"Campbell, John W. - The Moon is Hell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Campbell John W Jr)

We are nearly exhausted for want of sleep, and from the continuous labor. It will be worse returning, with four days without sleep, and practically without food. Tolman, Hughey, Kendall and King have it even worse, I fear. They have just left us, to make their way back over all the distance we have come, with scarcely the chance of a rest, no food, and little water. They will not have slept for four days when they reach the Dome. Sleep for us in our suits.

Later. Twelve hours sleep, a quarter of our chocolate, still warm, and now on our way. It is eternally magnificent, never beautiful. It is as magnificent as the Grand Canyon of the Colorado made six thousand miles wide, six thousand long, and ten miles deep, with ten times the color. But it isn't beautiful, it's stern and harsh, and horribly, bleakly dead. It makes me think of a skeleton lying in a cave, its skull crushed, and a stone ax beside it It seems to have died violently. We are oppressively alone here.

Time to go. Four oxygen tanks, besides the load we have carried, which was little. We are fresh from sleep now, to make the attempt!

July 12.

We have camped. The photo-cells are sending their power to the set correctly, and the converter-transformer is working smoothly. We cannot test the set, as our suit-sets won't pick up its wave. It seems to be okay however. Rice is sending the message. New York now.

The Earth is immense above us, reddish-green in color, turning slowly, majestically as we watch. It looks won- derfully beautiful and familiar to us, and terribly far away.

Later. Sending again. Chicago now, with all the power we can get. The aurora is small, so there is hope.

Still sending. No lack of power, apparently. Let us hope some station receives this.

Long has contributed a surprise. He produced a can of aluminum paint, and has selected a broad, flat spot on the rocks. He is painting a message in symbols ten feet high. Mt, Palomar could easily read it. But there are some 3,142,000 square miles of rock visible to Mt. Palomar.

He has finished. "O2 from CaSO* send food," he has written. No more paint.

Denver now below--or above us. Telescopes show cities clearly, even some bigger buildings visible. Tremendous magnification possible, but light gathering power of our little telescopes limits it.

California now. When it passes we can send only to Hawaii, the Philippines and Japan. Opportunities poor. We think it best to start back.

Rice has produced another triumph. He had an electric clock device rigged that will keep the set transmitting toward Earth as long as the set operates. It is Sun-powered, of course. There is small motion across the skies, so there is no need to aim it carefully! The set, worked automatically, and powered by the photo-cells will continue to send a code message.

We are leaving. Rice and Long object, but I have ordered them back. We will be exhausted when we get to the first cache, and tired men make for dead men. There are too many opportunities for falls into chasms.

July 13.

Back at the second cache with a spare tank of oxygen.

We have decided to carry it; though it increases our load it may save us. We can move more slowly, and not force ourselves so heavily. Leaving at once.

July 14.

First cache. Exhausted. I wonder that Long ever made it the first time, despite his use of anti-fatigue capsules. Last chocolate gone. Terribly thirsty. Twenty-four hours more. Going on at once.

Later. More than one hundred miles from 'the Dome, and Rice has had an accident. Fell into chasm. Miscalculated his leap, fell seventy feet, the rope joining us caught, held for a moment, and sawed through on some outcropping quartz crystals. Irony! Two weeks ago he was searching for them, today quartz hurled him another hundred feet and broke his leg. His arm is badly bruised I believe, but his face plate is unbroken. He has an extra oxygen tank, thank God. He is conscious--communicating by radio. Long will stay here, I am going on to the Dome.

Reached the Dome. Very tired, but ate, and drank a little water, while Moore, still working with his brews, started out to the mine to get the men. I will have to lead them back. They are coming now. Dr. Hughey will go with us, though he can do little till we bring Rice in, and get his suit off.

Taking ropes, block and tackle, extra oxygen.

Five hours to get back to Rice. He is still conscious, but weak. His suit is uninjured. Poor Long had gone to sleep. Rice said he had been unable to keep awake. Too tired to stand, and as soon as he sat down he went to sleep. Rice couldn't sleep. The men have reached him, but cannot move him, as he is in pain. Dr. Hughey going down the ropes. He came prepared--brought a tank of CO2 as anesthetic. Hughey reached him, substituted CO2 for oxygen. His fatigue will keep him asleep now oxygen tank has been reattached.

Long won't wake--just mutters and tries to brush us away. He will have to be carried. I'm afraid I would too if I hadn't been writing. Starting back at last.

July IS.