"James P. Hogan - Giants 3 - Giant's Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hogan James P)

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"You do not remember these events?" the voice challenged. "You were there."
An anger surged up inside him suddenly-a delayed-action reflex to protect him from the
merciless assault on his mind and senses. "No!" he shouted. "Not like that! They never happened
like that. What kind of lunacy is this?"
"How, then, did they happen?"
"They were our friends. They were welcomed. We gave gifts." His anger boiled over into a
quivering rage. "Who are you? Are you mad? Show yourself."
Ganymede vanished, and a series of confused impressions poured by in front of his eyes,
which inexplicably his mind assembled together into coherent meaning. There was a vision of the
Ganymeans being taken into captivity by a stern and uncompromising American military...being
allowed to repair their ship only after agreeing to divulge details of their technology.
being taken to Earth to keep their side of the bargain...being dispatched ignominiously
back into the depths of space.
~"Was it not so?" the voice demanded.
"For Christ's sake, NO! Whoever you are, you're insane!"
"What parts are untrue?"
"All of it. What is the -- "
A Soviet newscaster was talking hysterically. Although it was in Russian, Hunt somehow
understood. The war had to start now, before the West could turn its advantage into something
tangible
# .. speeches from a balcony; crowds chanting and cheering..
launchings of U.S. MIRV satellites...propaganda from Washington...tanks, missile
transporters, marching lines of Chinese infantry...high-power radiation weapons hidden in deep
space
across the solar system. A race that had gone insane was marching off to doomsday with
bands playing and flags waving.
"NO-O-O-O!" He heard his own voice rise to a shriek that seemed to come from all sides to
engulf him, and then die somewhere far off in the distance. His strength evaporated abruptly, and
he felt himself collapsing.
"He speaks the truth," a voice said from somewhere. It was calm and decisive, and sounded
like a lone rock of sanity amid the maelstrom of chaos that had swept him out of the universe.
Collapsing...falling...blackness...nothing.
Chapter nine


Hunt was dozing in what felt like a soft and very comfortable armchair. He was relaxed and
refreshed, as if he had been there for some time. The memory of his experience was still vivid,
but it lingered only as something that he regarded in a detached, almost academically curious,
kind of way. The terror had gone. The air around him smelt fresh and slightly scented, and subdued
music was playing in the background. After a few seconds it registered as a Mozart string quartet.
What kind of insanity was he part of now?
He opened his eyes, straightened up, and looked around. He was in an armchair, and the
chair was part of an ordinary-looking room, furnished in contemporary style with another, similar
chair, reading desk, a large wooden table in the center, a side-table near the door set with an
ornate vase of roses, and a thick carpet of dark brown pile that blended fairly well with the
predominantly orange and brown decor. There was a single window behind him, covered by heavy
drapes that were closed and billowing gently in the breeze coming through from the outside. He