"So how did you get this?"
"It fell off a pile of scrap being carried to a recycle container by a bot in the limited-access side room just as a supervisor entered. It rolled, unseen by everyone but me, out the open door and wound up under a parts cart. I was just fortunate to be passing at the time. I waited until the shift was changing and retrieved it when no one was watching. Good thing they don't perform cavity searches. They rely on simply having all employees strip and discard their disposable overalls. We're then passed through showers before being allowed to enter the locker room, naked, where our regular clothes are stored."
The man looked at the woman and then down at the sample in his hand. A look of disgust shrouded his face.
"Don't worry, it's clean," the woman said with a scowl. "I washed it off after I took it out. Damn thing hurt like hell. I bled for a week afterwards."
"You're being well compensated."
"Speaking of which," the woman said, "when do I get what you promised?"
The man grimaced and said, "How did you get this through the screening machines at the skyport?"
"I told the inspector it gave me peace of mind when I walked the streets of Boston. If anybody attacked me, I swung it at them. He could see it wasn't dangerous in any other way. He even suggested I get myself a heavier piece of metal."
Gadobi grunted and said, "Wait here. We have to verify this is what you say it is before we discuss payment.
He stood and dropped the composite material into a side pocket before carefully knocking the glowing embers from the end of his cheroot. After patting the tip to ensure he had extinguished it, he slipped it into a vest pocket and left the room by a side door.
Not knowing how long the purported verification process would take, Dawn Palmer stepped around the desk and sat down in the room's only chair. There was no doubt in her mind the small ingot was genuine. She had been working at the orbiting Jupiter foundry since the first material had rolled off the line.
The manufacturing process requires such tremendous energy that locating such operations next to a planet whose 'atmo' is predominantly hydrogen makes perfect sense. Automated hydrogen collection ships with enormous intake scoops continuously dip into the atmosphere and suck in their fill. Tank farms surrounding the planet complete the gas separation processes and are always ready to deliver the cheap and abundant fuel to any of the millions of manufacturing concerns located around the planet. The only downside is that employees have to live at the plant. Being able to get dirt-side on Earth only once a month means that each trip is welcomed with great enthusiasm.
Civilian employees of companies producing controlled products exclusively for Space Command are required to pass an intensive background investigation. Palmer never imagined she could betray the trust placed in her. She'd always felt there wasn't enough money in the universe to 'turn' her— but they had found something that would.
Now in her fifties, her once youthful and attractive looks were beginning to fade. When notified she had been selected to receive a free weekend at a plush resort that specialized in beauty rejuvenation, she jumped at the opportunity. The two days at the spa were wonderful. It wasn't the pampering by resort personnel trained to engage in excessive cosseting— it was the rejuvenation processes that made her look twenty years younger. Unfortunately, within a week of returning home, the wrinkles reappeared and her skin again began to take on a sallow look.
Before her next trip dirt-side, she received a note from the company that had offered the free spa weekend. A representative invited her to come in and discuss a membership at a greatly reduced price.
Upon arriving on Earth, Palmer had anxiously hurried to the address she'd been provided. Rather than the exquisite office complex she'd seen on the company's computer site, she found a simple office in a small commercial building. The salesperson, Brandon Hines according to the nameplate on his desk, was the only person in evidence in the office. He explained that most memberships were purchased electronically, so there was no need for fancy quarters or a large office staff. Through electronic manipulation of images taken during her visit to the spa, he showed her how a series of treatments could not only enhance her appearance but actually restore her youthful looks on a permanent basis. The promise of looking youthful for a lifetime was a hook she couldn't ignore. The salesperson even used the expression 'Fountain of Youth' repeatedly.
Dawn Palmer was ready to sign on the dotted line before the salesperson had even produced a contract. But when she learned the price, she pulled back.
"You can't be serious," she said.
"I'm completely serious," Hines said. "The youth restoration program is brand new and, until now, only a few women have received it. They mostly include the wealthiest women on the planet."
"Such as who?" Palmer asked.
"I can't name our customers without their permission, but there is one well known person who received it and for whom the fact was made known to the public."
"And who is that?"
"Admiral Jenetta Carver."
"Carver? But her treatment was performed by Raiders without her permission."
"Yes, that's true. That's where we 'borrowed' the process," Hines said. "Our lead scientist was part of the team that did the original research here on Earth. When he learned the research company was a front for the Raider organization, he got scared. He feigned a debilitating illness that forced his retirement from the team. Fearing for his life if the Raiders discovered his ruse, he went into hiding until after the Raiders took all the research work off-world; however, he maintained contact with a couple of close associates and they kept him informed on where they were focusing their efforts because they needed help in his area of expertise. The other scientists got the help they needed and our guy learned enough to refine the procedure here on Earth. Now, if you have enough money you can bathe in our Fountain of Youth. We know you can't afford to participate monetarily, but your position at the Jupiter Foundry Works can buy your way into the program."
