"Brian Herbert - Dune - Nightime Shadows On Open Sand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

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Dune: Nighttime Shadows on Open Sand
by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson



Nature commits no errors; right and wrong are human categories.

—Pardot Kynes, Arrakis Lectures
Monotonous days. The three-man Harkonnen patrol cruised over the golden swells of dunes along a
thousand-kilometer flight path. In the unrelenting desert landscape, even a puff of dust caused
excitement.

The troopers flew their armored ornithopter in a long circle, skirting mountains, then curving
south over great pans and flatlands. Glossu Rabban, the Baron's nephew and temporary governor of
Arrakis, had ordered them to fly regularly, to be seen—to show the squalid settlements that
Harkonnens were watching. Always.

Kiel, the sidegunner, considered the assignment a license to hunt any Fremen found wandering near
legitimate spice-harvesting operations. What made those dirty wanderers think they could trespass
on Harkonnen lands without permission from the district office in Carthag? But few Fremen were
ever caught abroad in daylight, and the task had grown dull.

Garan flew the 'thopter, rising up and dipping down to catch thermals, as if operating an
amusement ride. He maintained a stoic expression, though occasionally a grin stole across his lips
as the craft bucked and jostled in rough air. As they completed their fifth day on patrol, he
continued to mark discrepancies on topographical maps, muttering in disgust each time he found
another mistake. These were the worst charts he had ever used.

In the back passenger compartment sat Josten, recently transferred from Giedi Prime. Accustomed to
industrial facilities, gray skies, and dirty buildings, Josten gazed out over the sandy
wastelands, studying hypnotic dune patterns. He spotted the knot of dust off to the south, deep in
the open Funeral Plain. "What's that? Spice-harvesting operation?"

"Not a chance," the sidegunner Kiel said. "Harvesters shoot a plume like a cone into the air,
straight and thin."

"Too low for a dust devil. Too small." With a shrug, Garan jerked the 'thopter controls and soared
toward the low, reddish-brown cloud. "Let's take a look." After so many tedious days, they would
have gone out of their way to investigate a large rock sticking out of the sand.…

When they reached the site, they found no tracks, no machinery, no sign of human presence—and yet
acres of desert looked devastated. A mottled rust color stained the sands a darker ochre, as if
blood from a wound had dried in the hot sun.

"Looks like somebody dropped a bomb here," Kiel said.

"Could be the aftermath of a spice blow," Garan suggested. "I'll set down for a closer look."