"MartiansCome" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowndes Robert W)

A few moments later Whitlowe was leaning over the sink. "Get a move on," said Gary weakly, "it's my turn now."


THE MARTIAN was friendly. It brought around several spidery friends who stared through the window and answered questions as well as they could. One imposing, Daddy-Long-Legs finally appeared and the others made way for it.

"Hello!" it said abruptly.

"How do you do?" answered Whitlowe. "Are you an official?"

"Official? Bah--Director, young man--Director!" grunted the Martian.

"Did he say Dictator?" broke in Gary.

"Director," corrected the Martian. "Coordinator-in-Chief. Chairman. President. Planet Manager."

"Oh!" replied Gary.

"Now--about this thing of yours. I mean your dashed window or whatever it is."

"Yes?"

"Understand--friendship, cordial relations, interchange of ideas, and all that--but privacy. Insist upon privacy. No prying without permission, understood? Agreed?"

"Certainly. Anything else?"

The aged creature considered. "Yes. There is. Young man--you might as well know that we're in desperate straits up here. Carry on, and all that--but no show. Understand?"

Whitlowe was trying not to laugh. It had been such fun to think of the Martian as a member of the British aristocracy. And now all the speeches came out to correspond to his impression. The more he tried to control himself, the more stagily English the Martian speech became.

"I'm afraid not, your excellency," said Gary.

"Pah! Water, you know. Going fast. Rationed as things are--haven't had a water-bath for years. Dashed impertinence--chap of my age and all that. What I mean--understand?"

"No," replied Whitlowe.

"Uh--no? This contraption of yours--thingumbob--just what can it do? How does it work?"

"It's almost wholly psychological," explained Gary. "Our apparatus"-- he tilted the lens a bit so that the maze of equipment could be seen--"is only a sort of transformer for stepping up the latent clairvoyant faculties of our race. You're working on our power, you know--you don't seem to have the faculty yourself."

"Ah? Your power precious? I mean, I should go off?"

"Not at all!" cried the Earthmen. "We have all we need and then more."

"Oh. Wouldn't want to inconvenience you. We Martians quite considerate and all that--have to be, you know. Even though we did lick the damned mammals once before. Understand?"

"Nope. Please explain."

"Master race and all that. Conflict--struggle. They or we. We won out--centuries ago. Still have records. Mammals--great ugly things with hair. Nothing personal--understand?"

"Of course," said Whitlowe, draining a pint bottle. "But what were you saying about water?"