30-12-2024, 07:31 AM
Quote:The professor resisted every urge to gape. "This... Commissar, what you are asking will be exceptionally difficult."
The Legionary Commissar facing him was unmoved. His face was stoic, even as his eyes betrayed his annoyance. His hand rested on his belt, near his gun, and the professor was almost certain that the officer was hoping that he gave him a chance to use it. "You have your instructions. Fulfill them, or we will find another who can."
He wanted to say no. He wanted to say that he couldn't make this work. But they didn't care, and he believed them. Kundrati didn't care about things like "qualifications" or "experience" — they only cared about obedience. If not him, they'd find some brainwashed legionary officer to teach, and his only options were to obey or die in the camps.
And he couldn't defy, because it wouldn't just be him punished, but his wife and daughter.
So he bowed his head. "I understand, it will be done."
The officer almost seemed disappointed, but left his office. The man sank into his chair dejectedly, looking over the papers that had his orders. The university — one of the only ones in Pilgon — needed him to schedule and teach classes. It didn't matter that he wasn't qualified for most of them, or that he was only one man.
It was a confusing mixture of subjects he'd been given, from normal ones like math, to weapons classes, to "science" classes on Skitian-Zergonese and Kundrati supremacy, and Ultranationalism of all things. Half of these had no place in an institution of higher learning, but it didn't matter. They didn't want a teacher, they wanted a propagandist, and that was what he was now. He felt rotten complying with their demands, but he also knew that he'd never had a choice to begin with.