"No, I won't betray Space Command." Palmer wanted to get up and run, but the attraction of what she was being offered kept her rooted to the chair.
"I'm not asking you to betray anybody and I'm not asking for any secrets. I simply want a small scrap of the new material being made at the JFW."
"Why?"
"Delcorado Engineering owns The Gardens of Venus Spas. Have you heard of them?"
"They make weapons for the military, don't they?"
"Exactly right. The military is letting all their contracts expire now that they have this new 'so-called' indestructible material. Delcorado will have to shut down their plants and furlough tens of thousands of employees if they can't produce new weapons as rugged as those made by JFW. After Space Command selected JFW to produce the material for their ships, they awarded them dozens of other contracts to produce military weapons and related products. If Delcorado can get a small sample of the material, they can reverse-engineer it and compete with JFW on ruggedness and durability. You'll actually be doing a public service. As long as JFW is the only company with access to the material, there is no competition to keep the price down. Taxpayers are getting hosed without any say in the matter."
"I work for JFW. Aside from the security issues, if I do something to harm company earnings, I could lose my job."
"Once you look twenty-one again, like Jenetta Carver, you won't need that job. You'll be able to pick from thousands of employers who have a need for the most beautiful women on the planet. And you won't be stuck at Jupiter anymore. You can live on Earth full-time, instead of for just a few days each month."
"I'll— I'll have to think about it," Palmer heard herself saying.
"You do that." Hines slid a small piece of paper towards her. It contained only a phone number. "Call if you get what we want. If you deliver, you'll look twenty-one for the rest of your life. And your beauty will stop men in their tracks."
Palmer stood without saying another word and left the spa sal
es office. She walked trancelike as she returned to the hotel where she'd spend the next few days before returning to Jupiter. She couldn't stop imagining herself as young again and more beautiful than she'd ever dreamed possible.
* * *
Gadobi, after descending to the basement, unlocked a door and descended another two floors. He then began a trek through a tunnel that took him two city blocks. Upon passing through the final door of five, he emerged in a large lab. He passed several technicians monitoring equipment processes and approached the lead technician.
"Here it is," Gadobi said, holding out the cylindrical piece of material.
The tech stopped what he was doing and took it from Gadobi's hand. "It's light," he said. "I expected it to be heavier. You'd think it should be extremely dense to accomplish what it purportedly can do."
"Yeah. Whatever," Gadobi said, as he took the cheroot he had extinguished in the upstairs room and relit it. "Just test it."
"I've told you not to smoke in here," the tech said. "The smoke interferes with our testing processes."
"Too damn bad. Now test the freaking sample."
"Yeah. Whatever," the tech said as he carried the sample to a large piece of equipment on a work table and lifted the cover. He clamped the material into a jig and closed the lid. At a monitor, he aligned the equipment using a double set of crosshairs and pushed the power switch. A laser beam shot out and struck the object where he had placed the crosshairs. Over the next five minutes he watched the monitor as the laser tried to punch its way through the sample. When it failed to make the slightest dent, he powered down the laser and lifted the cover. He placed a probe against the sample and shook his head. Then he reached out and removed it from the clamping assembly.
"Amazing," the tech said, "not even warm to the touch."
"Is that it then?" Gadobi asked.
"Not just yet, but it's looking real good."
The tech took the sample to another large piece of equipment and opened the two doors at the front. After clamping the material in place, he closed the doors and moved to the control pad. He watched through a dense black glass window as a plasma torch tried to cut through the sample. By now, the other techs in the room had come over to watch. After ten minutes, the tech shut the plasma torch down and removed the sample.
"Astounding! It's barely warm. I've never seen anything like this."
"Is that it then?" Gadobi asked.
"That's it. It's what we've been trying to get our hands on ever since we heard about it."
Gadobi walked to a phone and placed a call. The lead tech could only hear one side of the conversation.
"Gadobi here. We have it."
"Yes, it's been tested and certified as genuine by our people."
"What about the woman?" he asked after a brief pause.
"Okay," he said after another thirty seconds had elapsed, then hung up.
Gadobi placed another call immediately. When someone answered, he asked, "Anything going on outside?" After a couple of seconds he said, "Good. Keep your eyes open," then hung up. Dropping the stump of his cheroot to the floor and crushing it under his shoe to extinguish it, Gadobi said to the lead tech, "You know what to do." He then began his trek back to the house where Palmer was waiting.
* * *
"Are you satisfied it's real?" Palmer asked, coming up out of her reverie as she vacated the chair.
Gadobi, having just climbed three flights of stairs, was out of breath. He dropped heavily into his chair and pulled out a fresh cheroot. He lit up, took several puffs, and then leaned back in the chair.
