Once a rock-rat asteroid miner stakes a claim on an asteroid, they are vulnerable to claim-jumpers. These crooks try to steal the claim, cashing in on all the work the poor-rock rat did to find the blasted thing in the first place.

Polite claim-jumpers just steal the claim to the asteroid by some illegal means. Impolite claim-jumpers murder the rock-rat, steal all their gear, and then steal the claim. Smart claim-jumpers bribe workers at the claim office in order to get advanced notice about lucrative new claims. CLAIM-JUMPER 1 artwork by Jack Coggins



“But I don’t see how they could get away with it,” Peter protested. “Every time we bring in a cargo, we have to identify ourselves and our claim.” He paused as a thought struck him. “That proves us right, Mr. Vincennes—the records back in the assaying office.”

Vincennes’ whole tone had changed. He said, not unpleasantly: “No, my young friend, I’m afraid it doesn’t prove as much as you think. The most it could prove was your honest belief. The assaying office hasn’t been as careful as it might be; I’ve noticed that. I was there a few days ago when a miner brought in his first cargo of manganese. He identified it as coming from his claim on 29-82, and the clerk only checked for the existence of a manganese claim on that asteroid. He didn’t ask for proof on the owner’s name or filing date. I watched, and saw him enter the claim on his asteroid chart. The next time that miner comes in, the clerk will look at his chart and see that a manganese claim is listed for 29-82. As long as the same person keeps coming back—or someone saying he’s working for that person—the only check will be by that incomplete record.”

Peter stared, and gasped, “But … why any pilferer could say he was working for the man he stole from! So could a jumper.”

“That,” said Vincennes, “is just what has been happening, I believe.”



“Don’t see how things got so sloppy,” objected Clay. “Do you suppose the clerk could be getting something on the side?”

“This is possible, but there’s a better explanation for the easygoing way the office operates. I’ve been out here nearly twenty years, Mr. Clay. Things were much different then. There were fewer miners; Cerestown was brand new; and there was plenty of easily found mineral for everyone who came along.

“In those days, there was no such thing as pilfering and claim jumping. You see, people usually don’t become dishonest unless they feel they have to be. So long as there was more than enough to go around, and not too much trouble finding it, then a man’s simple word was good enough.



“But it’s become rougher in twenty years. There’s still unguessable wealth out here, still bonanzas up in the sky. I don’t think they’ll be played out in a couple of hundred years—not even if there’s a hundred times as many people out hunting them. The ships and the equipment we have today are better than they were, but not enough better so that prospectors can start out with minimum equipment and find a good strike on the fringes of the Belt. The heart of the Belt is still unsafe, to say the least.

“I have with me,” he indicated his ship and crew, “equipment for depth mining. It took me a number of years, working the way you two are working, to get this equipment. If there hadn’t been galena right on the surface of this asteroid, you two would have kept on going.”

“Yes, I see your point,” Clay agreed. “So I guess that’s a good part of the explanation. These here pilferers and jumpers started out honest, but they couldn’t find anything. I guess they didn’t want to give up, so they decided to—well, at first maybe just borrow a little mineral from someone who had plenty. They probably felt sorry about it and figured they’d make a strike with what they got this way and pay it all back somehow.”

“That sounds very likely, Clay. In some cases, one little theft or two was all that was needed. But some still had bad luck; or perhaps they found that this was much easier than grubbing around, looking for a claim of their own. However it happened, it has happened, and now we’ve had to set up a police force.”

“The Claims Office was working hand in glove with jumpers and pilferers, taking a generous slice of the loot for their services in making everything appear straight. They couldn’t hope to get away with it forever. They just cleaned up as much as they could and skipped out when it became too hot to sit on any longer, leaving old Yerxa to face the inquiry. Fortunately, his good name has been cleared, and Old Caution has kept things in order.”

“No trouble; we’ll let you know as soon as we find out anything.” Clay cut the connection, and turned to breakfast. “Well, Pete, my trick for cooking starts tomorrow, then you can sit around and get served. Don’t rightly see that there’s anything to worry about unless Glen’s had an accident. Our mine and Glen’s put together wouldn’t be worth a claim-jumper’s time. We’ll make the first one who comes along a present of it next year—if it pans out the way it’s going now. That’ll give us enough for a grubstake; then I’ll show you what the rough life is really like, fellow—prospecting.” He grinned. “You’ve been living in sheer comfort, in case you didn’t know it.”

