"Alright, James. I'm initiating the reactor startup sequence. Are you ready?" asked Aaron, as he stood in front of the reactor control panel.
"Ready as I'll ever be, boss. Just make sure you don't blow us all up," replied James over the intercom, his voice slightly shaky.
Aaron took a deep breath, and pressed the button to start the reactor startup sequence.
The control panel lit up, and the reactor core began to hum as it came to life.
The hum changed to a low rumble that gradually increased in intensity as the reactor reached operational temperature.
"Voltage is at 11 kilovolts. Holy shit! We're at 100 megawatts already?" came James' incredulous voice over the intercom.
"Reactor is at 25% power right now," said Aaron.
"No. No. No. This is supposed to be a small modular reactor! Not some 400 megawatt behemoth!" James exclaimed, panic rising in his voice.
"I experimented with the fuel cycle a bit, and it seems to be working," said Aaron.
"Well keep that thing at 25% or less right now! I need to reconfigure our grid to handle the increased load," growled James.
"What are you talking about? I told you to make sure our grid can handle 400 megawatts!" said Aaron, his frustration at yet another delay mounting.
"That was assuming four 100 MW reactors not one 400 MW reactor! I need to reconfigure the relays so that the power goes through the entire compound now!" James shot back.
"How long, James?" Aaron pressed.
"3 minutes at least," James replied.
"Fine. But once you're done, I'm ramping this thing up to full power, and then I'm going to be building out the remaining three in the fleet," said Aaron.
"Hang on! The entire compound's power grid can just about handle only one of those! I'll need to quadruple the entire grid infrastructure!" James exclaimed.
"Don't worry. I don't intend to bring them all online at once. We'll do that in phases," said Aaron, his voice firm.
"Harry's right. You really are a sadist and a mad scientist rolled into one," James grumbled.
"A bit late to make that observation, don't you think? You should have caught on when I turned this lead mine into an underground lair," chuckled Aaron.
"Yeah, yeah. Well I've reconfigured the relays. Once this goes online, you're powering the entire compound and then-some all by yourself," said James, his voice resigned.
"OK, ramping up," said Aaron, keying the ramp-up sequence into the control panel.
"OK power distribution is stable, switching from external power to internal power," said James, as the lights in the mine flickered and then stabilized.
"Reactor is at 100% power, all systems stable," said Aaron over the muted roar of the reactor and turbines.
He locked the control panel, and walked out of the control room, heading for the mine's main entrance.
---
"Master Zakhrov, I think we may have found our first recruit," said Natasha, as she entered Aaron's office.
"Really? Who is it?" asked Aaron, not looking up from his terminal.
"It's former FBI Special Agent Olga. She was one of the agents who came to investigate the attempted smuggling operation," said Natasha.
"Interesting. What makes you think she is a good fit?" asked Aaron, his interest piqued.
"Well, she has a background in law enforcement, and she is physically fit. She also has a good head on her shoulders, and I think she would be a valuable asset to our security team," said Natasha.
"And that assessment has nothing to do with the fact that she crashed at your place last night, and left in your car this morning?" asked Aaron, a small smirk on his face.
Natasha blushed slightly, but held her ground. "No, it doesn't. I think she would be a good fit for the team, and I want to give her a chance to prove herself." she said firmly.
"Alright, I'll take your word for it. But I want her to go through the same training and assessment as everyone else. No special treatment." said Aaron, his voice firm.
"Of course, Master Zakhrov. I wouldn't dream of giving her special treatment." said Natasha, her voice steady.
"Good. The reactor is online, so we'll need more security personnel to guard it. How is the recruitment process going?" asked Aaron.
"Olga will have her assessment tomorrow, and I have a few other candidates scheduled for interviews later this week. If all goes well, we should have a full complement by the end of the week." said Natasha.
Aaron nodded, satisfied, and then clicked the intercom. "Harry, what is the status of The Feminine Professional?" he asked.
"Well, the store is ready to go. We've also got the pipeline set up for the security uniforms, Margaret has already made four new sets for Natasha. We've got turnaround times down to about 8 hours now with the new sewing and fabrication robots," said Harry over the intercom.
