"Harry Harrison & David Bischoff - Bill the Galactic Hero 6 -" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

Continuum Vortex Nexus Locus Chasm!"
Bill's jaw dropped. "Barworld," he gasped. "DтАФdтАФdid you say? Barworld?" He didn't hear anything
else, just those beautiful, incredibly lovely words.
"I didn't say Bearworld and I didn't say Jarworld, Trooper. You heard me right. Barworld. That's where
I'm sending you. That's where some trouble seems to be. There's rumors of some kind of Time/Space
disturbances there on the Transgalactic Seismo-Grundger, and our agents say the Chingers could well be
at the bottom of the problem. And if they aren't, they're going to be! The Chingers have been looking for
the secret key to Time for years, and do you know why, Bill?"
"Barworld?" Bill could only repeat like a litany. "Barworld!" Barworld, of course, was tantamount to a
legend among Galactic Troopers! Perhaps it was a legend. But no Trooper ever got to discover the truth,
since it was a resort world, and Troopers never got leave.
"I'll tell you why, Bill. Because those Chingers, they want to sneak up on us not only behind our backs тАФ
but the vermin want to sneak up yesterday! That's why."
"I volunteer!" said Bill, waving his black arm enthusiastically. "I'll go! I'll go."
"Those Chingers!" said J. Edgar Insufledor, foaming emphatically. "My duty in life is to rid this world of
those God-damned infernal Galactic-grabbing Chingers!"
Abruptly, the door to one side of Bill crashed open. There, lumbering toward the Deputy Director,
multiple arms thrashing and gigantic saurian face snapping snaggle-fanged jaws, was nothing less than a
perfect representation of the Chinger in the poster! Minus, of course, the human arm in its mouth.
Apparently that had long since been digested, and the Chinger was in need of fresh human meat.
Wait a moment, thought Bill in the back of his mind. Chingers don't get this big. His eternal adversary
Bgr the Chinger (who had come into his life as the lackeyish recruit Eager Beager) was only a fraction
over seven inches tall!
Still it was difficult to argue with a roaring lizard alien, hands full of knives and guns, and eyes full of the
promise of nothing but hard, hot death.
Fortunately, though, the giant Chinger was headed straight for J. Edgar Insufledor, not giving Bill a
moment's pause. The Deputy Director was ready for him, though. "C'mon you piece of deep space sludge.
Come and get it, planet grunge!" The Deputy Director pulled out a duplicate of an antique prehistoric
vintage G-man style submachine gun and aimed at the charging beastie.
"Grrrumargggggggggg!" roared the savage space beast. Bill had never heard a Chinger utter this
particular outcry before. He'd heard Chingers curse in Greek, Swahili, Russian and of course their own
hissing and eructing language. Still and all, this particular specimen uttered the cry with such complete
conviction that Bill took its word for it. Never one to question the wisdom of the hasty retreat in such


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 Bill, the Galactic Hero on the Planet of The Hippies From Hell

brutal matters as these, Bill nonetheless immediately saw that an exit, albeit hasty, would put him in the
path of submachine bullets. Instead, he jumped behind the overstuffed couch.
"Take this, you foul creature!" cried J. Edgar Insufledor. When the beast was just a yard away, the
Director fired. The submachine chattered and bullets chunk-a-chunked into the lizard's green hide, kicking
up divots of flesh. The Chinger sprayed blood like a lawn-watering device. It was pushed back a full foot,
its guns knocked spinning from ruined claws. A single knife remained in its possession as it screeched
sanguinely and leaped for the director again, slashing his weapon like molten lightning.
Bill cringed helplessly behind the couch. He didn't know what was going on here, but it was certainly a
great deal deadlier than Denubian tiddlywinks.
"Aha! You enjoy eating hot lead!" the Deputy Director said calmly through gritted teeth, his still-fuming
cigar sticking up like an exclamation point. "Then have some more, Chinger!"
J. Edgar Insufledor shot off the knife hand and then put another clip of bullets in the Chinger's chest. The