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

through the atmosphere toward its dreadful destination.
    When he thought it was safe, Bill stopped and turned to his passenger. “Okay, bowb-breath. That's as far as you go. I got better —”
    The back seat was empty.
    The guy was already gone.
    Bill shrugged, but his hackles were raised with a chill. Where'd the guy go?
    A chill breeze of superstitious fear stirred the short hairs on his neck, chilled his large intestine as well. A ghost of Trooper past. He jammed down on the throttle.

CHAPTER 3
    “Trooper Bill?”
    Bill looked up groggily, seeing everything through beer-colored glasses.
    “Trooper Bill? Can you read me? Over?”
    Bill realized that the reason his glasses were beer-colored was because he'd passed out in a spaceport bar. Everything was agreeably dark and cozy and soft, as good bars usually are. Except for his eyes, which ached because he was facedown on top of two glasses of beer. He grabbed them and pulled his head free with sucking-popping sounds and looked around blearily. There were only a few other patrons, two of whom were zonked out in pools of liquor on the floor, in good Trooper tradition.
    “Grundgle?” said Bill.
    “Look at your two-way sub-space super-quantum radio, idiot!” said the insistent voice from the general direction of his wrist. Bill blearily examined the device and noted J. Edgar Insufledor's ugly image peering out accusingly. “Listen up, Bill. We've decided that your failure to produce Lt. Brandox was all to the good. We've reached the inescapable conclusion that you'll have to do for alcoholic cover. You seem to have a natural talent for it.”
    Bill tried to respond, but a mind-destroying belch punctuated by a hiccup got in his way.
    “Excellent. We see you've already been working hard in preparation. However, in this situation, we've decided that you'll need a companion agent. A top agent of ours. He's sitting right beside you at this moment. His name is Elliot Methadrine, G-man. Say hi to your new partner, Elliot, and show how friendly and forthright a good honest Emperor's G-man can be.”
    The man standing there turned around and extended a friendly hand. “Gee! Nice to meet you, Trooper Bill. Gee — this is going to be a great mission isn't it? Barworld! I bet I can do some wizard chin-ups there. Ho, ho!”
    Bill frowned with consternation while he blinked to clear his beer-blurred vision. Gee. Where had he heard that expression before? Or had he ever heard it before? Maybe that's why they were called G-men. Bill was still vibrating with expectancy at the notion of going to Barworld, as well as twanging with horror in memory of his close escape from the BEELZEBUB. So, vibrating and twanging, he reached out unsteadily and shook the newcomer's hand.
    Elliot Methadrine had a fresh-scrubbed face, blond slicked-back hair, baby-blue eyes, and was generally so clean-cut and wholesome that he didn't even have fuzz in his navel. He was garbed in a freshly cleaned pin-striped suit and wore a solid baby-blue tie — it exactly matched his eyes — held in place by a gold pin. By his side was a violin case.
    “Bludga,” Bill gasped, his speaking apparatus still not in gear.
    “Gee. We're going to really thwart those rotten Chingers, right Trooper Bill!” Elliot Methadrine bobbed his head with vacuous enthusiasm. “You'll see. Together we'll be a top-flight team. I sincerely trust that the operation on your earlobe wasn't too strenuous or painful.”
    Now that his attention was drawn to it, Bill realized that his ear did ache. Or maybe just coming out of the alcoholic fog reconnected his nervous system. Bill's reddened, swollen ear began to throb dully and he realized that he had a nebula-sized headache as well. He ordered an aspirin, a shot of novocaine, a Sobering Effect pill and a beer. He dumped the pills and the novocaine in the beer, shot glass and all, and chugalugged it.
    “Yarrrgh!” Bill screamed as the concoction exploded in his stomach and sent shockwaves