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Alan busied himself over the radio transmitter, getting landing clearance. He brought the ship down easily, checked out, and hurried to the nearest phone. He dialed Jesperson's number. The lawyer answered. "When did you get back?" "Just now," Alan said. "Just this minute." "Well? Did you " "Yes! I found it! I found it!" Oddly enough, he was in no hurry to leave Earth now.
The computer considered Jesperson's plea a few moments, reviewing the brief which the lawyer had taped and fed to the computer earlier. Time passed. Then the green panel lit, and the words, APPLICATION GRANTED. Alan smiled. Bryson had been defeated; Max's money was his. Money that could be turned toward intensified research on the hyperdrive. "Well, son?" Jesperson asked.
He was in his early twenties, now, a tall, powerful figure, widely known all over Earth. With Jesperson's shrewd aid he had pyramided Max's original million credits into an imposing fortune and much of it was being diverted to hyperspace research.
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