Artemis

“Yes. Not here, but it’s safe.”

“Thank God.” He loosened up a bit. “Where is it?”

“First tell me what ZAFO is.”

He winced. “It’s kind of secret.”

“We’re past secrets now.”

He looked truly pained. “It’s just…it cost a lot of money to make that sample. We had to launch a dedicated satellite with a centrifuge to grow it in low-Earth orbit. I’ll be super-duper fired if I go home without it.”

“Fuck your job. People got murdered! Tell me why!”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

“Apologize to Lene Landvik,” I said. “She’s the crippled teenager who’s now an orphan.”

Tears formed in his eyes. “No…I have to apologize to you too.”

The door opened again. Lefty stepped in. His right arm still hung in a sling. His left arm, however, held a knife that could gut me like a trout.

I shook all over. I wasn’t sure if it was terror or rage. “You son of a bitch!”

“I’m so sorry,” Jin Chu sobbed. “They were gonna kill me. This was the only way I got to live.”

I clicked the trigger and the blowtorch flamed to life. I held it out at arm’s length toward the approaching Lefty. “Which part of your face you want crème brûléed, asshole?”

“You make it hard, I make it hurt,” said Lefty. He had a thick accent. “This can be quick. Doesn’t have to hurt.”

Jin Chu covered his face and cried. “And I’m going to get fired too!”

“Goddammit!” I yelled to him. “Will you stop whining about your problems during my murder?!”

I grabbed a pipe from the workbench. There was something weird about being on the moon fighting for your life with a stick and some fire.

Lefty knew if he lunged I could block with the pipe and give him a face full of blowtorch. What he didn’t know was that I had a more complicated plan.

I swung the pipe with all my strength at a wall-mounted valve. The resounding metal-on-metal clank was followed by the scream of high-pressure air. The valve shot across the room and smacked into the far wall.

While Lefty paused to consider why the hell I’d done that, I leapt to the ceiling (not hard here—the average person can jump three meters straight up). At the top of my arc, I blasted a fire sensor with the blowtorch.

Red lights blinked and the fire alarm blared throughout the room. The door slammed shut behind Jin Chu. He jerked around in shock.

As soon as I hit the ground, I bounded into the air shelter and slammed the door behind me. Lefty was hot on my heels, but he didn’t catch up in time. I spun the crank to seal myself in. Then I jammed the pipe into the crank spokes and held on to the other end.

Lefty tried to turn the crank from the other side, but he couldn’t overcome my leverage advantage.

He glared at me through the air shelter’s small round window. I flipped him off.

I could see Jin Chu clawing at the door, trying to get out. Of course it was no use. It was a fireproof room’s door—solid metal and clamped shut with a mechanical interlock that could only be opened from the outside.

The foggy airflow from the broken valve slowed and petered out. Dad’s wall valves connected to gas cylinders that he refilled every month.

Lefty stormed to the workbench and grabbed a long, steel rod. He came back to my shelter, breathing heavily. I got ready for a life-or-death game of circular tug-o-war.

He panted and wheezed as he stuck the rod into the handle. He pushed hard, but I was able to hold firm. By all rights, he should have won—he was bigger, stronger, and had better leverage. But I had one thing he didn’t: oxygen.

The gas that had just filled the room? Neon. Dad had wall-mounted neon valves because he used it so much when welding aluminum.