"Steve Jordan - The Onuissance Cells" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Steve)

and parked vehicles that filled the inside of the gateway. A few of the other pads held smaller transports,
being loaded or emptied by men and cargo movers. Two cargo movers were positioned just off of one of
the larger pads, with no other craft nearby. Thomas guessed that would be their landing site.
As he expected, the Drake slowed over the large pad, and presently came to a complete stop. Then it
began to descend, slowly and carefully. The transport adjusted its angle once, to bring itself fully broadside
to the city beyond. Thomas could now see a number of figures standing by the cargo movers. Two of them
were wearing the uniforms of Peacekeepers, he could see. That would be his welcoming committee... his
staff. In another minute, the Drake touched down, and the engines immediately began to cycle down.
Thomas got up from his seat, gathered up his shoulder bag and slipped on his duty jacket. He joined the
flight crew by the main hatch, and waited for them to unlock and open it. They allowed him to step out first,
and he wasted no time heading directly for the two officers waiting for him.
San and Frank waited on the edge of the landing pad with the rest of the cargo crews, while the Drake
touched down in the center of the pad. The soft murmur of the engines began to take on a more relaxed
tone as they slowly cycled down, and they could see the flight crew in the cockpit busily shutting down the
flight systems.
The two officers, standing at-ease next to the loaders, could have posed for an advertisement. They
were both young and strong examples of the Peacekeeper force. San Kepolis, the senior of the two
officers, was also the taller of the two, by a few inches. Her short-cropped dark hair was very businesslike,
easy to keep neat. She squared back her broad shoulders, and quite a number of the loading crew took
notice of the full shape of her tunic and taper of her slacks, along with her classic Greek features. Frank
DeJaye had a full appreciation for San’s physical attributes, but he was hardly a strain to look at, himself.
His dark features were dashing and slightly boyish. He was also slim and graceful of build, but the spread
of his chest suggested that he was also more powerful than most men.
Frank noticed motion at one of the portals corresponding to the passenger section. “That must be him,”
he commented, and San followed his gaze to the portals. The figure in the portals could just be seen moving
forward, towards the still-closed hatch. “I hear he’s the first black man to reach a command position in the
peacekeepers,” he said offhandedly.
San stole a glance at Frank. “What of it?”
Frank shrugged. “Just for the record. He’s supposed to be quite a frontiersman, too. You should show
him around the countryside sometime.”
San gave him a sidelong glance, before turning back to the transport. “I probably will.” The loader they
had been standing next to was already in motion, pulling up next to the cargo bays of the Drake. Since the
Drakes were the chief forms of transportation between the ground and the Stratospheric bases and
OCOM, they would doubtless be taking on more in the way of supplies than they would be offloading. The
ground crews wasted no time opening up the access doors and offloading what cases were stored inside.
The forward hatch opened then, and a tall man came down the steps. From this distance, they could
only make out his long, white hair, positively gleaming in the sunlight, over his tan PK jacket. He saw them
immediately, and strode in their direction. As he approached, San and Frank avoided squinting to try to
make out his features. Soon they could see the whites of his eyes below white eyebrows, then a flash of
teeth.
He stopped a meter from them, and they could now see the highlights that shaped his face for them. He
had a long face, very angular, with a square jaw and hooked nose that described a Native American
ancestry. Similarly the long, straight hair, parted in the center and pulled back behind his ears, suggested
Namerican roots, although its bright white color was in sharp contrast to the sable hair of the Old Tribes.
The deep glossy black of his skin almost hid his features from them a moment longer, until he smiled and
extended a hand.
“Good morning. I’m Commander Thomas Falcon Beak. Would you be Deputy Kepolis?”
“Yes, I am.” San shook his hand warmly, but with only a slight smile. “Welcome to Midland City. This
is Deputy DeJaye.”
“Call me Frank.” The two men shook hands. “I noticed they gave you the scenic tour of the place.