"Easy! They've got oceans of water on Earth. They can't post a guard over every square mile. We can sink down on the night side of the planet any time we want, fill our shells, then get away. How can they stop us?"
"In half a dozen ways, Mario. How do you spot shells in space up to distances of a hundred thousand miles? One thin metal shell in all that space. How? By radar. Do you think there's no radar on Earth? Do you think that if Earth ever gets the notion we're engaged in waterlegging, it won't be simple for them to set up a radar network to spot ships coming in from space?"
Dora broke in indignantly. "I'll tell you one thing, Mario Rioz. My husband isn't going to be part of any raid to get water to keep up his scavenging with."
"It isn't just scavenging," said Mario. "Next they'll be cutting down on everything else. We've got to stop them now."
"But we don't need their water, anyway," said Dora. "We're not the Moon or Venus. We pipe enough water down from the polar caps for all we need. We have a water tap right in this apartment. There's one in every apartment on this block."
Long said, "Home use is the smallest part of it. The mines use water. And what do we do about the hydroponic tanks?"
"That's right," said Swenson. "What about the hydroponic tanks, Dora? They've got to have water and it's about time we arranged to grow our own fresh food instead of having to live on the condensed crud they ship us from Earth."
"Listen to him," said Dora scornfully. "What do you know about fresh food? You've never eaten any."
"I've eaten more than you think. Do you remember those carrots I picked up once?"
"Well, what was so wonderful about them? If you ask me, good baked protomeal is much better. And healthier, too. It just seems to be the fashion now to be talking fresh vegetables because they're increasing taxes for these hydroponics. Besides, all this will blow over."
Long said, "I don't think so. Not by itself, anyway. Hilder will probably be the next Coordinator, and then things may really get bad. If they cut down on food shipments, too - "
"Well, then," shouted Rioz, "what do we do? I still say take it! Take the water!"
"And I say we can't do that, Mario. Don't you see that what you 're suggesting is the Earth way, the Grounder way? You're trying to hold on to the umbilical cord that ties Mars to Earth. Can't you get away from that? Can't you see the Martian way?"
"No, I can't. Suppose you tell me."
"I will, if you'll listen. When we think about the Solar System, what do we think about? Mercury, Venus, Earth, Moon, Mars, Phobos, and Deimos. There you are - seven bodies, that's all. But that doesn't represent one percent of the Solar System. We Martians are right at the edge of the other ninety-nine percent. Out there, farther from the Sun, there's unbelievable amounts of water!"
The others stared.
Swenson said uncertainly, "You mean the layers of ice on Jupiter and Saturn?"
"Not that specifically, but it is water, you'll admit. A thousand-mile-thick layer of water is a lot of water."
"But it's all covered up with layers of ammonia or - or something, isn't it?" asked Swenson. "Besides, we can't land on the major planets."
"I know that," said Long, "but I haven't said that was the answer. The major planets aren't the only objects out there. What about the asteroids and the satellites? Vesta is a two-hundred-mile-diameter asteroid that's hardly more than a chunk of ice. One of the moons of Saturn is mostly ice. How about that?"
Rioz said, "Haven't you ever been in space, Ted?"
"You know I have. Why do you ask?"
"Sure, I know you have, but you still talk like a Grounder. Have you thought of the distances involved? The average asteroid is a hundred twenty million miles from Mars at the closest. That's twice the Venus-Mars hop and you know that hardly any liners do even that in one jump. They usually stop off at Earth or the Moon. After all, how long do you expect anyone to stay in space, man?"
"I don't know. What's your limit?"
"You know the limit. You don't have to ask me. It's six months. That's handbook data. After six months, if you're still in space, you're psychotherapy meat.