Дюна
Book One: Dune
Jessicasqueezedbackthememoryofterror.Imustremaincalm,alert,andprepared.Imaygetonlyonechance.Again,sheforcedtheinnercalmness.
Theungainlythumpingofherheartbeatsevened,shapingouttime.Shecountedback.Iwasunconsciousaboutanhour.Sheclosedhereyes,focusedherawarenessontotheapproachingfootsteps.
Fourpeople.
Shecountedthedifferencesintheirsteps.
ImustpretendI’mstillunconscious.Sherelaxedagainstthecoldfloor,testingherbody’sreadiness,heardadooropen,sensedincreasedlightthroughhereyelids.
Feetapproached:someonestandingoverher.
“Youareawake,”rumbledabassovoice.“Donotpretend.”
Sheopenedhereyes.
TheBaronVladimirHarkonnenstoodoverher.Aroundthem,sherecognizedthecellarroomwherePaulhadslept,sawhiscotatoneside—empty.
Suspensorlampswerebroughtinbyguards,distributedneartheopendoor.
Therewasaglareoflightinthehallwaybeyondthathurthereyes.
ShelookedupattheBaron.Heworeayellowcapethatbulgedoverhisportablesuspensors.Thefatcheeksweretwocherubicmoundsbeneathspider-blackeyes.
“Thedrugwastimed,”herumbled.“Weknewtotheminutewhenyou’dbecomingoutofit.”
Howcouldthatbe?shewondered.They’dhavetoknowmyexactweight,mymetabolism,my....Yueh!
“Suchapityyoumustremaingagged,”theBaronsaid.“Wecouldhavesuchaninterestingconversation.”
Yueh’stheonlyoneitcouldbe,shethought.How?
TheBaronglancedbehindhimatthedoor.“Comein,Piter.
