By JACK C. HALDEMAN HARRY HARRISON
Bill—the ideal Starship Trooper: sizeable, brawny, and brainwashed. Possessor of 2 correct hands (impressive in terms of saluting) and a foot that's threatening to show into anything extra suited for being an umbrella stand than whatever which may be squeezed right into a measurement eleven sneaker.
Bill—a excellent recruit for the nice send Bounty, sure for the Chinger battle and sporting a shipment of as great an organization of homicidal misfits and maniacs as you'll desire to meet open air of a penal complex asylum (which is the place they have simply come from).
Bill, the Galactic Hero—he's again, he is undesirable, and he is approximately to satisfy the main hideous alien lifeform of his whole occupation. He'd do something to avoid wasting his dermis with out rocking the boat—but mutiny? at the Bounty?
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Extra resources for Bill, the Galactic Hero on the Planet of Zombie Vampires
It's all those wonderful nutrients, you know. " yelled Bill, though truth to tell, at the moment he hated phase-loop drive even more. That outmoded method of space travel had gone out with spats and shaved heads. There was no need to get squashed into compost when a modern drive would get you anyplace in no time at all in relative comfort. Just when he couldn't take it anymore, the crushing forces of acceleration ceased, leaving him weak and sick to his stomach. Being encased in a broken bag of stinking potting soil did nothing to improve the state of either his mind or his stomach.
Doctor Hackenslash needs a new door," said Bill hastily. " Commander Cook took the note and shook his head as he read it, his lips moving reluctantly as he spelled out the harder words. "I guess I ought to go on sick leave," Bill said quickly. " The commander frowned. "I can't use a partial soldier at this station. " "Bunk time sounds fine to me," Bill smarmed hopefully. " "I'm not sure that I like this screwed sticking place, bowb. Sounds subversive. So suggest an alternative," said the commander.
You wouldn't be a ... " "No," Caine shook his head and sighed deeply. "I'm not one of those cyberpunks. Cy-Pees have given the rest of us androids a bad name. For one thing, they're violent, and I abhor violence, that is unless the circumstances leave no other recourse. They're always plugging themselves into 220 circuits and blowing their logic boards. Juice junkies — no wonder their eyes shine like mirrors and their chips scintillate into the UV range. You will observe my ears are not pierced, my hair is stabilized at a fashionable length and tie-dyed, and my fingernails are clean.