"Dean Wesley Smith - A Time To Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Dean Wesley)

down. The nurse never did that, except on mission nights.
They had also cleaned him up early and put him to bed. They never did that either
unless there was a mission to run.
Of course, when he had first talked to them about the missions after his first one,
they had all laughed at him. They had said there was no such thing as the Earth
Protection League. They claimed that he had just had a strange dream.
But he knew better.
HeтАЩd gone on a mission, gotten young again. He had helped Earth defend itself
against the evil scum of the galaxy. And since that night heтАЩd gone on many, many
more missions.
Tonight he was ready again.
Hell, he was always ready. There was nothing else for him to do.
The clock ticked the night away minute by minute, second by second. On the night
of a mission, waiting was the hardest. Sometimes he wished he couldnтАЩt tell when a
mission was. It would make sleep easier.
So he forced himself to think about other things. First he thought about his
long-dead wife, Margaret. She would have laughed at him if she knew what he was
doing. But she wouldnтАЩt have minded. She had always supported him in everything
he did, one of the many things he had loved about her.
Their children, Strom and Claire, didnтАЩt have time for him much anymore. They had
their own lives, their own jobs, their own kids to raise. He hadnтАЩt bothered to even
hint to them about the missions. There would have been no point. They were part of
his past, his life as a grocery store owner. None of that compared with his life now
as a captain in the Earth Protection League.
He watched the clock as it ticked away the time.
At some point along the way, at least an hour after midnight, he dozed off.
тАЬCaptain Sable?тАЭ the young, male voice said.
Strong arms picked him up from the bed and moved quickly toward the sliding glass
door that lead into the center court of the nursing home. тАЬWe need your help again,
sir.тАЭ
тАЬAlways ready to help,тАЭ Sable said. His old vocal cords managed to barely choke
out the words. Those were the same words he always said at the start of every
mission.
He glanced at the old clock on the way out. Three-sixteen in the morning. He would
be back shortly.
If he lived.
The sliding door to the outside was open and the Chicago night air was cold against
his old skin. But the young soldier who carried him didnтАЩt even pause. He strode
across to the center of the court and then tapped a badge on his wrist. A white beam
of light from above lifted them quickly into the transport ship.
Sable knew that around the country the same thing had happened, or was happening,
at least forty-one other times as his crew was gathered from their respective nursing
homes and retirement apartments.
The young man with the strong arms quickly moved to a silver, coffin-shaped sleep
chamber and laid Sable down slowly on the soft cushions.
тАЬAny hints as to the fight?тАЭ Sable asked. тАЬThe nature of the mission?тАЭ
The young soldier smiled. тАЬCouldnтАЩt tell you if I knew, sir,тАЭ he said. тАЬBut they never
tell us grunts whatтАЩs happening on this end. I just wish I could be there with you.тАЭ
Sable laughed. тАЬI wish you could, too, son.тАЭ
But both of them knew that wasnтАЩt possible. The reason the ninety-one-year-old