Dr. Laura Martin, Chief Extraterrestrial Life Scientist at The Touchstone Institute of Oceanographic Research, noticed troubling but subtle changes in the Atlantic Ocean. Before she could make sense of it all, her longtime assistant abruptly walked out and disappeared.
Laura hired young, handsome Scott Conner to be her personal assistant. Mayhem ensued, mainly because of Zara, the mermaid/siren/monster in the basement of the Touchstone Institute, who eyed on Scott as her possible mate in a plot for total domination of planet Earth.
“The Touchstone Institute of Oceanographic Research is the most fantastic, exhilarating place on the planet to work. It is high energy, exciting, sometimes maddening, often frightening, heart pounding work. It’s not a job. It’s a lifetime commitment. It gets in your blood. It grabs you by the throat and possesses you, body and soul. And it is work. If you’re not prepared to work your ass off day in and day out, weekends, holidays, your birthday, and your mamma’s birthday, leave now.”
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Chapter One
How to Get the Job
“Dr. Martin, the remaining candidates for your research assistant position are assembled in Conference Room 3A,” said the tall, slim Dr. Sylvia Washington on the inter-office phone.
“How many, Syl?”
“Five.”
“What do they look like?”
“A pretty bland bunch except for ‘the gentleman.’ He’s got some spark to him.”
“Oh, really?” said Laura Martin, a small, curvy woman with shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes that danced with enthusiasm. “And he applied to be my research assistant? Nobody told him I prefer a female assistant?”
“Talk to him before you kick him to the curb, Laura.”
“Okay. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“Hello, candidates. I’m Dr. Laura Martin, Chief Extraterrestrial Life Scientist here at The Touchstone Institute of Oceanographic Research. This institute is an affiliate of MacShane University of Bell Point Grotto here in southern Florida, as well as the federal government. I’m interviewing today for a full-time research assistant to begin the first of next month. You five are all that’s left after extensive psychological testing, drug testing, credit scoring, criminal background checks, and the crawling through the tubes and tank agility obstacle course. The hours are painfully long. The work is dangerous, difficult, and demanding. And wet. The beginning pay is average. Your friends will laugh at you. Your personal relationships will suffer. Sometimes I am a bitch on wheels, with barking, growling, and bellowing. So, if you’re extremely sensitive, this might not be your ideal entry-level position into the world of alien life forms. And you also have to sign a government confidentiality contract, which is impossible to break… and stay alive.
Dr. Martin looked at each one intently, ranking them in her mind as to their suitability, then walked out of the room.
The candidates stood as Sylvia entered the room.
“Last chance to run away, kiddies.” Sylvia smiled. There was a little anemic laughter.
“Is she as tough as she says she is, as they say she is?” said Mary Lou Hughes, a tall redhead.
“Tough? No. She’s strong. She’s the world’s leading authority on non-Earth life forms catalogued on this planet. She’s written five major books on the subject that are not top secret. The rest of her large body of scientific work is classified, highest clearance level eyes only. She works dawn to dusk, sometimes well into the night. She gives one hundred percent every day, all day. She never leaves a project unfinished. She’s thorough and exacting. And she’ll expect the same from you.”
“Isn’t interviewing five of us going to take, like, forever?” said the bouncy little brunette, rolling her eyes.
“No. Dr. Martin is a busy woman. She’ll come in, sit down, look you in the eye, ask you a few questions to size you up, and then send you home. You’ll get a letter in the mail in the next two weeks or so, either telling you to start work on the first of the month, or a ‘Thank you for your interest in the Touchstone Institute of Research, but…’ letter.
“This is the most fantastic, exhilarating place to work on the planet. It is high energy, exciting, sometimes maddening, often frightening, heart pounding work. It’s not a job. It’s a lifetime commitment. It gets in your blood. It grabs you by the throat and possesses you, body and soul. And it’s work. If you’re not prepared to work your ass off, day in and day out, all day, all night, weekends, holidays, your birthday, and your mamma’s birthday, leave now.”
“My boyfriend will leave me,” giggled the bouncy brunette.
“Don’t worry, honey, you’ll be too busy to notice.”
“Is there a job description listing her research assistant’s duties available that we could read through?” asked a nervous Ann Dennison, a plump, serious, blonde woman, the oldest in the bunch.
“No,” said Sylvia. “If she asks you do to it, you do it.” They gasped. “Don’t worry. She won’t ask you to do anything shewouldn’t do herself.”
“But, is she a nice person to work for?” said the redhead.
“Nice? Oh, yes, she’s nice, she’s one of a kind,” laughed Sylvia. “Unique. A heart of gold. She’s the best person I know. Kind. Caring. When the chips are down, you want herin your corner.” Sylvia escorted each of them into a small interview room and disappeared.
Dr. Benjamin Scott Conner sat in the small glass-walled room and watched Dr. Laura Martin with personnel file in hand enter the first room with the older blonde woman. Dr. Martin shook her hand and sat down. She smiled and seemed cordial. There was a serious question, then some laughter, some conversation. Dr. Martin made a few notes, got up, shook her hand, this time with compassion, and left. She felt sorry for her. She liked her. That’s bad, he thought, that’s bad for him. Three minutes.
