“Don’t get caught.”
I flipped my mask down. “Everybody’s a comedian.”
I got to cutting. The inner hull was the same as the outer hull: six centimeters of aluminum. And just like the outer hull, the cut only took a couple of minutes. This time I beveled the cut so the plug would fall outward instead of in. I didn’t have a choice on the outer hull, but as a rule I prefer flesh-boilingly hot metal to fall away from me.
I waited for the plug to finish its slow fall to the ground, then peeked inside.
The factory floor was a large hemisphere full of industrial machinery. The smelter dominated the center of the room. It stood a good ten meters tall, surrounded by pipes, power lines, and monitoring systems.
I couldn’t see the control room from my vantage point. The smelter was in the way. That wasn’t a coincidence, by the way. I picked that part of the hull specifically because it was in a blind spot. No matter how absorbed the staff might be with work, it’s unlikely that twenty-four people would all fail to notice a flaming hole in the wall.
I poked my head through the hole to get a look around. Without thinking, I put my hand on the edge for balance.
“Fuck!” I snapped my hand back and shook it.
“Welding torches make things hot,” Dale said.
I grimaced and checked for damage. My palm was a little red but it would be fine.
“You all right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I just wish you hadn’t seen me do that.”
“We saw it too!” said Svoboda’s voice.
“Super,” I said. “And on that note, I’m hanging up. I’ll let you know when the deed is done.”
I cut the connection.
I stepped through the opening, being very sure not to touch the edges again. Dale handed my duffel through. But when I tried to take it, he held on.
“You know,” he said. “This hole isn’t big enough for me to get through with my EVA suit on. If something goes wrong, I won’t be able to help you.”
“I know,” I said.
“Be careful.”
I nodded and pulled the duffel away. He watched from the hole while I snuck over to the smelter.
The unit itself wasn’t much to look at. Just a big block with heavy metal pipes leading in and out. A bucket conveyor rose through a hole in the floor and fed anorthite grit to a hopper atop the smelter. Inside, a maelstrom of heat, electricity, and chemistry turned rocks into metals. But the outside was calm, slightly warm to the touch, and had a gentle hum.
I sat on the ground and peeked around the corner.
The control room looked out over the facility. Through the large glass windows I could see the staff going about their workday. Some sat at computers while others walked about with tablets. The entire back wall was covered with monitors showing every detail of the facility and its process.
One woman was clearly in charge. People came to her, spoke briefly, and she gave quick answers. That’s a boss. I estimated her age at around fifty, and she had a Latino complexion. She turned to speak to someone and I finally saw her face. It was Loretta Sanchez. I recognized her from the pictures I’d seen online while researching the company.
She was the one who designed the smelter. She’d started Sanchez Aluminum. And she was so thoroughly owned by O Palácio, she might as well have had a collar on. Interesting that someone like her would be in the trenches with her employees instead of in a comfy Aldrin office.
The other employees were just…people. No horns or black capes. No cackling with steepled fingers. Just a bunch of working schmoes.
I crawled to the other end of the smelter, but that was as far as I could go. The thermal control systems were visible from the control room. I called Bob on my Gizmo.
“Go,” said Bob.
“I’m in position. Release the train.”
“Affirm.” He hung up.