"Alright, James. I'm initiating the reactor startup sequence.
Are you ready?" asked Aaron, as he stood in front of the reactor
control panel.
"Ready as I'll
ever be, boss. Just make sure you don't blow us all up," replied
James over the intercom, his voice slightly shaky.
Aaron took a deep
breath, and pressed the button to start the reactor startup sequence.
The control panel lit up, and the reactor core began to hum as it
came to life. The hum changed to a low rumble that gradually
increased in intensity as the reactor reached operational
temperature.
"Voltage is at
11 kilovolts. Holy shit! We're at 100 megawatts already?" came
James' incredulous voice over the intercom.
"Reactor is at
25% power right now," said Aaron.
"No. No. No.
This is supposed to be a small modular reactor! Not some 400 megawatt
behemoth!" James exclaimed, panic rising in his voice.
"I experimented
with the fuel cycle a bit, and it seems to be working," said
Aaron.
"Well keep that
thing at 25% or less right now! I need to reconfigure our grid to
handle the increased load," growled James.
"What are you
talking about? I told you to make sure our grid can handle 400
megawatts!" said Aaron, his frustration at yet another delay
mounting.
"That was
assuming four 100 MW reactors not one 400 MW reactor! I need to
reconfigure the relays so that the power goes through the entire
compound now!" James shot back.
"How long,
James?" Aaron pressed.
"3 minutes at
least," James replied.
"Fine. But once
you're done, I'm ramping this thing up to full power, and then I'm
going to be building out the remaining three in the fleet," said
Aaron.
"Hang on! The
entire compound's power grid can just about handle only one of those!
I'll need to quadruple the entire grid infrastructure!" James
exclaimed.
"Don't worry. I
don't intend to bring them all online at once. We'll do that in
phases," said Aaron, his voice firm.
"Harry's right.
You really are a sadist and a mad scientist rolled into one,"
James grumbled.
"A bit late to
make that observation, don't you think? You should have caught on
when I turned this lead mine into an underground lair," chuckled
Aaron.
"Yeah, yeah.
Well I've reconfigured the relays. Once this goes online, you're
powering the entire compound and then-some all by yourself,"
said James, his voice resigned.
"OK, ramping
up," said Aaron, keying the ramp-up sequence into the control
panel.
"OK power
distribution is stable, switching from external power to internal
power," said James, as the lights in the mine flickered and then
stabilized.
"Reactor is at
100% power, all systems stable," said Aaron over the muted roar
of the reactor and turbines.
He locked the
control panel, and walked out of the control room, heading for the
mine's main entrance.
----
"Master
Zakhrov, I think we may have found our first recruit," said
Natasha, as she entered Aaron's office.
"Really? Who is
it?" asked Aaron, not looking up from his terminal.
"It's former
FBI Special Agent Olga. She was one of the agents who came to
investigate the attempted smuggling operation," said Natasha.
"Interesting.
What makes you think she is a good fit?" asked Aaron, his
interest piqued.
"Well, she has
a background in law enforcement, and she is physically fit. She also
has a good head on her shoulders, and I think she would be a valuable
asset to our security team," said Natasha.
"And that
assessment has nothing to do with the fact that she crashed at your
place last night, and left in your car this morning?" asked
Aaron, a small smirk on his face.
Natasha blushed
slightly, but held her ground. "No, it doesn't. I think she
would be a good fit for the team, and I want to give her a chance to
prove herself." she said firmly.
"Alright, I'll
take your word for it. But I want her to go through the same training
and assessment as everyone else. No special treatment." said
Aaron, his voice firm.
"Of course,
Master Zakhrov. I wouldn't dream of giving her special treatment."
said Natasha, her voice steady.
"Good. The
reactor is online, so we'll need more security personnel to guard it.
How is the recruitment process going?" asked Aaron.
"Olga will have
her assessment tomorrow, and I have a few other candidates scheduled
for interviews later this week. If all goes well, we should have a
full complement by the end of the week." said Natasha.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Aaron nodded,
satisfied, and then clicked the intercom. "Harry, what is the
status of The Feminine Professional?" he asked.
"Well, the
store is ready to go. We've also got the pipeline set up for the
security uniforms, Margaret has already made four new sets for
Natasha. We've got turnaround times down to about 8 hours now with
the new sewing and fabrication robots," said Harry over the
intercom.
"Excellent.
