"Edward L. Ferman - Best From F&SF, 23rd Edition" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ferman Edward L)

After that day Lang was ruthless in gutting the old Podkayne. She supervised the ripping out of the
motors to provide more living space, and only Crawford saw what it was costing her. They drained the
fuel tanks and stored the fuel in every available container they could scrounge. It would be useful later for
heating, and for recharging batteries. They managed to convert plastic packing crates into fuel containers
by lining them with sheets of the double-walled material the whirligigs used to heat water. They were
nervous at this vandalism, but had no other choice. They kept looking nervously at the graveyard as they
ripped up meter-square sheets of it.
They ended up with a long cylindrical home, divided into two small sleeping rooms, a community
room, and a laboratory-storehouse-workshop in the old fuel tank. Crawford and Lang spent the first
night together in the "penthouse," the former cockpit, the only room with windows.
 Lying there wide awake on the rough mattress, side by side in the warm air with Mary Lang, whose
black leg was a crooked line of shadow laying across his body, looking up through the port at the sharp,
unwinking starsтАФwith nothing done yet about the problems of oxygen, food, and water for the years
ahead and no assurance he would live out the night on a planet determined to kill himтАФCrawford
realized he had never been happier in his life.
On a day exactly eight months after the disaster, two discoveries were made. One was in the
whirligig garden and concerned a new plant that was bearing what might be fruit. They were clusters of
grape-sized white balls, very hard and fairly heavy. The second discovery was made by Lucy McKillian
and concerned the absence of an event that up to that time had been as regular as the full moon.
тАЬIтАЩm pregnant," she announced to them that night, causing Song to delay her examination of the white
fruit.
It was not unexpected; Lang had been waiting for it to happen since the night the Burroughs left. But
she had not worried about it Now she must decide what to do.
"I was afraid that might happen," Crawford said. "What do we do, Mary?"
"Why don't you tell me what you think? You're the survival expert. Are babies a plus or a minus in
our situation?"
"I'm afraid I-have to say they're a liability. Lucy will be needing extra food during her pregnancy, and
afterward, and it will be an extra mouth to feed. We can't afford the strain on our resources." Lang said
nothing, waiting to hear from McKillian.
"Now wait a minute. What about all this line about 'colonists' you've been feeding us ever since we
got stranded here? Who ever heard of a colony without babies? If we don't grow, we stagnate, right?
We have to have children." She looked back and forth from Lang to Crawford, her face expressing
formless doubts.
"We're in special circumstances, Lucy," Crawford explained. "Sure, I'd be all for it if we were better
off. But we can't be sure we can even provide for ourselves, much less a child. I say we can't afford
children until we're established."
"Do you want the child, Lucy?" Lang asked quietly.
McKillian didn't seem to know what she wanted. "No. I... but, yes. Yes, I guess I do." She looked at
them, pleading for them to understand.
"Look, I've never had one, and never planned to. I'm thirty-four years old and never, never felt the
lack. I've always wanted to go places, and you can't with a baby. But I never planned to become a
colonist on Mars, either. I... things have changed, don't you see? I've been depressed." She looked
around, and Song and Ralston were nodding sympathetically. Relieved to see that she was not the only
one feeling the oppression, she went on, more strongly. "I think if I go another day like yesterday and the
day beforeтАФand todayтАФI'll end up screaming. It seems so pointless, collecting all that information, for
what?"
"I agree with Lucy," Ralston said, surprisingly. Crawford had thought he would be the only one
immune to the inevitable despair of the castaway. Ralston in his laboratory was the picture of carefree
detachment, existing only to observe.
"So do I," Lang said, ending the discussion. But she explained her reasons to them.