Now that I have a blog, I'd like to use it to solicit some feedback. I've decided to post the prologue of the manuscript I am querying. Suggestions and comments are welcome. I'm particularly interested in knowing if the "hook" is effective—does it make you want to keep reading? If not, can you pinpoint a reason why? Thanks for the help!
Rebel Admiral William Lancet didn't wait for the battered metal door to grate closed behind him before addressing the small assembly awaiting him. Four anxious gazes turned to greet him from the depths of the shadowed room as he entered, scrutinizing his windswept appearance, curious about their unexpected summons to a wasteland base.
"I'm glad to see you all found your way here, it speaks highly of your decoding skills," he began as he shook off the dust from his cloak. "Most of you are probably aware that our final attempt at a peace treaty failed last night, dissolving our situation down to desperation. We're out of time and we can't afford to fail again. We must implement a final offensive. That's why you're here."
The four gazes shifted uneasily from the admiral to one another.
"Each of you is here because of your expertise in a particular field," he continued. "No doubt you are distantly familiar with each other's work and achievements—your reputations precede you—but introductions are in order: Hector Gonzalez, rated number one in your engineering class, back in the days when we had classes," he smirked at his own joke, "and widely proficient in the use of modern, ancient, and alien technology systems; Danzel Milton, top rated performance in combat school, three year defending champion of the Reathan Tactical Weaponry Competition, and a wilderness survival expert with an arsenal of tricks and skills a résumé cannot do justice to; Kiarra Kirtlund, our most competent diplomat, counselor, and expert on Earth history; Captain Tom Vance, war strategist and our most seasoned assault leader."
Admiral Lancet paused and took a step forward, squinting despite the dim light emanating from their illumination belts to survey each individual, as though probing for reasons which might disqualify one of them from the task ahead. At length satisfied, he turned and began pacing the room.
"This mission is to be discussed with no one outside this room without my clearance. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Admiral," four voices echoed in the barren room.
He stopped pacing and turned back abruptly to face them. "And is there anyone here who has any objection whatsoever to participating in a mission that may result, should we be discovered, in the extermination of you and your entire family by order of the Royal Crown? Now is your chance to leave if you so desire."
More glances were exchanged, accompanied by nervous feet shuffling, but no one spoke. Everyone in the room was keenly aware of the consequences for defying the crown—they lived with the risk every mission.
"Very well, then. We may proceed." The captain opened the door through which he had entered and leaned out into the dark passageway. "Doctor, we're ready for you."
The admiral moved aside and a cloaked figure appeared in the doorway. With hesitation, two hands moved up to remove the hood, sending a shower of dust to join the thick layer already coating the floor, revealing a face etched with wrinkles and coarsened by time. Random tufts of white hair glinted in the dim light as the balding head rotated, energetic blue eyes examining the room.
"Doctor, welcome back to Reath. It has been a long time," said the admiral.
"It has, Admiral. It has," he responded distantly.
"Some of you may recognize Doctor Gordon Bohden by his title, former Royal Physician," the admiral informed the team.
Raised eyebrows were exchanged.
"Doctor Bohden has come a long ways to see us. He shared some information with me yesterday that has given me the first hope for our cause I have felt in many months. He is doing this at great risk to himself and his loved ones, but millions of people may one day be indebted to him for his journey here today. He wishes to tell you himself what he told me."
The admiral paused, cuing the doctor to speak, but the doctor showed no sign of having heard him. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Doctor Bohden, will you please relate to everyone here what happened in this room seventeen years ago?"
A visible shudder passed through the doctor as he continued to gaze around the room. His mind was busy taking in the changes, though he could still picture it as pristine as the day he had left: glittering console lights, metal drawers and shelves of neatly arranged tools, freshly sanitized test tubes, bottles of chemicals ready to be employed in important purposes, the well used examination table—his scientific oasis, his cathedral, his life's work. It had been a favorite place of his once. But things change—people change—as they had seventeen years ago.
He stood staring, silently reliving his last few days there, unaware that the blood was draining from his face so his skin now matched his ghostly pale hair. Feelings of anger and betrayal bubbled up from somewhere deep within, catching him by surprise. Coming back wasn't supposed to be this difficult.
A shudder passed through him again, this time purposefully as an attempt to shake off the memories. There was no need for these feelings any longer. With the information he would provide today, everything would be rectified, though it would come at a cost—a cost that was not his alone to pay.
"Doctor."
A touch to his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts. "Yes, Admiral, I'm so sorry."
"I understand how difficult this must be for you, but we must proceed. I thought that's why you came."
The doctor turned to face him, a mournful expression in his deep blue eyes as he grappled with himself one final time over the decision he had already made. Of course he had done the right thing. With all that was at stake, the good would far outweigh the bad that would come of this...he was almost sure of it.
"Doctor, please."
With a final shiver, the doctor swallowed and squared his shoulders. "You're right," he whispered to the admiral. "It is time." His voice quivered as he spoke. "We must prepare the girl."