So, he was going to get three minutes to impress her, to win her over. She already had all of his fantastic credentials and glowing recommendations in his folder. He had researched her, read every article with her name in it, watched every science channel interview and documentary she’d ever done or ever worked on over and over again. Three minutes to get her to give him a chance to work with her every day, 24/7, if he believed Sylvia Washington. She was already finished with candidate number two. Now to the bouncy girl. Oh, crap! Less than two minutes with bouncy girl. Now she was with the redhead. Oh, she liked the redhead. She was more at ease with her, smiling. Some serious discussion here. She gave her a pat on the hand. Bad, that’s bad for him again. That’s two candidates she liked so far. Dr. Martin checked something in the redhead’s file and nodded to her. She got up and shook her hand. Here it comes. He had been working toward this moment for the last two years.
“Benjamin?” she said as she entered, shaking his hand. No smile. He stood and did the firm grasp handshake thing a man is supposed to do.
“It’s my pleasure to finally get to meet you, Dr. Martin,” he said, trying not to sound too much like a fanboy. “I’ve admired your work for a very long time. I think you’re brilliant.”
“Thank you. Tell me, Benjamin,” she sat down and looked at him intently, “why should I give you this job? I’ve just interviewed four highly qualified women who would kill for this job.”
He followed her lead and sat down across from her.
She folded her hands on the table and looked at him. It was unnerving. He felt like she was examining a specimen. And he was the specimen.
He copied her, folding his hands on the table, and began.
“Three highly qualified women, Dr. Martin. You were completely unimpressed with the little bouncy brunette. I could tell by your body language. I also know you prefer a female assistant. Why is that?”
“We work long hours in very close proximity,” she explained, surprised at the way he turned the interview around and now shewas the one answering the questions. “Add aliens and emotions to that mix and we could be brewing a dangerous cocktail in here without throwing in male hormones and sexual tension.”
“I promise to behave myself and keep my testosterone under tight control. Which candidate must I kill for this position, the older blonde or the tall redhead?”
“Well, I’m not sure yet,” she laughed, realizing he had zeroed in on her two favorites. This kid was good, she thought. Maybe he had a career in politics. “The job doesn’t start until the first of the month. And government funding is anything but reasonable and reliable. Sometimes they give me what I ask for, and sometimes they don’t.”
“Fine. I’ll start today, right now, being your UNPAID research assistant. I have a little over two weeks, sixteen days to be exact, to prove myself to you without having to commit murder. Work me day and night, I don’t care. I have a doctorate in underwater life sciences. I am familiar with your work. I did my doctoral dissertation at MacShane University on proving the theories you set forth in yourbook ‘The Suitability of the Atlantic Ocean to Harbor Alien Lifeforms’. My advisor was Dr. Jane Rollins, who’s done autopsies on dead alien lifeforms found in the Atlantic Ocean.”
“I know Jane well. She’s outstanding. But,” she hesitated, “don’t you think you’re a bit over-qualified for this position?”
“It’s the only position you have available at this time. I was also prepared to apply for a maintenance position if it were to open,” he joked, “or security. Although I’m on the thin side, I’m quite skilled at martial arts. I just want to work with you.”
“Dr. Conner, the hours are long. We don’t go home until we’re done, no matter how long it takes. I’ve had some wonderful, dedicated employees walk away from this job without so much as a goodbye because of the amount of work and stress we’re subjected to on a daily basis. It can get to you. You’re a young man. This job will leave you notime for a social life.”
“That’s okay. I prefer fish to people. I have an apartment in the building right next door, not far for me to crawl at the end of my shift. And I really admire you, so you can be as nasty as you want, and you won’t drive me away, I have older sisters so I’m used to abuse. I don’t needthis job to pay my bills. I want this job so that I can work with you. If you aren’t completely satisfied with the caliber and amount of work I produce, then after two weeks, send me packing. You’ve lost nothing. Now, how can you turn downfreeover-qualified help for sixteen days? Aren’t you swamped?”
“Yes. Yes, Benjamin, I am. It’s… it’s…”
“What? Tell me.”
“I don’t know that I’m completely comfortable with you, Benjamin… Ben… Benjie.”
“Let’s see if that doesn’t clear up in a day or two. I’m really very nice,” he smiled at her. Still no return smile. “Also, I gather you’re uncomfortable with my name?”
“That’s right, I had a bad experience with a Benjamin.”
“Okay, my middle name is Scott. Everybody calls me Scott anyway. Even my mother calls me Scott. She, too, had a very bad experience with a Benjamin. My father. You call out ‘Scott’ and I’ll come running. Now, come on, my three minutes are up. You are a busy woman, and we have work to do.” He stood up and reached for her hand as he walked to the door. “Come on, let’s go!”
“Okay… Scott.”
His knees got weak when she said his name.
She examined his hand closely but didn’t touch it. “Would you like a little tour first?”
“No, Dr. Martin. We are very busy people. Let’s get right to work, shall we?”
“Very well, Scott. Let’s roll.”
