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: The Hermit of Mars by Bartholomew Stephen Finlay Virgil Illustrator - Science fiction; Short stories; Mars (Planet) Fiction; Archaeologists Fiction; Weapons Fiction
ottle he'd been saving for some special occasion--he couldn't recall what, just now.
"I think I have some bourbon," he said at last. "If I can find it."
"Find it. Mine straight, on the rocks."
When Martin Devere returned awhile later, the bald man was still wearing his helmetless space suit. He and his friend were studying a complex wiring diagram spread out on the work bench.
Martin Devere put two plastic cups down on the bench and poured them full. Neither of the men looked up from their diagram until he had set the bottle down.
"Pour one for yourself, Pop," the tall man said.
"Thanks. Don't mind if I do." Devere went to get another cup. Over his shoulder he said, "Hope you boys don't mind crushed ice instead of cubes. I just set a bucket of water in one of the unheated tunnels for a couple minutes. Then I hit it with a hammer."
It was four hours past sunset, the temperature outside was far below freezing.
"One thing you don't need on Mars is a refrigerator!" Pouring himself a drink, the old man suddenly laughed. It was a brief, senile giggle, that made the tall man turn to stare at him.
"Could be uncomfortable, though, if you were ever stuck out there at night." Martin Devere's face was sober once more as he lifted his cup and looked deeply into it. All trace of senility had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. "Like, say, if you were out there long enough for your suit power to go dead. You'd freeze to a hunk of ice in a few minutes.... Me, I never go outside at night."
"Shut up," the bald man said.
All day the bald man had been out alone, working on his electronic circuits. Evidently this left his partner nothing to do except study schematics.
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