"Excellent. Have the new uniforms delivered to Natasha's apartment. But hold off on the store opening to the wider public until I give the go-ahead. We'll soon have a PR storm courtesy of Senator Goldberg, and I want the timing to be just right," said Aaron.
"Understood, boss. I'll make sure everything is ready for the launch," said Harry hanging up.
---
"I have a major bone to pick with you, boy!" snarled Michael, as he stormed into Aaron's office.
"And what might that be, Mr. DuPont?" asked Aaron, his voice calm.
"You're opening an office wear start-up that's selling engineered heels, and I find out about it when you send me a ribbon cutting invitation?" growled Michael.
Aaron simply raised an eyebrow, which caused Michael to calm down sightly.
"You do know that my day job outside being a Congressman is being the owner of DuPont Hospitality and Services, right? We basically own most of the F&B scene in the state," said Michael.
"And you want to contract The Feminine Professional to supply your staff uniforms?" asked Aaron.
"Hey, you're not the only man of culture around here, you know.
I'd kill to have all of my female staff strutting around in high heels if it didn't get the feminists and OSHA to shut me down with extreme prejudice," chuckled Michael.
"Few small problems with that plan.
Number one, you can't roll out the kind of dress-code mandate I've got without tanking your political career, so you will have pushback.
Number two, these heels use titanium alloys, so we can't achieve economies of scale for mass-produced uniforms with this kind of material.
Bespoke heels and a few custom uniforms like what Natasha here is wearing are feasible, but outfitting over a hundred thousand potentially unwilling waitresses, receptionists and other staff, is going to cost you billions and will probably not work," said Aaron.
"You're also missing the potential risks here, Mr. DuPont. These shoes can quite literally crush a man's skull with a good stomp. You really want to hand that kind of power over to underpaid and overworked waitresses?" chuckled Natasha, sitting on the edge of Aaron's desk.
To prove her point, she went to her desk, and kicked one of its legs.
Michael flinched as the titanium heel smashed into the wooden leg, breaking it into splinters as if it was a toothpick.
"Does it have to be titanium? I'm looking for something that they can wear all day and not have their feet hurt. They're less likely to sue and oppose then," said Michael, eyeing Natasha apprehensively as she resumed her perch on Aaron's desk.
"Hmm, we could lower the Titanium content, and add more aluminum and iron to the mix.
That should lower the costs significantly, while still being good enough for OSHA to certify the heels, and your lawyers can handle the rest," said Aaron.
"Sounds good! I'll need some prototypes to push for OSHA certification," said Michael.
"I'll let you know when they're ready. By the way, you're going to have to pay for them upfront.
This is me basically compromising to fit your business use case and budgets," said Aaron.
"Fine, fine. How much?" asked Michael.
"I'll have Harry send you a quote. But be warned, I only do stiletto heels, and only six centimeters or above. Anything less, and you might as well order sneakers," said Aaron.
"You've got a deal, mad scientist," chuckled Michael, extending his hand.
Aaron shook his hand, and then turned back to his terminal, while Michael exited the office.
---
It was evening by the time Olga returned to Natasha's apartment, her arms laden with shopping bags.
"Well, I got the clothing you wanted. I hope this is good enough," she told Natasha, dropping the bags on the floor and pulling out a black skirt-suit with a fitted cut, a pair of 8 centimeter high heels, and a pair of sheer black pantyhose.
"Yeah, that will do. Any problems getting your other stuff sorted?" asked Natasha.
"No, I've got everything I need. However, the FBI is tailing your car," said Olga.
"Well, they can tail it all they want. Rochelle and Monica are in over their heads," chuckled Natasha.
"Well, if you say so," said Olga, her voice uncertain.
"Yeah, don't worry about it. You need to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day." said Natasha, as she helped Olga put away her new clothes.
"Thanks, Natasha. I really appreciate it," said Olga, a small smile on her face.
---
"All right, Olga. Are you ready for your assessment?" asked Natasha, as she stood in front of Olga, who was dressed in her new skirt-suit and high heels.
"Yes, Nat-" began Olga, before Natasha cut her off.
