"Harry Harrison - Bill 2 - On The Planet Of Robot Slaves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

nothing other than the fact that he had expired of terminal hemorrhoids from
overeating. But since he was the Emperor's granduncle his name would be ever
honored. These and kindred gloomy thoughts sifted through Bill's mind as
he sifted through the moneybag in his riveted steel footlocker. Enough, just
enough. Six hundred and twelve Imperial Bucks. Now was the time. He
unzipped his boots and kicked them off. The9~###~three yellow toes on his
right foot were curled and cramped and he stretched them happily. Then he
ripped off his uniform and dropped it into the shredder where the reinforced
paper fabric was instantly reduced to its component fibers. He tore a fresh
uniform from the roll on the latrine wall and drew it on. He had trouble
getting his large yellow toes into his right boot and muttered foul curses as
he struggled with it. It was raining stair rods when he opened the
barracks door. Muttering nastily he slammed the door shut, counted to ten,
then opened it again and stepped out into the broiling sun and hurried down
the company street to the base hospital."The doctor is otherwise engaged and
cannot see you at this time," the zaftig corporal at reception said as she
daintily filed the edge of one blood-red fingernail. "Put your name here for
sick call which is three weeks from now at four in the morning -- eeek!"
She had eeked because he had growled viciously as he had kicked out with a
twisting kick and had tom a groove down the metal of her desk with his clawed
heel. "Don't give me no bowb, Corp, I been too long in the army to take no
bowb." "Apparently you have not been in it long enough to learn any
grammar. Out-before I call the MP's and have you shot for destruction of
government property-eeek!" Her pained cry echoed the screech of torn metal
as he raked the desk again. "Call the Doc. Tell him it's about money, not
medicine." "Why didn't you say so to begin with," she10sniffed as he
banged the intercom. "Cash customer to see you, Admiral." She did this with
alacrity and efficiency since the admiral-doctor was giving her a percentage,
as well as a good stupfing, with equal alacrity and efficiency whenever he got
his mind off of his illegal experiments. The door opened behind her and
Admiral-Doctor Mel Praktis poked his bald head out and leered one-eyedly at
Bill, his other eye hidden by a black monocle. The monocle concealed the fact
that the eye had been removed in a manner too disgusting to mention. But had
since been replaced by an electronic telescope-microscope, which is a very
handy thing to have. His illegal medical experiments had been so loathsome
that when they had been discovered he had been condemned to death by
impalingor alternately becoming a medic in the navy. It had not been an easy
decision. Though it had worked out well in the end since the alcoholic
commander of the base here turned a blind drunk eye on his experiments.
Praktis had blinded the eye himself with a limitless supply of medical alcohol
to make sure he got away with his dirty work. "Are you the one for the
prefrontal lobotomy?" Praktis asked. "Not bowby likely. The tusk, Doc, the
tusk, remember? I only had enough bucks before for a single implant-but I have
the rest now." "No bucks no tusks. Let's see what you got." Bill shook
the bag so it jingled. "Inside, we don't have all day." Praktis shook
the coins into the sink, threw the empty bag into the disposal chute, then
soaked the money in antiseptic before counting it.11 "Never know what
grotty infections the troops have. You're ten bucks short." "You should
know-you infected most of them. No bowb, Doc, that's the agreed price. Six
hundred and twelve." "That was last week. I'm taking inflation into