"William Forstchen - Into the Sea of Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forstchen William R)

A new copy of the journal had just come that morning, with a lengthy article by Beaulieu concerning the
recentlydiscovered ruins of the colony on Mars. The site was oneof the biggest finds of the decade and
was revealing awealth of artifacts on early twenty-first-century technol ogy. The article would provide an
excellent weekend'sentertainment away from students, the school, the worldтАФ in fact, an escape from all
reality.

Ian was so wrapped in happy thoughts of escape thathe didn't notice Shelley had stopped, and Ian
crashed right into her. The Schuder model tumbled to the floorand fractured into fragments that went
spinning out in every direction.

"Uh-oh," Shelley whispered.

"Damn it, Shelley, why can't you... ?" Ian looked pasther and saw the towering figure standing by the
doorwayto his office.

"It's Chancellor Cushman," Shelley whispered fear-fully.

The figure started to move toward them. "Dr. Lacklin,my good man," the Chancellor's voice boomed
like a can-non report, "just the person I was looking for."

Striding forward, hand outstretched, he stepped onbroken fragments of the model, grinding them to
powder.Grabbing Ian's shoulder, the Chancellor smiled his sin-ister toothy grin, which more often than
not was the open-ing signal for a budget cut or an increase in one's teachingload.

He turned to Shelley with that same grin, but therewas a barely concealed disdain about him as he was
forcedto address a student. "My charming young miss, wouldyou be so kind as to excuse the good
doctor and me."
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Before the Chancellor had finished speaking, Shelleywas backing away, mumbling something about
having towash her hair; she was gone, leaving Ian to his fate.

Ian followed the Chancellor down the corridor into thedusty, cluttered closet that was lan's office. There
theChancellor released his numbing grip on lan's shoulder. He ran his finger along a bookcase and
snorted with dis-dain when the digit came up black with two decades'worth of dust. Walking around to
lan's desk, the Chan-cellor first carefully examined the chair as if expecting it to be booby-trapped, and
then, barely satisfied, he low-ered his towering form while pointing Ian to the visitor'schair on the other
side of the desk.

"You know, Ian," his voice boomed, filling the tinyroom, "I never could see the purpose of keeping your
history program alive. Such things are a waste, in my mind." He smiled.

It's termination! Ian thought. My God, what will I do?

"But the Provincial Government of New America," theChancellor continued, "decreed in the educational
charterto this institution that we are to, quote, 'train functioning citizens who shall fit into the framework of
our society and appreciate the traditions of our new Federated Republic,' unquote. In other words, my