For the Lady in You ($SATS)

Fifty Bands of Spectrum

He stood over her, sleek, relentless, and cloaked in orbital confidence. SpaceX didn’t ask. He never did. He simply reached, tracing the contours of her long-held MSS license, untouched for years, like it was made just for him.

“I want access,” he whispered, his voice low, resolute. “And I don’t intend to lease it.”

EchoStar felt the pressure of his presence. She’d been passed over by lesser suitors, speculated on by distressed debt funds, but never claimed. Not like this.

“You’re pushing my limits,” she breathed. “I know,” he said. “That’s the point.”

For years she'd held her spectrum close, guarded, unyielding. But now, with the spectral heat of ambition and low-orbit desire humming between them, she arched, just slightly toward his faint whisper of promises. EchoStar trembled - she had been waiting for way too long. She feels her unforgiving biological clock, the FCC, gently tapping her on the shoulders like a countdown…

She stood by the window, spectrum filings spilling out across the FCC desk like silk lingerie, bandwidth curves sharp, generous, alluring. Her mid-band holdings pushed against the limits of her blouse, impossible to ignore. Everyone noticed them. Everyone had talked about them for years.

But no one had come even close.

EchoStar knew what she was worth. Knew what was under those LLCs. Fifteen years of buildout. Layer upon layer of MHz-POPs wrapped in O-RAN. She wasn’t just holding spectrum, she was overflowing, underutilized, and aching for throughput.

Then SpaceX walked in.

He didn’t gawk. Didn’t compliment. He sat there like a man with options.

She hated that about him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, voice trembling with a blend of pride and desperation. “You want access.”

He glanced up, cool. “It’s an impressive set. Lots of capacity.” His eyes flicked down. “A lot of it… unused.”

Echostar stepped forward. “Because no one’s stepped up. Is it too much for a girl to ask for the world?” Her portfolio heaved, high and heavy with pent-up spectrum, waiting for the right partner to light her up. “But you understand scarcity value. Don’t you? I’m not just offering access, I’m offering all of me.” Her fingers traced the air over her loaded spectrum from top to bottom, slowly, deliberately, “both mid-band and low-band…”

He walked toward her, slow, deliberate. “You think you’re worth $150 a share. But the market? It’s barely bidding $30.”

She flushed. “They don’t see me. They don’t understand what I could be.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I would love to lay the PIPE. I see the throughput potential. I see the big... blocks.”

Her breath hitched.

“But,” he continued, “I can get what I need elsewhere. Without the emotional baggage of a legacy cap structure and two underachieving stepkids with their own liabilities.”

Echostar’s hands shook. “Then why did you slide into my DM?”

“Because I wanted to want you,” he murmured, voice low and molten. “But the spread between what you dream of and what the market will give... it’s too wide. You keep pricing yourself like you're in some fevered M&A fantasy - when all I see is illiquidity, desperate to be touched.”

She turned away, biting her lip. “So that’s it? You’re walking?”

He paused. “You’re still incredible. But unless you're willing to come down to earth…”

He left. No lease, no PIPE. Just silence and a faint smell of scorched rocket fuel.

And as the door shut, she stood there - still beautiful and radiant, but tragically illiquid.

The spectrum was still there. The value was still real.

But for now, no one was paying to touch it.

She flips on her computer and types in “www.onlybands.com,” thinking, “If all of me is too much, maybe pieces of me… are just enough to monetize.”

She uploads her first pictures: pictures of cell towers with the caption - 50 MHz of AWS-3, lightly used.

The bids come in slowly at first…But they always do.
…For there is only one Echostar.