giant plasma cannon on board battleship Wrath of Empire.

 

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There was no practical need for Gregor to be here. In fact, he could watch progress on the overhaul far better from his station in the operations room, but from time to time he needed to see the weapon up close. Watching people crawling like ants over its surface brought home the true size of his responsibility. This was military overkill on an arrogant scale. No-one should hold such power without a generous dose of humility and fear. In his five years as Wrath of Empire’s senior weapons engineer, he’d never yet had to point it at anything other than military targets. He prayed, as he did every time he reported for duty, that he never would.

The moment of introspection passed. He steadied himself against the stanchion and pushed off towards the nearest airlock. Outside the weapon bay, and once more in the ship’s artificial gravity, he shrugged on a jacket against the relative chill and headed back to the twilight world of the combat operations room.

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Weekend Writing Warriors – bring out the big guns

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

Continuing with another scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence. We hop ahead in the story to meet another key player ...

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In the weightlessness of the vast weapon bay, Commander Gregor Pavlenko hung from a guide stanchion and swiveled in a slow three-sixty. The skin on his forehead crinkled in the dry heat, and his eyes pricked. Where he gripped the stanchion, the skin on his palms reddened. He should have worn goggles and gloves for this environment, but he wouldn’t be here long enough to suffer more than discomfort.

He was surrounded by sounds of machinery, voices, the clash of metal on metal, but it all seemed to come from a distance, as if heard through a long pipe. Beneath his feet, the barrel of Wrath of Empire's plasma cannon stretched into the distance, obscured by a bewildering multi-colored maze of machinery. Two thousand feet long, this cannon was the signature weapon of imperial Sword-class battleships. This one weapon was bulkier than the whole of most warships, and could level a city with a single blast.

 

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Happy New Year, everyone. Here’s hoping 2022 brings some relief from the turmoil of 20 and 21!

Weekend Writing Warriors – it’s not wrong

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

I’m sharing the opening scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence. Crown Prince Julian and his bodyguard, Chalwen, are talking about the late Empress Florence, who they’ve just interred. Chalwen is worried that with Florence gone, Julian would have to compete with his uncle Ivan for the throne if anything happened to his father.

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“I know Father's sad.” Julian screwed his face. “I honestly can't tell what Mother's thinking. Josie and Flossie can't stop bawling their eyes out, of course.”

Of course, Chalwen thought. Of all Paul's children they'd had the closest relationship with their sweetly tyrannical grandmother.

Empress Florence had continued a long line of brutal oppression with imaginative savagery, only softening in her later years with the births of twins Josephine and young Florence, two years Julian's junior. Something had changed her then, ending in her declaring Paul her successor rather than the elder Ivan.

Could a last minute change of heart really make up for decades of iron rule?

That’s nine sentences. The scene continues ...

From the corners of her eyes, Chalwen noted the six members of Julian’s escort falling in around them as they entered the shadowed avenue leading back to the residence. Steel-grey clouds chased the last few rays of sun, and a damp chill seeped through the gardens from the ocean beyond the clifftop wall.

“To answer your question, no, it's not wrong.”

 

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That’s the end of the scene. Of course, the question Chalwen refers to is the opening line where Julian asks “Is it wrong of me not to feel sad?”

Happy Christmas folks!

Weekend Writing Warriors – line of succession

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

I’m sharing the opening scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence. Crown Prince Julian and his bodyguard, Chalwen, are talking about the late Empress Florence, who they’ve just interred. Julian just asked if the old Empress could have resumed the throne in the event of his fathers death.

 

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Chalwen pondered the question. “In theory, if your uncle Ivan didn't beat her to it. But that's no longer a consideration. You're right. As next in line, you do need to prepare yourself.” More than you can know. Chalwen shuddered again. If anything should happen to Emperor Paul, Ivan had little hope of wresting power from a still-formidable Florence. But young and inexperienced Julian? That was another matter.

 

 

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Weekend Writing Warriors

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

I’m sharing the opening scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence. Crown Prince Julian and his bodyguard, Chalwen, are talking about the late Empress Florence, who they’ve just interred. The last snippet ended with Chalwen saying, “Today, you are only a step away from the Skamensis throne.”

