"Yes...."
"You would also install atmosphere-making machinery."
"If the claimant asked for it, it would be a simple matter."
"You would also provide a transmutator as an adjunct to the atmosphere-machine so that water could be provided?"
Gramenger was being very silent and small behind the desk. Unconsciously, he nodded his head. The lawyer, his amiable manner somewhat shattered, nodded slowly. "These and other things could be done and would be done in a hurry."
"Also," persisted Harvey, "there would be an inconsequential cash settlement of perhaps ten thousand code credits?"
The lawyer was silent. He looked at Gramenger. Gramenger said slowly, "That is a small matter, and would be agreed to. But there is a large matter, and that is to prove that this soil comes from Plymouth. For my money, it's still a hunk of rock—"
Harvey stopped him. He explained briefly his experience in discovering asteroid juncture faults for the Asteroid Association. He explained that once, according to theory and great evidence, a large planet existed between Mars and Jupiter. The planet exploded, forming the asteroid belt, and throwing out large, errant chunks of itself which moved in various peculiar orbits about the Sun.
"Plymouth is such a chunk, and," added Harvey complacently, "I will undoubtedly be paid one thousand credits from the Asteroid Association later on when I show that Plymouth comes from that shattered planet's surface. And I will prove also, for the first time, that that shattered planet contained a surface soil on which vegetable life was rampant. Plymouth is such a proof."
Gramenger writhed and sweated. He pointed to the pile of dirt. "But you haven't proved—"