His mind touched hers, very gently. She held absolutely stil , terrified that any of her runaway emotions would break out of her shields.
"Don't be nervous," he told her. "It will be fine, I promise."
She concentrated on the table in front of her, crushing her sexual impulses and painting calm over her emotions.
"What did you do on your home world?" he asked.
"I was a secretary at a munitions factory," she lied.
"We manufactured parts for the long range coastal guns." It was her cover. When asked what she did outside of the Psych Corps, she was supposed to respond with this line.
"What made you decide to apply to become retainer of the Escana family?" he asked.
"It was recommended to me by the Immigration Service," she said, relieved to be honest. "As a condition of my deportation, I'm required to fol ow the employment recommendation." Even when it's cosmic irony.
"Your anxiety level is rising," Venturo said. "Why?"
Claire swal owed. Complete honesty. "I'm afraid."
"What scares you?" he asked.
"I'm afraid I will be deported if I fail the interview." It was the truth.
"As a refugee, you have five chances to obtain employment, before you will face the possibility of deportation," Lienne said, her voice crisp.
"It's not a completely rational fear," Claire said.
"Why did the Immigration Service recommended Guardian, Inc. as a prospective employer?" Venturo asked.
"I was tested and it was determined that I have no psychic ability whatsoever. The Immigration officer said that your company prefers to employ non-psychics for its support staff to lessen the telepathic interference. He said that I would make an excel ent drone."
A shadow darkened Venturo's eyes. His mind shifted subtly, and she glimpsed the hint of steel will that drove it.
All of his pleasant demeanor aside, Venturo Eskala would make a terrifying enemy.
"That's not a word we favor," he said.
"My apologies."
"Not your fault." Venturo held out his hand and Lienne put a tablet into his fingers. "What was it you say you did?"
He remembered perfectly well what she told him. She aligned her thoughts. "I was an administrative assistant. I answered phones..." She recal ed answering a phone at a desk and projected it onto the surface of her mind.
"...I took messages..."
A memory of writing things down.
"...I prepared reports..."
Memory of sitting before a screen fil ing out a long form.
She had served as a secretary a week out of the year specifical y to be able to recal these memories if questioned.
"You are an admin," Venturo said. "Your boss is out of touch. A customer cal s. He is angry. There was a mistake in his bil . Your move."
"Ask the customer to tel me in detail about the problem, taking notes along the way. Assure the customer that I will do everything in my power to resolve the issue and promise to let him know as soon as the solution is found.
Follow the company protocol to initiate an inquiry into the case."
"Why not just transfer him to Bil ing?" Venturo asked.
"It's their mistake."
"Or wait for the return of your employer," Lienne said.
"An irate customer wants someone to listen to him,"
Claire said. "If his grievances are heard, the conflict is defused. Once I transfer him to Bil ing, I lose control of the situation. I have no way of knowing how Bil ing will treat him.
And while I will inform my employer of the situation, if the situation can be resolved without his direct involvement, why not resolve it?"
Venturo and Lienne shared a look.
"Your employer's wife enters your office, demanding to see him. She is visibly angry," Lienne said. "Your employer is in a meeting."
"Request security assistance via silent alarm.
Ascertain that no life-threatening emergency is in progress and attempt to defuse the situation. If the spouse proves uncooperative, let security escort her out."
"But she is your employer's wife," Lienne said.
"My job is to make sure my employer can function at a maximum capacity. The presence of his angry wife would hinder the operation of the company."
"So you automatical y assume the worst and push the alarm?" Venturo asked.
She had a feeling she wasn't giving them the answer they were looking for. "I must anticipate what an angry spouse could do rather than what she is likely to do. She may be simply angry, or she might have a weapon in her purse. If I can convince the spouse to leave the premises peaceful y, the security would have wasted a few minutes of their time. But if the spouse becomes unreasonable or violent, and I fail to anticipate it, people might become injured."
"An employee cal s you in a panic to tel you there is a fire on the floor below," Venturo said.
"Alert authorities and initiate immediate evacuation,"
Claire said.
