“Okay,” Dad said.
I continued. “The grinders are outside and the grit comes in through this compression airlock. Then it moves downstairs to the lower level. The sorter centrifuge separates the anorthite out from the other minerals. Then it’s sintered into anodes. From there it goes back upstairs into the smelter.”
I tapped a large rectangle in the middle of the schematics. “This is where the magic happens. The smelter reduces anorthite into its base elements by using an assload of electricity.”
“FFC Cambridge Process,” said Svoboda. “It’s awesome! The anode is dipped in a calcium chloride salt bath, then electrolysis literally yanks atoms out! Oh, and the carbon cathodes get eroded so they have to constantly re-sinter them from the carbon they recover off the CO2 by-product. They use some of the resulting powdered aluminum to make rocket fuel, but the rest—”
“Calm yourself,” I said. “Anyway, I’m going to break in there and make the smelter smelt itself to death.”
“You can’t spell ‘smelt’ without ‘melt’!” Svoboda added.
“How will you do it?” Dale asked.
“I’ll crank up power to the heater,” I said. “The bath is normally nine hundred degrees Celsius, but if I can get it to fourteen hundred, the steel containment vessel will melt. Then the superheated salt bath will escape and destroy everything in the bubble.”
Dad scowled. “What good will this petty vandalism do?”
“First off, Dad, it’s not petty vandalism. It’s extreme vandalism. Second off: With their smelter destroyed, Sanchez won’t be able to make oxygen, and the contract with the city will be up for grabs. That’s where Lene comes in.”
Lene fidgeted as everyone turned toward her. “Uh, yeah. Dad had—er…I have enough oxygen to last Artemis a year. I’ll offer to take over the contract as soon as Sanchez is in breach.”
“And Ngugi will rubber-stamp it,” I said. “She wants O Palácio out of Artemis as much as we do.”
Bob snorted. “Why should I get involved in this?”
“Dammit, Bob,” I said. “I don’t want to spend time on the ‘will you or won’t you help me’ part. If you don’t understand why we have to do this, go stand in the corner until you do.”
“You’re such an asshole,” said Bob.
“Hey!” Dad shot Bob a look that made the burly marine draw back.
“He’s right, Dad. I am an asshole. But Artemis needs an asshole right now and I got drafted.”
I walked to the middle of the room. “This moment—this moment right now—is where we decide what kind of city Artemis is going to be. We can either act now, or let our home degenerate into syndicate rule for generations. This isn’t some theoretical scenario. They burned down a business. They murdered two people. There’s a huge amount of money in play—they’re not going to stop.
“This isn’t a new thing. New York, Chicago, Tokyo, Moscow, Rome, Mexico City—they all went through hell to control their mob infestations. And those are the success stories. Big chunks of South America are still under cartel control. Let’s not do that. Let’s take care of the cancer before it can spread.”
I looked each person in the eyes. “I’m not asking you to do this for me. I’m asking you to do it for Artemis. We can’t let O Palácio take over. This is our one chance. They’re bringing an army to town. Once those enforcers are here, we’ll never be able to shut down Sanchez’s oxygen flow. It’ll be guarded better than Fort Knox.”
I paused briefly just in case anyone wanted to argue that point. No one did. “Look, we’ve got a lot of planning to do so let’s cut the bullshit. Bob: You’re a marine. You spent half your life protecting the United States. Now Artemis is your home and it’s in danger. Will you protect it?”
That hit him where it counted. I could see it in his face.
I walked over to my father. “Dad, do it because this is the only way to save your daughter’s life.”
He pursed his lips. “Sleazy tactic, Jasmine.”
I turned to Dale. “Do I even need to explain why you have to do it?”
Dale dodged the question by gesturing to Billy for another beer. “You’re not a complete asshole, Jazz. I assume you have a plan to keep the workers from getting hurt?”
Bob raised his hand. “And how will you get into the bubble? Even without mail-order goons on the way, Sanchez has tight security.”
“And what about the safety systems?” Svoboda asked. “I looked over the schematics your Earth buddy sent. The smelter has three redundant temperature-control systems and a fail-safe copper melt plug.”
“And why do you need me at all?” Dad asked.
“All right, all right.” I put out my hands. “I can answer all of that. But first I need to know: Are we done with the convincing part? Are we all on board?”
The room fell silent. Even Billy stopped his morning prep to see how it played out.
“I’m not convinced you’re right,” Bob said. “But I can’t risk Artemis having the future you described. And they killed two of our people. I’m in.”
Dad nodded. “In.”
“You know I’m in,” said Svoboda. “I love a good caper!”
“Me too,” said Lene. “I mean…the being in part. I’m undecided on capers.”
“This buys me off,” Dale said. “Done with the guilt about Tyler. No more of that shit.”
I frowned. “I can’t just stop being mad.”
“No, but you can stop wallowing in it. And you can talk to me like a normal human being.” He swigged his beer without breaking eye contact. “That’s my price.”
“Fine,” I said. I wasn’t sure how I’d accomplish that, but for the sake of the city I had to swallow my pride.
—
Bob used his towering form and military bearing to clear a path through the Port of Entry. Dad and I followed behind, pushing a cartful of welding supplies.
I spotted Trigger in his parking space. I hadn’t had opportunity to use him lately. I didn’t have time for deliveries during all the chaos my life had become. I missed the little guy. Maybe I’d drive him around just for the hell of it when this was all over.
Bob led us to one corner of the huge chamber. He’d set up temporary walls. We went around them and into the ad-hoc workroom.
“I hope this’ll do,” said Bob. He gestured to the detached air shelter in the center of the room. “It’s the biggest one I could find.”
The cylindrical pressure vessel had a single manual hatch and four air tanks. On the back, there was a battery system to power internal fans and a chemical CO2-absorption system. Over the main hatch a sign read MAX CAPACITY: 4 PERSONS. MAX DURATION: 72 HOURS.
“Where did you get it?” Dad asked warily.
“My house. It’s my own family emergency shelter.”
“Shit,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that, Bob.”
“I knew Ammar wouldn’t want me stealing one. Besides, you’ll buy me a new one.”
“Apparently I will.” Dammit. That’d set me back a few thousand slugs for sure.
Dad inspected the shelter with his experienced eye. He walked a lap around it, looking every detail up and down. “This will do.”
“All right. I’ll leave you to it,” said Bob. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Bob walked around the temporary wall and out of the room. That left me and Dad staring at each other.
I picked up a welding mask from the cart. “Just like old times, huh? Been a while since we did a project together.”
“Nine years.” He threw a jumpsuit at me. “Wear the safety gear. All of it.”
“Oh, come on. The suit’s hot as hell and—”
He cut me off with a look. It’s like I was sixteen again. I grudgingly climbed into the jumpsuit and started sweating immediately. Ugh.
“How are we doing this?” I asked.
He reached into the cart and hefted out a stack of aluminum sheets. “We’ll cut the hole in the back. We’ll have to move the tanks and batteries but that won’t be a problem.”
I put the welding mask on. “And then what? How do we make a connection point?”