“You haven’t told me much about this ‘trouble’ business,” Peter said.

Clay smiled as he finished checking the ammunition. “Back on Earth, in my grandfather’s time and before, they used to print books and magazines full of stories picturing what things might be like out here. Pretty fantastic, some of those stories were, too. They had Mars and all the other planets full of strange and hostile people—critters that weren’t intelligent, but dangerous. Well, when men got to Mars, then came out here, they found that there was only one really dangerous critter around.”

“What was that? I never heard of any.”

“Yes, you have; the dangerous critter was man himself. That’s why we have to have guns and ammunition. It’s not as bad as it was back on Earth—as you’ve seen in historical films—but there’re still some men who’re dangerous to the majority.

“Out here, partner, the law’s good, and your rights are good, as long as the other man recognizes it. Most do. But a few try to pay no attention. They get away with it if you can’t prove your rights or your legality with explosive pellets. That’s the way someone takes to question you. Back on Mars no one could get away with it. In Cerestown your rights are respected. But out here—who’s going to see what you do and stop you from doing it, or prove you did it if you destroy the evidence? Some claim jumpers have been caught when they tried to pass off their stuff on Cerestown or Mars, but there are others who’ve gotten away with it—and as long as one succeeds, another is going to try sometime.”

“The guard is,” Ezzard amended. “That’s only part of the Association. There has been quite a bit of shady work afoot. I can’t go into details, but a number of miners have been defrauded of their claims by thieves posing as businessmen. Others have had ‘accidents’ which laid them up long enough for claim jumpers to take possession of their mines. In many cases the jumpers could afford expensive legal action where the miners could not.

Cerestown Supply carried all the goods anyone wanted to buy on the planetoid. Food and basic necessities came through Maintenance; the big store carried appliances and luxury items imported from Mars, or Earth and Luna.

Peter remembered that he still owed his father that E-string, and decided to pay his debt. Extra credits would soon be in short supply, since their mining operations had stopped. When the Clays started up again, there’d be a backlog of taxes to be deducted. A miner obtained credits from his cargoes or from maintenance work, Public Duty. Everyone shared in the latter, working a certain number of days a year in regulated shifts, wherever their skills were needed.

A prospector who had a run of bad luck didn’t starve. He’d take an emergency shift in Public Duty, and his pay would consist of the excess-value of his work. After a few months his credits would accumulate until he had a grubstake for another expedition. There was a basic staff of men and women, whose careers were in food production in the hydroponic gardens and chemical laboratories, refining, air supply, transportation, communication, construction, repair, light, administration, and so forth. This staff was assisted by those on annual or emergency shifts.

“There is something afoot that doesn’t look too good, but it isn’t jumpers lying in ambush with longmen. Ever hear of the Belt Insurance Company?”

“No, never have.”

“Well, it’s been going for a short time—sounded like a good thing, at first. You’d sign up, and they’d guarantee full compensation for any kind of accidents. They’d pay your taxes during any period you were laid up, and grubstake you at reasonable rates if you wanted to prospect. The premiums were somewhat high, but not exorbitant.

“But it turns out that there was a catch. If, at any time, you miss a premium payment, Belt Insurance can seize any and all claims you own, or any claims you stake, until the policy is paid in full. It means that just a little bad luck—the kind any miner’s likely to have—makes you an employee of Belt Insurance. They won’t force you out—nothing like that—but you no longer own your mine. You’re working for them on what amounts to a salary, and they make certain that they get the big cut of your profits.”

Peter scanned the small plastic sheet, then looked up. “Is ... is this all that appears on the copies you have here?”

Kreuder nodded. “Yes. You see, at first miners filed on certain metals in a location. Later, it was found that a given location might have several types of valuable deposit. One of the first requests the Asteroid Miners’ Association made was to change the system. Now miners stake a claim on the location alone, and place the second and third copies in finders and markers.

“We saw the justice in the suggestion, but offered a compromise: the original filings would list one specific metal and the area claimed. Our duplicates here would only show the area. We didn’t want to help claim jumpers learn just where the most valuable mines could be found, so we revised our files. That is when we discovered the forgeries. So the way matters stand, Mr. Clay, if your filing is valid, you own not only the galena in that area, but anything else there, down to the center of the asteroid. Get it?”



