Scene 19

Ellis holds the umbrella over Osterman's head as they cross the apron. The black nylon above thrums darkly against deafening white noise from the concrete below. As they approach, he sees rain beading on the Gulfstream's polished skin. On the stairway hand rail.

"I forgot to mention," Osterman yells over the storm, "Our geologist friend is getting a visit tonight."

"Visit, sir?" Ellis yells back.

"Cease and desist," Osterman says. A gleam in his eye. The beginning of a smile. "Rodriguez caught him speaking with two journalists. Naughty, naughty."

"Exciting news, sir!" Ellis yells enthusiastically.

"When we're through, he'll be delivering food for a living." Osterman's eyes and smile both go wide. "No—wait! He won't be. At least not for long." He laughs heartily.

Ellis laughs along. "Good one, sir!"

They reach the top of the stairs. Osterman moves inside without looking back. Ellis collapses the umbrella, shakes it, and follows him in.

The cabin opens around him. He ducks the doorframe, hands the umbrella to someone he doesn't look at, and settles into his seat.

A drink is waiting for him. He looks to the galley. Empty. His eyes flick to the call button but he picks up the drink and sips it first. The single large cube is right. The peel is expressed, not rimmed. The bitters are two, not three.

His jaw tightens. It's perfect.

The tablet lights up in his lap. A live render of North America in grayscale, pulsing with colored nodes. Distribution centers, freight, sorting hubs, customer deliveries. Green for flow, amber for attention, red for intervention.

Two red. Tulsa fulfillment running warm. Heat advisory. A container delay in Long Beach. Ellis taps Approve on the Tulsa alert without reading the summary and closes the map.

He flips to his priority. Osterman's latest public interview. Demographic heat maps, sentiment curves, approval spikes timestamped against every phrase. He scrubs to the settlers line and the Midwest blooms green.

Ellis allows himself a small smile. He drains the glass, sets it down and presses the call button.

The aircraft begins its taxi. Through the window, the rain streaks sideways. He jumps to the end of the interview. The freedom closer played well across every segment except college-educated women. Ellis opens a note. He types: Mars = American West = Freedom and Opportunity + (something maternal)

The Gulfstream lifts. The cabin tilts. Ellis's glass slides two inches on the table and stops against the lip. He catches it without looking up. Ice clinks against glass.

Cloud layer. Then sun.

She finally appears in the aisle, another Old Fashioned in hand. Ellis watches her approach. She places the glass without looking at him.

"Sarah."

"Mr. Harrington."

"How's Jake? Did he find something yet?"

She makes eye contact. Something he can't quite read in her face. "Still looking."

"It was a shame when he lost that job with Senator Mills, but wasn't that four months ago?"

"Five."

"So strange." Ellis shakes his head. "Sharp guy. Good schools. Senate experience. He should be fielding offers."

She sets the drink down and takes his empty glass. "That's what he thought."

Ellis smiles at her. "But no one on the hill will hire him?" He picks up the glass and takes a sip. "Sometimes these things are a sign," he says. "About the person, I mean. The market knows."

Her eyes cut to his face. Her hands are very still on the tray. "Enjoy your flight, Mr. Harrington."

She walks to the galley. The curtain closes behind her.

Ellis watches her go. Takes another sip.

"You don't know what you're missing," he says to himself with a shrug.

He returns to the tablet.

The partition to the rear cabin is ajar. Osterman's voice carries in fragments through the hum of the engines.

"—timeline. It has to be perfect."

A pause.

"No. I want it done before the HiRISE window. The seventeenth."

Ellis bookmarks the sentiment chart. Opens a different application.

The prediction market interface is clean and minimal—positions, outcomes, probabilities. He scrolls the Ares Frontier cluster until he finds what he's looking for.

Ellis opens a new position. Seventeenth. Confirms.

He locks the tablet. Straightens his vest. Picks up his drink.

The galley curtain does not move.