"Harrison, Harry - Bill, The Galactic Hero 01 - Bill, The Galactic Hero" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

BILL The Galactic Hero
By
Harry Harrison
й1965

I

Bill never realized that sex was the cause of it all. If the sun that morning
had not been burning so warmly in the brassy sky of Phigerinadon II, and if
he had not glimpsed the sugar-white and wine-barrel-wide backside of
Inga-Maria Calyphigia, while she bathed in the stream, he might have paid more
attention to his plowing than to the burning pressures of heterosexuality and
would have driven his furrow to the far side of the hill before the seductive
music sounded along the road. He might never have heard it, and his life would
have been very, very different. But he did hear it and dropped the handles of
the plow that was plugged into the robomule, turned, and gaped.
It was indeed a fabulous sight. Leading the parade was a one-robot band,
twelve feet high and splendid in its great black busby that concealed the
hi-fi speakers. The golden pillars of its legs stamped forward as its thirty
articulated arms sawed, plucked, and fingered at a dazzling variety of
instruments. Martial music poured out in wave after inspiring wave, and even
Bill's thick peasant feet stirred in their clodhoppers as the shining boots of
the squad of soldiers crashed along the road in perfect unison. Medals jingled
on the manly swell of their scarlet-clad chests, and there could certainly be
no nobler sight in all the world. To their rear marched the sergeant, gorgeous
in his braid and brass, thickly clustered medals and ribbons, sword and gun,
girdled gut and steely eye 'which sought out Bill where he stood gawking over
the fence. The grizzled head nodded in his direction, the steel-trap mouth bent
into a friendly smile and there' was a conspiratorial wink. Then the little
legion was past, and hurrying behind in their wake came a huddle of
dust-covered ancillary robots, hopping and crawling or rippling along on
treads. As soon as these had gone by Bill climbed clumsily over the split-rail
fence and ran after them. There were no more than two interesting events every
four years here, and he was not going to miss what promised to be a third.
A crowd had already gathered in the market square when Bill hurried up, and
they were listening to an enthusiastic band concert. The robot hurled itself
into the glorious measures of "Star Troopers to the Skies Avaunt," thrashed its
way through "Rockets Rumble," and almost demolished itself in the tumultuous
rhythm of "Sappers at the Tithead Digging." It pursued this last tune so
strenuously that one of its legs flew off, rising high into the air, but was
caught dexterously before it could hit the ground, and the music ended with the
robot balancing on its remaining leg, beating time with the detached limb. It
also, after an ear-fracturing peal on the basses, used the leg to point across
the square to where a tri-di screen and refreshment booth had been set up. The
troopers had vanished into the tavern, and the recruiting sergeant stood alone
among his robots, beaming a welcoming smile.
"Now hear this! Free drinks for all, courtesy of the Emperor, and some lively
scenes of jolly adventure in distant climes to amuse you while you sip," he
called in an immense and leathery voice.