"Stanley G. Weinbaum - Flight on Titan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinbaum Stanley G)

Tim snatched for his revolverтАФor intended to. The snatch turned into a gentle, almost imperceptible
movement, and then died to immobility. He was held utterly helpless under the glare of the worm's eye.
"Uzza, uzza, uzza,"thrummed the thing in a soothing, slumberous buzz. "Uzza, uzza, uzza." The
sound drummed sleepily in his ears. He was sleepy anyway, worn to exhaustion by the hell without.
"Una, uzza, uzza." Why not sleep?
It was the quick-witted Diane who saved them. Her voice snapped him to wakefulness. "We are
sleeping," she said. "We're both asleep. This is the way we sleep. Don't you see? We're both fast
asleep."
 The thing said "Uzza, uzza," and paused as if perplexed.
"I tell you we're sleeping!" insisted Diane.
"Vera!" buzzed the worm.
It was silent, stretching its terrible face toward Diane. Suddenly Tim's arm snapped in sharp
continuation of his interrupted movement, the gun burned cold through his glove, and then spat blue
flame.
A shriek answered. The worm, coiled like a spring, shot its bloody face toward the girl. Unthinking,
Tim leaped upon it; his legs tangled in its ropy length and he crashed on his hands against the rocky wall.
But the worm was fragile; it was dead and in several pieces when he rose.
"Oh!" gasped Diane, her face white. "HowтАФhow horrible! Let's get awayтАФquickly!" she swayed
and sat weakly on the floor. "It's death outside," said Tim grimly.
He gathered the ropy worm in his hands, stuffed it back into the hole whence it had emerged. Then,
very cautiously, he flashed his beam into the opening, peered through. He drew back quickly.
"Ugh!" he said, shuddering.
"What, Tim? What's there?"
"AтАФa brood of 'cm." He raised the broken end of the column in his arms; the shaft fitted the hole.
"At least that will fall if another comes," he muttered. "We'll be warned. Di, we've got to rest here a while.
Neither of us could last an hour out there."
She smiled wanly. "What's the difference, Tim? I'd rather die in clean cold than byтАФby those things."
Rut in five minutes she was sleeping.
As soon as she slept, Tim slipped the glove from his left hand and stared gloomily at their lone
flame-orchid. He had felt it shatter when he struck the wall, and there it lay, colorless, broken, worthless.
They had nothing left now, nothing but life, and probably little more of that.
He cast the pieces to the rock-dusty floor and then seized a fragment of stone and viciously pounded
the jewel into dull powder and tiny splinters. It vented his feelings.
Despite his determination, he must have dozed. He woke with a start, glanced fearfully at the plugged
hole, and then noticed that dim green light filtered through the ice wall. Dawn. At least, as much dawn as
they'd get during the eclipse. They'd have to leave at once, for to-day they must cross the peaks. They
must, for to-night would see the shifting of the wind, and when that occurred, hope would vanish.
He woke Diane, who sat up so wearily that his eyes felt tears of pity. She made no comment when
he suggested leaving, but there was no hope in her obedience. He rose to creep through the funnel, to be
there to help her when the wind struck her.
"Tim!" she shrieked. "Tim! What's that?
He spun around. She was pointing at the floor where he had slept and where now flashed a thousand
changing colors like rainbow fire. Flame-orchids! Each splinter he had cracked from the ruined one was
now a fiery gem; each tiny grain was sprouting from the rock dust of the floor.
Some were as large as the original, some were tiny flames no bigger than peas, but all glowed perfect
and priceless. Fifty of themтАФa hundred, if one counted the tiny ones.
They gathered them. Tim told her of their origin, and carefully wrapped a few grains of the rock dust
in tinfoil from their chocolate.
"Have it analyzed," he explained. "Perhaps we can raise 'em back on Earth."
"If we everтАФ" began Diane, and then was silent. Let Tim find what pleasure he could in the