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Elle Brown

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Macquarie Fields, Australia, March 4:

"Mum, I'm going to get a job with DeVries!"

Maria Johnson, a small Italian woman with curly black hair and large brown eyes, gave a visible sigh of relief as Elle turned away from her dilapedated Acer notebook. Life in the Johnsons' extended household had been difficult since she'd erupted because of the sheer amount of food she consumed and the lack of income she was bringing in. Oh, her grandparents and parents understood why she left Centrelink and refused jobs with certain agencies, but it certainly didn't make them wish she'd get a job soon. In their place, Elle would have felt the same.

Some of her workmates had laughed about the thirty-year-old still living at home with her parents and grandparents in a modest five-bedroom house of reddish-brown brick and forest-green Colourbond roofing in Macquarie Fields. Jack Johnson Sr., Elle's grandfather, was a Scotsman who saved up every penny from his service in the British Army to buy that house for himself and his Korean bride Song Park in the 1950s. When Jack Jr. returned from Vietnam via Melbourne with an Italian-Australian wife named Maria in tow, the patriarch of the clan was proud he'd shown the foresight in building such a large house when Song insisted the happy couple stay with them. Italians, Shetland Scots, and Koreans all believed in extended family. Elle herself had brought a husband to the household when she was eighteen and in the Army (it was a family tradition by now) but divorced Daniel Brown about the same time she exited the Army's Public Service two years later.

Daniel never did like my parents and grandparents, Elle thought as she grabbed her suitcases, inherited from her mother's honeymoon luggage, and began to pack her clothing. In the sewing room, she could hear the old Singer going as Song hummed a Korean melody. Her grandmother insisted on making everyone's clothing herself while Maria preferred to buy Italian fashion from her cousins down in Melbourne; the ladies had found a happy medium by transforming Song's old hanboks into blouses and scarves or cocktail dresses as needed.

Maria had left briefly and then returned with a smile. "I told your grandmother you're meeting that handsome Elite you like so much," she informed Elle cheerfully. The nova just rolled her eyes as she continued packing.

"Mum, he and I have already established that it will be simply friends with benefits if it gets to that," she replied. "He's still mourning his wife, you know."

Maria shrugged. "That's what I thought I'd be with your father, and I'm pretty sure your grandfather wasn't planning to bring your grandmother home either. Keep your options open."

Elle just rolled her eyes and kept on packing. Her family and their matchmaking efforts would just drive her batty.

---

March 5

"Yes, Dad, uh huh Granddad, yeah, be a lady Mum, of course, Grandma, men like mystery."

Hope absorbed her family's last minute instructions as she waited in the lounge room of their home. Decorated in the eclectic mix of British and Italian antiques with Korean touches that the Johnsons used, it made for a bright and harmonious whole... much like the family.

If Maria was small, round and still untouched by grey despite being in her fifties, then Elle's father Jack Jr. was tall, round-faced and greying. Jack Sr. was eighty now but the old guy still stood straight and his wife was a tiny bird of a woman with pure silver hair and warm brown eyes.

Elle adjusted the Dolce and Gabbana suit that her mother had apparently scavenged from a cousin who worked in fashion... somewhere. Black pinstripe and a mixture of cashmere and virgin wool, it was still in fashion. "You need to look like a professional," insisted Maria. She'd also thrown in a white cotton blouse with some embroidery around its collarless neck.

Song tsk'ed over what she considered men's clothing and handed over a burnt orange silk scarf that looked suspiciously like the sash of a certain hanbok. "I had this on when I met your grandfather," she said, confirming Elle's suspicion. So much for getting her grandma off the matchmaking...

Before she could say anything, the doorbell rang.

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Einherjar descended lazily from the blue sky, the blue-white aurora of his anima coruscating one last time as he touched down on the pavement outside the pretty Macquarie Fields house. If he was at all nervous it didn't show as he slipped off the aviator shades and tucked them into the open collar of his white button-up shirt, casting a deceptively casual glance around the neighbourhood and finishing up with a slightly longer gaze at the house ahead of him. Dressed down in khaki slacks, the shirt and a brown leather jacket, he nevertheless radiated an air of stylish impressiveness, a piece of mythology stepping to life as he walked up the pathway to the Johnson family home. The shoulder-blade length blond mane, the neatly trimmed beard and above all, the ice-touched glacial blue of his eyes loaned him a surreal air in the clear Sydney morning. But somehow the Elite dwarfed the everyday clothes he was garbed in, made them and the civilised surroundings incongruous rather than him being the one out of place.

