"Marc Stiegler - David's Sling" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stiegler Marc)

from his own fate. He would save enough strength to
complete that last act, if necessary. But he was not that
lost yet, not quite yet.

Shadows. Deadly quiet. A rope anchored in the snow.
His left arm stretching to grasp the next handhold. He
balanced on the dull edge of unconsciousness, yet he took
that next handhold. And the next.

The rope ended. Hilan reached over the lip of ice,
heaving himself out of the crevasse into the glare and the
howling wind.

The two-man celebration began with champagne. "A
toast to the Soviet Unioni" Jim Mayfield exclaimed, raising
his glass.

Earl Semmens raised his as well; the glasses tinkled in
midair. "A toast to peace," he offered.
"And above all, a toast to tomorrow's Galiup poll results."
Mayfield sipped the champagne. His eyes slid across the
floor, lingering on the emblem woven with rich blues and
golds into the carpet. It was his, at least for now. The emblem
was the official seal of the President of the United States.
He sat back down; the Secretary of State followed his lead.

Earl sat on the edge of his "chair, staring out the win-
dow. He spoke in rehearsal of his planned statement to
the press. 'Yes, this treaty is another potent lever against
the arms race. Now that we've curtailed the space-based
Ballistic Missile Defense work, all incentives for building
new missiles will disappear." He turned back to Mayfield,
and for a moment his pudgy features held lines of worry.
He tapped a nervous finger on the president's desk. "I
wish they hadn't instigated that. . . little incident in Hon-
duras just before the signing. God, they know how to goad
us!" He shivered, then resumed his nervous tapping. "Well,
we couldn't have done anything about that anyway, re-
gardless of treaties. And the treaty's more important." He
nodded his head, and his voice again sounded press-ready.
"Yes, the whole world can sleep more securely now that
the arms race in space has stopped."

Sometimes the elegant power of the Oval Office gave
Jim a sense of grandeur. Seated behind a desk of massive

6 Marc Stiegler

proportions, a desk to dwarf even giants, he felt the ramifi-
cations of his decisions pulsing through the world. "Not