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Jazz Bashara is a criminal. Well, sort of. Life on Artemis, the first and only city on the moon, is tough if you're not a rich tourist or an eccentric billionaire. So smuggling in the occasional harmless bit of contraband barely counts, right? Not when you've got debts to pay and your job as a porter barely covers the rent. Everything changes when Jazz sees the chance to commit the perfect crime, with a reward too lucrative to turn down. But pulling off the impossible is just the start of her problems, as she learns that she's stepped square into a conspiracy for control of Artemis itself—and that now, her only chance at survival lies in a gambit even riskier than the first.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2017 by Andy Weir All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Crown, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. crownpublishing.com CROWN is a registered trademark and the Crown colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available upon request. Hardcover ISBN 9780553448122 Ebook ISBN 9780553448139 International Edition ISBN 9780525572664 Maps by David Lindroth, Inc. Cover design by Will Staehle Cover image: Kovalto1/Shutterstock v5.1 ep
Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Dedication Maps
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Acknowledgments About the Author
For Michael Collins, Dick Gordon, Jack Swigert, Stu Roosa, Al Worden, Ken Mattingly, and Ron Evans. Because those guys don’t get nearly enough credit.
I bounded over the gray, dusty terrain toward the huge dome of Conrad Bubble. Its airlock, ringed with red lights, stood distressingly far away. It’s hard to run with a hundred kilograms of gear on—even in lunar gravity. But you’d be amazed how fast you can hustle when your life is on the line. Bob ran beside me. His voice came over the radio: “Let me connect my tanks to your suit!” “That’ll just get you killed too.” “The leak’s huge,” he huffed. “I can see the gas escaping your tanks.” “Thanks for the pep talk.” “I’m the EVA master here,” Bob said. “Stop right now and let me crossconnect!” “Negative.” I kept running. “There was a pop right before the leak alarm. Metal fatigue. Got to be the valve assembly. If you cross-connect you’ll puncture your line on a jagged edge.” “I’m willing to take that risk!” “I’m not willing to let you,” I said. “Trust me on this, Bob. I know metal.” I switched to long, even hops. It felt like slow motion, but it was the best way to move with all that weight. My helmet’s heads-up display said the airlock was fiftytwo meters away. I glanced at my arm readouts. My oxygen reserve plummeted while I watched. So I stopped watching. The long strides paid off. I was really hauling ass now. I even left Bob behind, and he’s the most skilled EVA master on the moon. That’s the trick: Add more forward momentum every time you touch the ground. But that also means each hop is a tricky affair. If you screw up, you’ll face-plant and slide along the ground.
EVA suits are tough, but it’s best not to grind them against regolith. “You’re going too fast! If you trip you could crack your faceplate!” “Better than sucking vacuum,” I said. “I’ve got maybe ten seconds.” “I’m way behind you,” he said. “Don’t wait for me.” I only realized how fast I was going when the triangular plates of Conrad filled my view. They were growing very quickly. “Shit!” No time to slow down. I made