Hydraulic monitoring restored.
Cabin pressure controller came online.
Primary warning cleared.
A sound moved through the crowd.
Not applause.
Recognition.
1:18.
Ethan watched the indications.
One clean cycle meant very little.
He shut the system down.
Mike almost smiled.
Vanessa looked confused.
Ethan restarted.
Second initialization.
Clean.
No caution.
No intermittent behavior.
0:46.
He stepped out.
“Independent test.”
The maintenance-control technician entered the cockpit.
Power cycle.
Normal.
He turned.
“Clean.”
The timer showed thirty-one seconds.
For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the hangar erupted.
Somebody laughed.
A mechanic slapped a tool chest.
Mike shouted something Ethan could not hear.
Several people applauded.
Vanessa’s expression became the strangest combination Ethan had ever seen.
Relief.
Because the client aircraft was fixed.
Horror.
Because the client aircraft was fixed.
She had wanted witnesses.
Now she had them.
Logan Pierce looked down.
He no longer seemed fascinated.
Ethan closed the panel.
Documented the connector condition.
Returned his tools to the bag.
Vanessa stepped toward him.
“Well.”
Her voice was thinner now.
“That certainly answers the question.”
Ethan walked toward the maintenance office.
She frowned.
“What are you doing?”
He took his duffel from beside his desk.
Mike stopped smiling.
“Ethan?”
He slung the strap over his shoulder.
Then returned to the center of the hangar.
Vanessa stared.
“What is that?”
“My bag.”
“I can see that.”
Ethan looked at her.
The room quieted again.
He did not raise his voice.
That mattered.
If he shouted, the story could become about temper.
If he insulted her, it could become about professionalism.
Ethan intended to leave nothing available for editing.
“The aircraft is serviceable,” he said.
“The fault is documented.”
“The repair has been independently verified.”
Vanessa nodded impatiently.
“Yes.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“Then I quit.”
Nobody moved.
Vanessa’s face emptied.
“What?”
“You said fix it or quit.”
“That was rhetorical.”
“No.”
“I was making a point.”
“So am I.”
Her posture changed.
“Ethan.”
He waited.
“You passed.”
“Yes.”
“Then what exactly are you doing?”
He looked toward the grounded jet.
Then toward the clock.
Then back at Vanessa.
“You didn’t put that clock there because you wanted to learn whether I was good at my job.”
Silence.
“You didn’t invite HR because you wanted a repair.”
Vanessa’s jaw tightened.
“You are making assumptions.”
“Yes.”