====== Scrapped story snippet ======

I've been stuck trying to finish [[stories:First Contact]], and I think the reason why I can't continue is I was never satisfied with my first attempt, so I'm attempting to rewrite it. In doing so I'm trying to make the missionaries more fleshed out as characters.

Also I watched ''Project Hail Mary'' over the weekend and it struck me that I could use a similar story structure. Pascal slowly regains his memory by having flashbacks of him meeting the other missionaries, culminating in him remembering boarding the ''Dewfall'' and entering suspension.

My usual writing process involves me mulling over a scene in my head, then writing it down. Then I think of a scene that could come before or after it, then repeat the process. The following dialog ended up not fitting with where I wanted to go, but I still like how it sounds in isolation, so I thought I'd post it. Pascal is in the dry dock where the ''Dewfall'' is waiting, having second thoughts about the mission. Sunshine, Tod, and Iris each come to encourage him in their own way. This is Tod's attempt.

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Now it was Steadfast Friend's turn. The breeze from the atmospheric circulators carried his musk ahead of him. I could hear him brachiating toward the dry dock from a nearby corridor.

"Howdy!" he barked cheerfully. It took some effort to sift through his Moony accent for the words, far as it was from standard Commonthroat. His constant fidgeting didn't help matters. He had a coin in his left forefoot, which he tossed toward his right, then to his right hind foot, then his left, and then back to his left forefoot, tracing a square circumscribing his torso.

"Just saw Sunshine leaving. Said you were sulkin' around here. I can smell it all over you. Whole colony's going to smell mopey if you don't cheer up."

"Why are we doing this?" I asked. "Why are we throwing ourselves into a silent indifferent cosmos searching for voices that will never answer?"

"Oof," he grunted. "Gettin' all philosophical right from the jump. No 'How's it goin', Puke Paws?'"

"Fine. How's it going, Puke Paws?" I imitated his drawl, which made him gecker in amusement.

"Is that what we sound like to Outlanders? That's crazy. I love it! Anyhow, I'm doin' pretty dang great. This is big stuff we're fixin' to do. Real big stuff. We're goin' to find us some star folk. I can feel it." He sniffed. "But I can smell you don't think the same. 

"'Voices that'll never answer', you say? That's not what the faith says. It's a big galaxy. They're out there. We just gotta keep lookin' and hopin'."

"Hope," I said. "I lost it decades ago."

"You're quite a sad sack."

"You Moonies really are that blunt?"

"We say it when we smell it," he laughed. "I'm real sorry. I know that's not how y'all do things 'round here.

"You do not often smell happy." He annunciated the words in the standard accent like a pup in a language lesson, then immediately returned to his bumpkin lilt. "Tell you what, I know I can't give you back hope, not so easy, at least, but I'll hope in your place until you find it."

"I'm not sure that will help, but thank you," I said. 

"And you called ME blunt," he huffed. "I can smell I'm botherin' you. I'll stop yip-yappin' and see myself out." He kicked off from the bulkhead and flew toward the corridor.

"Wait," I said. He grabbed a paw cable and swung around to face me. "Thank you, really. I know I'm not pleasant to be around. The fact you came to check on me does make me feel a bit better. I'm glad to have you as a friend."

"That's my name," he yipped, "Steadfast Friend." He wheeled back around and rocketed past Iris as she entered.

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