Artemis

I paused briefly just in case anyone wanted to argue that point. No one did. “Look, we’ve got a lot of planning to do so let’s cut the bullshit. Bob: You’re a marine. You spent half your life protecting the United States. Now Artemis is your home and it’s in danger. Will you protect it?”

That hit him where it counted. I could see it in his face.

I walked over to my father. “Dad, do it because this is the only way to save your daughter’s life.”

He pursed his lips. “Sleazy tactic, Jasmine.”

I turned to Dale. “Do I even need to explain why you have to do it?”

Dale dodged the question by gesturing to Billy for another beer. “You’re not a complete asshole, Jazz. I assume you have a plan to keep the workers from getting hurt?”

Bob raised his hand. “And how will you get into the bubble? Even without mail-order goons on the way, Sanchez has tight security.”

“And what about the safety systems?” Svoboda asked. “I looked over the schematics your Earth buddy sent. The smelter has three redundant temperature-control systems and a fail-safe copper melt plug.”

“And why do you need me at all?” Dad asked.

“All right, all right.” I put out my hands. “I can answer all of that. But first I need to know: Are we done with the convincing part? Are we all on board?”

The room fell silent. Even Billy stopped his morning prep to see how it played out.

“I’m not convinced you’re right,” Bob said. “But I can’t risk Artemis having the future you described. And they killed two of our people. I’m in.”

Dad nodded. “In.”

“You know I’m in,” said Svoboda. “I love a good caper!”

“Me too,” said Lene. “I mean…the being in part. I’m undecided on capers.”

“This buys me off,” Dale said. “Done with the guilt about Tyler. No more of that shit.”

I frowned. “I can’t just stop being mad.”

“No, but you can stop wallowing in it. And you can talk to me like a normal human being.” He swigged his beer without breaking eye contact. “That’s my price.”

“Fine,” I said. I wasn’t sure how I’d accomplish that, but for the sake of the city I had to swallow my pride.

—

Bob used his towering form and military bearing to clear a path through the Port of Entry. Dad and I followed behind, pushing a cartful of welding supplies.

I spotted Trigger in his parking space. I hadn’t had opportunity to use him lately. I didn’t have time for deliveries during all the chaos my life had become. I missed the little guy. Maybe I’d drive him around just for the hell of it when this was all over.

Bob led us to one corner of the huge chamber. He’d set up temporary walls. We went around them and into the ad-hoc workroom.

“I hope this’ll do,” said Bob. He gestured to the detached air shelter in the center of the room. “It’s the biggest one I could find.”

The cylindrical pressure vessel had a single manual hatch and four air tanks. On the back, there was a battery system to power internal fans and a chemical CO2-absorption system. Over the main hatch a sign read MAX CAPACITY: 4 PERSONS. MAX DURATION: 72 HOURS.

“Where did you get it?” Dad asked warily.

“My house. It’s my own family emergency shelter.”

“Shit,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that, Bob.”

“I knew Ammar wouldn’t want me stealing one. Besides, you’ll buy me a new one.”

“Apparently I will.” Dammit. That’d set me back a few thousand slugs for sure.