"Halo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maddox Tom)

Where the hell was his plane? Soon hunter flares would cut

into the new moon's dark, and government drones would scurry

around the edges of the shadows like huge mutant bats. Upcountry

Myanmar trembled on the edge of chaos, beset by a multi-ethnic mix

of Karens, Kachins, and Shans in various political postures, all

fierce, all contemptuous of the central government. They fought

with whatever was at hand, from sharpened stick to backpack

missile, and they only quit when they died.

 

A high-pitched wail built quickly until it filled the air. 

Within seconds a silver swing-wing, an ungainly thing, each huge

rectangular wing loaded with a bulbous, oversized engine pod, came

low over the dark mass of forest. Its running lights flashing red

and yellow, the swing-wing slewed to a stop above the field, wings

tilting to the perpendicular and engine sound dropping into the

bass. Its spots picked out a ten-meter circle of white light that

the aircraft dropped into, blowing clouds of sand that swept over

Gonzales in a whirlwind. The inverted fans' roar dropped to a

whisper, and with a creak the plane kneeled on its gear, placing

the cockpit almost on the ground. Gonzales picked up his bags and

walked toward the plane. A ladder unfolded with a hydraulic hiss,

and Gonzales stepped up and into the plane's bubble.

 

"Mikhail Gonzales?" the pilot asked. His multi-function

flight glasses were tilted back on his forehead, where their