Chapter Four
Stratos choked back a surprised laugh, uncertain whether to applaud her temerity or dispatch her for insubordination. On the other hand, she wasn’t crying, so that was a good sign.
“Technically it’s only four assistants,” he corrected her. “My last assistant didn’t quit; she’s on maternity leave. She’s coming back.” She’d promised.
“So, the job is only for a few months, then.”
“Eighteen.” Assuming Verilla returned right after the birth. He’d been three months without administrative support, and it had been a nightmare. He had no idea how he’d function if she decided to stay home with the rug crawler. Women who had babies tended to get so…maternal. Except for his mother.
“Eighteen?”
“Oberian pregnancies last twenty-four months,” he explained. “Verilla is only a quarter into it.”
“Oberian women are pregnant for two years?” she gasped. “Oh, my god!”
Didn’t learn that in your research, did you? But he was aghast, too. A huge inconvenience, Verilla’s pregnancy had put the brakes on his department’s efficiency and productivity. Good assistants weren’t easy to come by.
“Our babies are born with full motor skills and a complete set of teeth. They can walk within a few hours, eat solid food from day one, and talk within a couple of months. They aren’t helpless like human newborns.” Once he began to consider GAL Friday, he did his own research.
What he hadn’t learned was how brazen humans were. Or maybe only this one was.
A lot of audacity had been packed into a petite frame.
Slender and barely topping his shoulder, she looked like a moderate tube draft would blow her away.
Her hair had appeared brown, until the light hit it, and then it gleamed like polished copper.
The expression in her critical green eyes bordered on insubordination.
Her soft mouth contrasted with the brash words that came out of it, and her delicate chin jutted out with stubbornness.
Everything about her was wrong for the job. Gods forbid he hired a termagant who questioned his orders or dismissed him with a scathing glance. He had a mother for that.
She wouldn’t miss an opportunity to challenge him. Of course, she probably wouldn’t cry at every turn either. There would be sparring matches with this one.
“Care to share the joke?” she said.
“Joke?”
“You’re smiling.”
He wiped the grin off his face and glowered.
“Oh, that’s better. Matches your personality.”
“Are you always so outspoken?” he asked.
“No. But I figure the job is kaput, so I don’t have anything to lose by speaking my mind.”
She was right about that.
Wasn’t she?
His comm system alerted him someone waited outside. He called up a hologram. Flekkery. Reluctantly, he admitted the VP of Personnel.
Corona’s dour expression soured further as her gaze raked over Savannah. “So, it’s true.”
“Without knowing what you’re referring to, I can’t respond to that,” he said.
“You hired a human through GAL Friday.”
“Apparently, your sources don’t know everything.” Playing on a technicality, he prevaricated to piss her off.
“You’re not from GAL Friday?” Corona looked at Savannah.
“No, I am.”
“GAL Friday sent her, but I haven’t hired her.” As novel as her outspokenness was, it wasn’t germane to the job.
“Savannah, this is Corona, the esteemed vice president of OberTech’s Personnel Department. Corona, this is Ms. Savannah Mays,” he said.
“We have policies and procedures in place for a reason,” Corona said. “Recruitment and screening of employment candidates is the purview of Personnel.
“Section 4, subsection 3, paragraph 2 of the OberTech Operations manual states that Personnel shall recruit and screen all potential employment candidates. Department heads shall make the final decision from among the pool of acceptable prospects,” she recited in a monotone.
She must have memorized the whole flekking manual—or at least the parts applying to him.
“You haven’t provided me with an acceptable pool of candidates,” he said.
“They were all acceptable!”
Not even close. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with.
He could be exacting and gruff, but he’d begun to wonder if Personnel was purposely sending unqualified, inappropriate candidates he wouldn’t accept, to make him look bad.
Either that, or Personnel was grossly incompetent.
Could be both. However, it would take a certain craftiness to consistently pick such inappropriate candidates.
“Which section prohibits a department head from using an outside temp agency?” Savannah asked.
“That’s not the point.” Corona dismissed her with an irritated glance.
“No, she raises a good point. Tell me which section prohibits me from using a temp agency?” He called up OITOM—OberTech Industries Operations Manual—onto his desk and finger-scrolled through it as if looking for the section.
“Fine!” Corona said. “Hire her, then. It will save us a whole bunch of headaches anyway.” She looked at Savannah. “If you’re smart—you’ll catch the next ship to Earth. You don’t want to work for him. He’s an asshole.”
Her jaw dropped.
Corona stalked out of the office.
Well, that went better than expected.
“I can’t believe she called you that!” Savannah gasped.
“Why not? You did,” he pointed out.
“But I don’t work here.”
“You do now. You start immediately.”