Claim jumpers and pilferers—men who worked others’ mines for short periods in the owners’ absence, gradually building up a cargo—were no exception to the rule. Pilferers had an extra reason for being careful—they didn’t want to leave any evidence.“But I don’t see how they could get away with it,” Peter protested. “Every time we bring in a cargo, we have to identify ourselves and our claim.” He paused as a thought struck him. “That proves us right, Mr. Vincennes—the records back in the assaying office.”Vincennes’ whole tone had changed. He said, not unpleasantly: “No, my young friend, I’m afraid it doesn’t prove as much as you think. The most it could prove was your honest belief. The assaying office hasn’t been as careful as it might be; I’ve noticed that. I was there a few days ago when a miner brought in his first cargo of manganese. He identified it as coming from his claim on 29-82, and the clerk only checked for the existence of a manganese claim on that asteroid. He didn’t ask for proof on the owner’s name or filing date. I watched, and saw him enter the claim on his asteroid chart. The next time that miner comes in, the clerk will look at his chart and see that a manganese claim is listed for 29-82. As long as the same person keeps coming back—or someone saying he’s working for that person—the only check will be by that incomplete record.”Peter stared, and gasped, “But … why any pilferer could say he was working for the man he stole from! So could a jumper.”“That,” said Vincennes, “is just what has been happening, I believe.”“Don’t see how things got so sloppy,” objected Clay. “Do you suppose the clerk could be getting something on the side?”“This is possible, but there’s a better explanation for the easygoing way the office operates. I’ve been out here nearly twenty years, Mr. Clay. Things were much different then. There were fewer miners; Cerestown was brand new; and there was plenty of easily found mineral for everyone who came along.“In those days, there was no such thing as pilfering and claim jumping. You see, people usually don’t become dishonest unless they feel they have to be. So long as there was more than enough to go around, and not too much trouble finding it, then a man’s simple word was good enough.“But it’s become rougher in twenty years. There’s still unguessable wealth out here, still bonanzas up in the sky. I don’t think they’ll be played out in a couple of hundred years—not even if there’s a hundred times as many people out hunting them. The ships and the equipment we have today are better than they were, but not enough better so that prospectors can start out with minimum equipment and find a good strike on the fringes of the Belt. The heart of the Belt is still unsafe, to say the least.“I have with me,” he indicated his ship and crew, “equipment for depth mining. It took me a number of years, working the way you two are working, to get this equipment. If there hadn’t been galena right on the surface of this asteroid, you two would have kept on going.”“Yes, I see your point,” Clay agreed. “So I guess that’s a good part of the explanation. These here pilferers and jumpers started out honest, but they couldn’t find anything. I guess they didn’t want to give up, so they decided to—well, at first maybe just borrow a little mineral from someone who had plenty. They probably felt sorry about it and figured they’d make a strike with what they got this way and pay it all back somehow.”“That sounds very likely, Clay. In some cases, one little theft or two was all that was needed. But some still had bad luck; or perhaps they found that this was much easier than grubbing around, looking for a claim of their own. However it happened, it has happened, and now we’ve had to set up a police force.”“The Claims Office was working hand in glove with jumpers and pilferers, taking a generous slice of the loot for their services in making everything appear straight. They couldn’t hope to get away with it forever. They just cleaned up as much as they could and skipped out when it became too hot to sit on any longer, leaving old Yerxa to face the inquiry. Fortunately, his good name has been cleared, and Old Caution has kept things in order.”“No trouble; we’ll let you know as soon as we find out anything.” Clay cut the connection, and turned to breakfast. “Well, Pete, my trick for cooking starts tomorrow, then you can sit around and get served. Don’t rightly see that there’s anything to worry about unless Glen’s had an accident.. We’ll make the first one who comes along a present of it next year—if it pans out the way it’s going now. That’ll give us enough for a; then I’ll show you what the rough life is really like, fellow—.” He grinned. “You’ve been living in sheer comfort, in case you didn’t know it.”“You haven’t told me much about this ‘trouble’ business,” Peter said.Clay smiled as he finished checking the ammunition. “Back on Earth, in my grandfather’s time and before, they used to print books and magazines full of stories picturing what things might be like out here. Pretty fantastic, some of those stories were, too. They had Mars and all the other planets full of strange and hostile people—critters that weren’t intelligent, but dangerous. Well, when men got to Mars, then came out here, they found that there was only one really dangerous critter around.”