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

up stale human body odors.
"Doc! Doc Delazny?" Bill stepped in, looking around. A pair of filthy trousers zoomed down the chute
and landed atop his head. He snarled and threw it at a dump of copulating ratfinks, who proceeded to
devour it.
No sign of the Doctor. But Bill could have sworn тАФ
Oh well. Bill left and checked Doc Delazny's examination room. Nobody.
A bright orange and blue neon sign blasted out the letters HOSPITAL BAR just as brightly as ever, but
the door was locked. It was closed. It didn't open till 0630 hours. The authorities here were vaguely
considering keeping a 24-hour bartender, but hadn't got around to it yet. The morgue was deserted тАФ
except of course for the dead people. There was only one other room that Doctor Delazny could have
gone down here, though Bill was loath to venture there. It was a gilt door set with fake diamonds and
labeled proudly "Heroes' Haven тАФ Only the Best Damn Troopers in the Galaxy Enter Here." He cringed
back, the last thing he wanted to do was go in here. But his foot needed attention, so he opened the door.
The Heroes' Haven was also called The Last Chance Saloon and never referred to by its real name, the
speaking of which brought bad luck. The Terminal Ward. The perfume projector inside could not quite
conceal the taint of living decomposition, the muted Muzak was penetrated by the gurgled groans of the
dying, the soft monotone squeals of telltale machines announcing the deaths of their hook-ups during the
evening. Bill looked wildly in all directions but there was no sign of Doctor Delazny!
"Bowb and damn!" Bill snarled, wheeling around to get the hell out of here. In mid-wheel, however, he
spotted something that caught him up short, gave him pause.
It was a shelf of lozenge-books! And they looked whole! Unstripped! Bill was very bored, and he could
use a whole book to read. The doomed at the hospital must get special privileges, he thought. Of course
the irony was they'd never finish reading the books anyway.
He examined the titles. E-I-E-I-O! by Greg Bore. PLANET OF THE ALIEN TRANSVESTITE PANTY
RAIDERS Vol. VI. THE WELL OF GENITALS by Jerk el Upchucker. NIGHT OF THE LIVING
CHINGERS by Stephen Thing. Boy! Classics!
Still, he couldn't take more than one, so Bill selected a shining lozenge labeled BLEEDER'S DIGEST.
This contained ten condensed books especially prepared for the consumption of people who didn't have
very long to live.
Good enough! This should keep him going for awhile, thought Bill as a death rattle in a nearby throat
spurred him on his away.


file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Harr...0the%20Planet%20of%20Tasteless%20Pleasures.htm (7 of 95) [10/14/2004 11:58:11 PM]
 Bill, the Galactic Hero on the Planet of Tasteless Pleasure

Of course, he'd boil the damned thing first this time. His nose twanged in response for his nose knew
another nose nosed ahead by a nose.
But if Bill had been nosier he would have noticed the alien electronic eyeball at the end of its periscope,
scrutinizing his activities and transmitting them to tiny reptilian eyeballs, deep below the hospital.


CHAPTER 3

THE HAZARDS OF BEACHCOMBING
What a wonderfully mediocre day to be half-alive, thought Bill.
Tiny waves surged idly up the dun-colored beach. A greenish-orange sun sat over the horizon like a
bloated and festering fruit. A bank of leaden clouds was slowly drawing across the sky, thankfully
shuttering out the sickly light with torn, damp gray veils. The smell of rotting fish assaulted Bill's already
tortured nose as he walked along the deathly still sea. He sneezed hugely and wiped his nostrils with the