Palmer waited for him to say something.
When Gadobi was breathing easier, he said, "Okay, it's seems to be the real thing."
"And my payment?" Palmer said anxiously.
Gadobi unlocked the desk and pulled out a boarding pass. "Here's your ticket to Earth Station 3. Someone will meet you there and give you a boarding pass for the flight out."
"A flight to where?" she asked as she accepted the small folder.
"To where you'll get what we agreed on— a passport to the Fountain of Youth and a new life."
"Where's that? I have to be back at work in three days."
"You won't be going back. The initial process takes weeks and, during that phase, you're unable to perform any work. The complete changes take years to complete."
"Years? How many years?"
"I'm told eight to ten years, but the major changes happen the first year. In any event, during the first few weeks of treatment you mostly sleep unless you're in prime condition to begin with."
"Why wasn't I told? I would have packed up my stuff and quit my job. All my personal possessions are at Jupiter. And people will wonder what happened to me. Someone will notify the Police."
"Your appearance will change so much that no one will ever recognize you and you'll get a new ID. You'll also get other things such as a new wardrobe that better suits your new body and custom jewelry that will suit your twenty-one year-old appearance. It will all be yours when you've completed the initial phase."
Palmer's eyes glazed over slightly as she thought about having a designer wardrobe for the first time in her life and a jewelry case full of expensive jewelry. "Uh, okay," she managed to squeak out.
"You have your ticket and you're ready to begin your new life," Gadobi said. "You know the way out."
Palmer turned and left the room without looking back.
* * *
Palmer slid her credits card through the payment machine in the rear of the driverless cab and hurried into the skyport terminal to catch her flight. She almost made it to the departure gate before two large men appeared at her sides and took hold of her arms. One flashed a badge as they lifted her and pivoted to walk towards a sidewall where a third agent stood holding open the door to the security hallway. None of them said a word as she was half carried and half dragged to an interrogation room. She didn't fight them. The SCI badge and the size of the agents was enough to show her that resistance would be futile.
"I want a lawyer," she said nervously as they deposited her in a chair.
The interrogation room only had a table and two chairs.
"Do you believe you need one?" one of the agents asked, as he took the seat across the table from her.
The other agent stood against the wall near the only door.
"I want a lawyer. I know my rights," Palmer said.
"Maybe there won't be a need—," the first agent said, "if you cooperate. I have a recording of a phone conversation. It was made a little over a half-hour ago. Tell me if anyone sounds familiar."
The agent slipped a data ring into a playback unit on the table in front of her and selected a file from the com display. It began playing through speakers mounted at the ceiling in all four corners of the room. Palmer expected to hear her own voice, but instead she heard the voices of two men. She instantly recognized Gadobi's raspy voice, but the other was unfamiliar.
"…Gadobi here. We have it."
"Are you sure?" the second voice said. "Has it been certified?"
"Yes, it's been tested and certified as genuine by our people."
"Finally. This will get Arneu off my back. He reams me out daily because I haven't been able to get a sample of that damn material."
"What about the woman?"
"Follow the plan. Give her the ticket and send her on her way to the Fountain of Youth. As soon as she boards the ship at Earth Station 3, she'll be drugged and put into stasis. When she reaches the lab we'll process her as promised, then put her on a ship to the resort. When she finally wakes up, she'll look twenty-one again and have a body to die for."
Palmer smiled.
"Then we'll wipe her mind," the voice continued, "and put her to work for us." Palmer's smile withered as she heard an evil chuckle. The voice continued with, "No one will ever be able to track her down and interrogate her. And we have a never-ending need for beautiful, compliant whores we don't have to keep drugged. It's easier to
make our own from the 'plain janes' that come to us willingly than kidnapping beautiful women the way we used to."
"Okay..." Palmer heard Gadobi say as the conversation ended.
"In case you didn't realize it, they were talking about you," the agent said.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you do. If you cooperate, we'll put you into witness protection. We'll even let you go, if that's really what you want, and help you catch your ride."
Palmer looked at him suspiciously. "Why would you do that?"
"If we let you meet the ship, we're sure you'll never commit a crime in GA space again. Plus we won't have to feed, clothe, and keep you healthy for the rest of your life. The Raiders will do that for us."
"What do you mean, Raiders?"
"Who do you think you've been working for?"
Palmer was beginning to understand she had been duped. "Delcorado Engineering," she said. "They said they needed a sample of the material because Space Command is letting all their regular military contracts expire. They need the material to compete in a difficult market by making more durable weapons and support products."
"Delcorado Engineering has nothing to do with this outfit. And contracts for old products expire all the time as contracts for new products are signed. Delcorado is a prime contractor and important supplier of military supplies to Space Command. They're not losing any business or shutting any plants. In fact, the current situation in Region Two has tripled their business."
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