CH. 2: A Fateful Meeting

It was a big day for me at work. After a year of slaving away at data tables, scanning the skies, precise measuring, and multiple drafting attempts, I had finished my first star chart.

Completing a star chart of the proportion I had done was a real feat-a true work of art, if I do say so myself. For the ump-teenth time that day, I unrolled a small portion of it across my desk and looked at it with pride. There, in that cluster of stars making up Ursa Major, was the Big Dipper; however, even the Big Dipper didn't look very big in relation to the rest of chart, which was massive and still rolled up tight at the end of my desk. Of course, next to the Big Dipper was the Little Dipper. Looking over here- Saturn, a small speck of bright light just below the star Spica…

There was a rap on the door and a shock of blonde hair appeared. "Samantha! Your chart! You've completed it, then?"

"D-D-David," I stammered as he waltzed his way in. He was looking super-model-great today, as usual. He strolled over to the chair I sat in and leaned over to inspect the chart closer.

"Wow, that's beautiful. You did a great job—boss'll be impressed." Even with all of David's hunky glory looming over me, I managed to swell with pride at the words.

"Th-Thanks…" I smiled in his direction. "I-I'm p-proud of it."

"As you should be," he countered with a smirk. I grinned back, tucking my hair behind my ears. David was always so nice to me. "Have you shown it to the boss?"

"N-Not yet…"

"Hey there, Stutters," said a voice at the door. I flinched at the nickname. It was Rene, gorgeous in her well-tailored pencil skirt and blouse. "See you finally have that chart finished…Oh, hello David."

"Hey Rene!" David said, bolting upright. "You gotta check this out. Samantha did a great job." Rene raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, I'd love to…but, um. David. Would you mind helping me with something…?" She bit her lip. "It's kind of embarrassing…I need help lifting an easel. It's too heavy…" She spun her glossy red hair around a finger.

"Of course, Rene! Um, I'll check the rest out later, Samantha!" He shot out the door.

"Bye, Stutters!" Rene called, and they were gone.

I sat there at my desk, bitterness itself. It was no surprise that Rene had coerced David away with her charms, but calling me Stutters? I hadn't gotten a nickname like that since high school. David probably thought it was just a little tease, too. I sniffed. Even now, nicknames like that hurt.

Putting on my big-girl face, I rolled up the chart and put it in my art tube carrier. It reminded me of National Treasure—that one tube Nick Cage put the Declaration of Independence in. This one had a strap, too. I chuckled to myself at this revelation and relaxed.

You may have a stutter, I thought, but you can create one mean astronomy table.

/

Later that day, I showed my boss my finished work. She was as impressed with it as I had hoped she would be, stating, "The client will be thrilled." I was ecstatic. If they really liked it, they might ask for their next commission from me personally! I was going places.

"You'll have to give your presentation today." The bomb fell.

"P-P-Presentation?" I stammered.

"Oh yes. You'll have to present it to our client—standard procedure. This was a big job; they wanted to know immediately when it was finished. I'll email them now…" She thumbed away at her iPhone. "The client's representatives will be sure to head over... Real astronomy buff, this one. Wants to make sure it's perfect." I stared at her, pleading. She had to know this was my worst nightmare; I've worked under her at this company for two years.

"I'm sorry, Miss Urbans, but there's nothing I can do. It's your chart; you know it best. I would've told you about the presentation earlier, but I thought it'd just make you more nervous."

"I-I-I w-would've ap-pr-preciated a w-warning, th-thanks." Already my stammer was getting worse. She nodded.

"Yes, well, I will definitely give a warning next time…" Her phone dinged. "Ah! They'll be here at one. I'll have to get things in order..." she rose from her chair. "Have your things ready in the conference room by then, Miss Urbans." She left via the open door of her office, the click-click of her black heels on the tiles fading into nothing.

My legs felt like lumps of dead fish as I willed myself to walk down the hall to my workroom, chart slung across my back. I checked the time on the clock above my desk—half past twelve. My heart raced; I needed to calm myself. It was guaranteed that I would be stuttering throughout the presentation, but if I relaxed some beforehand it might not get too bad. Too much is riding on this, Samantha…

Gathering what I needed there, I exited my workroom and walked with an armload of things towards the conference room. A right, then a left… Turning the final corner, I ran into Rene again. "Oh. Hello," she said dryly. I gave her a nervous smile back and nodded. I had hoped that this might be greeting enough—Rene always made me nervous-until she offered me a condescending eyebrow raise.

