2. Chapter 2
"Are you ready for this, Rachel?" Thomas, my cameraman, asked.
My cameraman ! I had finally risen in the ranks of the journalistic world enough to be assigned my own cameraman .
The last two times I was on my way to IC, I came by myself. The past six weeks had definitely changed my standing.
"Ready as can be"." I pulled up my notes to go through them. Thomas and I had only been working together for a couple of weeks now, but we'd already developed a routine where he drove to our destination, and I went through my notes with him. It cleared my head and got him up to speed on our assignment.
"This is what, your second time here?" He took a curve too fast. Most of the time, I didn't notice his bad driving habits because I was immersed in my notes, but today I held on to the oh shit handle for dear life.
"Hey, slow down. We're not on a rollercoaster."
"You don't like rollercoasters?" He snickered.
"I do, but they're moving on tracks. And no, this is actually my third time at IC." I filled him in.
"What are those Vandruks really like?" He shot his next question at me.
I shrugged. "I have no idea. I've only met one."
He turned his eyes from the road to make sure I caught his eye roll, meaning that I'd met one more than him. Since Vandruks were aliens, I supposed he had a point.
"They were going to shut down the portal, and I was supposed to report on it," I began.
"I know that"." Again with the eye roll.
"Eyes on the road, Thomas. All right. He was very human-like and spoke English." A fact that still boggled my mind. But I suppose Tzar-Than, as he called himself, had prepared himself well for this meeting. He had abducted a scientist, Matt Bauer, and forced him to teach him English. I shuddered at the thought. Being abducted by aliens sounded good in books. But this was all too real for me now.
"He seemed very arrogant and sure of himself," I filled Thomas in, omitting how good Tzar-Than had looked and how much his arrogant caveman style had impressed me.
"Why did Randy assign you to it in the first place?" We were about to leave the freeway, turning onto the road leading to the IC building.
I sighed. I knew what Thomas was really asking. Why did our boss assign the story of the century to you ?
"It wasn't a hot story then," I explained. "Randy simply wanted a piece he could tie into his obsession with the Big Bang Theory . He requested a look at real-life, hot, nerdy scientists ."
Thomas chuckled. "Sounds like him."
Great, another dry, dead-end story , I remembered thinking when Randy threw that assignment at me. How wrong I had been. How very, very wrong. Who would have thought that Randy's hot scientists would turn out to be hot aliens? Not me, that's for sure. Even more surprising was the promise of an even bigger story, one that just might jump me from DenverBroadcast to one of the three-letter news organizations. The BIG ones!
I wasn't sure if I should be thankful to Lady Luck or Fate. But for once in my life, I had been at the right place at the right time.
My phone beeped with a text message from Trevor.
Still thinking about you.
I groaned. Thomas picked up on it. "What's wrong?"
"Just my ex." I put the phone back into my purse without replying.
Thomas raised an eyebrow at me.
"Long story. After a year, Trevor finally decided that me saying no to his proposal might have changed." I filled him in.
"Or he wants part of the news. You're a big deal right now, Rach."
Thomas wasn't wrong, but he didn't know Trevor the way I did. Trevor's first contact with me after a year had been the night before my big break.
Unbidden, my thoughts turned to Trevor, my parent's' dream son-in-law. Trevor, the FBI agent. Trevor, the man with a career. Trevor, the man from old money. Trevor, who might end up in politics.
Everybody told me what a big mistake I made in turning his proposal down.
He will take care of you, Rachel.
Well, here's the thing, Mom, I don't want a man to take care of me.
Because Trevor's proposal came with a hitch. A stop working and have my babies right after the wedding hitch. A man like him needed the picture-perfect family, the PTA mom. A mom who, if she had to work, should be working at an organization like Goodwill or PETA or whatever. Definitely not a reporter.
And that was where my hitch was. 'I'd always wanted to be a reporter. I spent many nights dreaming as a teenager about Rachel James, reporting from the front lines , and the Pulitzer goes to… Rachel James .