"Don't call me that. Out here, you are not my friend. You are my subordinate. Call me Ms. Parker or Ma'am," Natasha snapped, her voice cold and commanding.
"Ma'am understood ma'am!" said Olga, correcting herself and snapping to attention.
"Have you been holding out on me soldier? That attention snap smacks of military training, not FBI training," Natasha said, her eyes narrowing.
"Ma'am, no Ma'am. I was in Navy Officer School, but I couldn't make it, so I joined the FBI instead," said Olga.
Natasha regarded her coldly, she had performed the required background checks, and Olga's story checked out.
What she hadn't expected was that Olga still had some of the military training ingrained in her.
"All right, let's see what you can do. Follow me," said Natasha, leading Olga to the training area.
---
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," muttered Olga to herself, as the training corridor lights cut out.
"I can't believe that I'm shooting at stuff in a damn skirt-suit and high heels!" she growled, firing at the targets that popped up as the doors opened, and closed at random.
Her heels were low enough to move in without overbalancing, but the pencil-skirt felt a little too restrictive.
"I don't know how Natasha does this," she thought, as she spun on her heels to hit a target that popped up at her 3 o'clock, her ankles crying for mercy.
After 10 grueling minutes, the lights came back on, and the targets stopped popping up.
"Not bad," said Natasha, as she walked over to Olga, who was panting and sweating.
"Thanks, Ma'am," said Olga, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.
"Take 15 and then meet me back in the temporary office," commanded Natasha, as she walked out of the training area.
---
"Master Zakhrov, meet Olga Mendeleev. She has successfully passed the assessment," said Natasha, as she entered Aaron's office with Olga in tow.
"Hello, Ms. Mendeleev. I assume Natasha has already brought you up to speed on your duties, so we'll make this brief. Your basic pay is $400,000 a year with performance bonuses, and you get employee housing. Are those terms acceptable?" asked Aaron, his voice clipped.
"Yes, sir," said Olga, unsure of why a teenager was being addressed as "Master" by Natasha and everyone else.
"This is your employment contract and NDA. Read it carefully, and sign it if you agree to the terms," said Aaron, handing her a large tablet computer and stylus.
"Damn, so the rumors are true. You really have a legally binding dress code," said Olga, as she looked through the documents.
"Well, the uniform comes as part of the job, so don't sweat it too much," replied Natasha.
"Sir, ma'am, I don't have the training or experience to perform combat in eight centimeter stilettos," said Olga.
She made to rise, but Natasha forced her back down with a firm leg on her shoulder.
"Take a long hard look at the gear Olga," said Natasha.
"That's metal? I thought it was just some kind of plastic! And your skirt is that flexible?" asked Olga incredulously, surveying the angle of Natasha's long leg, and the gleaming metal of the heel.
"How about you operate on the assumption that while I may have a thing for high heels, I'm not an imbecile," said Aaron.
"My apologies, Master Zakhrov, Ms. Parker," said Olga, contritely.
She signed the employment contract, entered her biometrics and bank account information, and handed the tablet back to Aaron.
"All right, welcome to Sirius Software, Olga. You are now officially part of the security team," said Aaron, shaking Olga's hand.
"Thank you, sir. I won't let you down," said Olga, her voice steady.
"Good. Now go get some rest. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Dismissed," said Natasha.
Olga stood up, saluted, and then walked out of the temporary office, her heels clicking on the floor.
---
"I don't know what kind of insane magic you guys have got here. There is no way that this thing should be so easy to move in." said Olga, as she and Natasha walked to the Temporary Office.
Olga had received her new security uniform, which was identical to Natasha's, except for the shoulder pads which had a single silver stripe on them, indicating her lower rank.
"I know what you mean. It was pretty surreal when I first put it on. But you get used to it." chuckled Natasha.
"OK. What's my first assignment?" asked Olga, as they entered the Temporary Office.
"For now, it will be to man the checkpoint at the mine entrance. Master Zakhrov has already had Harry set up the checkpoint and installed new spike strips there after we had the heavy water smuggling incident." said Natasha, as she sat down at her desk.
"Understood, ma'am." said Olga. She saluted sharply, and walked out of the office, her heels clicking on the floor.