-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнк Герберт
-
- Дюна
-
- Стр. 420/972
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
“
Now
!
”
Paul
stubbed
the
wings
,
banked
hard
left
into
the
deceptively
slow
boiling
of
the
storm
wall
,
felt
his
cheeks
pull
in
the
G
-
force
.
They
appeared
to
glide
into
a
slow
clouding
of
dust
that
grew
heavier
and
heavier
until
it
blotted
out
the
desert
and
the
moon
.
The
aircraft
became
a
long
,
horizontal
whisper
of
darkness
lighted
only
by
the
green
luminosity
of
the
instrument
panel
.
Through
Jessica
’
s
mind
flashed
all
the
warnings
about
such
storms
—
that
they
cut
metal
like
butter
,
etched
flesh
to
bone
and
ate
away
the
bones
.
She
felt
the
buffeting
of
dust
-
blanketed
wind
.
It
twisted
them
as
Paul
fought
the
controls
.
She
saw
him
chop
the
power
,
felt
the
ship
buck
.
The
metal
around
them
hissed
and
trembled
.
“
Sand
!
”
Jessica
shouted
.
She
saw
the
negative
shake
of
his
head
in
the
light
from
the
panel
.
“
Not
much
sand
this
high
.
”
But
she
could
feel
them
sinking
deeper
into
the
maelstrom
.
Paul
sent
the
wings
to
their
full
soaring
length
,
heard
them
creak
with
the
strain
.
He
kept
his
eyes
fixed
on
the
instruments
,
gliding
by
instinct
,
fighting
for
altitude
.
The
sound
of
their
passage
diminished
.
