"Heinlein, Robert A - Have Space Suit Will Travel (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

She didn't even have the cooling I had. Since she was on a richer mix, one bottle being pure oxygen, it did not take as much flow to keep up her blood-color index-and I warned her not to use a bit more than necessary; she could not afford air for cooling, she had to save it to breathe.
"I know, Kip," she answered pettishly. "I've got the needle jiggling the red light right now. Think I'm a fool?"
"I just want to keep you alive."
"All right, but quit treating me as a child. You put one foot in front of the other. I'll make it."
"Sure you will!"
As for the Mother Thing she always said she was all right and she was breathing the air I had (a trifle used), but I didn't know what was hard-ship to her. Hanging by his heels all day would kill a man; to a bat it is a nice rest-yet bats are our cousins.
I talked with her as we climbed. It didn't matter what; her songs had the effect on me that it has to have your own gang cheering. Poor Peewee didn't even have that comfort, except when we stopped and touched helmets-we still weren't using radio; even in the mountains we were fearful of attracting attention.
We stopped again and I gave Peewee one-eighth of a charge. The tape was in very poor shape afterwards; I doubted if it would serve again. I said, "Peewee, why don't you run your oxy-helium bottle dry while I carry this one? It'll save your strength."
"I'm all right."
"Well, you won't use air so fast with a lighter load."
"You have to have your arms free. Suppose you slip?"
"Peewee, I won't carry it in my arms, My righthand backpack bottle is empty; I'll chuck it. Help me make the change and I'll still be carrying only four-just balanced evenly."
"Sure, I'll help. But I'll carry two bottles. Honest, Kip, the weight isn't anything. But if I run the oxy-helium bottle dry, what would I breathe while you're giving me my next charge?"
I didn't want to tell her that I had doubts about another charge, even in those ever smaller amounts. "Okay, Peewee."
She changed bottles for me; we threw the dead one down a black hole and went on. I don't know how far we climbed nor how long; I know that it seemed like days-though it couldn't have been, not on that much air. During mile after mile of trail we climbed at least eight thousand feet. Heights are hard to guess-but I've seen mountains I knew the heights of. Look it up yourself-the first range east of Tombaugh Station.
There's a lot of climbing, even at one-sixth gee.
It seemed endless because I didn't know how far it was nor how long it had been. We both had watches-under our suits. A helmet ought to have a built-in watch. I should have read Greenwich time from the face of Earth. But I had no experience and most of the time I couldn't see Earth because we were deep in mountains-anyhow I didn't know what time it had been when we left the ship.
Another thing space suits should have is rear-view mirrors. While you are at it, add a window at the chin so that you can see where you step. But of the two, I would take a rear-view mirror. You can't glance behind you; you have to turn your entire body. Every few seconds I wanted to see if they were following us-and I couldn't spare the effort. All that nightmare trek I kept imagining them on my heels, expecting a wormy hand on my shoulder. I listened for footsteps which couldn't be heard in vacuum anyhow.
When you buy a space suit, make them equip it with a rear-view mirror. You won't have Wormface on your trail but it's upsetting to have even your best friend sneak up behind you. Yes, and if you are coming to the Moon, bring a sunshade. Oscar was doing his best and York had done an honest job on the air conditioning-but the untempered Sun is hotter than you would believe and I didn't dare use air just for cooling, any more than Peewee could.
It got hot and stayed hot and sweat ran down and I itched all over and couldn't scratch and sweat got into my eyes and burned. Peewee must have been parboiled. Even when the trail wound through deep gorges lighted only by reflection off the far wall, so dark that we turned on headlamps, I still was hot-and when we curved back into naked sunshine, it was almost unbearable. The temptation to kick the chin valve, let air pour in and cool me, was almost too much. The desire to be cool seemed more important than the need to breathe an hour hence.
If I had been alone, I might have done it and died. But Peewee was worse off than I was. If she could stand it, I had to.
I had wondered how we could be so lost so close to human habitation -and how crawly monsters could hide a base only forty miles from Tombaugh Station. Well, I had time to think and could figure it out because I could see the Moon around me.
Compared with the Moon the Arctic is swarming with people. The Moon's area is about equal to Asia-with fewer people than Centerville. It might be a century before anyone explored that plain where Wormface was based. A rocket ship passing over wouldn't notice anything even if camouflage hadn't been used; a man in a space suit would never go there; a man in a crawler would find their base only by accident even if he took the pass we were in and ranged around that plain. The lunar mapping satellite could photograph it and rephotograph, then a technician in London might note a tiny difference on two films. Maybe. Years later somebody might check up-if there wasn't something more urgent to do in a pioneer outpost where everything is new and urgent.
As for radar sightings-there were unexplained radar sightings before I was born.
Wormface could sit there, as close to Tombaugh Station as Dallas is to Fort Worth, and not fret, snug as a snake under house. Too many square miles, not enough people.
Too incredibly many square miles.... Our whole world was harsh bright cliffs and dark shadows and black sky, and endless putting one foot in front of the other.
But eventually we were going downhill oftener than up and at weary last we came to a turn where we could see out over a hot bright plain.
I There were mountains awfully far away; even from our height, up a thousand feet or so, they were beyond the horizon. I looked out over that plain, too dead beat to feel triumphant, then glanced at Earth and tried to estimate due west.
Peewee touched her helmet to mine. "There it is, Kip."
"Where?" She pointed and I caught a glint on a silvery dome.
The Mother Thing trilled at my spine ("What is it, children?")
"Tombaugh Station, Mother Thing."
Her answer was wordless assurance that we were good children and that she had known that we could do it.
The station may have been ten miles away. Distances were hard to judge, what with that funny horizon and never anything for comparison- I didn't even know how big the dome was. "Peewee, do we dare use radio?"
She turned and looked back. I did also; we were about as alone as could be. "Let's risk it."
"What frequency?"
"Same as before. Space operations. I think."
So I tried. "Tombaugh Station. Come in, Tombaugh Station. Do you read me?" Then Peewee tried. I listened up and down the band I was equipped for. No luck.
I shifted to horn antenna, aiming at the glint of light. No answer.
"We're wasting time, Peewee. Let's start slogging."
She turned slowly away. I could feel her disappointment-I had trem-bled with eagerness myself. I caught up with her and touched helmets. Don't let it throw you, Peewee. They can't listen all day for us to call. We see it, now we'll walk it."
"I know," she said dully.
As we started down we lost sight of Tombaugh Station, not only from twists and turns but because we dropped it below the horizon. I kept calling as long as there seemed any hope, then shut it off to save breath and battery.
We were about halfway down the outer slope when Peewee slowed and stopped-sank to the ground and sat still.
I hurried to her. "Peewee!"
"Kip," she said faintly, "could you go get somebody? Please? You know the way now. I'll wait here. Please, Kip?"
"Peewee!" I said sharply. "Get up! You've got to keep moving."
"I c- c- can't!" She began to cry. "I'm so thirsty... and my legs-" She passed out.
"Peewee!" I shook her shoulder. "You can't quit now! Mother Thing! -you tell her!"
Her eyelids fluttered. "Keep telling her, Mother Thing!" I flopped Peewee over and got to work. Hypoxia hits as fast as a jab on the button. I didn't need to see her blood-color index to know it read DANGER; the gauges on her bottles told me. The oxygen bottles showed empty, the oxy-helium tank was practically so. I closed her exhaust valves, overrode her chin valve with the outside valve and let what was left in the oxy-helium bottle flow into her suit. When it started to swell I cut back the flow and barely cracked one exhaust valve. Not until then did I close stop valves and remove the empty bottle.