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“Why today? Father has been Emperor for a year now. Grandmother already passed the throne on to him, so surely her death changes nothing.”

It changes everything Chalwen wanted to scream. But it would take years for Julian to navigate the maze of conflicting powers that made up the Empire. “True enough, but while Florence lived, in many people's minds she was still an Empress. If anything happened to your father, she could have resumed the throne.”

“Could that really have happened?”

 

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Weekend Writing Warriors – Wrath of Empire

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

 

I’m sharing the opening scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence. Crown Prince Julian and his bodyguard, Chalwen, are talking about the late Empress Florence, who they’ve just interred. This snippet opens with Chalwen speaking: 

 

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“Your grandmother was ... a complicated person.” 

“I didn't really know her.” 

Was that sadness in his voice? Regret? Fear, even? 

“I was hoping she would teach me more about statecraft, and ruling the Empire.” 

Chalwen shuddered, then reminded herself that Julian was only nine years old. He was only aware of the last few years of Florence's rule, not the bloody century that preceded them. 

“I'll have to learn one day, and Father is too busy to bother with me.” 

“It's never a bad thing to think ahead. Today, you are only a step away from the Skamensis throne.”

=====

 

As I was preparing to post this, I reached an exciting milestone in this project. I tidied up the last scenes in the story – the first draft is officially done!

I will be reviewing the whole document carefully before putting it through the queue at Critique Circle for a detailed critique, but in the meantime I am also looking for one or two alpha readers. This would be for a full read through to give feedback on the big picture. Does the plot hang together, how do the characters come across, does the story flow and reach a satisfying conclusion ... that kind of thing.

I’m happy to reciprocate if you’ve also got work that you’d like an independent read through.

If you’re interested, send me an email (if you have my email address) or reach me through the contact page on my website.

Wrath of Empire

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

 

 

It’s been nearly a year since I last posted to WWW. Last time, I posted scenes from The Long Dark, which was published last Christmas. Since then, I’ve been busy drafting a new novel. Over the next few weeks, I’m sharing the opening scene from Wrath of Empire, a prequel to my first novel, Ghosts of Innocence.

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“Is it wrong of me not to feel sad?” 

The question startled Lieutenant Chalwen ap Gwynodd back to the here-and-now. She'd been scanning the tree line and peering into the shadows, alert for anything out of place, when her attention had wandered. A fine stand of thousand-year-old Veshi oaks spread their gnarled canopy over a walkway leading deeper into the Imperial family graveyard. The play of light and shade had distracted Chalwen, a fatal lapse in a bodyguard. 

But here, of anywhere on the planet, was surely safe, and the hectic few days of the official state funeral had been exhausting. All the same, Chalwen cursed under her breath and carried out a hurried situation check. 

Prince Julian was still gazing at the plain memorial where the family had just interred the ashes of Empress Florence. He tilted his head as if in thought, gazing at the simple inscription carved into the rough stone. Chalwen struggled to read his mood. 

 

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The Long Dark is published!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

 

Concluding a scene from The Long Dark in Mikey’s point of view. Mikey is trying to make sense of the adults’ conversation over dinner after the loss of a crawler and one of its crew. They are discussing the difficulty getting replacements, and here Nick responds to Anna’s question about shipping spares instead of whole units:

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“And yet, their shipping rates always seem to rise for anything useful. Or, as they put it, they give us a special discount”--those words were spat like a curse--“for something as vital as a replacement car. But that’s another purpose for the paperwork. To avoid us abusing their generosity, as they put it.” 

“Rather than letting things fail, isn’t it in their interests to give that special rate for the occasional crate of spares instead? Surely it must make more sense for them?” 

Georgina sighed. “You should have paid more attention to your social and politics lessons, Anna. The shipping doesn’t cost the Company anything.” 

That’s nine sentences. The scene continues ... 

“It’s all part of our colonial agreement.” The animal had vanished from Nick’s face. He just looked like a tired old man again. “Everything they ship us gets charged against our colonial debt.” 

“So if we’re paying the cost anyway, why is everything so difficult?” 

Connections clicked. It’s not easier to replace a whole unit. It’s more beneficial to the Company to keep things run down! Why?

