Дюна
Book One: Dune
“You’vewornastillsuitbefore?”heasked.
“Thisisthefirsttime.”
“Thensomeoneadjusteditforyou?”
“No.”
“Yourdesertbootsarefittedslip-fashionattheankles.Whotoldyoutodothat?”
“It...seemedtherightway.”
“Thatitmostcertainlyis.”
AndKynesrubbedhischeek,thinkingofthelegend:“Heshallknowyourwaysasthoughborntothem.”
“Wewastetime,”theDukesaid.Hegesturedtothewaiting‘thopter,ledtheway,acceptingtheguard’ssalutewithanod.Heclimbedin,fastenedhissafetyharness,checkedcontrolsandinstruments.Thecraftcreakedastheothersclamberedaboard.
Kynesfastenedhisharness,focusedonthepaddedcomfortoftheaircraft—softluxuryofgray-greenupholstery,gleaminginstruments,thesensationoffilteredandwashedairinhislungsasdoorsslammedandventfanswhirredalive.
Sosoft!hethought.
“Allsecure,Sire,”Hallecksaid.
Letofedpowertothewings,feltthemcupanddip—once,twice.Theywereairborneintenmeters,wingsfeatheredtightlyandafterjetsthrustingthemupwardinasteep,hissingclimb.
“SoutheastovertheShieldWall,”Kynessaid.“That’swhereItoldyoursandmastertoconcentratehisequipment.”
“Right.”
TheDukebankedintohisaircover,theothercrafttakinguptheirguardpositionsastheyheadedsoutheast.
“Thedesignandmanufactureofthesestillsuitsbespeaksahighdegreeofsophistication,”theDukesaid.
“SomedayImayshowyouasietchfactory,”Kynessaid.
“Iwouldfindthatinteresting,”theDukesaid.
