"Eric Frank Russel - Mechanistria" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russell Eric Frank)

but in the greater cosmos there are no limitations to which our inadequate yardstick can be
applied.”
“Me,” I put in soothingly, “I’ve made my last will and testament.”
He glared at me, then snapped to the other, “ I still say it’s looney.”,
“So’s television and arguers,” retorted his opponent, “but they both work.”
McNulty came by the door at that moment, paused, said, “Seen to that lad Wilson yet? “
“No-I’ll be there in one minute.”
“Try and cool him down, will you. He looks as if he’s in a blue funk.”
Reaching Wilson’s cabin, I found him sitting there with his harness on. He was dumb, glassy-
eyed and worried stiff.
“Ever been on a spaceship before?”
“No,” he growled.
“Well, don’t let it bother you. I admit there are rare occasions when people go up in one piece
and come down in several, but according to official statistics the roller coasters killed more last
year.”
“Do you think I’m scared? “ he demanded, standing up so quickly that he startled me.
“Me? Oh, no I” I fumbled around for words I couldn’t find. His bothered expression had
vanished and he was looking rather hard. “See here,” I said, speaking as man to man, “tell me
what’s eating you and I’ll see if I can help.”
“You can’t help.” Sitting down; he relaxed, became as moody as before. “I’m worrying about
my plates.”
“What plates?”
“Those photographic ones I brought on board, of course.”
“Heck, they’ll be safe enough‘ Besides, what good will worrying do?”
“Plenty,” he said. “When at first I let ‘em go on trust I had them walloped to powder in two
successive accidents. Then I developed the habit of worrying about them. I was doing a really
good job of worrying just before that Century Express smashup and I lost only two, both
unexposed. I worried all but six of my outfit through the big Naples quake. So it pays me, see?”
“Hell on a bike!” I said.
“Leave me alone and let me get on with my job,” he invited. Upon which he leaned backward,
tightened his harness and calmly resumed his worrying.
Can you tie that? I was still stupefied by the queer tricks of some professions when I arrived at
the scene of the uproar at the top of the starboard gangway. McNulty was bawling out the Martians.
The latter had emerged from their especial quarters where air was kept down to the three pounds
pressure to which they were accustomed. They were now outside in the alien and objectionable
atmosphere.
Somebody went solemnly down the gangway bearing Earthward an enormous vase of violently
clashing colours and exceedingly repulsive shape. The Martian chorus of protest arose crescendo.
There were shrill chirrups and much snaking of angry tentacles. I gathered that the porcelain
monstrosity was Kli Morg’s chess trophy, the Martian notion of a championship cup. It was in vile
taste from the Terrestrial viewpoint. Anyway, the skipper’s orders were orders and the abomination
stayed on Earth.
Next instant the siren howled its thirty seconds warning and all those still out of harness raced
for safety. The way those Martians ceased their oratory and beat it was something worth seeing.
I got myself fixed in the nick of time. The air-locks closed. Whooom! A giant hand tried to force
my cranium down into my boots and temporarily I passed out.
The world swelling rapidly before our bow was little bigger than Terra. Its sunlit face had a
mixture of blacks, reds and silvers rather than the old familiar browns, blues and greens. It was one
of five planets circling a sun smaller and whiter than our own. A small, insignificant group of
asteroids shared this grouping but we had no difficulty in cutting through their orbits.