Bill, The Galactic Hero 6 - on the Planet Of The Hippies From Hell Read Online Free PDF Page A

wall was a true wreck of a Trooper holding a liter bottle of clear liquid. His nose was red and his eyes were so bloodshot they looked as though there were no whites in them at all, just pupil and veins. The odor of pure ethanol wafted over to Bill. For the first time in his entire life, Bill was offended by the smell of drink. The overall stink of the place must be getting to him.
    “Wanna drink?”
    “Not right now. Take a look at this.” Bill waved his GBI identification before the unseeing eyes. “C'mon, lieutenant. We gotta move — but fast.”
    “You betcha — but gotta bring my bottle.”
    “Do it. That's why we want you.”
    Bill dragged the drunk after him; he smelled like bargain night in the Dingbat Distillery. Bill took a deep breath and decided maybe to leave off the booze a while, just so that he'd be really primed for Barworld. But even as Brandox took an unsteady step, there was a jarring clang and he was pulled back into an abrupt sitting position.
    “Urp!” He said. “Forgot. Little problem.” He jerkily indicated the tungsten bar around his chest, chained to the bulkhead by impervium, the hardest metal known. “You got a thermal lance?”
    “Two minutes until closing of hatch!” rasped a fiendish voice on the loudspeaker.
    Bill squealed. He gave a feeble tug on the chain, but he knew it would be no good, and he sure as hell didn't have time to look for a hacksaw — which even if he found it would be about as useful as an umbrella in a meteor shower.
    “Sorry, Brandox. Looks like you're stuck here. Oh well, they say that Some Godforsaken Planet has nice sunsets this time of year.”
    “Then I hope I get there after Deathworld 69!” said Brandox. “And I hope they've got good Margaritas.” The drunken lieutenant promptly passed out.
    “Just as well,” muttered Bill to himself as he searched for the exit. “I'd have to carry this lush to Barworld.”
    Bill was just going to have to report that Lt. Brandox was unavailable for Special Mission Duty.
    He found the ladder and crawled down it.
    He made his way through the murky hold, anxious to get out of this Trooper's hellhole, searching for the exit. So anxious was Bill, in fact, that he did not notice the rusty chain slung along the floor at ankle level. He charged straight into it and went sprawling into the wall. Snap went the chain. However, his hardened Trooper reflexes (and hardened Trooper head) prevented him from tumbling in unconsciousness after his noggin met some metal. As he looked up blearily, looking for the exit, he was still quite aware that unless he got his face through that door in under two minutes, his butt was going to get shipped to Deathworld 69.
    Which was, of course, Some Godforsaken Planet any bowbing way you sliced it.
    There it was! The way out!
    A form reared before Bill, blocking the exit. “Outta the way, you mother bowber!” shouted Bill politely. “I gotta get off this tub!”
    The form solidified into a shaggy, bearded man covered with a mass of rags. “Slowly I turn,” the man rumbled with a deep, ominous voice. “Step by step ... inch by inch....” The man lifted his leg, from which an old broken chain depended. “I'm free! I don't believe it! You've freed me! I've been in this starship, forgotten, for years! And you've freed me! How ever can I thank you?”
    “You can just move it! I've gotta get down this ladder!”
    A loudspeaker rattled. “One minute till closing of hatch. Next stop: Some Godforsaken Planet!”
    “Oh no! That's Deathworld 69! There is death, only death there!” The man fell to his knees, blubbering miserably before Bill. “Oh, please good buddy! Please take me with you!”
    “Get outta my way!”
    “Please sir! I'll give you the Secret to the Universe! I know the meaning of Life itself!”
    “Look, butt-head, I don't care if you've got the keys to the Captain's liquor cabinet. This boat's gonna blow soon, and I'm not going to be on it!”
    “I'm not