I wanted that. God, how much I wanted that. More than I wanted Trevor.
Poor Trevor, he's been devastated ever since you broke up , Mom said.
Well, if he's that devastated, maybe he should rethink his requirements , I snapped.
Anyway, the day before the big story , Trevor called. To give me one last chance . I told him to stick his chance where the sun doesn't shine, but I still rolled from side to side all night, wondering if I made a mistake. Even more so given the story I was supposed to write tomorrow that had nothing to do with Rachel James, reporting from the front lines.
Doubt settled in. I wasn't getting any younger; I mean, twenty-six isn't old, but it was time to find Mr. Right if I did want a family one day, which I did. One day. I wanted it all. Family and career, and I didn't like Trevor dictating to me what I could and could not do.
So I went to work the next day, putting Trevor's ultimatum out of my head, and I hadn't thought of him since. Because that story? Wow. It was one of those stories every reporter dreams about. The one with legs of its own.
I was the only reporter in our group. The others were all IC higher-ups, including Doctor Weidenhof, the founder of the wormhole, high-ranking military men—wearing those heart-stopping uniforms where it doesn't really matter what the wearer looks like—and a handful of politicians.
The wormhole portal was about to be shut down. It had been open for ten years with nothing to show for it except a big, red, fat billion-dollar price tag taken from the taxpayers' pockets, and I was to resurrect the dinosaur, so to speak. Weidenhof had invited a reporter to gain public outrage against shutting mankind's greatest accomplishment down, whereas my editor wanted me to find some hot, nerdy Big Bang scientists so he could tie this story with his favorite show.
We walked into the lab housing the portal and found a member of the sanitation staff talking to an alien. An actual alien.
Every single one of my reporter's Spidey senses stood on end because, come on, after ten years of nothing, suddenly there was an alien by the portal? The same day when a group walked through to decide on its fate?
That's when my interest in the story grew when I knew this might be my ticket to the big three-letter news outlets. I was the first person to see and take a picture of an alien from Vandruk!
"So what's the angle?" Thomas stopped by the gates to show our credentials, and I realized we'd spent all this time talking about irrelevant matters instead of rehearsing our spiel. I had even missed the reporters housed by the gate, watching us enviously as we pulled through.
I didn't like sharing this part of the story with Thomas because I was writing my own side piece, one that I would submit to the bigger news outlets, but I wanted him to get shots of Weidenhof when he was caught off guard. So I had to fess up part of the story I was really working on.
"Okay, nobody can know about this yet."
He made a motion to zip his lips. I wished I had known him better, but he was a photographer, not a reporter, so… I dove in. "A week after the Vandruk appeared, I got a message via email from an untraceable account. It was from Doctor Dawn Wayland and she asked me to be there when she and the others left Earth to go to Vandruk, that she had something to give me."
"Hmm"." Thomas's attention was divided as he pulled into a parking space.
I had already been invited to the Seeing Off ceremony. After my initial report, I became a small celebrity in my own right. I went to talk shows, I gave an interview to one of the big three-letter news outlets, and my boss gave me a raise and a cameraman. Things were looking up.
"What did she give you?"
"That's the thing"." I took my seat belt off. "Nothing. When I went, she looked at me as if she had no clue who I was."
I left out the part about all the digging I had done after Dawn's initial message and discovered a few red flags.
Thomas grabbed his camera. "That's strange."
We walked into the building where Doctor Kensington, Weidenhof's second-in-command , waited for us.
"Doctor Weidenhof is ready for you. Follow me."
Thomas and I exchanged a quick, amused glance. The lady was frosty through and through.
She left us after she knocked on the door and a man called enter .
I walked in, all smiles, turning up my charm. I wanted him to like me first, hoping to catch him off guard later.
"Doctor Weidenhof—"
"Call me Carl"." He smiled warmly at me. For his age, he was a very good-looking, extremely charismatic man. I suppose it came with his position.