As he walked up the path he reviewed what he knew. Elle Brown. 30. Former Army, former government employee. Married once. Disenchanted with 'good works', slightly cynical. Direct and a straight talker without being crass or offensive. Probably no shrinking violet, which is good. Knows what she wants out of life, as she bloody well should at her age. Self-confessed Einherjar fan. No picture on file yet, but reports suggest enhanced social abilities. This should be interesting...

Smiling slightly, he pressed the doorbell.

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It was Maria who got the door. "Christ, Mum!" yelped Elle as she pulled on her open-toed burnt orange suede kitten heels and applied a quick makeup job to her face in the kitchen. When she emerged, eyeshadow, blush and lipstick in the warm brown shades which suited her so well accentuated her appealingly attractive features.

Maria gave Einherjar a bright smile, seemingly unfazed about a tall, imposing man who looked like he was from a Viking romance novel standing on her doorstep. "Come in!" she said cheerfully, waving the Elite in and saying something rapidly in Korean to the family waiting inside.

Elle repeated her previous obscenity under her breath, this time with a distinctly Italian flair. The group gathered in the comfortable lounge room was as multicultural as only an Australian family could get. A tall, straight-backed elderly man with a full head of iron-grey hair stood next to a tiny little Asian woman, the former in perfectly neat shirt and trousers, the latter in a pink and green Korean hanbok. The other man in the room, an obviously half-Asian chap with a good deal of height and round face topped by grey-streaked black hair, wore a more casual t-shirt and jeans. The little round Italian woman wore slightly out-of-date designer clothing in the form of a green summer dress. Everybody beamed at Einherjar as he entered.

Elle herself was somewhere between her mother and grandmother's height, with tanned skin, collarbone-length tousled black curls and a gaze somewhere between brown and black depending on the light. Despite the smile lines around her mouth, she was at peak baseline beauty; if Einherjar was imposing, this woman was appealing. She wore her mixture of designer and vintage clothing and an obviously recycled silk scarf with a certain amount of flair... Or maybe it was the charisma which oozed through her pores.

"Hello," she greeted, clutching a burnt ochre suede handbag in a death-grip. Of course, before she could say anything else, her family decided to be helpful.

"I trust your intentions towards my - " Jack Johnson Sr. began, only to be shut up by a rapid stream of Korean from his wife. Elle merely sighed and performed introductions.

When it was all finished, Jack Jr. smiled at the Elite. "Nicely done on Warbow," he said with a professional's detached interest. "People like that give professional soldiers a bad name."

"My father stayed in the Army for ten years and did another five as freelance security personnel in Kosovo with the UN forces," Elle explained quietly. "He's Australian SAS."

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He shook hands all round, smiling faintly as the grandfather's beginning question was nipped in the bud and nodding at Elle's father. "We have a few ex-members of the Regiment, both Brit and Aussie, as training cadre at Windhoek." He mentioned with an easy smile. "Useful folks to have around when it comes to explaining to overpowered Elites how to fight smart and think beyond the engagement in hand."

He took a good long look at Elle out of the corner of his eyes as she made the introductions. Hmm. It's not so bad helping out the HR folks. She's got some style too. Close knit family... Might want to behave myself - Grandad looks the sort to come after me with a shotgun if I don't, and that's hard on the clothing. Military background to the family, which explains why the warm welcome for an Elite. Gods above, I hope she's serious when she says 'friends with benefits' is fine. Last thing I need is another Monica situation. The memory of an angry Sicilian father brandishing a pistol as his model daughter cried upstairs nearly made Ein wince. Take it easy. Elle's a grown woman, not a sheltered girl acting like one.

