Excerpts and Outtakes

by Cindy Rae

“Hurts,” she tried to mumble. The surface beneath felt hard. The bright lights, even through her eyelids, inflamed the sparks of pain shooting through her skull. Her stomach felt worse.

“Doctor?” her father’s voice, anxious and worried, came from somewhere on her right.

“Oh, she’s fine. The medication keeps her sedated.”

“But…”

“I said, she’s fine.”

“Perhaps he could give her some water,” Aria suggested.

“I don’t need your help,” snapped the doctor. “But, yes, yes, he can do that much. Bottle and straw there.”

Her head pounded. She tried again to speak. No one noticed.

“Here, Kaylah.”

She felt a straw inserted into her mouth. She tried to swallow, her tongue thick and dry.

“Come on, drink it, honey,” said her father. He gave the bottle a squeeze.

The rush of water was too much. She started choking.

Salvage Outtake: Hydroponics

by Cindy Rae

In a very early draft of Salvage, Episode 1, I had Kaylah working in the hydroponics garden onboard Brio’s Hope. Here’s the hydroponics outtake:

As the words finally penetrated, Kaylah whirled around, tripping over her own feet before racing back the way she came. A few minutes later, she arrived at the farm, a plant nursery in a narrow hold on the port side. She stumbled over the hatch and gasped at first sight of the plants. All she could see in the front bay were dead or dying, the wilting of leaves pronounced or dry. Adults were shouting around her, their tones frantic and demanding.

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by Cindy Rae

Through the surging crowd she glimpsed Master Geary talking with an older man — the grandmaster? — who often led the lessons. The grandmaster nodded, Master Geary bowed, then Master Geary worked his way over to the table where her mother now read.

Her smile faded. Uh-oh. Did… did I do something wrong?

A few minutes later, Master Geary navigated the crowd and approached her with an encouraging smile. “Hi, I’m Master Geary.”
Kaylah nodded. I know. She darted a look at her mother who was once again immersed in her book.

“I talked to your mother.”

At Kaylah’s expression, he quickly added, “You’re not in any trouble. In fact, you did very well on the course.”

“Uh…” She stared at her shoelaces. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to train with us?”

A broad grin returned to spread across her face. She nodded vigorously, her short curly hair bouncing around her face. “Sure! That would be great! Tuesday and Thursdays, right? I’ve never really did sports, but I really liked running the course. I’ll need a uniform, right? Will I—“

Alarms blared.

For a split second, all movement froze.

In the next instant, everyone scrambled for the door. As the crowd surged around Kaylah, crowding her, looming over her, she worked to keep on her feet.

Maybe this drill will go better?

Raw Writing from Salvage

by Cindy Rae

Okay here’s the writing snippet, but, a disclaimer — it’s raw writing, very little revision:

“Come to order!” The assistant director’s voice blared once again through the ancient megaphone. “Come to order!” The A.D., the diminutive Mrs. Holang-Lee, stood near the back wall, in front of a stack of crates, the black strands of her hair sweeping her face as she shook her head at the crowd.
Milling around, the colonists filled the converted cargo hold, their excited voices adding to the clamor of the kitchen staff working furiously. A few latecomers entered and passed Kaylah’s perch on a storage unit by the hatch. After the tank puncture scare, the animosity of the other passengers, and the complete ineptness of most of them when it came to ship drills, she felt safer near the exit.

by Cindy Rae

“Passengers had a water leak an hour ago.” The air suddenly seemed to sharpen.
Water had been critical to interstellar travel from the beginning. Reclamation tech had never lived up to its promise, and building craft with large enough water supply tanks proved too expensive for most. So, ships like the Pinoche carried less water, relying on carefully planned stops along the route to collect ice.

by Cindy Rae

Although incredibly clean, like the rest of the ship, the floor in the corridor showed its age with scuff marks and scratches, the kind paint doesn’t hide.  As she strode along, the worn metal grating beneath her feet rattled occasionally.  Kaylah tipped her head back to examine the conduits running overhead behind a series of grates.  Several were taped together with what looked like duct tape.

“A budget ride is a budget ride,” a family friend had warned as they said their last goodbyes back on Earth.  He had added earnestly, “but it will get you there in one piece.  The captain’s a good man.”

“Whatever that means,” Kaylah thought.  She pulled her coat tighter.  The air smelled musty but better than in the passenger rec area.   On any given day, when too many of the unwashed crammed into the converted cargo hold… Her nose crinkled in disgust.  She understood the need for limited water rationing, but she didn’t have to like it.