=====

 

And, yes, The Long Dark is finally out there. 

Currently available in popular e-book formats (Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Apple). 

I have also uploaded the paperback files but right now I can’t get hold of a proof copy. Amazon says they won’t ship to my location in Canada and their “customer service” is giving me the run-around. But until I am able to review a physical copy I am not prepared to hit “publish”.

 

WeWriWa – the animal within

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

 

Continuing a scene from The Long Dark in Mikey’s point of view. Mikey is trying to make sense of the adults’ conversation over dinner after the loss of a crawler and one of its crew. They are discussing the difficulty getting replacements. 

 

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“What they don’t tell you,” Nick continued bleakly, “is the cost of shipping new units out here.” 

Anna stared at him. “Then why not simply ship the parts we need to keep things running? I know nothing about costs, but even I can see that a few crates of spares is smaller and lighter than a whole car or yoop.” 

Nick grinned. Mikel had trouble working out expressions, their range and subtlety confused him, but some screamed loud and clear out of the background clutter. Nick’s grin held no amusement, it was pure animal ferocity. Mikel winced. Neither Anna nor Georgina seemed to have noticed the feral threat Nick suddenly seemed to pose.

=====

 

So what's got Nick mad? More next week.

WeWriWa – Insurance woes

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

 

Continuing a scene from The Long Dark in Mikey’s point of view. Mikey is trying to make sense of the adults’ conversation over dinner after the loss of a crawler and one of its crew. He’s puzzling over Georgina’s last words: “It’s hell trying to get even a handful of spares to keep things running, but they always seem happy to replace whole units when they finally fall apart.”

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“Sure,” Nick snorted. “Once we’ve completed a meter-thick wad of loss claims paperwork.” 

“At least that’ll be easy this time,” Georgina added. “It may be hard proving a unit sitting in the garage can’t be patched up any more, but one that’s lost below the surface must be a bit of a no-brainer.” 

“Actually,” Anna seemed hesitant. More strangeness. “It was still on the surface when we left it. Kinda. Will that be a problem?”  

That’s ten sentences. The scene continues ...  

Nick closed his eyes briefly. “We’ll be careful what we state in the reports. It’s lost to us for the coming season. Leave it at that. Once we’ve done the paperwork right, they’re happy to send a replacement. I think the loss claim allows them to set it off against tax or something.” 

Mikel filed the strange words away for future reference. Here was a whole world of connections, causes and effects, that seemed to hover on the edge of understanding.

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WeWriWa – replacement parts

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

 

Continuing a scene from The Long Dark in Mikey’s point of view. Mikey is trying to make sense of the adults’ conversation over dinner after the loss of a crawler and one of its crew. 

 

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The conversation around him seemed to have moved away from Ambrose, away from things that made his mother cry. Back to the trek. The terrifying unknown reached out to engulf Mikel, but he needed to listen, to learn how to deal with this impossible threat to his stable life. 

“The Company will send new equipment.” 

That was Georgina. She always seemed to know a lot of things Mikel didn’t, but then she was so slow at seeing the connections between the things she knew. Once he had the facts, Mikel was always faster at solving problems and drawing conclusions than Georgina. That troubled him, too. Teenagers weren’t supposed to be better than grown ups.  

That’s ten sentences. The scene continues ...  

“It’s hell trying to get even a handful of spares to keep things running, but they always seem happy to replace whole units when they finally fall apart.” 

Another anomaly. Somehow this one seemed important, but Mikel couldn’t see where it fit into the pattern of life, home, and safety. Why is it easier to replace a whole rather than a part?

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WeWriWa – clocks and calendars

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

 

Continuing a scene from The Long Dark in Mikey’s point of view. Mikey is trying to make sense of the adults’ conversation over dinner.

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Of course, he knew all about orbital mechanics. The world--his world--spinning on its side, one pole facing the sun, then the other. Orbital period thirteen Earth standard years, axial rotation thirty Earth standard hours. Odd. Clocks were set to the Elysium day/night cycle, and yet the calendar was tied to Earth standard. When people talked about a year they meant an Earth year, not Elysium. Why the inconsistency? An anomaly, but not interesting enough to pursue right now.

