"Harry Harrison - SSR 04 - The Stainlees Steel Rat Wants You" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

That my dear twins had to be incarcerated here! As a father I felt concern; as a citizen I
suppose it was a blessing. What I thought was just good spirits in the lads, the rest of the world
tended to frown upon. Before coming here they had been expelled from a total of 214 schools. Three
of these schools had burned down under mysterious circumstances; another had blown up. I had never
believed that the mass suicide attempt of all the senior masters at another school had anything to
do with my boys; but vicious tongues will wag. In any case they had finally met their match, if
not their master in old Colonel Dorsky. After being forcefully retired from the military he had
opened the school and put his years of service, experience and sadism to work. My boys had
reluctantly gained an education, served their term and in a few days would face the graduating
ceremonies and parole. Only now things would have to be accelerated just a little bit.

As always I reluctantly surrendered my weapons, was Xrayed and spy-beamed, locked through the
multiple automatic doors and released into the inner quad. Dispirited figures shuffled by, beaten
down by the school's foolproof and escapeproof system. But there ahead, crossing the ferroconcrete
artificial grass, were two upright and brisk figures, unbent by any despair. I whistled shrilly
and they dropped their books and ran up to greet me warmly. After which I rose Slowly to my feet
and dusted myself off-then proved that an old dog can still teach the pups a trick or two. They
laughed as they rubbed their sore spots and stood up again. They were a bit shorter than I was,
taking after their mother there, but soundly muscled and handsome as gods. Many a girl's father
would be out buying a shotgun after they were released from school.

"What was that bit with the arm and elbow, Dad?" James asked.

"Explanations can wait. I am here to accelerate your graduation because something not too nice
has happened to your mother."

Their grins vanished on the instant and they leaned forward alertly, drinking in every word as
I explained what I had seen, nodding in agreement.

"Right, then," Bolivar said, "We go stir up old Dirty Dorsky and get out of here. . ."

". . . and do something about it," James added, finishing the sentence. They did this often,
many times thinking as one.



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We marched. In step, at a good doubletime of 120 paces to the minute. Through the great hall
and past all the skeletons in chains, up the main staircase, splashing through the water running
constantly down it, and into the Head's office.

"You can't go in there," his secretary-bodyguard said, surging to his feet, 200 kilos of
trained fighting flesh. We scarcely slowed and only broke step going over his unconscious body.
Dorsky looked up growling when we came through the door, gun ready in his fist.

"Put it away," I told him. "It is an emergency and I have come for my sons a few days early.
Would you be so kind as to give them their graduation certificates and expiration of term-served
papers."