Fluency by Jennifer Foehner Wells

found himself reading Holloway’s file over and over until he had it practically memorized. He kept tabs on her remotely, but he didn’t have any access to her once she came to Johnson. They were convinced he’d nearly botched it, so they wouldn’t let him anywhere near her.
    He heard through the grapevine that the big guys were wining and dining her and that she was a hard sell. She was really making them work for it.
    He couldn’t get her out of his head. He didn’t know why. She wasn’t particularly beautiful or anything, although she had a great smile. She was something of a Plain Jane, he tried to convince himself, frowning. She wasn’t his type at all. She was all prissy and round—savvy, smart.
    He liked bouncy, athletic girls, who could keep up with his six a.m. running schedule, who’d be up for an impromptu hike or day of surfing, if a free day suddenly came up. Sure, none of them were rocket scientists, but he’d given up hope of finding a girl with a mind he could really admire, not that he’d really been looking too hard. Maybe he was getting too old to be hanging out in college bars, hooking up with girls who weren’t looking for more than a good time.
    He’d been in the middle of a think-tank planning session when he was pulled out. He thought it might be bad news. There were rumors they were about to announce the final five and he was nervous. He’d done everything he could to meet every qualification, pass every test, but he was afraid it wasn’t enough. He’d attempted to minimize their perception of his more negative personality traits. He knew they were a problem, but he already had a reputation within the organization and nothing he could do now would change that.
    The psychological tests were obnoxious and verging on ridic ulous, at times. They wanted to be sure they wouldn’t select someone who would crack under the pressure of boredom and confinement. He understood that and resolved to stay patient with the process.   
    He wasn’t even surprised when they shoved him into an MRI and barraged him with graphic and disturbing images, probably as a method of determining level of libido and sexual appetites. They couldn’t risk sending a lascivious, raping pervert on a two-year mission with five other people in a small, confined space.
    That had been three days before. Now, they’d sent him to sit alone in a small conference room, suddenly, without warning or explanation. He came to the conclusion they were probably softening the blow by telling the losers in advance of the big announcement. He braced himself for that possibility, determined not to let anyone see his disappointment.
    But it was Jane Holloway who came through the door with a shy smile. “Hi, there, Dr. Bergen,” she said with a flutter of her fingers. She was more casually dressed this time, but still crisp and neat. Her hair was down, swinging in a trendy, flattering cut. “I heard they interrupted a meeting. I hope it wasn’t too important. I’m about to see the capsule for the first time and I asked if you could come along to show it to me.”
    He smiled with relief. “So are the rumors true? You signed the paperwork?”
    “I just did. Yes.” She sounded resolute, but also looked uneasy about that, unsure.
    “What was the clincher? What made you finally sign?”
    A laugh bubbled up out of her. “They told me who their second choice was and I thought, ‘Oh, no—that would be a disaster!’ So, I signed.”
    He chuckled along with her. “So, the secret button was competition. I wish I’d known that in Stanford.”
    She shook her head ruefully. “No. Not competition. Concern. He might pass among the good old boy’s club here, but he’s not suitable for a first contact mission. He’s lucky to be alive, actually, after some of the shenanigans he’s pulled. I couldn’t convince them they were wrong about him so I decided I’d better stick around.”
    He realized he was standing there, nodding at her