“What was that? I never heard of any.”“Yes, you have; the dangerous critter was man himself. That’s why we have to have guns and ammunition. It’s not as bad as it was back on Earth—as you’ve seen in historical films—but there’re still some men who’re dangerous to the majority.“Out here, partner, the law’s good, and your rights are good, as long as the other man recognizes it. Most do. But a few try to pay no attention. They get away with it if you can’t prove your rights or your legality with explosive pellets. That’s the way someone takes to question you. Back on Mars no one could get away with it. In Cerestown your rights are respected. But out here—who’s going to see what you do and stop you from doing it, or prove you did it if you destroy the evidence? Some claim jumpers have been caught when they tried to pass off their stuff on Cerestown or Mars, but there are others who’ve gotten away with it—and as long as one succeeds, another is going to try sometime.”“The guard is,” Ezzard amended. “That’s only part of the Association. There has been quite a bit of shady work afoot. I can’t go into details, but a number of miners have been defrauded of their claims by thieves posing as businessmen. Others have had ‘accidents’ which laid them up long enough for claim jumpers to take possession of their mines. In many cases the jumpers could afford expensive legal action where the miners could not.Cerestown Supply carried all the goods anyone wanted to buy on the planetoid. Food and basic necessities came through Maintenance; the big store carried appliances and luxury items imported from Mars, or Earth and Luna.Peter remembered that he still owed his father that E-string, and decided to pay his debt. Extra credits would soon be in short supply, since their mining operations had stopped. When the Clays started up again, there’d be a backlog of taxes to be deducted. A miner obtained credits from his cargoes or from maintenance work, Public Duty. Everyone shared in the latter, working a certain number of days a year in regulated shifts, wherever their skills were needed.A prospector who had a run of bad luck didn’t starve. He’d take an emergency shift in Public Duty, and his pay would consist of the excess-value of his work. After a few months his credits would accumulate until he had a grubstake for another expedition. There was a basic staff of men and women, whose careers were in food production in the hydroponic gardens and chemical laboratories, refining, air supply, transportation, communication, construction, repair, light, administration, and so forth. This staff was assisted by those on annual or emergency shifts.“There is something afoot that doesn’t look too good, but it isn’t jumpers lying in ambush with longmen. Ever hear of the Belt Insurance Company?”“No, never have.”“Well, it’s been going for a short time—sounded like a good thing, at first. You’d sign up, and they’d guarantee full compensation for any kind of accidents. They’d pay your taxes during any period you were laid up, and grubstake you at reasonable rates if you wanted to prospect. The premiums were somewhat high, but not exorbitant.“But it turns out that there was a catch. If, at any time, you miss a premium payment, Belt Insurance can seize any and all claims you own, or any claims you stake, until the policy is paid in full. It means that just a little bad luck—the kind any miner’s likely to have—makes you an employee of Belt Insurance. They won’t force you out—nothing like that—but you no longer own your mine. You’re working for them on what amounts to a salary, and they make certain that they get the big cut of your profits.”Peter scanned the small plastic sheet, then looked up. “Is ... is this all that appears on the copies you have here?”Kreuder nodded. “Yes. You see, at first miners filed on certain metals in a location. Later, it was found that a given location might have several types of valuable deposit. One of the first requests the Asteroid Miners’ Association made was to change the system. Now miners stake a claim on the location alone, and place the second and third copies in finders and markers.“We saw the justice in the suggestion, but offered a compromise: the original filings would list one specific metal and the area claimed. Our duplicates here would only show the area.That is when we discovered the forgeries. So the way matters stand, Mr. Clay, if your filing is valid, you own not only the galena in that area, but anything else there, down to the center of the asteroid. Get it?” From MYSTERY OF THE THIRD MINE by Robert Lowndes (1953) HIJACKERS Set up, he studied his electros and flicked his tractor beams out to a passing fragment of metal, which flashed up to him, almost instantaneously. Or, rather, the inertialess tugboat flashed across space to the comparatively tiny, but inert, bit of metal which he was about to investigate. With expert ease Kinnison clamped the meteorite down and