"Jean and Jeff Sutton - Lord Of The Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sutton Jean and Jeff)

"Colonists? They are people who settle new worlds."
"Was my father a colonist?"
"He was the captain." Zandro explained what that meant. "The ship was
named the Golden Ram."
His father -- the captain! Danny felt a surge of pride. "Did he have a
name?"
"Gordell June," Zandro replied. "Your mother's name was Wenda."
"Like this planet?"
"He named this world for her, Danny."
"Were they coming here?" He asked excitedly.
"The name of this planet and the ship's proximity to it at the time it
was destroyed indicate that, yes. Fortunately for you, they were quite close."
"Did you get that from my mind?"
"Yes, but much of it is fragmentary."
"You mentioned my native planet." Danny whispered aloud again. "What is
its name?" Suddenly he felt an imperative need to know.
"Earth...Earth in the language of your people."
"Earth," he murmured, caught with the sound. A lovely name. He felt a
great longing. "My native sun?" he asked humbly.
"Your people call it Sol."
"Sol is a fine name," he declared stoutly.
"A name is just a means of identification," Zandro countered. "Remember,
we spoke of names -- how they are used to identify objects or to distinguish
one object from another. A name is just a form of number."
"No," he protested huskily, "it's not that way at all."
"Why do you say that?"
"A name makes me feel something," he asserted. "Earth and Sol -- they
make me feel good all over."
 "You come from a race of dreamers, Danny."
"What are dreamers?"
"People who twist reality into unreality. It's characteristic of races
which can't face the harshness of life."
"My father wasn't that way," he denied. "He was captain of the Golden
Ram. You said so yourself."
"You're speaking from emotion," Zandro counseled. "I'm not," he denied.
"How do you know what you say?"
"I've seen things in your mind that your people call music and poetry
and art," Zandro explained. "They appear as attempts to disguise a Universe
which is too fearful for them. Your people attach emotions to inanimate things
to give them special meaning, make them something more or less than what they
are. That is why a name gives you that feeling. Actually there are millions of
planets quite similar to Earth. Then don't you find it strange that you should
feel attached to that particular one?"
"It's my native planet," he protested.
"You were far too young to remember it."
"Don't your people feel that way about their planet?" he asked
wonderingly.
"My people face reality."
"But what is reality?"
"Reality is this: but one race can survive in the Universe. My race."