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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 221/287
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Unbelieving
he
picked
up
the
gun
.
"
Now
,
"
said
the
voice
,
"
turn
your
ship
and
go
back
to
your
stand
.
"
"
Now
?
"
"
Now
,
"
said
the
voice
.
"
We
will
not
harm
you
.
You
ran
away
before
we
were
able
to
explain
.
Come
.
"
Now
the
great
ships
turned
as
lightly
as
moon
thistles
.
Their
wing
-
sails
flapped
with
a
sound
of
soft
applause
on
the
air
,
The
masks
were
coruscating
,
turning
,
firing
the
shadows
.
"
Elma
!
"
Sam
tumbled
into
the
ship
.
"
Get
up
,
Elma
.
We
’
re
going
back
.
"
He
was
excited
.
He
almost
gibbered
with
relief
.
"
They
aren
’
t
going
to
hurt
me
,
kill
me
,
Elma
.
Get
up
,
honey
,
get
up
.
"
"
What
—
what
?
"
Elma
blinked
around
and
slowly
,
as
the
ship
was
sent
into
the
wind
again
,
she
helped
herself
,
as
in
a
dream
,
back
up
to
a
seat
and
slumped
there
like
a
sack
of
stones
,
saying
no
more
.
The
sand
slid
under
the
ship
.
In
half
an
hour
they
were
back
at
the
crossroads
,
the
ships
planted
,
all
of
them
out
of
the
ships
.
The
Leader
stood
before
Sam
and
Elma
,
his
mask
beaten
of
polished
bronze
,
the
eyes
only
empty
slits
of
endless
blue
-
black
,
the
mouth
a
slot
out
of
which
words
drifted
into
the
wind
.
"
Ready
your
stand
,
"
said
the
voice
.
A
diamond
-
gloved
hand
waved
.
"
Prepare
the
viands
,
prepare
the
foods
,
prepare
the
strange
wines
,
for
tonight
is
indeed
a
great
night
!
"
