SFworld 版 (精华区)
作 家: xian (专心致志) on board 'SFworld'
题 目: The Martian Way (1)
来 源: 哈尔滨紫丁香站
日 期: Sun Nov 9 13:55:14 1997
出 处: byh.bbs@bbs.net.tsinghua.edu.cn
发信人: KingKongKang (KKK经理/裁判), 信区: SFworld
标 题: The Martian Way (1)
发信站: BBS 水木清华站 (Thu Oct 30 17:59:58 1997)
The Martian Way
by Isaac Asimov
1.
From the doorway of the short corridor between the only
two rooms in the travel-head of the spaceship, Mario
Esteban Rioz watched sourly as Ted Long adjusted the
video dials painstakingly. Long Tried a touch clockwise,
then a touch counter. The picture was lousy.
Rioz knew it would stay lousy. They were too far from
Earth and at a bad position facing the Sun. But then Long
would not be expected to know that. Rioz remained standing
in the doorway for an additional moment, head bent
to clear the upper lintel, body turned half sidewise to fit
the narrow opening. Then he jerked into the galley like
a cork popping out of a bottle.
"What are you after?" he asked.
"I thought I'd get Hilder," said Long.
Rioz propped his rump on the corner of a table shelf.
He lifted a conical can of milk from the companion shelf
just above his head. Its point popped under pressure. He
swirled it gentled as he waited for it to warm.
"What for?" he said. He upended the cone and sucked
nosily.
Long looked up, frowning. "It's customary to allow free
use of personal video sets."
"Within reason," retorted Rioz.
Their eyes met challenging. Rioz had the rangy body,
the gaunt, cheek-sunken face that was almost the hall-
mark of the Martian Scavenger, those Spacers who patiently
haunted the space routes between Earth and
Mars. Pale blue eyes were set keenly in the brown, lined
face which, in turn, stood darkly out against the white
surrounding syntho-fur that lined the up-turned collar of
his leathtic space jacket.
Long was altogether paler and softer. He bore some of
the marks of the Grounder, although no second-generation
Martian could be a Grounder in the sense that Earth-
men were. His own collar was thrown back and his dark
brown hair freely exposed.
"What do you call within reason?" demanded Long.
Rioz's thin lips grew thinner. He said, "Considering that
we're not even going to make expenses this trip, the way
it looks, any power drain at all is outside reason."
Long said, "If we're losing money, hadn't you better get
back to your post? It's your watch."
Rioz grunted and ran a thumb and forefinger over the
stubble on his chin. He got up and trudged to the door, his
soft, heavy boots muting the sound of his steps. He paused
to look at the thermostat, then turned with a flare of fury.
"I thought it was hot. Where do you think you are?"
Long said, "Forty degrees isn't excessive."
"For you it isn't, maybe. But this is space, not a heated
office at the iron mines." Rioz swung the thermostat control
down to minimum with a quick thumb movement.
"Sun's warm enough."
"The galley isn't on Sunside."
"I'll percolate through, damn it."
Rioz stepped through the door and Long stared after
him for a long moment, then turned back to the video.
He did not turn up the thermostat.
The picture was still flickering badly, but it would have to
do. Long folded a chair down out of the wall. He leaned
forward, waiting through the formal announcement, the
momentary pause before the slow dissolution of the curtain,
the spotlight picking out the well-known bearded
figure which grew as it was brought forward until it filled
the screen.
The voice, impressive even through the flutings and
croakings induced by the electron storms of twenty
millions of miles, began:
"Friends! My fellow citizens of Earth ... "
--
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