The job ended up starting the following day. Apparently, the IRS had an agent coming in at eleven to discuss the prior year's tax return. The quick start date, while financially beneficial, left no time to tell Sterling about the deal Andie had struck with The Star Enquirer. She knew she should call Sterling, but lingering in the back of Andie's brain was a tiny germ of doubt about whether Sterling would think the plan was at all brilliant.

There was plenty of time to tell Sterling. Andie needed to wait for the right moment, which meant in a public place after several cocktails. Maybe wearing protective body armor.

Mr. Lieder had an important meeting, so the task of delivering Andie to Accounting was left to Talia.

Talia jabbed the down button repeatedly. "Damn elevator."

It had only been ten seconds.

"Finally," Talia huffed as the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. They entered. Talia pressed LL.

Figured that the accounting department was underground. Companies liked to hide Accounting as if it were a toe fungus or a drunk relative. "I'm sure I can find it myself," said Andie.

"Much as I would love to do that, Oliver asked me to escort you, and I do not want to disobey his order."

"You make him sound bossy."

"He is bossy. He is, after all, the boss. Must I explain this to you?"

The tiny elevator could barely contain Andie, Talia, and Talia's colossal disdain. Even in the dim light, Talia's black hair gleamed. Andie wondered what it would feel like to pull it out, strand by strand. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to a long, poorly lit corridor.

"Why is it so dark? And dingy? And cold?"

"It is the dungeon," said Talia, shaking her head. Her stilettos clicked on the bare concrete. There was a mechanical hum permeating the corridor which smelled like WD-40.

"Dungeon? You mean Lower Level?"

"No, I mean dungeon. Everyone calls it that."

"Why? Do you torture people down here?"

"Something like that."

Andie folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her shoulders to keep warm.

They passed a gleaming stainless-steel door, more like something you'd find on a spaceship than in an office. It had a foreboding quality—too large for the space and no handle or other visible means of entry. The hum seemed to emanate from the door. "What's that sound? What's behind the door?"

"Nothing that concerns you." Talia continued walking, Andie close behind, until they stood in front of another, more normal door. "Here is Accounting." Talia said the word "Accounting" as if she'd eaten a horseradish-coated lemon.

"Oh, come on," said Andie. "Why can't you tell me what's behind the freaky door? I work here now."

"You do not have the proper security clearance."

"Is that where you torture the puppies and small children?"

"Forget about the door, and no one will get hurt."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes. Look, stay away from the door and stay away from my fiancé, and I will not be forced to fry you with my ray gun."

"Fiancé?"

"Interesting, that concerns you most about my warning. But yes, Oliver is my fiancé, so hands-off."

"Wait, ray gun? Are you guys an advanced civilization from outer space or something?"

Talia laughed.

Andie couldn't believe she asked such a stupid question. Something definitely was going on here, but aliens? Why had she jumped to the most outlandish conclusion? Sterling might have had a point about Andie having a science fiction problem.

"Maybe you're the alien," said Talia, turning and swaggering back down the long hall, and disappearing behind a corner.

Andie hesitated, unsure of what to make of Talia and her threats. But before she could formulate anything resembling a coherent thought, a blood-curdling scream issued forth from Accounting.

***

Jacked up on adrenaline, Andie jerked open the door and ran inside, with the crazy idea of rescuing whoever screamed. Three steps into the room, she found herself distracted by what was apparently her all-bald accounting staff, until a computer terminal flew straight at her head, going at least 95 miles an hour. "Holy crap." She dropped to the floor, stifling a blood-curdling scream of her own. The computer whizzed past and crashed into the opposite wall, taking out an innocent ... well presumably innocent ... ficus. Within the space of a day, Andie had almost been killed twice now. If she believed in such a thing, she might be concerned that the universe was sending her a not-so-subtle message. But no, the universe was random, not heartless.

The clerk who threw the computer picked up a futuristic-looking camera, took aim, and vaporized the P.C., the ficus, and a bit of the wall—the ficus and the wall presumably being collateral damage. After the lens retracted, he replaced the cap on his "camera" and calmly walked back to his desk.

Andie lay on the floor, coughing up bits of fuzz she had inhaled from the industrial grease-scented carpet, which had clearly never seen the suction end of a vacuum cleaner. A tabloid employee possessing a powerful weapon posing as a camera? What if one of their photographers got mixed up and picked up the wrong device? What if this happened to Sterling? As Andie lay on the floor, the staff shuffled toward her head and surrounded her in a ring of enormous neon Nike hi-tops.

"I give her two weeks," said one of the employees.

"I give her two minutes," said the camera-toting clerk.

"She is hotter than the others," said a third.

"Quiet, you imbeciles," said the female.

Andie looked each one in the eye which wasn't easy as their watery blue orbs were about seven feet from the floor. They had pale complexions, long skinny limbs and no hair ... anywhere. Besides the impressive shoes, they wore uniforms comprising tight silver long-sleeved tops and billowy jewel-toned pants, the sort of thing clowns wear. "Good morning," said Andie as calmly as possible. "I'm Andie Bank, your new Controller. Thanks for the, uh, warm welcome."

The door to Accounting banged opened, and Mr. Lieder burst into the room, partially pulling the door off of its hinges. "What the hell is going on down here?"

"I'm sorry," said Andie. How did he know anything was going on? She glanced around the room, searching for video cameras.

