"Dead Center" - читать интересную книгу автора (Merril Judith)

beast itself split your ears.
Ringing quiet came down and she caught up Toby, held him tight, tight. . . .
"Perfect!" Gordon Kimberly sighed. "Perfect!"
So if anything was wrong, it hadn't showed up yet.
She put Toby down, then took his hand. "Come on," she said. "I'll buy you an
ice-cream soda." He grinned at her. He'd been looking very strange all day, but
now he looked real again. His hair had got messed up when she grabbed him.
"We're having cocktails for the press in the conference room," Kimberly said. "I
think we could find something Toby would like."
"Wel-l-l-1 . . ." She didn't want a cocktail, and she didn't want to talk to the
press. "I think maybe we'll beg off this time. . . ."
"I think there might be some disappointment—" the man started; then Tim O'Heyer
came dashing up.
"Come on, babe," he said. "Your old man told me to take personal charge while he
was gone." He leered. On him it looked cute. She laughed. Then she looked down
at Toby. "What would you rather, Tobe? Want to go out by ourselves, or go to the
party?"
"I don't care," he said.
Tim took the boy's hand. "What we were thinking of was having a kind of party
here, and then I think they're going to bring some dinner in, and anybody who
wants to can stay up till your Daddy gets to the moon. That'll be pretty late. I
guess you wouldn't want to stay up late like that, would you?"
Somebody else talking to Toby like that would be all wrong, but Tim was a
friend, Toby's friend too. Ruth still didn't want to go to the party, but she
remembered now that there had been plans for something like that all along, and
since Toby was beginning to look eager, and it was important to keep the press
on their side . .
"You win, O'Heyer," she said. "Will somebody please send out for an ice-cream
soda? Cherry syrup, I think it is this week . . ." She looked inquiringly at her
son. ". . . and . . . strawberry ice cream?"
Tim shuddered. Toby nodded. Ruth smiled, and they all went in to the party.

"Well, young man!" Toby thought the redheaded man in the brown suit was probably
what they called a reporter, but he wasn't sure. "How about it? You going along
next time?"
"I don't know," Toby said politely. "I guess not."
"Don't you want to be a famous flier like your Daddy?" a strange woman in an
evening gown asked him.
"I don't know," he muttered, and looked around for his mother, but he couldn't
see her.
They kept asking him questions like that, about whether he wanted to go to the
moon. Daddy said he was too little. You'd think all these people would know that
much.

Jock Kruger came up swiftly out of dizzying darkness into isolation and clarity.
As soon as he could move his head, before he fully remembered why, he began
checking the dials and meters and flashing lights on the banked panel in front
of him. He was fully aware of the ship, of its needs and strains and motion,
before he came to complete consciousness of himself, his weightless body, his
purpose, or his memories.