Page 1 of Whoops-A-Mate From Outer Space
Chapter 1
Papers spread across my wooden desk: graphs, figures, results, and anything else that could help me with my analysis. My computer displayed an article manuscript that I’d been asked to peer review—though light from the window behind me reflected off the screen and made some parts hard to read.
I scanned the research, then shifted to compare the data with similar studies. I noted my thoughts and moved to the next part of the article.
Peer reviews were both a blessing and a curse. It was a great way to see some of the newest research, but it was also time spent evaluating somebody else’s work instead of my own.
I removed my reading glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose. Words and figures had started swimming in my eyes.
Coffee… coffee would help. So would a bit of a walk.
I stood, stretched, maneuvered around a stack of books on the floor—I needed to find a place for them on the built-in wooden bookshelves before the next semester started—and headed out of my cluttered office.
The hall was blissfully quiet. The mornings between semesters were the calmest on campus, making them the perfect time to get things done.
I decided to take the scenic route to the department office to give my legs a bit of a stretch. My footsteps echoed off the cream-colored linoleum and earth-toned walls as I strode past closed classrooms and open labs where a handful of graduate students worked on their research projects.
I rounded a corner and was glad for my slender frame as I eased past a large piece of equipment being delivered. Past that was a glass-covered bulletin board where students could have flyers posted.
I paused in front of it to see if there were any upcoming events that interested me, but was only met by my reflection—blue eyes staring back at me from under my short but messy brown hair.
“Damn,” I muttered to myself as I resumed walking to the department office. “I was hoping at least some student band would be playing somewhere.”
Finally, I made it to the department office and lounge area. The scent of heaven wafted through the space: coffee brewed by the department secretary, Eleanor. It was rich with a hint of cinnamon, prepared by somebody who’d mastered their craft before the existence of pod coffee machines.
Wehada pod machine, but nobody used it. Who wanted an inferior product?
I walked over, grabbed my mug from the cabinet, and poured myself a cup. I added a bit of cream and sugar, then leaned against the gray Formica counter as I took a sip.
I sighed as the fog in my brain started to clear, took another sip, and started back.
“Oh, there you are,” Eleanor stated as she walked in. “There are a couple of men looking for you. I left them near your office.”
I raised one of my eyebrows. “Just a couple of men? That’s all you’ve got?”
She frowned and shook her head. “I asked, but they insisted that they would only talk to you.”
“Probably parents mad about a failing student. I haven’t had one yet from this past semester.”
She made a face. “Maybe, but I didn’t get that vibe. Also, they were in uniform.”
“Uniform? Like cops?”
She shook her head. “Military, I think. Not camo though.”
I sighed. “Guess I’ll go find out what they want.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I muttered as I secured my grip on my mug.
I briefly considered taking the scenic route back, but decided that I’d rather get the visit over with.
Turning a corner, I spotted the two men. Military was likely the correct assumption. Their stances were crisp, not casual, and their uniforms equally impeccable.
“Gentlemen,” I stated, acknowledging their presence as I opened the door for them.
“Doctor Eugene Wallace?” asked the older of the two, a man I’d guess to be in his mid-fifties with graying hair.
