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“No, Dad.” I shook my head. “No running away. Saudi Arabia’s your old neighborhood but it’s not mine. There’s nothing for me there but gravity sickness. Artemis is my home. I’m not leaving and I’m sure as hell not letting mobsters take over.”
He sat back down. He gave me a mean look, but didn’t leave. That was something, at least.
“Tell them about the plan!” Svoboda said. “I have all the visual aids ready!”
“All right, all right. Bring up the schematics.”
He tapped his Gizmo a few times and the projector showed architectural plans. The text in the title box read SANCHEZ ALUMINUM SMELTER BUBBLE—METALLURGICAL ANALYSIS.
I pointed to the screen. “The smelter bubble is much smaller than a municipal bubble. It’s only thirty meters across. But it still has the same double-hull construction as any other bubble. Wherever there are humans, KSC requires double hulls.”
I walked in front of the screen and pointed to features as I spoke. “Over here is the control room. It’s got a big window overlooking the facility, so I’ll have to be sneaky.”
“Is the control room its own air compartment?” Dad asked.
“No, it shares air with the rest of the facility. They have to access the main floor so often they didn’t want an air-seal door in their way—that’s my assumption, anyway. They have an air shelter in the control room if anything goes wrong. And if the train is docked they can just go in there too.”
“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.”
