Read Online Bill 7 - the Galactic Hero by Harry Harrison - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Harry Harrison
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missing very much.
This was in any case much more interesting than the General's press conference. Bill was busily figuring out how many more points he could get if he didn't have anyone shooting at him when the General stuck his head into the turret.
Bill saluted with both hands and tried to get to his feet. He'd been sitting in that chair for a couple of weeks, though, and couldn't quite manage it. He fell back into his accustomed position, with the video screen before him. General Weissearse was taking another question from a reporter.
Bill looked back toward the door. General Weissearse was standing there, looking impatient and vaguely concerned. Bill looked back at the screen. The same General was there, explaining how the eleven seconds of videotape from a nose camera that they were about to see was absolutely typical of the millions of missiles fired.
“It's a miracle!” Bill screamed, and tried to fall to his knees.
CHAPTER 7
Once the general had loosened Bill's seat belt and slapped his face a few times to get his breathing started again, he explained.
“Only the Lord can perform a true miracle, son. That's just videotape. I recorded it this morning, before the attack.”
Bill tried again to prostrate himself, and got caught again by the seat belt. This time he pulled himself up. “Ahura-Mazda must have imbued you with his spirit, to give you information about the future like that! It's a miracle!”
General Weissearse looked impatiently down at Bill and considered explaining, then sighed. It didn't look as though it would do much good, not to this moron, so he let it be. "Okay, son, it's a miracle, isn't the time to talk theology.
“I just wanted to make sure you're all right, and get you ready for tomorrow's battle. We're in for a tough one, and I'm counting on you.”
Bill looked up at his video screen once more, and back at the general. “But — but —” he butted. He shook his head to clear it. “You just said that we destroyed all the enemy defenses.”
On the screen the general was explaining again how much he and the emperor regretted this entire unpleasantness, and how they both hoped that no one else would have to die because of it.
Here in the turret he said something else. “You did a great job today, Bill. I bet you didn't even use up all the quarters I gave you, did you?”
Bill pointed with pride at the two coins on his shelf.
“Good. You'll have a chance to use them soon. Now you'd better get a good night's sleep. We're going in again in the morning, and you're going to be busy. There are going to be a lot of people shooting at this ship, and it's up to you to protect me. Remember the great honor I've given you, and keep my interest in mind, and you'll be all right.”
General Weissearse walked to the door. “Oh, yes. And you got a medal. Get it from the machine.”
The little one-line electronic display on the change machine was now blinking between GET CHANGE HERE and CREDIT: 1 MEDAL. Bill pressed the credit button, and the line switched to DEPOSIT ONE QUARTER OR TOKEN. This would leave him with only one for tomorrow's battle, unless he wanted to shell out some of his own hard-earned credits. Although he had nothing else to spend them on, and if he died tomorrow they wouldn't do him any good anyway, he did kind of resent having to pay the Emperor. He wasn't surprised any more, but he did resent it, just as a matter of routine.
Bill already had a medal or two stashed somewhere in his gear, and was entitled to wear the treasured Purple Dart with Coalsack Nebula (although he'd lost the actual medal long ago); but he finally decided that an extra decoration on his uniform could only make him more attractive to the Trooper groupies he kept reading about but never seemed to meet. If he ever did meet one, the extra quarter-credit investment would be well worthwhile. So he put half his stash back into the machine.
A terrible grinding noise came from the machine's innards. It
This was in any case much more interesting than the General's press conference. Bill was busily figuring out how many more points he could get if he didn't have anyone shooting at him when the General stuck his head into the turret.
Bill saluted with both hands and tried to get to his feet. He'd been sitting in that chair for a couple of weeks, though, and couldn't quite manage it. He fell back into his accustomed position, with the video screen before him. General Weissearse was taking another question from a reporter.
Bill looked back toward the door. General Weissearse was standing there, looking impatient and vaguely concerned. Bill looked back at the screen. The same General was there, explaining how the eleven seconds of videotape from a nose camera that they were about to see was absolutely typical of the millions of missiles fired.
“It's a miracle!” Bill screamed, and tried to fall to his knees.
CHAPTER 7
Once the general had loosened Bill's seat belt and slapped his face a few times to get his breathing started again, he explained.
“Only the Lord can perform a true miracle, son. That's just videotape. I recorded it this morning, before the attack.”
Bill tried again to prostrate himself, and got caught again by the seat belt. This time he pulled himself up. “Ahura-Mazda must have imbued you with his spirit, to give you information about the future like that! It's a miracle!”
General Weissearse looked impatiently down at Bill and considered explaining, then sighed. It didn't look as though it would do much good, not to this moron, so he let it be. "Okay, son, it's a miracle, isn't the time to talk theology.
“I just wanted to make sure you're all right, and get you ready for tomorrow's battle. We're in for a tough one, and I'm counting on you.”
Bill looked up at his video screen once more, and back at the general. “But — but —” he butted. He shook his head to clear it. “You just said that we destroyed all the enemy defenses.”
On the screen the general was explaining again how much he and the emperor regretted this entire unpleasantness, and how they both hoped that no one else would have to die because of it.
Here in the turret he said something else. “You did a great job today, Bill. I bet you didn't even use up all the quarters I gave you, did you?”
Bill pointed with pride at the two coins on his shelf.
“Good. You'll have a chance to use them soon. Now you'd better get a good night's sleep. We're going in again in the morning, and you're going to be busy. There are going to be a lot of people shooting at this ship, and it's up to you to protect me. Remember the great honor I've given you, and keep my interest in mind, and you'll be all right.”
General Weissearse walked to the door. “Oh, yes. And you got a medal. Get it from the machine.”
The little one-line electronic display on the change machine was now blinking between GET CHANGE HERE and CREDIT: 1 MEDAL. Bill pressed the credit button, and the line switched to DEPOSIT ONE QUARTER OR TOKEN. This would leave him with only one for tomorrow's battle, unless he wanted to shell out some of his own hard-earned credits. Although he had nothing else to spend them on, and if he died tomorrow they wouldn't do him any good anyway, he did kind of resent having to pay the Emperor. He wasn't surprised any more, but he did resent it, just as a matter of routine.
Bill already had a medal or two stashed somewhere in his gear, and was entitled to wear the treasured Purple Dart with Coalsack Nebula (although he'd lost the actual medal long ago); but he finally decided that an extra decoration on his uniform could only make him more attractive to the Trooper groupies he kept reading about but never seemed to meet. If he ever did meet one, the extra quarter-credit investment would be well worthwhile. So he put half his stash back into the machine.
A terrible grinding noise came from the machine's innards. It
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