"Stefan Gagne - Space Patrol" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

exclaimed. "Come on, we had planned this whole thing. Best buds, hittin'
college, getting babes, making millions and millions of credits... and
you're telling me simply because you didn't want to flip a spatula they
won't let you in?"

"That's about the size of it. And their rosters are full for the next
four years."

"Hmm..." Qwerty said, scratching his chin. "Well, we've got a combined
IQ of about 300 in this room, surely we can find some job you can do for
the next four years."

"I have been considering Space Patrol," Twerp suggested.

"I thought they went for the sloping foreheaded jock type," Qwerty
stated.

"Well, they posted an ad a few weeks ago. They're offering college
tuition money and credit if you sign up, all applicants welcome."

"Well, then that's your ticket into Murf Tech!" Qwerty said, voice
picking back up to its usual chipper tone. "You enlist, maybe sit behind a
desk for a few years, and then you're in. It's a bright new opportunity!"

"Maybe you're right," Twerp said, spirit rising. "After all, how bad
could it be?" -=( SP )=-

Soft furry feet plodded along the linoleum halls of Houykk Ferriwa
T'lli, half a galaxy away.

Bruiser hated that sound. For most of his life, he had heard the
plodding of hundreds of Ytt rabbit sapiens along the school corridors.
Simply hearing two large bunny feet plodding seemed alien to him, as if
something in his life was empty other than the corridor.

He had been working at this school as a Phys Ed. teacher for about 13
years now, and had been training members of the Ytt army in flamethrower
usage on the side for three of those years. He enjoyed the thrill of the
fight, the ability to push someone's head through concrete, and just the
sheer exhilaration of teaching someone else how to fight and push heads
through concrete.

And the tournaments. He enjoyed them too, the football games with the
roaring crowds and the glory of the win. The hot dogs, the cheerleaders,
the painted lines on the ground, the entire sport experience.

And now he was fairly sure this would come to a close.

He stopped at the door of the principal, Dr. Oppenow Jrrgy. Pausing
for a moment to take a breath and adjust his old #34 basketball jersey, he