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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.
