-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнк Герберт
-
- Дюна
-
- Стр. 411/972
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
“
I
know
you
mean
this
,
”
Kynes
said
.
“
Yet
the
Harkon
—
”
The
door
behind
Paul
slammed
open
.
He
whirled
to
see
reeling
violence
—
shouting
,
the
clash
of
steel
,
wax
-
image
faces
grimacing
in
the
passage
.
With
his
mother
beside
him
,
Paul
leaped
for
the
door
,
seeing
Idaho
blocking
the
passage
,
his
blood
-
pitted
eyes
there
visible
through
a
shield
blur
,
claw
hands
beyond
him
,
arcs
of
steel
chopping
futilely
at
the
shield
.
There
was
the
orange
fire
-
mouth
of
a
stunner
repelled
by
the
shield
.
Idaho
’
s
blades
were
through
it
all
,
flick
-
flicking
,
red
dripping
from
them
.
Then
Kynes
was
beside
Paul
and
they
threw
their
weight
against
the
door
.
Paul
had
one
last
glimpse
of
Idaho
standing
against
a
swarm
of
Harkonnen
uniforms
—
his
jerking
,
controlled
staggers
,
the
black
goat
hair
with
a
red
blossom
of
death
in
it
.
Then
the
door
was
closed
and
there
came
a
snick
as
Kynes
threw
the
bolts
.
“
I
appear
to
’
ve
decided
,
”
Kynes
said
.
“
Someone
detected
your
machinery
before
it
was
shut
down
,
”
Paul
said
.
He
pulled
his
mother
away
from
the
door
,
met
the
despair
in
her
eyes
.
“
I
should
’
ve
suspected
trouble
when
the
coffee
failed
to
arrive
,
”
Kynes
said
.
“
You
’
ve
a
bolt
hole
out
of
here
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
Shall
we
use
it
?
”
Kynes
took
a
deep
breath
,
said
:
“
This
door
should
hold
for
at
least
twenty
minutes
against
all
but
a
lasgun
.
”
