“Anyone who makes you money is a friend,” Lene said. “I learned that from Dad. Besides, she helped save your life like four days ago. Maybe you guys are even now?”
I folded my arms. “This is going to bite you in the ass, Lene. She can’t be trusted.”
“Oh, I don’t trust her. I just need her. Big difference.” She cocked her head at the doorway. “Ngugi says KSC’s eager to get oxygen production back online. The city won’t be too strict with safety regulations. Weird, huh? You’d think they’d get more picky, not less.”
“Sanchez in charge…” I sighed. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I came up with the plan.”
“Well, neither was knocking out the whole city. Plans change.” She checked her watch. “I have to get to a conference call. Good luck in there. Let me know if I can help.”
She hobbled away. I watched her go for a moment. She seemed taller than before. Probably a trick of the light.
I took a deep breath and walked into Ngugi’s office.
Ngugi sat behind her desk. She glared at me over her glasses. “Have a seat.”
I closed the door and sat in the chair opposite her.
“I think you know what I have to do, Jasmine. And it isn’t easy for me.” She slid a piece of paper across the desk. I recognized the form—I’d seen it a few days earlier in Rudy’s office. It was a formal deportation order.
“Yeah, I know what you have to do,” I said. “You have to thank me.”
“You must be joking.”
“Thanks, Jazz,” I said. “Thanks for keeping O Palácio from taking over. Thanks for eliminating an outdated contract that would have stood in the way of a massive economic boom. Thanks for sacrificing yourself to save Artemis. Here’s a trophy.”
“Jasmine, you’re going back to Saudi Arabia.” She tapped the deportation order. “We won’t press charges, and we’ll cover your living expenses until you adjust to Earth gravity. But that’s the best I can do.”
“After everything I just did for you? You’ll just chuck me out with yesterday’s trash?”
“It’s not something I want to do, Jasmine. I have to do it. We need to present ourselves as a community that lives under the rule of law. It’s more important now than ever before, because the ZAFO industry is coming. If people think their investments can be blown up without the perpetrator facing justice they won’t invest here at all.”
“They don’t have a choice,” I said. “We’re the only city on the moon.”
“We’re not irreplaceable. We’re just convenient,” she said. “If ZAFO companies don’t think they can trust us, they’ll make their own lunar city. One that protects its businesses. I’m grateful for what you’ve done, but I have to sacrifice you for the good of the city.”
I pulled out a paper of my own and slid it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“My confession,” I said. “Notice I left out any mention of you, the Landviks, or anyone else. It’s just me. I signed it at the bottom.”
She gave me a puzzled look. “You’re helping me deport you?”
“No. I’m giving you a ‘Deport Jazz for Free’ card. You’re going to put that in a drawer somewhere and keep it for emergencies.”
“But I’m deporting you right now.”
“No, you’re not.” I leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs.
“Why not?”
“Everyone seems to forget this, but I’m a smuggler. Not a saboteur, not an action hero, not a city planner. A smuggler. I worked hard to set up my operation and it runs smoothly. In the beginning I had competition. But not anymore. I drove them out of business by having lower prices, better service, and a reputation for keeping my word.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You must be going somewhere with this, but I don’t see where.”
“Have you ever seen guns in Artemis? Other than the one you have in your desk, I mean?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“How about hard drugs? Heroin? Opium? That sort of thing?”
“Not at any scale,” she said. “Sometimes Rudy catches a tourist with a personal stash but it’s rare.”
“Ever wonder why that shit doesn’t get into town?” I pointed to my chest. “Because I don’t let it. No drugs, no guns. And I have a bunch of other rules too. I keep flammables to a minimum. And no live plants. Last thing we need is some weird mold infestation.”
“Yes, you’re very ethical, but—”
“What happens when I’m gone?” I asked. “Do you think smuggling will just stop? No. There’ll be a short power vacuum then someone else will take over. No idea who. But will they be as civic-minded as me? Probably not.”
She raised an eyebrow.
I pressed on. “This city’s about to have a ZAFO boom. There’s going to be jobs galore, construction, and an influx of workers. There’ll be new customers for every business in town. New companies will open to keep up with the demand. The population will spike. You’ve already got estimates, right?”
She peered at me for a moment. “I think we’ll have ten thousand people within the year.”
“There ya go,” I said. “More people means more demand for contraband. Thousands of people who might want drugs. Shitloads of money flying around, which means more crime. Those criminals will want guns. They’ll try to sneak them in through whatever smuggling system and black market is in place. What kind of city do you want Artemis to be?”
She pinched her chin. “That’s…a very good point.”
“All right. So, you have my confession. That’ll keep me from getting out of line. Checks and balances and all that.”
She thought about this for an uncomfortably long time. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled the deportation order off her desk and put it in a drawer. I sighed in relief.
“We still have the problem of punishment, though…” She leaned forward to her antiquated keyboard computer and began typing. She ran her finger along the screen. “According to this, your account balance is 585,966 slugs.”
“Yeah…why?”
“I thought Lene paid you a million.”
“How did you kno—never mind. I paid off a debt recently. Why is this relevant?”
“I think some restitution is in order. A fine, if you will.”
“What?!” I sat bolt-upright. “Artemis doesn’t have fines!”
“Call it a ‘voluntary contribution to the city’s funds.’?”
“There’s nothing ‘voluntary’ about it!”
“Sure there is.” She settled back into her chair. “You can keep all your money and get deported instead.”
Ugh. Well, this was a win for me. I could always make more money, but I couldn’t get un-deported. And she had a point. If she didn’t punish me, any asshole could do what I did and expect to get away with it. I’d have to take a slap on the wrist. “Okay. How much?”
“Five hundred fifty thousand slugs should cover it.”
I gasped. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
She smirked. “It’s like you said. I need you to control smuggling. If you have a bunch of money, you might retire. And then where would I be? It’s best to keep you hungry.”
Logically I came out way ahead. I’d cleared my conscience. But still, the prospect of my account balance going from six digits to five physically hurt.
“Oh!” She smiled with a realization. “And thanks for volunteering yourself as Artemis’s unpaid, unofficial, import regulatory body. Of course, I’ll hold you responsible for any dangerous contraband in town, regardless of how it got here. So, if some other smuggler crops up and lets guns or drugs in, you can expect a chat with me.”
I stared blankly. She stared back.
“I’ll expect that slug transfer by the end of the day,” she said.
My bluster was completely gone. I stood from the chair and walked over to the door. When I reached for the door handle, I paused.
“What’s the endgame here?” I asked. “Once the ZAFO companies start up, what happens then?”
“The next big step is taxes.”
“Taxes?” I snorted. “People come here because they don’t want to pay taxes.”