"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."
Claude kept watching the Director's face while he spoke. He looked like an honest man. To all intents and purposes he was simply a public servant performing a distasteful duty. Yet there was something about his voice that had an all-too-familiar ring.... Something that hinted he was leading up to an offer.
Claude cleared his throat. "All right, Mr. Stubbs. So you've convinced me of the futility of appealing the claim. What now?"
Leon Stubbs bit off the end of a cigar and lit it before answering.