7. Getting the Job

“Now, Ms. Summers, I’ve had some time to think this over and …”

There was a loud crash.  Edgley turned around to see the three new recruits desperately trying to hold up the suddenly legless board table.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Mr. Edgley.  “Happens all the time.  It’s from Sweden, you know.”

Pushing the chairs back, the threesome let the heavy table top fall to the carpet with a "whumph!".  They looked to each other for some clue as to what was going on.

“As I was saying, Ms. Summers.  If you can get these three subjects to endure the rigors of the basic training modules, then I see no reason…”

Ms. Webster entered with a platter of coffee and some mugs.  She took one look at the table top on the carpet and the three florescent guests sitting in chairs around it and broke into a peal of laughter that she quickly quashed with a clasp of a hand to her mouth.  She bent down, placing the tray onto the center of the tabletop and skittered out, hand still pressed hard over her mouth.

“If we can put them through some training,” continued Edgley.  “Then I see no reason why these three fine young specimens can’t become the first crewmembers of the Waste-REL.”

“Well, that’s just it, sir,” said Portia.  “There’s no time for that.  If we plunge, push and prod them, they’ll be exhausted from the testing and there’s not enough time for them to recuperate.”

“Oh,” said Edgley, not certain what that meant.

“You know,” said Portia, who understood Edgley’s personality and motivations – (she’d written his psych-report).  “The three of them together will earn less than a single, so-called “trained” astronaut.”

“Hey!’ complained Donny but Mickey stomped on his foot. “Hey!” Donny protested at Mickey.

“Less than one astronaut?” smirked Edgley.

“Yes,” said Portia.

“Well, that makes my decision even easier!” said Edgley.

“Yes, I’m sure it…”

“You’re going up with them,” said Edgley.

“Well, no I…” stammered Portia.  “WHAT?!

“Yes, I’ve decided that the only way to do this is to send you as well.  The Waste-REL was designed for 5 crew members, so I want you to go with them; and find one properly trained astronaut to go with you, please.”

“But, but, it’s dangerous up there!” said Portia.  “And I’m getting married and I think my fiancée will take it the wrong way if I leave the planet before we get married.”

“Well, without you up there, I’m not going to feel comfortable giving responsibility for ten billion dollars worth of hardware to 3 pheely-geeks.”

“But, oh, no, sir,” said Portia.  “I can’t, unlike these three, I have a life!”

“Hey!” said Lyle but Mickey and Donny both gave him a dirty look.  “Okay, it’s true,” mumbled Lyle.

Edgley considered Lyle for a moment.  “You know what?” said Edgley to Portia.  “This was such a good idea – we don’t have to test them because we’ll have 3 emergency back up pheely-geeks in case one of them doesn’t make it.”

This caused a stir of sitting position changes among the already anxious recruits.  For a moment, Portia thought she’d been reprieved but Edgley continued.

“Meanwhile, we need you up there to supervise them.” 

Portia tried her best intimidating facial expression on Mr. Edgley.  “I’ll have to talk to my fiancée.  I don’t know.”

Mr. Edgley stood up. “Just find me one actual astronaut willing to follow you…”  His chair seat came with him, apparently glued to his pants-seat.  “Oh, now what?”

Mickey was leaning back against the office wall and could hear muted laughter from the other side.

Edgley pushed down on the chair and ripped his suit-pants.  He glared at Portia as if she was personally responsible.

“We’ll go now, sir,” smiled Portia.  “I’ll get back to you with my decision.”

“You don’t have a decision to make, Ms. Summers,” said Mr. Edgley.  “Unless your decision is whether you’re still working for STC or not.”

“Okay, then,” said Portia, retreating for the door and waving the threesome through it.  “Just let me talk to my fiancée then, please.”

“You do that,” said Edgley.  “Tell you what, Ms. Summers.  I expect to see one of two things first thing tomorrow morning.  Either you’ll be getting measured for your flight suit or you’ll be handing me your resignation.”

“Yes, sir,” said Portia.  “Tomorrow morning.”
Edgley pushed down on the chair arms one more time and his pants ripped off, leaving his belt, a ring of gray fabric and a pair of briefs imprinted with moons and star shapes.  Laughter erupted from the main offices and Portia quickly closed the door.

Next:  Tripping Verna