"Judith Merril - Survival Ship" - читать интересную книгу автора (Merril Judith)

His humor was too heavy to be effective. "Captain's orders, that's why," Melnick snapped.
"Everybody has to work double time till things are squared away. If you don't like the job here, I
can fix you up fine in the brig. Don't worry about your soft quarters. You'll get 'em later and
plenty of 'em. It's going to be a long trip, and don't forget it." The captain pointed significantly to
the chronometer built into the overhead. "But it's not much longer to dinner. You'd better get
back to work if you want to hit the chow while it's hot. Mess call in thirty minutes."
Melnick took a chance and turned abruptly away, ter-minating the interview. It worked. Sullen bu
defeated, Kennedy hoisted himself back up on the catwalk, and then began crawling out to the
spot Giorgio pointed out. Not daring to express their relief, lieutenant and captain exchanged one
swift look of triumph before Melnick walked wordlessly off.
In the big control room that would be mess hall, social hall, and general meeting place for all of
them for fifteen years to come—or twice that time if Sirius's planet turned out to be
uninhabitable—the captain waited for the crew members to finish their checkup assignments.
Slowly they gathered in the lounge, ignoring the upholstered benches around the sides and the
waiting table in the center, standing instead in small awkward groups. An undercurrent of
excitement ran through them all, evoking deadly silences and erupting in bursts of too-noisy
conversation, destroying the joint attempt at an illusion of nonchalance. They all knew—or hoped
they knew—what the subject of the captain's first speech would be, and behind the facade of
bronzed faces and trimly muscled bodies they were all curious, even a little afraid.
Finally there were twenty of them in the room, and the captain rose and rapped for order.
"I suppose," Melnick began, "you will all want to know our present position and the results of
the checkup." Nineteen heads turned as one, startled and disappointed at the opening.
"However," the captain continued, smiling at the change of expressions the single word brought,
"I imagine you're all as hungry and—er—impatient as I am, so I shall put off the more routine
portions of my report until our other comrades have joined us. There is only one matter which
should properly be discussed immediately."
Everyone in the room was acutely conscious of the Four. They had all known, of course, how it
would be. But on Earth there had always been other, ordinary men around to make them less
aware of it. Now the general effort to maintain an air of artificial ease and disinterest was entirely
abandoned as the captain plunged into the subject most on everyone's mind.
"Our ship is called the Survival. You all know why. Back on Earth, people think they know why
too; they think it's because of our plants and artificial gravity, and the hundreds of other
engineering miracles that keep us going. Of course, they also know that our crew is mixed, and
that our population is therefore"—the captain paused, letting an anticipatory titter circle the
room—"is therefore by no means fixed. What they don't know, naturally, is the division of sexes
in the crew.
"You're all aware of the reason for the secrecy. You know that our organization is in direct
opposition to the ethical principles on which the peace was established af-ter World War IV.
And you know how the planners of this trip had to struggle with the authorities to get this project
approved. When consent was granted, finally, it was only because the highest prelates clearly
understood that the conditions of our small universe were in every way different from those on
Earth—and that the division proposed was necessary for survival."
The captain paused, waiting for the last words to sink in, and studying the attitudes of the group.
Even now, after a year's conditioning to counteract earthly mores, there were some present who
listened to this public discussion of dangerous and intimate matters with flushed faces and
embarrassed smiles.
"You all realize, of course, that this consent was based, finally, on the basic principle itself."
Auto-matically, out of long habit unbroken by that year's in-tensive training, the captain made the
sign of the olive branch. "Survival of the race is the first duty of every ethical man and woman."
The command was intoned meaningfully, almost pontifically, and brought its reward as