Two hours later Retief's Marsberry bottle stood empty on the table beside half a dozen others.
"We were lucky," Sam Mancziewicz was saying. "You figure the original volume of the planet; say 245,000,000,000 cubic miles. The deBerry theory calls for a collapsed-crystal core no more than a mile in diameter. There's your odds."
"And you believe you've found a fragment of this core?"
"Damn right we have. Couple of million tons if it's an ounce. And at three credits a ton delivered at Port Syrtis, we're set for life. About time, too. Twenty years I've been in the Belt. Got two kids I haven't seen for five years. Things are going to be different now."
"Hey, Sam; tone it down. You don't have to broadcast to every claim jumper in the Belt."
"Our claim's on file at the Consulate," Sam said. "As soon as we get the grant—"
"When's that gonna be? We been waitin' a week now."
"I've never seen any collapsed-crystal metal," Retief said. "I'd like to take a look at it."
"Sure. Come on, I'll run you over. It's about an hour's run. We'll take our skiff. You want to go along, Willy?"
"I got a bottle to go," Willy said. "See you in the morning."