"Uh uh. No good. I've already felt him out on that. I had the same idea last night, so I came right out and asked him if he'd settle for fifty acres apiece.... He refused. Oh, he was nice enough about it. But he gave me to understand it was all or nothing with him." "I'm hungry," Billy said. Claude looked at his wife. "So am I. Let's go over to the mess hall. That's where the Whitings went, I think." "Claude?" "Yes, Joan." "Let's not sit with them, if we meet them there." "All right, honey. Let's not." They were halfway to the door when Leon Stubbs came out of the inner office. He smiled. "Mind stepping inside a moment?" he said. When Claude hesitated, he added: "Perhaps Mrs. Marshall had better come in too." They followed him inside where the Director indicated two chairs alongside the desk. "I've been checking your claims," he said. "And since you were still here, I didn't think it advisable to prolong the suspense." Claude glanced at his wife. "You mean it's all right ... the land is ours?" The Director sat down and spread open a pair of folders on the desk. For a long while he stared at them--comparing them. He shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Marshall. I'm afraid it isn't all right." "But our claim. It's valid, isn't it?" Leon Stubbs ran a hand through his greying hair. "I don't know," he said. "Naturally the fault for processing duplicate claims lies with the colonization bureau in Washington. Eventually, I suppose it will be up to them to decide on the disposition of this case.... However, because of the time-lag in communications, I have full authority to pass down temporary decisions in matters of this type.... And because Mr. Whiting's claim is dated several days ahead of yours, I must in all fairness award the land to him.... You and your wife can appeal that decision of course." "We'll appeal, Mr. Stubbs," Claude said angrily. "After all, this mess is the government's fault. Not ours! It's up to them to straighten it out." "That's up to you," Leon Stubbs said. "Although I'm sure you realize that in the meantime you'll have to make some temporary arrangements." "Temporary arrangements?" "Yes, Mr. Marshall. Even assuming the government decides in your favor--which I doubt--you'll have to live _somewhere_ while the case is being processed.... And that will take some time." "How long?" Leon Stubbs shuffled through the papers again. "You know about the time-lag, don't you?" "No. What about the time-lag?" The Director met his stare. "I thought you knew. Actually the only communication we have with Terra short of space travel, is by short wave radio, and radio waves as you may know travel at approximately the speed of light. Since we are approximately 4.4 light-years away from Earth, a round trip message to Washington would take about nine years. This of course does not take into consideration the time needed to process your case."