"Carl"." I returned his smile with the one that had put me on TV with DenverBroadcast, noticing that his gray eyes stayed as cold as that of a fish. Most people were probably captivated by the laugh lines crinkling his face, adding to his charm, but I had trained myself to look at my interviewee's eyes. That's where I found the truth. I hadn't gotten where I was only on account of my irresistible charm and good looks—they had most certainly helped—but by not shying away from asking the hard question. It didn't matter how famous the person sitting opposite me was; I always asked the hard-hitting questions, which had earned me the nickname Barracuda. Some women wouldn't want that name, but I relished it.
"It has been several months now since the first wave of Vandruk brides left, and not too long ago, a second followed. What have you heard from them? I assume you have some way of communicating with the other side? Otherwise, sending more would have been terribly negligent of you."
He laughed. "Of course we have contact. The Vandruks, my team, and I are enjoying a very mutual friendship based on honesty and respect." He readjusted himself in his chair. "I receive regular updates from the women, and they are very happy about Vandruk."
"That's good to hear. Very good. Because I've received several requests from concerned family members who haven't heard from their loved ones in some time, I'm sure they would appreciate an update."
Weidenhof shook his head. His face expressed the expected regret, but again, any note of sympathy did not reach his eyes. "That is very unfortunate. But every volunteer "—he put special emphasis on the last word—"was aware of the conditions of going to Vandruk, which stipulates no contact with their loved ones for a year."
"Some may say that is a very harsh condition"." I kept my voice low and winced to convince him that it wasn't me making this point but that I had been forced to make it. I was his friend, for now. Friends received more information.
I wasn't about to disclose that I had done some digging and discovered that more people had gone missing than he had let on so far. According to Weidenhof, only a handful of scientists had perished during the first attempts to investigate the alien planet on the other side. That didn't add up with what I found, though. I discovered at least eight missing scientists as well as at least six security guards.
It took me hours to dig my way through social media, especially now when hashtag IC had become so popular, but I did find many employees that way. A photo with names of a company picnic on one social media site had been more than helpful. From there, I researched each employee I could find, and voila. Six security guards' social media accounts had either been deleted or hadn't been updated in some cases in years. Same for the scientists I hadn't known had worked for IC. When I contacted family members, I was told no comment or was simply hung up on. I knew there was more to this story. I could feel it in my bones. Unfortunately, so far, I didn't have any proof, hence me playing nice with Weidenhof.
"It may seem so, but trust me, it's in the best interest of the women. I've been assured of this by several psychologists who my company hired at our expense to ensure the women's integration into the world of Vandruk is as smooth as possible. As you know," he continued, leaning back in his chair, making me wonder if he suffered from hip problems or if he was just fidgety, "there is no electricity on Vandruk, no cell phones, none of the modern achievements we are so proud of and dependent on. These women have a steep adjustment to endure to what we might call primitive, pioneer conditions."
I nodded along with him, ostensibly agreeing with what he said despite my earlier notes. "I understand that, but even the pioneer women had pen and paper to write letters."
I shuddered just at the thought of how these poor women were living now. I loved my modern amenities. I loved having Google at my backend call, getting any answers to any questions after a few strokes with my fingers. I also enjoyed flowing toilets, a microwave, and a washing machine, thank you very much. There was no way in hell I would ever set foot on that planet, no matter how hot those aliens were—and they were hot. So freaking muscular that their muscles seemed to have muscles. And that red gleaming skin… Yeah, eye candy for sure. But I'm sorry, no dishwasher, no deal.
The thought of what the families of these women were going through right now also lay heavily on my chest. I hadn't been bluffing about that. Family was everything to me. Especially mine. We were so close-knit, I couldn't imagine moving to another state, let alone off the planet.
"Letters are something to consider for sure"." Weidenhof allowed with a slight, indulgent tilt of his head, but I noticed his eyes turning a shade colder.
"That will most certainly make the family members of the volunteers very happy"." I grinned innocently at him. "Now how else have your relations with the Vandruks improved?"
