14 - Emily’s Bargain

You are reading Scene 14 of Icarus, a sweeping story of loyalty, exile, and quiet resistance, stretching between Earth and Mars.

Far from the dust storms and unspoken alliances of the Martian surface, another battle is being fought, one of perception, power, and return. In the shimmering towers of Manhattan, strategy doesn’t wear a helmet. It wears a tailored suit.

Emily Everhart steps into a restaurant designed for the elite: a polished fusion of biotechnological luxury and corporate influence. But she’s not here for ambiance or nutrition optimization. She’s here to speak for her husband.

David Everhart may be one of the most brilliant engineers on Mars, but brilliance doesn’t always win favor with the board. His exile is strategic, his silence a transaction. And now, Emily faces the system that cast him out.

Across the table sits Warrick Hargrove, executive, gatekeeper, and uneasy ally. Between them: curated menus, health-tracked side dishes, and the fate of a man caught in a game bigger than them both.

On Mars, David is building a future. On Earth, Emily is negotiating for his right to return to it. Pull up a chair. The silverware is silent. The stakes are not.

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The late afternoon sun drenched Manhattan’s reimagined skyline in gold, scattering reflections across the glass domes of rooftop gardens. Emily Everhart paused outside the restaurant entrance, turning toward the waterfront. Where the Atlantic once crashed against Long Island’s shores, a green-and-white flood barrier now arched protectively around the city, a hybrid of natural form and engineered precision. Built under David’s leadership, it had saved New York from the sea, transforming saltwater into a vital freshwater source for inland states.

The city pulsed on multiple levels: air taxis zipped between spires, delivery drones skimmed through designated corridors, and below, autonomous trams curved along boulevards shaded by solar trees. Emily inhaled deeply, then stepped through the sliding glass doors.

Inside, soft lighting blended with the low murmur of voices and the whisper of precision machines. A tall, elegantly dressed woman approached - human, not robotic - and held out a discreet health scanner.

“Good afternoon, Miss Everhart,” she said warmly. “I’m Jane, your personal dining advisor. Our system shows you’re a silver-tier member, which includes an 8% discount. However, your latest vitals suggest your iron levels are slightly low. May I recommend a vegetable cocktail rich in iron to accompany your meal?”

Emily Everhart

Emily nodded, polite but distracted, her gaze drifting across the restaurant’s sculpted white interior. At the far end, Warrick Hargrove stood from his sleek carbon-fiber chair and waved. He wore a charcoal-gray suit with the Minos Corporation logo discreetly etched into the lapel.

Emily thanked Jane and made her way along a softly lit walkway lined with curved seats and seaweed clusters that filtered the air. Nearby, a robotic arm glided across an empty table, wiping surfaces with silent efficiency. Despite the tech, the ambiance remained calm, warm, intentionally human.

She took her seat across from Warrick, the chair molding gently to her frame. A digital menu flared to life in front of her, auto-calibrated to her health metrics. Across the table, Warrick’s own menu flagged high cholesterol and allergy risks, adding a surcharge to his more indulgent selections.

Jane’s voice returned, friendly but firm.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hargrove. Your preferences have been updated.”

Warrick gave a noncommittal grunt, his jaw tightening slightly. He hadn’t opted for the health-conscious version. Some habits, it seemed, were immune to optimization.

“Yes. I’ll have a burger,” Warrick said flatly.

Jane didn’t miss a beat. Unfazed by the rejection, she shifted seamlessly into her next strategy.

“Mr. Hargrove, I noticed you haven’t yet activated your Synergy Program benefits. Are you aware of our new Delta-tier ‘Lifestyle–Finance’ package?”

Warrick raised an eyebrow and set his communicator on the table, gesturing for her to go on.

Jane brightened. “As you know, we’re more than a restaurant. We’re part of the ProteaWell Consortium - hospitality, fitness, medical services - and now expanding into American protectorates abroad. Delta-tier members receive premium healthcare access and financial perks.”

Warrick Hargrove

She tapped his tablet, and a glowing icon lit up.

“For example, we’ve launched a new equity option in South American growth markets. You can invest your membership credits right here, which also unlocks our premium menu offerings. Like the Argentinian lab-grown steak, precision-tailored to your nutritional needs.”

Warrick’s interest sharpened. “Argentinian beef? That’s the gene-edited stuff?”

“It is,” Jane said smoothly, “and yes, normally pricey. But Delta-tier offsets the cost through equity yield. As your health metrics improve, your discount increases. It’s a closed ethical loop: pleasure with returns. Just one tap.”