He gave the women a warmer smile and a courteous bow of the head as he shook their hands likewise, then glanced at Elle. "If you'll forgive us, Mr and Mrs Johnson, Mr and Mrs Johnson..." he smiled at each couple. "We need to get going. DeVries HR reps are nothing if not patient with novas, but punctuality is still the politeness of princes."

Elle seemed quietly relieved to be leaving, exchanging last-minute kisses and assurances with her family as Einherjar moved towards the door. A final round of handshakes and Elle turned to him, looking a little nervous as the family watched from the doorway. Ein merely grinned a little, taking out and donning his tinted shades.

"Put your arms around my neck." He bent down so she could, and as with surprising strength she linked her tiny hands together around his steel-hard shoulders he gently scooped her up, one arm under her knees and the other around her back. "Not that you seem the type to, but don't panic." He told the slightly built woman with a leonine rumble of laughter hiding in his voice. "Oh, and unless you can bench more than ten tons, don't worry about holding on too hard."

Before Elle could digest that they were airborne, the blue-white borealis effect of Einherjar's anima surrounding the two of them as the ground dropped away below. He turned with slow grace as they ascended, letting his passenger get her bearings before setting his course for downtown Sydney and their appointment.

"Comfortable?" he asked over the ruffle of the wind.

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Einherjar was right; visible relief shimmered on Elle's expressive face as they left the house. From the air, it was obvious that the Johnsons were the exception rather than the rule for neatness and tidiness in the suburb - Macquarie Fields looked like the public housing ghetto that it was.

"I love my family, but they have this tendency to matchmake every time I spend more than five minutes with a bloke," Elle said with an apologetic tone in her rich contralto voice. "Sorry about Granddad. He's old school."

The tiny brunette fitted herself with easy grace against Einherjar's side, close enough to hang on but not too clingy... and perfectly trusting of Ein's ability to hang onto her. "It's funny, you know. I could make my family agree with whatever I want them to with my abilities, but I'd never do it. Frustrating and all, but they're my folks. They do it because they care."

She shook her head, voice turning professional. "Okay, so what do I do to impress this suit?"

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"Be straight: let them know what you want out of DeVries, tell them what you can offer DeVries in turn. Don't sell yourself short. Other than that, it's really their job to impress you." Einherjar grinned as his gaze swept the city below them, picking out landmarks and major roads with the practiced air of a seasoned flier. "You're not some punk kid who woke up able to throw cars around, so the suit won't try to snowball you with visions of the high life and battlefield glory."

He descended about two hundred feet and arced them around a tall office building, following the road below. Elle could see people going about their business through the glass windows start and turn as the Elite and his passenger zipped past, mouths starting to drop open and hands to point before they were out of sight.

"Not to say he won't sell the company to you. Odds are they've already got a rudimentary psych eval on you, based on your Rashoud tests, and are going to tailor the pitch to something they think you'll be interested in." Einherjar's voice was mildly amused as he smiled down at Elle. "It'll be interesting to see if the Melbourne office is on the ball there."

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Elle laughed softly. "No, they'll try to snowball me with ideas on how I can help others and make money at the same time."

The tiny nova seemed unperturbed by zipping along the roads of Sydney a couple hundred feet in the air. "I've always been interested in psychology. Don't shrinks charge hundreds of dollars an hour?"

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"Depends on the league they operate in, I suppose. Not really my field." Einherjar replied with a slight smile. "I do know that a psych with nova insight is probably going to be able to write their own ticket. DeVries has a couple on the payroll to look after the Elites, though if you ask me no Elite can be considered entirely sane." He said this last almost merrily as he swooped gently to come into a landing outside an expensive-looking restaurant. "I suppose they just try to keep us on the right side of the catastrophe curve, monitor the mental effects of quantum-strain and combat stress. That sort of thing."

He gently set Elle down on the pavement outside Tetsuya's, one of the best, if not THE best restaurant in Sydney. "And here we are." He smiled before offering the tiny woman his arm. "Shall we go in?"

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"Well, I'd like to study psychology because I never went to uni," Elle admitted as they flew. She laughed at his little joke and then widened her eyes as they landed in front of Tetsuya's.

