I crawled out from the pit and checked the control room. Still empty. But not for long. The train had left.
With all that chlorine in the air, it made sense to send the workers back to town. But once they got there, a bunch of hazmat-suited engineers would board and come right back. I had ten minutes for the train to get to town, call it another five for the changeover, then another ten until the enemy cavalry arrived. Twenty-five minutes.
I hurried to the thermal control box. I unscrewed four bolts and took the access panel off. I yanked out the thermocouple management board and produced a replacement board from my duffel. Svoboda had spent the previous evening piecing it together. Pretty simple, actually. It acted just like the normal board, but it would lie to the computer about the bath temperature, always reporting it low. I inserted it into the slot.
For verification purposes, Svoboda’s replacement board had LCD readouts showing the actual and reported temperature. The actual temperature was 900°C and the reported temperature was 825°C. The computer, believing the temperature was too low, activated the main heater.
There was an audible “click” even though there was no relay. The power conduit—thickest power line I’d ever seen, by the way—actually squirmed for a moment when the current began. So much electricity flowed through that cable, the resulting magnetic field made it bounce around while it ramped up power. It settled down once the current got to full amperage.
I watched Svoboda’s board. Soon, the actual temperature clicked up to 901 degrees. Then, in far less time, it rose to 902. Then directly to 904. Then 909.
“Shiiit,” I said. That was way the hell faster than I expected. Turns out a massive power line carrying the bulk of two nuclear reactors’ output can heat things up pretty quickly.
I left the access panel on the floor and ran back to my private entrance.
Dale waited for me in the inflatable connector. “Well?” he asked.
I shut the air-shelter door behind me. “Mission accomplished. The smelter’s heating up fast. Let’s get out of here.”
“All right!” Dale held up his gloved hand.
I gave him a high five (can’t leave a fella hanging). He bobbled down the tunnel toward the rover.
I took one last look at the air-shelter hatch to make sure it was sealed properly. Then I turned back and started down the tunnel—wait a minute.
I spun back to the hatch. I could swear I’d seen movement behind me.
The hatch had a small, round window. I drew closer to it and looked through. There, inspecting equipment along the far wall of the smelter bubble, was Loretta Sanchez.
I put both hands on my head. “Dale. We have a problem.”
Sanchez peered at the emergency air system. She wore goggles and a breather mask. Apparently a little chlorine gas didn’t scare her.
Dale, halfway down the inflatable, gestured to the rover. “Come on, Jazz! Let’s go!”
“Loretta Sanchez is in there!”
“What?!”
I pointed to the airlock window. “She’s just wandering around like she owns the place.”
“She does own the place,” Dale said. “Let’s get out of here!”
“We can’t leave her there.”
“She’s a smart woman. When the meltdown starts she’ll leave.”
“Where will she go?” I demanded.
“The train.”
“The train left.”
“The air shelter, then.”
“That won’t protect her from molten steel!” I turned to the hatch. “I have to get her.”
Dale stomped back toward me. “Are you out of your mind?! These people tried to kill you, Jazz!”
“Whatever.” I checked the tape on my mask and goggles. “Get to the rover. Be ready for a quick exit.”
“Jazz—”
“Go!” I snapped.
He hesitated for a second—probably to decide if he could physically force me back to the rover. He wisely chose not to and headed down the inflatable.
I spun the hatch valve and stumbled back into the facility. Sanchez didn’t notice me at first—her attention was on the emergency air system. Probably trying to figure out why it wasn’t cleaning the air.
How does one introduce herself in a situation like this? I don’t think Emily Post covered “saving an enemy’s life during industrial sabotage” in her etiquette books. I went with a tried and true method.
“Hey!” I yelled.
She whipped around and grabbed her chest. “Goodness!”
She panted a few times and regained her composure. She was a little older and more weathered than the pictures I’d seen of her. Still, she was spry and healthy-looking for a fifty-year-old. “Who on God’s gray moon are you?”
“That’s not important,” I said. “It’s not safe here. Come with me.”
She didn’t budge. “You’re not one of my employees. How did you get in here?”
“I cut a hole in the wall.”
“What?” She scanned the walls to no avail. The hole was on the other side of the smelter from her. “You put a hole? In my factory?”
“Why aren’t you on the train!” I demanded. “You’re supposed to be on the train!”
“I wanted to see if I could fix the problem. I sent the others to safety and—” She stopped and held up a finger. “Hold on a moment. I don’t have to explain myself to you. You have to explain yourself to me!”
I took a step toward her. “Listen, dipshit. This whole facility is about to melt. You have to come with me right fucking now!”
“Language! Wait…I recognize you. You’re Jasmine Bashara.” She pointed an accusing finger. “You’re the hooligan who ruined my harvesters!”
“Yeah,” I said. “And I’m the hooligan who sabotaged your smelter. It’s going critical as we speak.”
“Nonsense. I designed it myself. It’s infallibly safe.”
“The heater’s on full, the thermal system is hacked, and I welded a steel plate across the melt plug.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“We have to leave!” I said. “Come on!”
She looked to the smelter, then back to me. “Or…I could fix it.”
“Not gonna happen,” I said.
“Do you plan to stop me?”
I steadied my stance. “You don’t want to mess with me, Grandma. I’m half your age and I grew up in this gravity. I’ll carry you out of here if I have to.”
“Interesting,” she said. “I grew up on the streets of Manaus. And I used to mug men twice your size.”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.
She lunged at me.
I wasn’t expecting that either.
I ducked and watched her sail overhead. Earthers always underestimated how far a jump would take them. So it was easy to—
She reached down, grabbed my hair, and slammed my head into the ground with her landing. Then she straddled my chest and reared back to punch me in the face. I kicked up, bucked her off of me, and got to my feet.
Before I could get my bearings, she was on me again. This time she attacked from behind with a chokehold.
I have many flaws, but machismo isn’t one of them. I know when I’m outclassed. Turns out Manaus is a much tougher town than Artemis. This woman could pummel me in a fair fight.
That’s why I avoid fair fights.
I reached over my shoulder and pulled off her air mask. She released me immediately and backed away. She held her breath and fumbled with the dangling mask. That gave me an opening.
I spun around, ducked down, and grabbed her by the legs. Then I hoisted her into the air with all my might. She flew a good four meters straight up.
“Can you do that in Manaus?!” I yelled.
She flailed in the air and reached the top of her arc. I grabbed my acetylene tank from the ground as she began her trip down. She had no way to avoid what came next.
I swung as hard as I could. I made sure not to hit her head—I didn’t want to kill her. I ended up tagging her left shin. She cried out in pain and landed in a heap on the ground. But, to her credit, she got right back up again. She started toward me.
“Stop!” I held out my hand. “This is ridiculous. Your smelter’s getting hotter and hotter. You’re a chemist. Do the math. Will you just come with me?!”
“You can’t just—” She stopped. She turned slowly toward the smelter. The lower half of it glowed dark red. “Oh…my God…”
She spun back to me. “Where’s that exit again?”