I wasn't na?ve enough to think he would spill the beans over his missing employees, but I was on the lookout for any slipup. Also, I was getting him on tape. Whatever he said right now, I would hold against him later.
"Oh, tremendously, tremendously"." He got up from this chair and walked to a side table, pulled out a drawer and retrieved a small black box, then brought it over to me. "Just this morning, my team was able to finish these"." He opened the box to show me the contents laid out on a blanket of black velvet. It was a collection of the most brilliant diamonds I had ever seen. The bright ceiling headlights shone down on them and made them glitter in nearly unreal sparkles.
"Are these diamonds?"
Carl shook his head. "It was part of a large assortment of findings the first science expedition brought back with them. These were inside a nondescript rock that we only opened last night."
Carefully, I picked up one of the stones. It was the size of a small pebble. It hadn't been cut, yet it glittered in a myriad of brilliant whites, more so than any piece of jewelry I had ever seen. I wasn't an expert, but I had interviewed plenty of wealthy ladies to have seen some impressive jewelry. "That is amazing."
"Isn't it?"
"And it's not a diamond?"
"I have been assured it is not. It's some kind of, so far, unknown gemstone."
I placed the twinkling rock back and he closed the box, returning it into the drawer. His arms moved in excitement. "Can you imagine the wealth of that planet? The multitude of unknown resources?"
I was very aware that he hadn't answered my original question about the relationship between IC and the Vandruk and had instead distracted me with some sparkly rocks. Interesting.
"So what deal have you made with the Vandruks for rights to their… resources?"
He returned to his desk and steepled his hands in front of him. "As you can well imagine, it's still a work in progress. The Vandruk culture is made up of clans, much like the Scotts used to have, making negotiations very difficult." He placed his chin on his steepled hands and shook his head, portraying the right amount of regret. "Very difficult. They have forty clans and no leadership"." His head still moved from side to side. "Arranging treaties like this is very hard."
I opened my eyes wide at him in my best adoration impersonation. "But you have succeeded, haven't you?"
"Let's say I'm working on it." This time, his grin reached his eyes and created a cold shiver running down my spine.
"So you and the Vandruks are on speaking terms then? But what about the language barrier?"
"Dear Rachel"—his grin deepened—"you are talking to the inventor of the wormhole." He looked so smug that my palm itched to wipe the look off his face.
Instead, I leaned forward, making sure to give him an ample glance at my cleavage, and turned my most breathless voice on. "Sounds fascinating, do tell."
"It wasn't that hard to work with a few translation devices and to develop something that adapts to the crude Vandruk language. We are now working with much more sophisticated material than the Rosetta stone." He laughed.
I chuckled appreciatively. "So you are in constant contact with them then? The Vandruks?"
"Absolutely, yes." He lifted his head to nod vigorously.
"Forgive me, but I have to ask for the sake of all the women around the world who will listen to this interview"." I leaned back slightly to distance myself from my question. "Are all the Vandruks as handsome as the one who entered your lab?"
I didn't think I would ever forget my first glimpse at the Vandruk that day. He was the secret dream of many women, which explained the thousands upon thousands of female volunteers to go onto an alien world and marry an alien, sight unseen. He had been the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on, and until that day, muscular men hadn't been that much my type. I preferred intellectuals to steroid suckers. That man, though—I still got hot flashes just thinking about him.
My career has always been my driving force. Men are nice deterrents to get one's mind off things, but in all honesty, looking at that man made me want to be carried off caveman style and have babies. Which was interesting because Trevor's caveman style, you woman, you stay home, had turned me off, whereas with those men… Stop it, Rach, there's no way you make it one day on that planet. They don't even have an electric toothbrush .
"Would you like to see for yourself?" Carl winked at me.
"You have Vandruks staying here?"
"As my guests"." He winked again.
I turned to look at my cameraman. "Can he come?"
"Absolutely. I have nothing to hide. I agreed to this interview to show the world how we are making progress with an alien race without government interference. Or maybe because of that."
He winked again, and this time, the smile I flashed back at him was genuine.