"Not you," he said. "I mean them." He pointed at the staff. "Is this any way to greet your new boss? I am sorry, Miss Bank." He stooped down. "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine," said Andie. He helped her up. Electricity shot up her arm. It seemed like maybe he felt it too as his eyes flashed blue light. He looked away for a moment, then frowned at her staff.

"Explain yourselves."

Silence.

Andie inspected her surroundings. The Accounting Department walls needed a fresh coat of paint and some spackle to repair the damage from what looked like previous temper tantrums. Fluorescent lights crackled overhead. Paperwork, along with an impressive collection of Star Wars action figures, covered the desks. The room smelled like burnt coffee, burnt wires and burnt ficus. Andie was used to Accounting being a nonprofit department populated by nerds—the poor stepchild in any company, but this was ridiculous. Who could work effectively under these conditions? She watched Mr. Trigger-happy, sit down at his desk, folding his arms across his chest. He had arranged his Star Wars toys into miniature battles.

"You are all fired," said Mr. Lieder. "You were already the worst accounting staff I have ever seen. You are hopeless. Now get your things," he glared at the action figures, "and go."

"But where will we go?" protested one of the clerks. The poor guy cowered like a vampire in a solarium.

"I do not care. You should have thought about that before acting like a bunch of mutant idiots."

"What do you expect?" said Trigger-happy. "We are a bunch of mutant idiots."

The female covered her face and made a sound like a barking dog. Crying?

Miniature Obi Wan and Darth Vader crossed lightsabers on the dust-free square computer-terminal-sized space on Trigger-happy's desk.

"Look, Mr. Lieder," said Andie. "I, um, asked for a demonstration from Mr. ..."

"Cash," grumbled Trigger-happy.

"Yes, Mr. Cash's firearm. Someone earlier, not in this department, threatened me with such a weapon, and I merely wanted to know its power. I will reimburse the company for the, um, broken, no I suppose it's missing, computer."

"Call me Oliver. And you expect me to believe ..."

"Yes. I do."

Andie stepped in front of her clerks, facing Mr. Lieder, hands on her hips.

"Play it that way, Miss Bank," he said. "But the entire department is on probation."

"Fine," said Andie. "One other thing."

"Yes?"

"I need permission to fix up this office. It's filthy, and most likely doesn't meet OSHA's standards." Andie made a personal note to send out a memo to the entire company regarding safety standards.

"OSHA?"

"Yes, OSHA."

"Is that like the IRS?"

"Sort of. But scarier." How does someone who's running a huge corporation not know these things? But Andie shouldn't question him any further in front of the staff.

"Do whatever you need, Miss Bank. You have carte blanche."

"I don't want carte blanche. No one should be able to spend money without proper authorization. In writing."

"Which is exactly why I've given you full control. You're the only person in this company who would ask for oversight."

"No one should be above the rules." Oops. Why was she still arguing?

"Goodbye, Andromeda." The door hung awkwardly on one hinge. He pulled it all the way off and set it on the floor before exiting.

Andie spun on the staff. "Are all of you armed?"

They exchanged some sort of non-verbal communication, which consisted of eye blinks, nose twitching and some weird tongue clicking, then the woman stepped forward, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Welcome to Accounting. My name is Rosalie. The only one who armed is Cash," Rosalie said in an almost monotone voice. "He has anger management problems. The computer provoked him. He claims."

"Damned computer," said Cash. "Worthless piece of excrement."

"I see," said Andie. "I too have wanted to obliterate a few computers over the years. But in a high-pressure environment like Accounting, someone could end up getting hurt. I'm afraid I must insist on no weapons at the office. Please give me the camera." She held out her hand. Andie had never imagined giving this sort of speech. Who were these people? Maybe the whole tabloid operation was a front for a secret military agency experimenting with technologies they conspired to suppress from the American people. After all, Talia had mentioned something about a security clearance. Made way more sense than the alien theory.

They do have greenish skin, piped Bad Andie.

Not you too.

Cash paused and frowned before handing over the camera. The name "Cannon" was etched in white over the lens. "Now, let's start over. I'm Andie Bank."

"I am Rosalie," said the female. "You have met Cash." Rosalie and Cash exchanged some angry clicks and blinks. "This is the Senior Clerk, Ernest." Rosalie smiled at Ernest longingly, but Ernest didn't seem to notice. Andie noted his silver shirt had an insignia none of the others did—a black and gray depiction of a Mobius strip. Ernest nodded at her, so Andie nodded back. "Over here is Frank, Accounts Payable."

"She is hotter than the others," said Frank.

"Frank, your mouth is bigger than a Zandorkian's. And Bill, Accounts Receivable. And I am your assistant."

"Zandorkia? Is that somewhere in Africa?" Andie was never good with Geography. Or maps. Or directions.

Frank, Cash and Bill made a sound rather like donkeys braying, which Andie took to be laughing. "This is no way to welcome our new leader," said Rosalie. "Who, may I remind you, just saved all of our jobs."

The male employees hung their heads. Shame?

"Say thank you," said Rosalie.

"Thank you," they chorused. Cash approached Andie, pressed something hard and sticky into her palm, and returned to his desk.

"Your Obi-Wan, oh how sweet," said Andie. "I can't accept this though. I know it's special." And sticky, she did not add.

"You must take it, Miss Andie. You are our only hope."

Andie laughed. See, other people quoted Star Wars.

I've dedicated this story to to thank her for all the amazing comments she's left on the story! xoxoxoxo