Here was the relevant bit. People on the surface forever chasing summer, escaping the deep freeze that came with long years of darkness at this latitude.  

That’s ten sentences. The scene continues ...  

Hence the trek. The migration from autumn in one hemisphere to spring in the other, then back again after another six years. 

It made logical sense, but Mikel baulked at the implications. Leaving his home. Leaving familiarity and security behind. On an intellectual level, he could understand the idea of other towns, other domes with other rooms, but he couldn’t picture it. Couldn’t place himself there. His home was here. 

This was what he’d locked away. This had happened before. He was fourteen years old now. Earth standard years, that is. He would have been maybe eight then. It figured. He couldn’t remember much from then, but the terror had been real enough to leave its mark.

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WeWriWa – Mikey’s memories

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

Continuing a scene from The Long Dark in Mikey’s point of view. Mikey is trying to make sense of the adults’ conversation over dinner.

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Memories crept cautiously to the fore, memories of pain and panic that he’d kept safely tucked away since he was young. It was happening again. Anna hadn’t come home last night. That wasn’t unusual, except that she was supposed to be here. Instead, Georgina had brought him home and looked after him. Georgina, not Karin. Too much happening that shouldn’t be happening. 

Last night, long after lights out, Mikel had crept into the family room and spent hours on a tablet trawling the town library, trying to make sense of what was going on. Something in conversations around him had given him a starting point. 

The trek.

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WeWriWa – Introducing Mikey

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

More excerpts from The Long Dark. You met Anna and Jennifer in earlier posts, now I’m introducing the third major point of view in the story – Mikey, Anna’s son. This scene happens after Anna rescues the crew of a stranded crawler, though they sadly lose one of the crew members ...

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Mikel arranged a meticulous wall of crisp fries, corralling a spoonful of mushroom stew. A small heap of green salad stood guard to one side. The trick was to eat the innermost fries before they got too soggy, and rearrange the circle before the stew leaked out onto the rest of the plate. Mushroom stew and green salad didn’t mix. Mikel couldn’t explain why, it was just one of those unhappy combinations that he avoided at all costs. 

Like the school room, the clan dining room was unusually quiet. The adults’ voices were odd today. They talked in hushed tones about someone called Ambrose. Something bad happened. When he looked close, there was a trail of damp down Anna’s cheek and a strange catch in her voice.  

That’s ten sentences. The scene continues ...  

He tried to ignore it. Wishing it away. Anna was crying. The strangeness stabbed deep into his mind. Children cried. Anna didn’t. Anna was strong. It would be okay. 

Mikel had no idea who Ambrose was. Maybe he’d met him, maybe he hadn’t. Grown ups all looked the same, apart from a few that he knew well, so the talk was not relevant. Not interesting.

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WeWriWa - The Long Dark draft blurb

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

Following Teresa's idea last month, I'm having a go at posting the draft blurb for The Long Dark. This has been through a couple of rounds of comments with a group of critiquers, but I'm keen to give it a try with a different audience:

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Trapped in the lengthening nights of Elysium. Abandoned by the last convoy south. Alone with her son and his teacher. 

Anna never thought she would die this way. 

She won't let it come to that. She scours the darkened town for anything to help them make the long trek to rejoin their clan. But on a world starved of engineering resources it will take all her ingenuity to rig up a usable vehicle. 

With a chance of escape almost in reach, they find they are not as alone as they thought. Hopes of rescue are crushed when they realize the unexpected visitors are on a mission that they will kill to keep secret. Whatever these off-world intruders want, it can't be good for Anna's world, and a fight for personal survival becomes a battle for the future of the entire colony.

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While working through final edits, I've also started posting background material to my website. Click on the image to find out more.

 

And cover art is nearly complete. Since last month I've mostly been playing around with the look of the sun. That was one element I wasn't happy with, and I think it's heading the right way now.

 

WeWriWa - The Long Dark

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

This snippet concludes the opening chapter from The Long Dark. Anna drives a massive surface vehicle and is aiming to retrieve a hard-to-reach navigation beacon before winter closes in. A sudden sound startles her. The last snippet ended: Home and safety, a crawler driver always looked to their rig first when danger threatened. 

