"Robert F. Young - The Worlds of Robert F. Young" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

At first his disappointment stunned him. And then he thought, Perhaps with money it takes longer.
Money is probably as hard to grow as it is to get. He walked back around the ship and looked at the
orchard. It was three times its former size and fronted the ship like a young forest. Wonderingly he
walked through the sun-dappled aisles, staring enviously at the clusters of amber fruit.
A trail of beer-bottle caps led him to a little glade where a new party was in progress. Perhaps
whingding would have been a better word. Pempf and Fardel and Birp were dancing around in a circle
like thee bearded woodland nymphs, waving bottles and singing at the top of their voices. The dirty song
about the blue sands of Earth now had a second verse.
They came to a startled stop when they saw him; then, after regarding him blearily for a moment, they
resumed festivities again. Abruptly Captain Frimpf wondered if they had gone to bed at all last night. He
was inclined to doubt it, but whether they had or hadn't, it was painfully clear that discipline was
deteriorating rapidly. If he wanted to save the expedition he would have to act quickly.
But for some reason his initiative seemed to have deserted him. The thought of saving the expedition
made him think of going back to Mars, and the thought of going back to Mars made him think of his fat
wife, and the thought of his fat wife made him think of the grocery bill, and the thought of the grocery bill
made him think of his taxes, and for some unfathomable reason the thought of his taxes made him think of
the liquor cabinet in his stateroom and of the unopened bottle of bourbon that stood all alone on its single
shelf.
He decided to put off reprimanding the crew till tomorrow. Surely, by then, his credit trees would
have broken through the soil, thereby giving him some idea of how long he would have to wait before he
could harvest his first crop and plant his second. Once his fortune was assured he would be able to cope
more competently with the beer-tree problem.
But in the morning the little hummocks behind the ship were still barren. The beer orchard, on the
other hand, was a phenomenon to behold. It stretched hallway across the plain in the direction of the
dead city, and the sound of the wind in its fruit-laden branches brought to mind a bottling works at
capacity production.
There was little doubt in Captain Frimpfs mind now of the fate that had overtaken the people of
Earth. But what, he asked himself, had happened to the trees they had planted? He was not an obtuse
man, and the answer came presently: The people of Earth had performed a function similar to that
performed by the bees on Mars. In drinking the fluid fruit they had in effect pollinated the crystal
seed-shells that enclosed it, and it was the pollinating as well as the planting of the shells that had caused
new trees to grow.
It must have been a pleasant ecology while it lasted, the captain reflected. But like all good things it
had been run into the ground. One by one the people had become heavy pollinators, and finally they had
pollinated themselves to death, and the trees, unable any longer to reproduce themselves, had become
extinct.
A tragic fate, certainly. But was it any more tragic than being taxed to death?
The captain spent the day in his stateroom trying to figure out a way to pollinate money, his eyes
straying, with increasing frequency, to the little paneled door of his liquor cabinet. Toward sunset Birp
and Fardel and Pempf appeared and asked for an audience with him.
Fardel was spokesman. "Shir," he said, "we've made up our minds. We aren't going to go back to
Marsh."
The captain wasn't surprised, but for some reason he was annoyed. "Oh, go on back to your damned
orchard and stop bothering me!" he said, turning away from them.
After they left he went over to his liquor cabinet and opened the paneled door. He picked up the
forlorn bottle sitting on the shelf. Its two empty companions had long ago gone down the disposal tube
and were somewhere in orbit between Earth and Mars.
"Good thing I saved one," the captain said. He opened it up and pollinated it; then he staggered
outside and buried it behind the ship and sat down to watch it grow.
Maybe his credit trees would come up and maybe they wouldn't If they didn't he was damned if he