The asteroid finished up its arc smack against Drake's ship. Like a gigantic hammer it smashed and crumpled the plates and the heat of the collision flashed into brilliant orange. The two boys on Drake's side, for once not stopping for orders, had left but they had forgotten about their lines. When the mass of rock hit, they were jerked like live fish on the ends of leaders. We heard them scream through the mike and then they were silent. I laughed; I couldn't help it, desperate as the situation was. Dirty Dudley was really getting smeared--but good. In the meanwhile Outhouse had wasted neither energy nor purpose in gathering Drake in while his attention was concentrated on ducking. Dirty Dudley didn't have a chance. I caught the paralyzer as it flew my way. But I didn't need it. Drake was out. Murphy had clonked him on the helmet with a metal-clad excavator. I was avenged. Listless got the tail under control and brought the rock in the usual way. He swung it nicely over our heads and put it nicely next to us. I didn't even duck. Then he opened the lock and came across. There were two other men with him. "What happened?" he asked. I told him. He went over and took a look at Drake and stirred him with his foot. "Good thing I brought witnesses," he remarked. Then he introduced us to the other two and told us that they were interested in starting a brewery around our private light. "It would have been very nice," said Parker, the senior partner, "to get away from Drake. He was slowly driving us out of business. Now of course, he won't offer any trouble. So I guess we'll stick to Earth." My heart sank. "Just the same, I like it out here. How about letting me take over one of your planets for a private home?" It was a thought. Private homes, private grounds, private planets. No looking over your neighbor's fences. Sure. The hell with the beer. We'd go in for real estate. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Beer-Trust Busters, by A. R. Stuart