rammed into it his Spalding drill, the tool which in one operation cuts out and polishes a cylindrical sample exactly one inch in diameter and exactly one inch long. Kinnison took the sample, placed it in the jaw of his spee-gee, and cut his Berg. Going inert in an asteroid belt is dangerous business, but it is only one of a meteor miner's hazards and it is necessary; for the torsiometer is the quickest and simplest means of determining the specific gravity of metal out in space, and no torsion instrument will work upon inertialess matter. He read the scale even as he turned on the Berg. Seven point nine. Iron. Worthless. Big operators could use it—the asteroid belts had long since supplanted the mines of the worlds as sources of iron—but it wouldn't do him a bit of good. Therefore, tossing it aside, he speared another. Another, and another. Hour after hour, day after day; the back-breaking, lonely labor of the meteor miner. But very few of the bona-fide miners had the Gray Lensman's physique or his stamina, and not one of them all had even a noteworthy fraction of his brain. And brain counts, even in meteor-mining. Hence Kinnison found pay-metal; quite a few really good, although not phenomenally dense, pieces. Then one day there happened a thing which, if it was not in actual fact premeditated, was as mathematically improbable, almost, as the formation of a planetary solar system; an occurrence that was to exemplify in startling and hideous fashion the doctrine of tooth and fang which is the only law of the asteroid belts. Two tractor beams seized, at almost the same instant, the same meteor! Two ships, flashing up to zone contact in the twinkling of an eye, the inoffensive meteor squarely between them! And in the air lock of the other tug there were two men, not one; two men already going for their guns with the practiced ease of space-hardened veterans to whom the killing of a man was the veriest bagatelle! They must have been hi-jackers, killing and robbing as a business, Kinnison concluded, afterward. Bona-fide miners almost never work two to a boat, and the fact that they actually beat him to the draw, and yet were so slow in shooting, argued that they had not been taken by surprise, as had he. Indeed, the meteor itself, the bone of contention, might very well have been a bait. He could not follow his natural inclination to let go, to let them have it. The tale would have spread far and wide, branding him as a coward and a weakling. He would have had to kill, or have been killed by, any number of lesser bullies who would have attacked him on sight. Kinnison's hands flashed to the worn grips of his DeLamaters, sliding them from the leather and bringing them to bear at the hip with one smoothly flowing motion that was a marvel of grace and speed. But, fast as he was, he was almost too late. Four bolts of lightning blasted, almost as one. The two desperadoes dropped, cold; the Lensman felt a stab of agony sear through his shoulder and the breath whistled out of his mouth and nose as his space-suit collapsed. Gasping terribly for air that was no longer there, holding onto his senses doggedly and grimly, he made shift to close the outer door of the lock and to turn a valve. He did not lose consciousness—quite—and as soon as he recovered the use of his muscles he stripped off his suit and examined himself narrowly in a mirror. Eyes, plenty bloodshot. Nose, bleeding copiously. Ears, bleeding, but not too badly; drums not ruptured, fortunately —he had been able to keep the pressure fairly well equalized. Felt like some internal bleeding, but he could see nothing really serious. He hadn't breathed space long enough to do any permanent damage, he guessed. Then, baring his shoulder, he treated the wound with Zinsmaster burn-dressing. This was no trifle, but at that, it wasn't so bad. No bone gone—it'd heal in two or three weeks. Lastly, he looked over his suit If he'd only had his G-P armor on—but that, of course, was out of the question. He had a spare suit, but he'd rather... Fine, he could replace the burned section easily enough. QX. He donned his other suit, re-entered the air lock, neutralized the screens, and crossed over; where he did exactly what any other meteor miner would have done. He divested the bloated corpses of their space-suits and shoved them off into space. He then ransacked the ship, transferring from it to his own, as well as four heavy meteors, every other item of value which he could move and which his vessel could hold. Then, inerting her, he gave her a couple of notches of drive and cut her loose, for so a real miner would have done. It was not compunction or scruple that would have prevented any miner from taking the ship, as well as the supplies. Ships were registered, and otherwise were too hot to be handled except by organized criminal rings. As a matter of routine he tested the meteor which had been the innocent cause of all this strife—or had it been a bait?—and found it worthless iron. Also as routine he kept on working. From GRAY LENSMAN by E.E. "Doc" Smith (1936) CLAIM-JUMPER 2 The space pirates claim jump the hapless asteroid miners

