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.It was the traditional farmboy cry, made thin and almost soprano in the thinair of Mars.David let in the resistor and crawled across the line that marked the boundarybetween dome metaland Martian soil.And it hit him!The sudden gravity change was like a sharp fall of a thousand feet.Onehundred and twenty pounds ofMs two hundred disappeared as he crossed the line, and it left him by way ofthe pit of his stomach.He clutched at the wheel as the sensation of fall,fall, fall persisted.The sand-car veered wildly."Sand Away!"67There was the sound of Griswold's voice, which maintained its hoarseness evenin the incongruous hollowness forced upon it by the thin air which car-riedPage 27 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlsound waves so poorly."Number seven! Back in line!"David fought with the wheel, fought with his own sensations, fought to makehimself see clearly.He dragged at the oxygen through his nosepiece and slowlythe worst passed.He could see Bigman looking anxiously in Ms di-rection.He took one hand awayfrom the wheel momentarily to wave, then concentrated on the road.The Martian desert was almost flat, flat and bare.Not even a scrub ofvegetation existed here.This particular area had been dead and deserted forwho knew how many thousands or millions of years.The thought suddenly struckhim that perhaps he was wrong.Perhaps the desert sands had been coated withblue-green microorganisms until Earthmen had come and burned them away tomake room for their farms.The cars ahead trailed faint dust that rose slowly, as if it were part of amotion-picture film that had been slowed down.It settled as slowly.David's car was trailing badly.He added speed and still more speed, and foundthat something was going wrong.The others, ahead of him, were hug-ging theground but he, himself, was bounding like a jackrabbit.At every triflingimperfection in the ground surface, at every projecting line of rock, his cartook off.It drifted lazily up into the air, inches high, its wheels whiningagainst nothing.It came down as gently, then lurched forward with a jerk asthe straining wheels caught hold.68David Starr, Space RangerIt caused him to lose ground, and when he poured the juice in to gain again,the jumping grew worse.It was the low gravity that did it, of course, but the others managed tocompensate for it.He wondered how.It was getting cold.Even at Martian summer, he guessed the temperature to bebarely above freezing.He could look directly at the sun in the sky.It was a dwarfed sun in a purplesky in which he could make out three or four stars.The air was too thin toblank them out or to scatter light in such a manner as to form the sky-blue ofEarth.Griswold's voice was sounding again: "Cars one, four, and seven to the left.Cars two, five, and eight to the center.Cars three, six, and nine tothe right Cars two and three will be in charge of theirsub-sections."Griswold's car, number, one, was beginning to curl to the left, and David,following it with his eyes, noticed the dark line on the leftward horizon.Num-ber four was following one, and David turned his wheel sharply left tomatch the angle of veer.What followed caught him by surprise.His car went into a rapid skid, scarcelyallowing him time to realize it.He yanked desperately at the wheel, spin-ningit in the direction of skid.He shut off all power and felt the wheels rasp asthe car whirled onward.The desert circled before him, so that only its red-ness could make any impression.And then there was Bigman's thin cry through the receiver, "Stamp on theemergency traction.It's just to the right of the resistors."David probed desperately for the emergency trac-"Sand Away!"69tion, whatever it was, but Ms aching feet found noth-ing.The dark line on thehorizon appeared before him and then vanished.It was much sharper now,and broader.Even in that rapid flash, its nature be-came appallinglyevident.It was one of the fissures of Mars, long and straight.Like the farmorenumer-ous ones on Earth's Moon, they were cracks in the planetary surface,made as the world dried through millions of years.They were up to a hundredPage 28 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlfeet across and no man had plumbed their depth."It's a pink, stubby button,".yelled Bigman."Stamp everywhere."David did so, and there was a sudden slight yield-ing beneath histoes.The: swift motion of his sand-car became a rebellious grinding thattore at him.The dust came up in clouds, choking him and ob-scuringeverything.He bent over the wheel and waited.The car was definitely slowing.And then,finally, it stopped.He sat back and breathed quietly for a moment Then he withdrew his nosepiece,wiped the inner sur-faces while the cold air stung at nose and eyes, andreplaced it.His clothes were ruddy gray with dust and his chin was caked withit.He could feel its dry-ness upon his lips, and the interior of his car wasfilthy with it.The two other cars of his sub-section had pulled up next to him.Griswold wasclimbing out of one, his stubbled face made monstrously ugly by thenose-piece.David was suddenly aware of the reason for the popularity ofbeards and stubble among the farmboys.They were protection against the cold,thin wind of Mars.70David Starr, Space RangerGriswold was snarling, showing yellowed and broken teeth.He said, "Earthman,the repairs for this sand-car will come right out of your wages.You hadHennes's warning."David opened the door and climbed out.From outside, the car was a worse wreckstill, if that were possible.The tires were torn and from thempro-jected the huge teeth which were obviously the"emergency traction."He said, "Not one cent comes out of my wages, Griswold.There was somethingwrong with the car.""That's for sure.The driver.A stupid, dumb-lug driver, that's what's wrongwith the car."Another car came squealing up, and Griswold turned to it.His stubble seemed to bristle."Get the blast out of here, you cinch-bug.Geton with your job."Bigman jumped out of his car."Not till I take a look at the Earthman's car."Bigman weighed less than fifty pounds on Mars, and in one long, flat leap hewas at David's side.He bent for a moment, then straightened.He said, "Whereare the weight-rods, Griswold?"David said, "What are the weight-rods, Big-man?"The little fellow spoke rapidly [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.It was the traditional farmboy cry, made thin and almost soprano in the thinair of Mars.David let in the resistor and crawled across the line that marked the boundarybetween dome metaland Martian soil.And it hit him!The sudden gravity change was like a sharp fall of a thousand feet.Onehundred and twenty pounds ofMs two hundred disappeared as he crossed the line, and it left him by way ofthe pit of his stomach.He clutched at the wheel as the sensation of fall,fall, fall persisted.The sand-car veered wildly."Sand Away!"67There was the sound of Griswold's voice, which maintained its hoarseness evenin the incongruous hollowness forced upon it by the thin air which car-riedPage 27 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlsound waves so poorly."Number seven! Back in line!"David fought with the wheel, fought with his own sensations, fought to makehimself see clearly.He dragged at the oxygen through his nosepiece and slowlythe worst passed.He could see Bigman looking anxiously in Ms di-rection.He took one hand awayfrom the wheel momentarily to wave, then concentrated on the road.The Martian desert was almost flat, flat and bare.Not even a scrub ofvegetation existed here.This particular area had been dead and deserted forwho knew how many thousands or millions of years.The thought suddenly struckhim that perhaps he was wrong.Perhaps the desert sands had been coated withblue-green microorganisms until Earthmen had come and burned them away tomake room for their farms.The cars ahead trailed faint dust that rose slowly, as if it were part of amotion-picture film that had been slowed down.It settled as slowly.David's car was trailing badly.He added speed and still more speed, and foundthat something was going wrong.The others, ahead of him, were hug-ging theground but he, himself, was bounding like a jackrabbit.At every triflingimperfection in the ground surface, at every projecting line of rock, his cartook off.It drifted lazily up into the air, inches high, its wheels whiningagainst nothing.It came down as gently, then lurched forward with a jerk asthe straining wheels caught hold.68David Starr, Space RangerIt caused him to lose ground, and when he poured the juice in to gain again,the jumping grew worse.It was the low gravity that did it, of course, but the others managed tocompensate for it.He wondered how.It was getting cold.Even at Martian summer, he guessed the temperature to bebarely above freezing.He could look directly at the sun in the sky.It was a dwarfed sun in a purplesky in which he could make out three or four stars.The air was too thin toblank them out or to scatter light in such a manner as to form the sky-blue ofEarth.Griswold's voice was sounding again: "Cars one, four, and seven to the left.Cars two, five, and eight to the center.Cars three, six, and nine tothe right Cars two and three will be in charge of theirsub-sections."Griswold's car, number, one, was beginning to curl to the left, and David,following it with his eyes, noticed the dark line on the leftward horizon.Num-ber four was following one, and David turned his wheel sharply left tomatch the angle of veer.What followed caught him by surprise.His car went into a rapid skid, scarcelyallowing him time to realize it.He yanked desperately at the wheel, spin-ningit in the direction of skid.He shut off all power and felt the wheels rasp asthe car whirled onward.The desert circled before him, so that only its red-ness could make any impression.And then there was Bigman's thin cry through the receiver, "Stamp on theemergency traction.It's just to the right of the resistors."David probed desperately for the emergency trac-"Sand Away!"69tion, whatever it was, but Ms aching feet found noth-ing.The dark line on thehorizon appeared before him and then vanished.It was much sharper now,and broader.Even in that rapid flash, its nature be-came appallinglyevident.It was one of the fissures of Mars, long and straight.Like the farmorenumer-ous ones on Earth's Moon, they were cracks in the planetary surface,made as the world dried through millions of years.They were up to a hundredPage 28 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlfeet across and no man had plumbed their depth."It's a pink, stubby button,".yelled Bigman."Stamp everywhere."David did so, and there was a sudden slight yield-ing beneath histoes.The: swift motion of his sand-car became a rebellious grinding thattore at him.The dust came up in clouds, choking him and ob-scuringeverything.He bent over the wheel and waited.The car was definitely slowing.And then,finally, it stopped.He sat back and breathed quietly for a moment Then he withdrew his nosepiece,wiped the inner sur-faces while the cold air stung at nose and eyes, andreplaced it.His clothes were ruddy gray with dust and his chin was caked withit.He could feel its dry-ness upon his lips, and the interior of his car wasfilthy with it.The two other cars of his sub-section had pulled up next to him.Griswold wasclimbing out of one, his stubbled face made monstrously ugly by thenose-piece.David was suddenly aware of the reason for the popularity ofbeards and stubble among the farmboys.They were protection against the cold,thin wind of Mars.70David Starr, Space RangerGriswold was snarling, showing yellowed and broken teeth.He said, "Earthman,the repairs for this sand-car will come right out of your wages.You hadHennes's warning."David opened the door and climbed out.From outside, the car was a worse wreckstill, if that were possible.The tires were torn and from thempro-jected the huge teeth which were obviously the"emergency traction."He said, "Not one cent comes out of my wages, Griswold.There was somethingwrong with the car.""That's for sure.The driver.A stupid, dumb-lug driver, that's what's wrongwith the car."Another car came squealing up, and Griswold turned to it.His stubble seemed to bristle."Get the blast out of here, you cinch-bug.Geton with your job."Bigman jumped out of his car."Not till I take a look at the Earthman's car."Bigman weighed less than fifty pounds on Mars, and in one long, flat leap hewas at David's side.He bent for a moment, then straightened.He said, "Whereare the weight-rods, Griswold?"David said, "What are the weight-rods, Big-man?"The little fellow spoke rapidly [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]