"Heinlein, Robert A - Nothing Ever Happens On The Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

Sam and Bruce donned helmets. Sam switched on BruceТs walkie-talkie, clipped a blood-oxygen indica
tor to BruceТs ear, and locked his helmet on. УStand by for pressure,Ф he said, his words echoing in BruceТs helmet. Chubby hooked hose from a wall gauge to BruceТs air intake.
Bruce felt the collar lift. The air in the suit grew stuffy, the helmet fogged. At thirty pounds Chubby cut the intake, and watched the gauge. Mr. Andrews joined them, a Gargantuan helmeted figure, toting a pack six feet high. УPressure steady, sir,Ф Chubby reported.
Sam hooked up BruceТs air supply. УOpen your intake and kick your chin valve before you smother,Ф he ordered. Bruce complied. The stale air rushed out and the helmet cleared. Sam adjusted BruceТs valves. УWatch that needle,Ф he ordered, pointing to the blood-oxygen dial on BruceТs belt. УKeep your mix so that reads steady in the white without using your chin valve.
УI know.Ф
УSo IТll say it again. Keep that needle out of the red, or youТll explain it to Saint Peter.Ф
The Scoutmaster asked, УWhat load are you giving him?Ф
УOh,Ф replied Sam, Уjust enough to steady himЧsay three hundred pounds, total.Ф
Bruce figuredЧat one-sixth gravity that meant fifty pounds weight including himself, his suit, and his pack. УIТll carry my full share,Ф he objected.
УWeТll decide whatТs best for you,Ф the Scoutmaster snapped. УHurry up; the troop is ready.Ф He left.
Sam switched off his radio and touched helmets. УForget it,Ф he said quietly. УThe Old Man is edgy at the start of a hike.Ф They loaded Bruce rapidlyЧreserve air and water bottles, a carton of grub, short, wide skis and ski polesЧthen hung him with field gear, first-aid kit, prospectorТs hammer, two climbing ropes, a pouch of pitons and snap rings, flashlight, knife. The Moon Scouts loaded up; Sam called, УCome
Mr. Andrews handed the lockmaster a list and stepped inside; the three Scouts followed. Bruce felt his suit expand as the air sucked back into the underground city. A light blinked green; Mr. Andrews opened the outer door and Bruce stared across the airless lunar plain.
It dazzled him. The plain was bright under a blazing Sun. The distant needle-sharp hills seemed painted in colors too flat and harsh. He looked at the sky to rest his eyes.
It made him dizzy. He had never seen a whole skyful of stars undimmed by air. The sky was blacker than black, crowded with hard, diamond lights.
УRoute march!Ф the ScoutmasterТs voice rang in his helmet. УHeel and toe. Jack Wills out as pathfinder.Ф A boy left the group in long, floating strides, fifteen feet at a bound. He stopped a hundred yards ahead; the troop formed single column fifty yards behind him. The Pathfinder raised his arm, swung it down, and the troop moved out.
Mr. Andrews and a Scout joined Sam and Bruce. УSpeedy will help you,Ф he told Sam, Уuntil Bruce gets his legs. Move him along. We canТt heel-and-toe and still make our mileage.Ф
УWeТll move him.Ф
УEven if we have to carry him,Ф added Speedy.
The Scoutmaster overtook the troop in long leaps. Bruce wanted to follow. It looked easyЧlike flying. He had not liked the crack about carrying him. But Sam grasped him by his left belt grip while Speedy seized the one on his right. УHere we go,Ф Sam warned. УFeet on the ground and try to swing in with us.Ф
Bruce started off confidently. He felt that three days of low gravity in the corridors of Luna City had given him his УlegsФ; being taught to walk, like a baby, was just hazing.
Nothing to itЧhe was light as a bird! True, it was hard to keep heel-and-toe; he wanted to float. He gained speed on a downgrade; suddenly the ground
was not there when he reached for it. He threw up his hands.
He hung head down on his belt and could hear his guides laughing. УWhaТ happened?Ф he demanded, as they righted him.
УKeep your feet on the ground.Ф
УI know what youТre up against,Ф added Speedy, УIТve been to Earth. Your mass and weight donТt match and your muscles arenТt used to it. You weigh what a baby weighs, Earth-side, but youТve got the momentum of a fat man.Ф
Bruce tried again. Some stops and turns showed him what Speedy meant. His pack felt like feathers, but unless he banked his turns, it would throw him, even at a walk. It did throw him, several times, before his legs learned.
Presently, Sam asked, УThink youТre ready for a slow lope?Ф
УI guess so.Ф
УOkayЧbut remember, if you want to turn, youТve got to slow down firstЧor youТll roll like a hoop. Okay, Speedy. An eight-miler.Ф
Bruce tried to match their swing. Long, floating strides, like flying. It was flying! Up! . . . float . . . brush the ground with your foot and up again. It was better than skating or skiing.
УWups!Ф Sam steadied him. УGet your feet out in front.Ф
As they swung past, Mr. Andrews gave orders for a matching lope.

The unreal hills had moved closer; Bruce felt as if he had been flying all his life. УSam,Ф he said, Уdo you suppose I can get along by myself?Ф
УShouldnТt wonder. We let go a couple oТ miles back.Ф
УHuh?Ф It was true; Bruce began to feel like a Moon hand.
Somewhat later a boyТs voice called УHeel and toe!Ф
The troop dropped into a walk. The pathfinder stood on a rise ahead, holding his skis up~ The troop halted and unlashed skis. Ahead was a wide basin filled with soft, powdery stuff.
Bruce turned to Sam, and for the first time looked back to the west. УJee .. . miny Crickets!Ф he breathed.
Earth hung over the distant roof of Luna City, in half phase. It was round and green and beautiful, larger than the harvest Moon and unmeasurably more lovely in forest greens, desert browns and glare white of cloud.
Sam glanced at it. УFifteen oТclock.Ф
Bruce tried to read the time but was stumped by the fact that the sunrise line ran mostly across ocean. He questioned Sam. УHuh? See that bright dot on the dark side? ThatТs HonoluluЧfigure from there.Ф
Bruce mulled this over while binding his skis, then stood up and turned around, without tripping. УHmmmЧФ said Sam, УyouТre used to skis.Ф
УGot my badge.Ф
УWell, this is different. Just shuffle along and try to keep your feet.Ф
Bruce resolved to stay on his feet if it killed him. He let a handful of the soft stuff trickle through his glove. It was light and flaky, hardly packed at all. He wondered what had caused it.
Mr. Andrews sent Speedy out to blaze trail; Sam and Bruce joined the column. Bruce was hard put to keep up. The loose soil flew to left and right, settling so slowly in the weak gravity that it seemed to float in airЧyet a ski pole, swung through such a cloud, cut a knife-sharp hole without swirling it.
The column swung wide to the left, then back again. Off to the right was a circular depression perhaps fifty yards across; Bruce could not see the bottom. He paused, intending to question Sam; the ScoutmasterТs voice prodded him. УBruce! Keep moving!Ф
Much later SpeedyТs voice called out, УHard ground!Ф Shortly the column reached it and stopped
to remove skis. Bruce switched off his radio and touched his helmet to SamТs.