Марсианские хроники
June 2001: — and the Moon Be Still as Bright
"SoIsmackedher!"shoutedBiggswithabottleinhishand.
Spendersetdownhisplate.Helistenedtothewindoverhisears,coolandwhispering.HelookedatthecooliceofthewhiteMartianbuildingsoverthereontheemptysealands.
"Whatawoman,whatawoman!"Biggsemptiedhisbottleinhiswidemouth."OfallthewomenIeverknew!"
ThesmellofBiggs’ssweatingbodywasontheair.Spenderletthefiredie."Hey,kickherupthere,Spender!"saidBiggs,glancingathimforamoment,thenbacktohisbottle."Well,onenightGinnieandme—"
AmannamedSchoenkegotouthisaccordionanddidakickingdance,thedustspringinguparoundhim.
"Ahoo—I’malive!"heshouted.
"Yay!"roaredthemen.Theythrewdowntheiremptyplates.Threeofthemlinedupandkickedlikechorusmaidens,jokingloudly.Theothers,clappinghands,yelledforsomethingtohappen.Cherokepulledoffhisshirtandshowedhisnakedchest,sweatingashewhirledabout.Themoonlightshoneonhiscrewcuthairandhisyoung,clean-shavencheeks.
Intheseabottomthewindstirredalongfaintvapors,andfromthemountainsgreatstonevisageslookeduponthesilveryrocketandthesmallfire.
Thenoisegotlouder,moremenjumpedup,someonesuckedonamouthorgan,someoneelseblewonatissue-paperedcomb.Twentymorebottleswereopenedanddrunk.Biggsstaggeredabout,wagginghisarmstodirectthedancingmen.
"Comeon,sir!"criedCheroketothecaptain,wailingasong.
Thecaptainhadtojointhedance.Hedidn’twantto.