After a brief pause, Warrick smirked and pressed the icon.

“I like this… synergy,” he muttered. “Just don’t start preaching about cardio, alright?”

Jane laughed lightly. “No sermons. I’ll send over a sample steak, cholesterol-adjusted, of course. Also, your membership now includes 10% off our new guilt-free sides. Congratulations, Mr. Hargrove.”

Across the table, Emily watched with a small smile. Jane was good-flawless, even. With Emily, she led with wellness and calm. With Warrick, she made it a business deal. In under sixty seconds, a man who came in for a burger had become an equity-backed brand advocate.

As Jane turned to finalize the order, Warrick leaned back and flashed Emily a crooked grin.

“I’m not usually one for all this modern fluff,” Warrick said, “but… that was impressive.”

Emily smiled, her gaze drifting to the sunlight filtering through the glass ceiling. It reflected off the city’s shimmering water infrastructure, a quiet tribute to David’s brilliance.

She took a sip of her drink, catching the faint metallic tang of its mineral supplements.

“Yes,” she murmured. “She’s good. And she’s not alone. This city runs on synergy now.”

They lingered in light conversation: the opening of new trade with the Australian enclave, American control of the coastal shipping lanes, and whispers of a Siberian pipeline that could reshape the global grid. But the easy tone faded when Warrick leaned in, voice lowering into the calm, deliberate cadence of a corporate strategist.

“Emily, I’m glad you reached out. Our numbers on Mars… aren’t where they need to be. The pressure from the Sicilians is real. Asteroid yields are killing our margins.”

She folded her hands.

“David told me. He’s feeling it. But he still wants to come back. This open-ended posting? It’s exile, Warrick. He got sidelined for bruising egos; nothing more.”

Warrick nodded, the admission reluctant.

“He ruffled a few too many powerful people, yes. But right now? Mars is the best place for him. Corporate’s barely paying attention to that sector. David’s keeping it alive. If he weren’t hitting targets, we’d have pulled out already. Once we renew the license, we can start reshaping the narrative. But until then… the board prefers him out of sight.”

Emily frowned. “Reshaping the narrative” didn’t mean much. Above them, a soft chime announced her recommended meal, a high-iron risotto made from engineered algae. She confirmed it with a tap.

“I get that you’re thinking strategically,” she said. “But David needs specifics. He’s given that planet everything. If he delivers the results; what guarantees he’s not stuck out there indefinitely?”

Warrick sighed, eyeing the health surcharge flashing on his menu.

“There are no guarantees. The council is split. Half want to cut losses and leave Mars altogether if the yields don’t improve. But if David stabilizes the site, holds off the Sicilians, keeps that sector viable? Then yes, I’ll back him. Loudly. His success strengthens my position, too.”

The mention of the Sicilians - a once-obscure group now leading asteroid extraction - brought the larger picture into focus. Mars wasn’t just remote. It was fragile.

“So… he’s stuck?”

“Temporarily,” Warrick said, raising an eyebrow. “But if the numbers hold, we spin it: ‘Minos’s heroic engineer returns triumphant.’ Look, Emily, this isn’t charity. David’s rise lifts all of us.”

Their meals arrived. Silent, hovering trays with perfectly portioned dishes tailored to their vitals. The scent was earthy and clean. For a moment, Emily felt a pang of nostalgia. David would’ve marveled at how far things had come since those early days of soggy hydroponic greens.

She glanced past Warrick, toward the panoramic view. The coastline shimmered, land once thought lost, reclaimed by David’s vision. If he could reshape New York, why couldn’t the council see the value he still had?

Her eyes returned to Warrick.

“Alright,” she said, steel in her voice. “I’ll do my part. But I want more than hope. David doesn’t deserve to be forgotten on another planet.”

Warrick nodded, firm but not cold.

“Understood. If the data holds, we’ll have leverage.”

They clinked glasses, quietly sealing a pact shaped by politics, loyalty, and ambition. Outside, air taxis glided past the towering floodgates of Manhattan. And far beyond that, across the solar system, the fate of one man - and maybe the future of Mars - balanced on numbers, nerves, and time.

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ICARUS isn’t a traditional book; it’s a new kind of storytelling.

Each chapter is broken into short scenes, enhanced with images, cinematic teasers, and links to supporting content: character profiles, technology breakdowns, and backstory threads.

This format is built for your phone, tablet, or laptop—giving you a dynamic reading experience and access to a broader universe behind the story.

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