“Then ask after the satellite is stable.”
She nodded.
The operations room held thirty-seven people.
Engineers.
Flight controllers.
Security personnel.
Mission management.
Isaac stood at the primary technical console.
Adrian to his left.
Eleanor behind him.
No speeches.
No dramatic countdown.
Professionals rarely need theatrics when real consequences already occupy the room.
Final command package loaded.
Checks.
Independent verification.
Authorization.
Transmission.
Eight seconds.
Nothing visible happened.
Then telemetry updated.
Pressure oscillation amplitude decreased.
Not enough.
Isaac stared.
“Wait.”
Second data point.
Lower.
Third.
Lower again.
The secondary harmonic began flattening.
Grace whispered:
“It’s taking.”
Nobody celebrated.
One full orbital cycle passed.
Ninety-three minutes.
The room remained staffed.
Pressure recovery improved.
Valve command response stabilized.
Propellant draw returned closer to nominal.
Second cycle.
Stable.
Third.
Stable.
Adrian clapped once.
A flat sound.
Then stopped, embarrassed.
Someone laughed.
The room broke.
Not cheering.
Relief.
Hands on shoulders.
Quiet applause.
People exhaling.
Isaac did not move.
He looked at the green band on the display.
Six years.
One number.
Green.
He walked out.
The hallway was empty.
Isaac put his back against the wall.
Closed his eyes.
He had imagined this moment differently too.
Vindication was supposed to feel hot.
Triumphant.
Instead, he felt tired.
Then angry.
Then something underneath both.
Grief.
For the career he lost.
The work he never did.
The people he stopped trusting.
The six years during which part of him believed maybe Nexora had been right.
The worst damage had never been unemployment.
It was doubt.
Eleanor came through the door.
She stood beside him.
No congratulations.
No speech.
After a while, Isaac said:
“I kept thinking if I proved it.”
“What?”
“I’d get the six years back.”
Eleanor looked ahead.
“You won’t.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t mean they get to own the next six.”
He opened his eyes.
That sentence stayed with him.
The technical audit began immediately.
Not revenge.
Reconstruction.
Every design review.
Every qualification record.
Every approval chain.
Isaac testified once.
Privately.
He answered only technical questions unless asked about process.
The investigation found what he already knew.
No single person designed a dangerous satellite intentionally.
That would have been easier.
Instead, multiple competent groups each validated their own discipline.
Thermal passed.
Structures passed.
Controls passed.
Propulsion passed.