Have the new uniforms delivered to Natasha's apartment. But hold off
on the store opening to the wider public until I give the go-ahead.
We'll soon have a PR storm courtesy of Senator Goldberg, and I want
the timing to be just right," said Aaron.
"Understood,
boss. I'll make sure everything is ready for the launch," said
Harry hanging up.
----
"I have a major
bone to pick with you, boy!" snarled Michael, as he stormed into
Aaron's office.
"And what might
that be, Mr. DuPont?" asked Aaron, his voice calm.
"You're opening
an office wear start-up that's selling engineered heels, and I find
out about it when you send me a ribbon cutting invitation?"
growled Michael.
Aaron simply raised
an eyebrow, which caused Michael to calm down sightly.
"You do know
that my day job outside being a Congressman is being the owner of
DuPont Hospitality and Services, right? We basically own most of the
F&B scene in the state," said Michael.
"And you want
to contract The Feminine Professional to supply your staff uniforms?"
asked Aaron.
"Hey, you're
not the only man of culture around here, you know.
I'd kill to have all
of my female staff strutting around in high heels if it didn't get
the feminists and OSHA to shut me down with extreme prejudice,"
chuckled Michael.
"Few small
problems with that plan.
Number one, you
can't roll out the kind of dress-code mandate I've got without
tanking your political career, so you will have pushback.
Number two, these
heels use titanium alloys, so we can't achieve economies of scale for
mass-produced uniforms with this kind of material.
Bespoke heels and a
few custom uniforms like what Natasha here is wearing are feasible,
but outfitting over a hundred thousand potentially unwilling
waitresses, receptionists and other staff, is going to cost you
billions and will probably not work," said Aaron.
"You're also
missing the potential risks here, Mr. DuPont. These shoes can quite
literally crush a man's skull with a good stomp. You really want to
hand that kind of power over to underpaid and overworked waitresses?"
chuckled Natasha, sitting on the edge of Aaron's desk.
To prove her point,
she went to her desk, and kicked one of its legs.
Michael flinched as
the titanium heel smashed into the wooden leg, breaking it into
splinters as if it was a toothpick.
"Does it have
to be titanium? I'm looking for something that they can wear all day
and not have their feet hurt. They're less likely to sue and oppose
then," said Michael, eyeing Natasha apprehensively as she
resumed her perch on Aaron's desk.
"Hmm, we could
lower the Titanium content, and add more aluminum and iron to the
mix.
That should lower
the costs significantly, while still being good enough for OSHA to
certify the heels, and your lawyers can handle the rest," said
Aaron.
"Sounds good!
I'll need some prototypes to push for OSHA certification," said
Michael.
"I'll let you
know when they're ready. By the way, you're going to have to pay for
them upfront.
This is me basically
compromising to fit your business use case and budgets," said
Aaron.
"Fine, fine.
How much?" asked Michael.
"I'll have
Harry send you a quote. But be warned, I only do stiletto heels, and
only six centimeters or above. Anything less, and you might as well
order sneakers," said Aaron.
"You've got a
deal, mad scientist," said Michael, extending his hand.
Aaron shook his
hand, and then turned back to his terminal, while Michael exited the
office.
----
It was evening by
the time Olga returned to Natasha's apartment, her arms laden with
shopping bags.
"Well, I got
the clothing you wanted. I hope this is good enough," she told
Natasha, dropping the bags on the floor and pulling out a black
skirt-suit with a fitted cut, a pair of 8 centimeter high heels, and
a pair of sheer black pantyhose.
"Yeah, that
will do. Any problems getting your other stuff sorted?" asked
Natasha.
"No, I've got
everything I need. However, the FBI is tailing your car," said
Olga.
"Well, they can
tail it all they want. Rochelle and Monica are in over their heads,"
chuckled Natasha.
"Well, if you
say so," said Olga, her voice uncertain.
"Yeah, don't
worry about it. You need to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a
long day." said Natasha, as she helped Olga put away her new
clothes.
"Thanks,
Natasha. I really appreciate it," said Olga, a small smile on
her face.
----
"Alright, Olga.
Are you ready for your assessment?" asked Natasha, as she stood
in front of Olga, who was dressed in her new skirt-suit and high
heels.
"Yes, Nat-"
began Olga, before Natasha cut her off.