 

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A faded echo rolled over her like distant thunder. Anna scanned the horizon. Her scalp crawled. There’d been no signs of a storm, and the landscape around her seemed placid, unmoving. Besides, that didn’t sound like it came from the depths. She squinted skywards. 

A vapor trail traced a fast-moving line across the coppery sky and cast an ethereal shadow on the skim of cirrus that muted Big Red’s shine. Anna puzzled for a moment, and released a pent-up breath. Dangerous time of year for craft to be chancing a landing. 

She sighed and shrugged, not her problem, and turned her attention back to securing the beacon.

=====

Hopefully this ties together Anna's scenes with Jennifer's. 

After three months' sporadic work, cover art is now down to finishing touches.

 

WeWriWa - The Long Dark

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image.

 

Continuing the opening from The Long Dark in Anna's point of view. Anna is driving a massive surface vehicle and is aiming to retrieve a hard-to-reach navigation beacon before winter closes in. 

 

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Up another hanging ladder, Anna mounted a slender catwalk suspended below the front of the cab. She selected a lightweight cable from the row of drums above her head and released the drum’s clutch. 

Once more on the ground, she fastened the dollies a few meters back from the end of the cable, then clipped herself on for safety. With the end of the line slung over one shoulder, and a sounding pole in her free hand, she tested the surface ahead as she trudged away, sinking ankle-deep with each step. 

Despite the late season wind keening around her, sweat slicked the edge of her mask by the time Anna slogged her way to the beacon. 

She slackened off the beacon’s guy lines and carefully lowered the heavy three-meter pole to the ground, slipping the axle of a dolly beneath each end. 

A sharp crack followed by a muted rumble startled her. She glanced instinctively back to the crawler, calming her heartbeat when she reassured herself it was okay. Bright yellow boxes slung between silvery mesh wheels looked like a row of old-fashioned stagecoaches, except those ancient carriages were never built four decks tall. Home and safety, a crawler driver always looked to their rig first when danger threatened.

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Back to cover art, and progress at last. That last unit and wheel peeping in from the edge of the page is done. From now on, progress will be less obvious as it's down to details.

 

WeWriWa - The Long Dark

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog hop where participants post eight to ten sentences of their writing. You can find out more about it by clicking on the image. 

 

 

Continuing the opening from The Long Dark. Although it's been drawn out in time by the weekly snippets, the chapter as a whole is quite short. To conclude the chapter, we switch back to Anna's point of view. Anna is driving a massive surface vehicle and is aiming to retrieve a hard-to-reach navigation beacon before winter closes in.

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Unhurried, Anna reviewed the crawler’s controls, checking the giant vehicle was safely immobilized. She grabbed her mask from a hook on the back of her seat, and pulled it over her head as she descended a narrow stairway to the cramped equipment bay beneath the drive deck. She paused to settle the mask properly in place and pull a strand of hair out from under the edge seal, then she hauled a pair of two-wheeled dollies and a tool belt from the neatly-stacked storage racks. 

Through the crawler cab’s lower airlock, Anna climbed a ladder to the ground. Hints of over-ripe fruit in the air reminded her that the mask’s filters would need cleaning when she reached home. Her unfastened jacket flapped around her thighs in fitful squalls. She ignored an icy chill working its way around her waist through gaps in her clothing, and lowered the dollies to the ground. 

She knelt and pulled off a glove to test the plant’s surface. Tight-knit matting and whorls of stringy fibers yielded to her touch. They felt dry, scratchy, but still held firm when she tugged on a handful.

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And (making use of the new rules) this scene continues ...  

Seasonal changes were coming on fast, but maybe she’d arrived in time in this case. She suppressed a shiver of unease as she peered at the ground between her and the beacon. She had a job to do.

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That big heap of firewood you saw last week is almost all gone, but it's been unusually hard work this year. Some years we get lucky, and most of it is the right size for our stove. It just needs to be barrowed around to the carport and stacked neatly ready for the winter. 

This year, probably around 80% of it was in chunks that needed splitting down a bit. To make things harder, this load is mostly maple and is very dense. Some pieces split easily, but some put up a fight. And there's a small-ish pile left that we couldn't touch with the axe, so today we're renting a log splitter for the day to tackle those last bits.