Limits by Larry Niven (tohfa e dulha read online TXT) 📗

of light and darkness. Every planet has its own peculiarities. You just have to get used to them before your sleep cycles adjust.”

“Well what am I supposed to do? Jesus, hand me the sleeping pills, wouldja please? I just want to sleep.”

“Nope. Don’t want anyone hooked on sleeping pills. We’ve got the ‘russian sleep’ sets. You’ll have one tomorrow.” The “russian sleep” headsets were much preferred over chemical sedatives. They produced unconsciousness with a tiny trickle of current through the brain.

“Good,” Elise yawned. “Sunset and dawn, they both seem to come too soon.”

The colony went up fast. It was all prefabs, makeshift and temporary, the streets cluttered with the tools, machinery and electric cables which nobody had put away because there was no place for them. Gradually places were made. Hydroponic tanks were assembled and stocked, and presently the colonists were back on fresh food.

Much more gradually, the stone houses began to appear.

They blasted their own rock from nearby cliffs with gun-cotton from the prefab chemical factory. They hauled the fractured stone on the robot trucks, and made concrete to stick it together. There was technology to spare, and endless power from the atomic motor in the landing craft. They took their time with the houses. Prefabs would weather the frequent warm rains for long enough. The stone houses were intended to last much longer. The colonists built thick walls, and left large spaces so that the houses could be expanded when later generations saw fit.

Doc squinted into the mirror, brushing his teeth with his usual precise vertical movements. He jumped when he felt a splash of hot water hit his back. “Cut that out, Elise,” he laughed.

She settled back in her bathtub, wrinkling her nose at him. Three years of meagre showers on the ship had left her dying for a real bathtub, where she could waste gallons of water without guilt.

“Spoilsport,” she teased. “If you were any kind of fun, you’d come over here and…”

“And what?” he asked, interested.

“And rub my back.”

“And that’s supposed to be fun?”

“I was thinking that we could rub it with you.” She grinned, seeing Doc’s eyes light up. “And then maybe we could rub you with me…”

Later, they toweled each other off, still tingling. “Look!” Doc said, pulling her in front of the mirror. He studied her, marveling. Had Elise become prettier, or was he seeing her with new eyes? He knew she laughed louder and more often than when they had met years ago in school, she the child of a wealthy family and he a scholarship student who dreamt of the stars. He knew that her body was more firm and alive than it had been in her teens. The same sun that had burnt her body nut-brown had lightened her reddish hair to strawberry blond. She grinned at him from the mirror and asked, “Do you propose to take all the credit?”

He nodded happily. He’d always been fit, but his muscles had been stringy, the kind that didn’t show. Now they bulged, handsome curves filling out chest and shoulders, legs strong from lifting and moving rock. His skin had darkened under the probing of a warm, friendly sun. He was sleeping well, and so was she.

All of the colonists were darker, more muscular, with thicker calluses on hands and feet. Under open sky or high ceilings they walked straighter than the men and women of Earth’s cities. They talked more boldly and seemed to fill more space. In the cities of Earth, the ultimate luxury had been building space. It was beyond the means of all but the wealthiest. Here, there was land for the taking, and twelve-foot ceilings could be built. The house Doc was building for Elise—almost finished now—would be as fine as any her father could have built for her. One that would be passed on to their children, and then to their grandchildren…

She seemed to echo his thought. “One last step. I want a bulge, right here,” and she patted her flat abdomen. “Your department.”

“And Jill’s. We’re up to mammals already, and we’re adjusting. I’ve got half the ‘russian sleep’ sets back in the infirmary already.”

The Orion spacecraft was a big, obtrusive object, mace-shaped, cruising constantly across the sky. What had been a fifth of a mile of deuterium snowball, the fuel supply for the starship’s battery of laser-fusion motors, was now a thin, shiny skin, still inflated by the residue of deuterium gas. It was the head of the mace. The life support system, ending in motors and shock absorbers, formed the handle.

Roy had taken the ground-to-orbit craft up and was aboard the Orion now, monitoring the relay as Cynnie beamed her holotape up. It was lonely. Once there had been too little room; now there was too much. The ship still smelled of too many people crowded too close for too long. Roy adjusted the viewscreen and grinned back at Cynnie’s toothy smile.

“This is Year Day on Ridgeback,” she said in her smooth announcer’s voice. “It was a barren world when we came. Now, slowly, life is spreading across the land. The farming teams have spent this last year dredging mulch from the sea bed and boiling it to kill the native life. Now it grows the tame bacteria that will make our soil.” The screen showed a sequence of action scenes: tractors plowing furrows in the harsh dirt; colonists glistening with sweat as they pulled boulders from the ground; and Jill supervising the spreading of the starter soil. Grass seed and earthworms were sown into the trenches, and men and machines worked together to fold them into the earth.

Cynnie had mounted a camera on one of the small flyers for an aerial view. “The soil is being spread along a ten-mile strip,” she said, “and grains are being planted. Later we’ll have fruit trees and shade trees, bamboo and animal feed.”

It was good, Roy thought, watching. It was smooth. Getting it all had been rough enough. Before they were finished the colonists had