Free Rocket from Infinity by Lester del Rey Page B

been reflected, and as he ate his dinner and got into bed, Pete wondered about advancing years and their affect on people. He never talked about such things and even his father was not aware of this serious streak in his nature. But it was not beyond Pete’s scope to think about such things. The older people got, it seemed to him, the less sure of themselves they became.
    It followed then, he thought, that fathers got comfort and satisfaction from seeing themselves in their sons; that a son listening to his father and gaining from the experience and wisdom of years was not just a smart thing to do. It was a duty.
    As he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts went elsewhere; back to his day with the crazy Barrys. That bunch’ll get me in trouble, he told himself. Stay clear of them.
    But even at that point, a small voice deep inside told him it might not work out that way.
    Pete slept five hours and when he opened his eyes, he was wide awake. The house was still except for Betcha’s healthy snores. The racket was helpful in a way. It covered the small sounds Pete made as he got dressed, left the house, and headed for his new-found claim. He fed the data he remembered into his finder and set his course. And even though he was sure of his figures, he was still relieved when, two hours later, the cone-shaped asteroid came into view on the sun-side just as it had appeared previously.
    Resolving to let nothing divert him from his job this time, he set down on the broad, flat surface and again went to work on the orbit. This being the second time around, the operation went faster. But it was still three hours before he finished filling in the second form and lifted his monocar into the Parma arc.
    He had some bad luck in transit. The location of Parma was against the Belt stream in relation to his claim, and he was challenged by a jagged cluster that had drifted into the channel. It was too thick to thread without data on its formation, so Pete went around it, thus losing another two hours. So it was high noon—Belt time—when he sat down on Parma and entered the Federation claim office.
    The blond youth was behind the desk. A night’s sleep hadn’t cheered him up any; his manner as wearily resigned as before.
    Pete laid his claim form on the desk. “Here it is. A new one. Now we can get this filing business over with.”
    â€œOf course,” the blond young man agreed. He took four additional forms from the neat piles behind him and handed them to Pete. “Just fill these out while I register the orbit.”
    Pete crossed the room to a desk and sat down to his work. He’d never filed a claim before, but the process was a familiar one. He’d watched his father do it many times.
    He’d worked for perhaps fifteen minutes when the clerk called to him from the desk. “Mr. Mason, would you please step over here a moment?”
    Pete went back to the desk, his eyes questioning. “There seems to be some mistake,” the clerk said. “This is a duplicate filing.”
    â€œWhy, that’s crazy! What do you mean—duplicate?”
    â€œA claim on this location was legally filed at nine o’clock this morning.”
    â€œThat’s impossible!”
    â€œNevertheless, it’s true. The orbits are identical, and we both know that two claims cannot occupy the same space at the same time.”
    If this was an attempt at humor, it was lost on Pete. “Who—what—when—?” he sputtered. “Who filed the other claim? When did—?”
    â€œThere were three men waiting for me when I opened the office this morning. They had their claim forms all filled out and ready.”
    â€œWho signed the affidavit?”
    The clerk turned away for a moment. “I have it right here. The man’s name was—Homer Deeds.” Uncle Homer! Maybe his last name was Deeds, but that didn’t hide his identity. He was one of the Barry clan, and