Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
“Hadn’tyoubetterturn?”
“Whatabouttheshipbehindus?”
“He’spullingup.”
“Now!”
Paulstubbedthewings,bankedhardleftintothedeceptivelyslowboilingofthestormwall,felthischeekspullintheG-force.
Theyappearedtoglideintoaslowcloudingofdustthatgrewheavierandheavieruntilitblottedoutthedesertandthemoon.Theaircraftbecamealong,horizontalwhisperofdarknesslightedonlybythegreenluminosityoftheinstrumentpanel.
ThroughJessica’smindflashedallthewarningsaboutsuchstorms—thattheycutmetallikebutter,etchedfleshtoboneandateawaythebones.Shefeltthebuffetingofdust-blanketedwind.IttwistedthemasPaulfoughtthecontrols.
Shesawhimchopthepower,felttheshipbuck.Themetalaroundthemhissedandtrembled.
“Sand!”Jessicashouted.
Shesawthenegativeshakeofhisheadinthelightfromthepanel.“Notmuchsandthishigh.”
Butshecouldfeelthemsinkingdeeperintothemaelstrom.
Paulsentthewingstotheirfullsoaringlength,heardthemcreakwiththestrain.Hekepthiseyesfixedontheinstruments,glidingbyinstinct,fightingforaltitude.
Thesoundoftheirpassagediminished.
The’thopterbeganrollingofftotheleft.Paulfocusedontheglowingglobewithintheattitudecurve,foughthiscraftbacktolevelflight.
Jessicahadtheeeriefeelingthattheywerestandingstill,thatallmotionwasexternal.Avaguetanflowingagainstthewindows,arumblinghissremindedherofthepowersaroundthem.
Windstosevenoreighthundredkilometersanhour,shethought.Adrenalinedginessgnawedather.
