"Mike Moscoe - Society of Humanity 03 - They Also Serve" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moscoe Mike)

"Bet whatever that is'll be fun, and I didn't find it. How much trouble can I get you into
when even grandmas are going?" Nikki knew she should tell Daga to go jump in a lake, get
lost, do anything. Instead, she dropped her hoe and was off.

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Ray cycled the view on his reader through the shuttle's cameras. The flight deck was
breathing ship's air and off-limits to anyone who touched this planet. Matt was adamant;
until the landing party completed six weeks' quarantine, the ship and ground crew were a
world apart.
The village was estimated at about a thousand people. Intermingled with the houses
were vegetable gardens. Farmed plots grew larger the farther out from town until some
of them were long enough to land a shuttle, assuming the ground would take the weight.
Sensors said it would. The pilot was making her own check.

"Radar says it's solid and even. Good pasture. Strap in tight, folks, I'm setting this
thing down. Give me full flaps, and then some." The shuttle lined up and began its final
approach. At twenty meters, the pilot cut power. Ray had suggested that, not wanting to
scorch the crop he was landing on. The pilot readily agreed. "Don't much want a grass fire
under my belly, either."
The shuttle settled lightly, bounced, and decided to stay. The pilot went light on the
brakes, taking her time rolling to a halt. Ray stood, arranging his gray civilian suit around
himself. Mary went down her security detail, marines and middies, eyeing them like a
mother hawk, making final adjustments to their gear. Nothing brought her to a halt. Back
with Ray, she saluted. "Teams ready, Colonel."

"Deploy them, Captain."
They would surround the cooling shuttle and make sure no rubberneckers singed their
fingers. The marines went out with quick strides and professionally disinterested faces.
The middies would have been more impressive if they'd done less rubbernecking
themselves. Well, Ray had brought them to learn.
As Ray laboriously negotiated the passenger compartment, a breeze from the rear
hatch filled it. Heat off the cooling shuttle mingled with a warmth laden with sun and
baked earth and growing things. At the top of the stairs, he paused. Four kilometers away
were the stone and wattle houses of the village. Dirt paths led from it. Close in were green
crops that looked like corn. In front of him, a greenish gold crop stood twenty centimeters
or so tall, waving like the sea in the gentle wind. Behind the shuttle, deep tracks in the
earth marked its passage.

People were coming from all around, in ones and twos, fives and tens. Some carried
hoes or other farm implements, using them more as walking sticks than as weapons.
Draping his right cane over his elbow, Ray latched on to the stair rail and started down,
one step at a time.

Mary stood at the halfway mark. "Need a hand, sir?"
"I can take care of myself." Ray tried to keep the snarl out of his voice. The woman
who had crippled him nodded, and looked out over the gathering crowd. She did not
move, and he had no doubt she'd catch him if he faltered. Part of him agreed with her
actions; the mission could ill afford him breaking something. Another part of him, the man
who'd led combat apes, snapped and snarled, but Ray kept that under control.