"Oh. Dear. God," she murmured. Now it really sank in how high a circle she was aspiring to. But she nodded and took Ein's arm.

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Einherjar was chuckling at her reaction as he escorted Elle into the restaurant, nodding to the stunned maitre de and just moving on past. The HR manager rose from where he waited for them at the booked table, a tall neat-looking man with an American accent, dressed in a Buendia business suit (synthetic eufiber, to be sure, but still expensive enough from the label alone). "Ms Brown. I'm Tom Robertson. It's good to to meet you." He said with a smile, offering his hand to Elle as a photographer took several pictures. The flash going off in rapid succession did little to distract the man from his job, and he nodded to the photographer once before turning back to Elle.

"I ordered the chef's Nova special, lots of different samples of all his dishes." Tom explained as Einherjar held a seat for Elle. Once she was seated at the large round table, the big Elite took his own seat to the side, letting Tom sit across from the new prospect. The manager shook Ein's hand before seating himself. "Alright then. Let's get some drinks and discuss what you believe you can do for DeVries. And, of course, what DeVries can do for you."

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Elle smiled and made nice for the flashing cameras, proving that she already had a touch of experience in dealing with the media. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Robinson," she said and sat where he indicated.

When the drinks menu came, Elle ordered an ice wine to the HR chap's chianti and whatever Ein requested. Then she looked Robinson in the eye and said, "I've got experience with administration, translation and some PR/HR stuff. I have an interest in studying psychology and PU thinks I *might* be an empath. How can I help DeVries and how can they help me?"

Robinson smiled easily at the nova. "You could become a therapist for novas, a professional spokeswoman, an organiser for charities... If you can work while you learn, DeVries could even get you into the best universities in the world."

Elle returned the smile. "That sounds all very nice, but why DeVries."

Robinson grinned. "We're not Novelty?"

Elle cracked up laughing. They'd done their research well.

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Einherjar relaxed into his chair and enjoyed the food, his eyes flicking from the DeVries manager's face to Elle's as he paid attention to their conversation with the air of an inveterate people-watcher. He sipped at his Bordeaux as he tried the various samples that seemed to come in a regular stream from the kitchens as he listened.

"If you develop empathic abilities and take to your psychology studies well, then the highest paying therapy work we can give you will be with our Elites." Robertson said with a smile. "Combat stress is a particular problem for Elites, more so than normal soldiers. No baseline trooper is a walking WMD, after all. In many ways, most Elites are more mentally and emotionally fragile than their human counterparts." The man looked over into Ein's amused pale stare and smiled. "Present company accepted, of course." He looked back at Elle. "Keeping our employees, battlefield Elites or not, nova or human, happy and healthy is something Ms Anna DeVries takes very seriously. That's why the healthcare package for DeVries employees includes mental health and counselling upon request."

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Elle smiled ruefully at Mr. Robinson. "Have you ever been to Centrelink during opening or closing time?" she asked dryly. "I think I would almost sooner take the WMDs with PTSD."

She leaned back and nibbled at some of the samples tentatively. A good deal of 'WTF' crossed her face, though subtly, at some of the tastes. Elle supposed she was a home-cooking kinda girl.

"So, how much could I stand to make?" she asked. When Robinson named the figure, she put her hand to her mouth and muttered something that might be an astonished foreign obscenity. It was that big.

"So," Robinson continued, "if DeVries pays for your tertiary education while you work for us as a counsellor and throws in the usual package, will you join us?"

Elle could feel the eyes of everyone - media, random glitterati, even Ein - as they waited for her decision.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Ein watched the small woman, assessing her. She'll take it. he decided after a pause. She's careful and likes to think things over, but she was pretty much sold on DeVries already.

That was his analysis, and the big Elite was curious as to how accurate it was. He gave Elle an encouraging (and incorrigible) grin as her bright dark eyes moved to him whilst she decided.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Elle took a deep breath and signed with a flourish, handing the pen back to Robinson with a little bow. The entire restaurant erupted as people began to clap.

The little Australian gave Ein a smile. "Looks like we'll be workmates," she said.

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