Stepping Up Read Free Page B

The ship departs for Saxon this Sunday at
1700.   (Score! They are looking to hire!)
    I look at myself in the mirror.  I see something I rarely
see when it’s just me:  a smile. Lass, ye may have struck pay dirt.  Get
some sack time, then go. My ancestry manages to peek through when I get
excited.  I go to bed, but I have trouble sleeping.

2 ARIA
    The alarm sounds way too early, and turning it off is
very satisfying.  But, as I’m not going to the Maintenance Pit this morning,
I’m not in any real hurry.  I stretch lazily and look to my right.  I’d like to
doze back off, but Fuzzbutt is giving me that “Feed me” look.  I pick him up
and set him on my belly, absentmindedly scratching his sides and throat.  He
purrs contentedly for a few minutes, then reminds me that it’s breakfast time. 
He jumps from me and stomps off to the kitchen.  I swing my feet to the floor. 
There’s an unread text message in my perCom.  It’s from Morrie:  Where are
you and that coffee you mentioned? You have a busy day today.  Don’t be late.  
Delete.
    I surprise myself a bit this morning.  Ever since I’ve been
working for Morrie, I’ve never had to make wardrobe decisions before
breakfast.  Now I find myself in front of my closet in complete brain-lock
trying to decide between coveralls and presentable clothes.  I consider wearing
what I wore to the movie last night, but I can still smell the popcorn Jimmy
spilled on me.  I opt for another blouse/skirt ensemble.  Hair?  I put it up in
something simple, efficient but still attractive.  Maybe it will give the right
subliminal signal.
    After a quick breakfast, I grab my notebook and head to bay
114. For a small notebook, it contains a lot of information, most of it
reference material.  I put it together in school. It’s true that I could use my
perCom to hold the same information, but the notebook has a ten-inch screen
while the perCom’s is only three.  Besides, it holds most of the more esoteric
equations and transferring from notebook to perCom is inconvenient.  I use it
more for procedures and check lists than anything else.  The small craft bays
are anything but easy to find.  One fourteen is a little hidden, and the route
labyrinthine, especially as I have to circumvent Morrie and my old post.  And
I’d rather Jimmy not see me here all dolled up either.  He gave me the contact
so he has probably guessed I’m leaving.  But I don’t want to rub it in his
face. There’s bay 114.  My perCom beeps.  It’s Morrie.  Ignore.  His face I
will rub it in.  When the time is right, I will rub hard.  I’ll leave scars
I’ll rub his face in it so hard. It’s a good time to silence the unit as well.
    There’s a Ship’s Boat here with an access hatch for the
forward landing gear open.  The first person I see is a mechanic working on the
landing strut for the Balder class ship’s launch.  He’s trying to start his
welding rig, and isn’t having a lot of success with it. I tap him on the
shoulder.  “Hi, I’m Sonia MacTaggert. I’m looking for Aria. She invited me to
take a skills assessment test for an Engineer job.”
    He pushes his mask up and looks at me. He’s not a happy
man.  His face is lined with irritation and drenched in frustration. “Up the
ramp and aft,” he growls, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.  To
further communicate his irritation, he hurls his mask in the same direction.
    Before heading up the ramp, I take a chance. “Those machines
can be difficult. Would you mind if I give it a look?”  I get that “Are you
serious?” look.  I’m used to it.  “I am here for the Engineer’s job.  I know a
few things about machinery.”
    That makes his mind up.  He’s happy for the break.  “Be my
guest.” He stands to the side, sipping from a cup of what I guess is
coffee—cold, judging by the way he throws it to the side. I reach for a pair of
safety goggles as these rigs can spit from time to time.