artwork by Charles Schneeman erased our monuments, raised their own; took over whatever thermatite (the incredibly valuable mineral the asteroid is full of) we had already mined, emptied our fuel tanks, smashed our radio, and set us adrift.”

The law of filing on newly discovered asteroids was definite. Two steps were required. First, setting up the proper monuments on the asteroid. Second, filing the requisite affidavits in the Claims Office of jurisdiction. In this case, Planets. One step alone was not sufficient. Prior monuments meant nothing; the date of filing controlled. Well, if Kerry Dale wanted to take the chance, who was he to stop him! In his mind’s eye. Ball could hear old Kenton’s approving chuckle. The old man was pretty sore over that last trick Dale had pulled on him.

“Looks all right. We’re landing, though.”

“Why?”

“To reset your monuments. Filing’s no good without them, you know.”

Let him have his fun, thought Ball sourly. Nuisance value, my eye! That skunk, Foote, won’t pay him a nickel.

The ceremony didn’t take long. Four metal stakes were driven deep into the stone, exactly in the niches where Ball’s old ones had been ripped out. Then a photograving of claim to title was etched deep within the area bounded by the stakes. Meanwhile, Jem gleefully broke off the evidences left by the highjackers.

Dark anger lowered in the captain’s face. “We had just staked out our claim when that damned pirate came up. We didn’t have a chance. Practically my whole crew was out on the asteroid, unarmed; and they had a torpedo gun trained on us. There wasn’t a thing we could do but curse and watch. They, raised their own; took over whatever thermatite (the incredibly valuable mineral the asteroid is full of) we had already mined, emptied our fuel tanks, smashed our radio, and set us adrift.”Well, if Kerry Dale wanted to take the chance, who was he to stop him! In his mind’s eye. Ball could hear old Kenton’s approving chuckle. The old man was pretty sore over that last trick Dale had pulled on him.“Looks all right. We’re landing, though.”“Why?”“To reset your monuments. Filing’s no good without them, you know.”Let him have his fun, thought Ball sourly. Nuisance value, my eye! That skunk, Foote, won’t pay him a nickel.The ceremony didn’t take long. Four metal stakes were driven deep into the stone, exactly in the niches where Ball’s old ones had been ripped out. Then a photograving of claim to title was etched deep within the area bounded by the stakes. Meanwhile, Jem gleefully broke off the evidences left by the highjackers. (ed note: So, the semi-good guy (Kenton) sent his asteroid miners to the belt where they found an incredibly valuable asteroid. Alas, the bad guy (Foote) had sent some asteroid pirates to claim-jump the asteroid miners: destroying the legitimate monuments, ruining the miner's spaceship, and then heading at high speed to the Planets Claim office at Vesta to file their stolen claim. The bad guy won't be indicted since the asteroid pirates he hired give him plausible deniability. The bad guy will tell the judge that he bought the asteroid from the asteroid pirates in good faith, he had no idea they were pirates (even though they were secretly hired by him in the first place to do piracy). Our hero (Kerry Dale), who often butts heads with the semi-good guy, arrives and rescues the asteroid miners before their air runs out. He pulls a fast one. He gets the asteroid miners to sign their asteroid claim over to him in exchange for dragging their ship to port instead of seizing their ship as salvage. The asteroid miners figure sure, why not? The asteroid claim is worthless since the asteroid pirates will be filling their claim at Vesta any day now. Then our hero surprises everybody by dragging the ship to port at Ganymede, instead of Vesta. What's going on? Only this: it turns out that when you examine the asteroid's orbital elements, you'll see it is legally NOT part of the asteroid belt. It is a Trojan asteroid, which means it is legally part of the Jovian system. Remember that step 2 was filing the requisite affidavits in the Claims Office of jurisdiction? Well, for this asteroid the jurisdiction claim office is NOT the Planet office at Vesta. It is the office at Ganymede. In other words the asteroid pirates claim filing is null and void, while our hero's claim is valid! This also allows our hero to stick-it to the semi-good guy as well, since the claim was signed over to the hero. Trust me, the semi-good guy deserved it.) From JURISDICTION by Nat Schachner (1941)