"Harry Harrison & David Bischoff - Bill, The Galactic Hero 4 " - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

hospital. Walk on the polluted beach, visit the garbage dump, tour the factory down the road.... Rest!
Relax! Avail yourself of the recreational facilities we have here at Grin N' Clinic! This will give me the
opportunity to examine the cellular composition of your foot."
"You're not going to give me a new one?"
"I would love to, Bill, but haven't you got it through that thick farm-bred and alcohol-preserved skull of
yours? This army has a foot shortage!"
"Shoulda never gone on the metric system!" grumbled Bill. The latrine rumor mill had leaked the story.
Used to be, Army Medics had lots of feet in freezers, but when the order came down from Helior for the
Army to go metric, the noncoms hadn't understood. "Get rid of the feet!" the officers had yowled. And so
the noncoms had dumped the frozen feet.
Bill pulled on a sweatsock over his cloven hoof, then covered that with a boot. He looked down
nostalgically at the scuffed footwear, remembering the shine that Eager Beager used to be able to raise on
his issue Trooper boots, back when Bgr the Chinger was hiding out in a robot disguised as a recruit
slogging through training camp. He'd never had such good-looking boots since.
"Maybe you're right, Doc. Maybe I could use some rest. Drink less, plenty of fresh air and raw fruit." It
sounded positively repulsive. But he let this decaying sawbones think he was going along with the plan
until he came up with a plan to find a way out of here.
Ahh, how little did Trooper Bill realize it, but "rest" was not precisely a commodity penciled into his
particular cosmic itinerary for the next week. If only the Doctor had not suggested a walk along the beach,
then perhaps Bill's mind-blowing, super-exciting and absolutely page-turning adventure amongst the
myths and Gods, to say nothing of the incredible Over-Gland, would never have occurred.
"Oh, and Bill тАФ about those hemorrhoids that we don't have the right medicine for?" said Doc Delazny as
Bill started walking away through the maze of hi-tech medical machinery.
"Yeah?" said Bill turning around, his posterior tingling hopefully.
"Dear fellow, I'm afraid that you are just going to have to sit this batch out!"
Bill called the quack something so revolting that it instantly cheered him up, then stalked back to the bar.
It was Happy Hour and it was a Monday, which meant that they were giving out free pickled porkuswine
feet hors d'oeuvres, one of Bill's favorites.
He just hoped they didn't give his "mood foot" the wrong idea.


CHAPTER 2

READING MATTER
Bill dreamed.
He dreamed that he was a farmer again, sweating behind a robo-mule. He dreamed that his prime
ambition, his only ambition, in life was to become a Technical Fertilizer Operator. Some said that it was a
crappy job тАФ but not he! Smiling in his sleep he dreamed of going forth and spreading mounds of

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 Bill, the Galactic Hero on the Planet of Tasteless Pleasure

fragrant manure upon the gentle plains of the planets of the galaxy, rising up high and noisome, the
fragrant delight of the magic scent tingling the nascent nostrils of a billion happy farmers.
Then the dream changed and Deathwish Drang came to him, fluttering gently on gossamer angel's wings.
"Trideo Games, Bill!" he chuckled and twanged a fang. "Your future is Trideo Games!"
Now Bill was very young in his dream, for as a little boy he had always yearned to play Trideo in town
with the other kids, and he always beat them, yes he did, but only in his fevered imagination. For of
course he never went to town, had no money either: Trideo was just the stuff of dreams. So when
Deathwish Drang's proclamation filtered through those magnificent fangs of his, Bill thought, Yes! It's