"H-h-hello…," I replied. It wasn't a horrible stutter, but Rene barely repressed a scowl upon hearing it. That was Rene for you. I flushed. Please don't talk to me long. My things were heavy and awkward to carry, and she was amiable as ever. Rene adjusted her skirt.

"I see you're getting ready for your show-and-tell. Oh, but I'm sure it's a big deal for you." I gritted my teeth.

"N-n-not at all," I replied. Rene did not seem impressed. She looked about herself as if she were bored.

"Well, I better get going. I have things to do before the reps come. I'm their escort, so I'll get to see your entire presentation, Stutters." She gave a short laugh and waved a hand dismissively. "Goodbye." With that, she turned the corner, leaving me simmering. Her interactions with me were always like that-very juvenile and catty. I continued my trek in a huff.

Upon arriving in the council room, my anger at Rene was fast replaced by more pressing emotions. If I set up now, I can practice a little before everyone comes in… Cold sweat formed on my forehead. The council room was small and intimate with no exterior windows; the reps would be only feet away from me, as would that snob Rene...

I positioned my three largest display easels in the front of the room, lined side by side near the center, and placed my pointer on a ledge. My chart, still carefully rolled up in the art tube case, was still slung across my back. I made a move to remove it.

A wheezing, complaining sound—almost like labored breathing, but more mechanical—caused me to jump where I stood. I tensed, and my eyes darted back and forth across the small room. Where was it coming from…?

There. In the corner by the last row of chairs, a large and rectangular blue box faded in and out of existence, finally becoming solid as the wheezing sound snuffed itself out. I stared at it. Is that one of those old police boxes? I rubbed my eyes and inspected the corner again—yep, still there.

The doors of the police box burst open, a slim figure rushing out and breezing past me in the blink of an eye. It was a young man. He skidded to a stop by the hallway door and peered out its little window.

"This is bad. This is very bad. Very bad indeed." He slipped a strange metal flashlight out of his coat pocket and began to wave it around the door handle. It buzzed and rang—I'd never heard anything like it. "Tch. I would land somewhere with no visuals. This won't hold them for long." The light clicked light off, the device's unfamiliar noise ceased, and the man tried the handle, which was now locked. He spun on his heel to face me. "Right. You there. What's your name?"

"S-S-Sam…," I stuttered. I didn't even try to pronounce my full name. This was nuts.

"Hello Sam," he said warmly. "You work here?" I nodded. "Ah. Not anymore. I'm sorry; your boss has been murdered by an invasive alien species. Many of your coworkers, also, I'm afraid." My mouth dropped open. "We're not all like that—swear it! Right. They'll find us soon though…only just escaped them in the main office. They'll be looking." As if on cue, loud crashes and bangs echoed in the distance. "And there they are. No helping it; better get in my TARDIS if you want to live—that box, right over there. Hopefully she'll behave. This conundrum needs a good thinking." The crashes and bangs grew, and then suddenly they were loud at the door. Snarls leaked through the pounding chaos.

So. Unknown but hostile snarling whatever outside, or rambling mad man with a box? It wasn't a hard choice to make. I was at the box's door before he was.

"Good to meet someone with some sense," he commented as he ambled up beside me and creaked open the blue door.

Just then, the thing from the hallway muscled through with a crash and a great splintering of wood. The young man was already in the box; he grabbed my hand and pulled. I chanced a glimpse around my shoulder.

It was Rene...but it wasn't. This Rene was…distorted. Her eye sockets sagged below her eyes; her mouth hung far below her chin. Her slim, fit figure crumpled against the ground in folds of flesh; it was like she was melting, but she could move. Yes, she could move! She almost had me!

I was pulled stumbling inside, the door slamming shut after me with a decisive smack. Then there was silence.

"Ah…really hope you two weren't close…," said the young man. I shook my head in response, still staring blank-faced at the door. "Well, that's a plus anyway... Hm. Intelligent species. Knows there's not much chance of getting through that. Let's see… What could they be? Should move…don't want them getting any ideas…" I heard him walk away.

Wait. He can't be walking away. This was a phone box. It couldn't be more than a few feet in diameter.

I peeled my eyes away from the door, turned around, and gave an audible gasp.