"Don't call me
that. Out here, you are not my friend. You are my subordinate. Call
me Ms. Parker or Ma'am," Natasha snapped, her voice cold and
commanding.
"Ma'am
understood ma'am!" said Olga, correcting herself and snapping to
attention.
"Have you been
holding out on me soldier? That attention snap smacks of military
training, not FBI training," Natasha said, her eyes narrowing.
"Ma'am, no
Ma'am. I was in Navy Officer School, but I couldn't make it, so I
joined the FBI instead," said Olga.
Natasha regarded her
coldly, she had performed the required background checks, and Olga's
story checked out. What she hadn't expected was that Olga still had
some of the military training ingrained in her.
"Alright, let's
see what you can do. Follow me," said Natasha, leading Olga to
the training area.
----
"Oh, you have
got to be kidding me," muttered Olga to herself, as the training
corridor lights cut out.
"I can't
believe that I'm shooting at stuff in a damn skirt-suit and high
heels!" she growled, firing at the targets that popped up as the
doors opened, and closed at random.
Her heels were low
enough to move in without overbalancing, but the pencil-skirt felt a
little too restrictive.
"I don't know
how Natasha does this," she thought, as she spun on her heels to
hit a target that popped up at her 3 o'clock, her ankles crying for
mercy.
After 10 grueling
minutes, the lights came back on, and the targets stopped popping up.
"Not bad,"
said Natasha, as she walked over to Olga, who was panting and
sweating.
"Thanks,
Ma'am," said Olga, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.
"Take 15 and
then meet me back in the temporary office," commanded Natasha,
as she walked out of the training area.
----
"Master
Zakhrov, meet Olga Mendeleev. She has successfully passed the
assessment," said Natasha, as she entered Aaron's office with
Olga in tow.
"Hello, Ms.
Mendeleev. I assume Natasha has already brought you up to speed on
your duties, so we'll make this brief. Your basic pay is $400,000 a
year with performance bonuses, and you get employee housing. Are
those terms acceptable?" asked Aaron, his voice clipped.
"Yes, sir,"
said Olga, unsure of why a teenager was being addressed as "Master"
by Natasha and everyone else.
"This is your
employment contract and NDA. Read it carefully, and sign it if you
agree to the terms," said Aaron, handing her a large tablet
computer and stylus.
"Damn, so the
rumors are true. You really have a legally binding dress code,"
said Olga, as she looked through the documents.
"Well, the
uniform comes as part of the job, so don't sweat it too much,"
replied Natasha.
"Sir, ma'am, I
don't have the training or experience to perform combat in eight
centimeter stilettos," said Olga. She made to rise, but Natasha
forced her back down with a firm leg on her shoulder.
"Take a long
hard look at the gear Olga," said Natasha.
"That's metal?
I thought it was just some kind of plastic! And your skirt is that
flexible?" asked Olga incredulously, surveying the angle of
Natasha's long leg, and the gleaming metal of the heel.
"How about you
operate on the assumption that while I may have a thing for high
heels, I'm not an imbecile," said Aaron.
"My apologies,
Master Zakhrov, Ms. Parker," said Olga, contritely. She signed
the employment contract, entered her biometrics and bank account
information, and handed the tablet back to Aaron.
"Alright,
welcome to Sirius Software, Olga. You are now officially part of the
security team," said Aaron, shaking Olga's hand.
"Thank you,
sir. I won't let you down," said Olga, her voice steady.
"Good. Now go
get some rest. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Dismissed,"
said Natasha.
Olga stood up,
saluted, and then walked out of the temporary office, her heels
clicking on the floor.
----
"I don't know
what kind of insane magic you guys have got here. There is no way
that this thing should be so easy to move in." said Olga, as she
and Natasha walked to the Temporary Office. Olga had received her new
security uniform, which was identical to Natasha's, except for the
shoulder pads which had a single silver stripe on them, indicating
her lower rank.
"I know what
you mean. It was pretty surreal when I first put it on. But you get
used to it." chuckled Natasha.
"OK. What's my
first assignment?" asked Olga, as they entered the Temporary
Office.
"For now, it
will be to man the checkpoint at the mine entrance. Master Zakhrov
has already had Harry set up the checkpoint and installed new spike
strips there after we had the heavy water smuggling incident."
said Natasha, as she sat down at her desk.
"Understood,
ma'am." said Olga. She saluted sharply, and walked out of the
office, her heels clicking on the floor.