Venturo frowned.
She scrutinized her answer, wishing she could touch his mind and try to figure out what she had done wrong. It was the obvious answer. She could think of no alternative.
Venturo leaned back, frowning. A focused thought dashed from him toward Lienne, and Claire caught it. His mind was like the beam of a lighthouse.
"Opinion?"
"She would make a terrible admin," Lienne answered.
"Her thought patterns are consistent with that of an executive. She accepts personal responsibility for every issue. Her answers to the questionnaire demonstrate the same thing."
Inwardly Claire clenched. She'd stumbled. The military conditioning final y betrayed her.
"You're looking at the product of a seventy-year war,"
Venturo's mind said. "She evaluates her environment for threats and defuses them. It's a useful quality."
Lienne sighed mental y. "Oh no. Ven, please don't tell me you found another lost puppy?"
Claire studied her hands. Lost puppy...
"What if the next firm she goes to reject her as well?
Eventually she will be deported. Have you seen the images of that place? It's hell."
"I've read the coverage, too. Chemical warfare, casualties in thousands, and everyone with a drop of kinsmen blood turned into a killer. We have no way of verifying who she is or what she is capable of besides what the Immigration tells us. This is a terrible idea."
"No kill nsman would have made it through the immigration screening. Her mind is completely inert.
What harm can she do? Look at it as a good deed for the day."
In her mind Lienne smiled. "Are you sure you're hiring her because you're buying her hard luck story and not because she looks at you as if you're made of gold?"
They knew. They both realized her reaction to him. It must've been so apparent, a blind man could've seen it.
How embarrassing.
"Hire her," Venturo's thought communicated. "I can make a difference in her life today and I intend to do so."
"Then let me put her as one of the junior assistants.
As your admin, she would be representing the company. I mean, look at her, Venturo. She looks like a beggar. That hair... The woman obviously has never been inside a salon in her entire life..."
Deep inside her shel Claire pictured slapping Lienne's mind. The older woman was powerful, but not powerful enough. One slap and Lienne would wake up on the floor an hour or so later, unsure how she got there.
Venturo's mind focused on his aunt. It wasn't a gesture designed to intimidate; he simply "stared" at her, but the force of that mental "look" was nearly overwhelming. Like standing in the path of an avalanche.
Mental y Lienne bowed her head. "As you wish."
Venturo held his aunt in the sniper scope of his mental stare for another long second and glanced back at her.
"Claire, how much do you know about extrasensory security?"
"Nothing." Everything.
"Most of the computers we use are simply a col ection of mechanical parts," he said. "However, certain corporations and government systems require higher level of data processing. They run on biological networks. These networks are vulnerable to psychic attacks. We provide security for these systems. If you choose to work here, you will have to sign a confidentiality agreement. You cannot discuss the nature of your work with anyone. will that be an issue for your family?"
"I have no family."
"You do have a place to stay?" he asked.
"Yes. The Immigration provided me with an apartment."
"Good," he said. "You're hired. Lienne will take care of the details."
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome." He rose and walked away to his desk. Lienne stood up and gave her a pointed glance.
Claire fol owed her outside through the hal way into the outer office. Lienne tapped her tablet and held her hand to the slit in the recessed wal to their right. The wal spat a narrow ring of deep red into her palm.
"Hand," the woman ordered.
Claire held out her hand and Lienne slid the ring on her right middle finger. "Two weeks advance. It will be recouped gradual y from your pay. Squeeze the sides to view the balance." The older woman examined her critical y. "New wardrobe. Nothing too provocative, nothing too drab. Nothing like this." She indicated Claire's clothes with the sweep of her hand.
It wasn't an insult, but it felt like a slap. "Thank you,"
Claire said.
"You will be replacing Olemi, Venturo's personal admin. If it was up to me, I would place you in a position of lesser responsibility, but he insisted. He will see every mistake you will make and I have no doubt he will overlook some of them, because he is a kind man. But his patience isn't infinite." Steel laced Lienne's gaze. "Make no mistake, Claire. If you betray our family, he will kil you."
