bill_the_galactic_hero_v1.1-第2部分

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ctorious　Fallen；　and　the　Everflowing　Cornucopia　which　does　not　mean　anything　but　looks　nice　and　can　be　used　to　carry　contraceptives。〃He　stepped　back　and　admired　Bill's　chest；　which　was　now　adangle　with　ribbons；　shining　metal；　and　gleaming　paste　gems。
　　〃I　just　couldn't；〃　Bill　said。　〃Thank　you　anyway　for　the　offer；　but　。　。　。　〃
　　The　sergeant　smiled；　prepared　even　for　this　eleventh…hour　resistance；　and　pressed　the　button　on　his　belt　that　actuated　the　programed　hypno…coil　in　the　heel　of　Bill's　new　boot。　The　powerful　neural　current　surged　through　the　contacts　and　Bill's　hand　twitched　and　jumped；　and　when　the　momentary　fog　had　lifted　from　his　eyes　he　saw　that　he　had　signed　his　name。
　　〃But。。。'
　　〃Wele　to　the　Space　Troopers；〃　the　sergeant　boomed；　smacking　him　on　the　back　（trapezius　like　rock）　and　relieving　him　of　the　stylo。　〃FALL　IN！〃　he　called　in　a　larger　voice；　and　the　recruits　stumbled　from　the　tavern。
　　〃What　have　they　done　to　my　sonl〃　Bill's　mother　screeched；　ing　into　the　market　square；　clutching　at　her　bosom　with　one　hand　and　towing　his　baby　brother　Charlie　with　the　other。　Charlie　began　to　cry　and　wet　his　pants。
　　〃Your　son　is　now　a　trooper　for　the　greater　glory　of　the　Emperor；〃　the　sergeant　said；　pushing　his　slack…jawed　and　round…shouldered　recruit　squad　into　line。
　　〃No！　it　can't　be　。　。　。〃　Bill's　mother　sobbed；　tearing　at　her　graying　hair。　〃I'm　a　poor　widow；　he's　my　sole　support　。　。　。　you　cannot　。　。　。　I〃
　　〃Mother。　。　。〃　Bill　said；　but　the　sergeant　shoved　him　back　into　the　ranks。'
　　〃Be　brave；　madam；〃　he　said。　〃There　can　be　no　greater　glory　for　a　mother。〃He　dropped　a　large　and　newly　minted　coin　into　her　hand。　〃Here　is　the　enlistment　bonus；　the　Emperor's　shilling。　I　know　he　wants　you　to　have　it。　ATTENTION！〃　　　With　a　clash　of　heels　the　graceless　recruits　braced　their　shoulders　and　lifted　their　chins。　Much　to　his　surprise；　so　did　Bill。
　　〃RIGHT　TURN！〃
　　In　a　single；　graceful　motion　they　turned；　as　the　mand　robot　relayed　the　order　to　the　hypno…coil　in　every　boot。　〃FORWARD　MARCH！〃　And　they　did；　in　perfect　rhythm；　so　well　under　control　that；　try　as　hard　as　he　could；　Bill　could
neither　turn　his　head　nor　wave　a　last　good…by　to　his　mother。　She　vanished　behind　him；　and　one　last；　anguished　wail　cut　through　the　thud　of　marching　feet。
　　〃Step　up　the　count　to　130；〃　the　sergeant　ordered；　glancing　at　the　watch　set　under　the　nail　of　his　little　finger。　〃Just　ten　miles　to　the　station；　and　we'll　be　in　camp　tonight；　my　lads。〃
　　The　mand　robot　moved　its　metronome　up　one　notch　and　the　tramping　boots　conformed　to　the　smarter　pace　and　the　men。。　began　to　sweat。　By　the　time　they　had　reached　the　copter　station　it　was　nearly　dark；　their　red　paper　uniforms
hung　in　shreds；　the　gilt　had　been　rubbed　from　their　pot…metal　buttons；　and　the　surface　charge　that　repelled　the　dust　from　their　thin　plastic　boots　had　leaked　away。　They　looked　as　ragged；　weary；　dusty；　and　miserable　as　they　felt。

II

It　wasn't　the　recorded　bugle　playing　reveille　that　woke　Bill　but　the　supersonics　that　streamed　through　the　metal　frame　of　　is　bunk　that　shook　him　until　the　fillings　vibrated　from　his　teeth。　He　sprang　to　his　feet　and　stood　there　shivering　in　the　gray　of　dawn。　Because　it　was　summer　the　floor　was　refrigerated：　no　mollycoddling　of　the　men　in　Camp　Leon　Trotsky。
The　pallid；　chilled　figures　of　the　other　recruits　loomed　up　on　every　side；　and　when　the　soul…shaking　vibrations　had　died　away　they　dragged　their　thick　sackcloth　and　sandpaper　fatigue　uniforms　from　their　bunks；　pulled　them　hastily　on；　jammed　their　feet　into　the　great；　purple　recruit　boots；　and　staggered　out　into　the　dawn。
　　〃I　am　here　to　break　your　spirit；〃　a　voice　rich　with　menace　told　them；　and　they　looked　up　and　shivered　even　more　as　they　faced　the　chief　demon　in　this　particular　hell。
　　Petty　Chief　Officer　Deathwish　Drang　was　a　specialist　from　the　tips　of　the　angry　spikes　of　his　hair　to　the　corrugated　stamping…soles　of　his　mirrorlike　boots。　He　was　wide…shouldered　and　lean…kipped；　while　his　long　arms　hung；　curved　like　those　of　some　horrible　anthropoid；　the　knuckles　of　his　immense　fists　scarred　from　the　breaking　of　thousands　of　teeth。　It　was　impossible　to　look　at　this　detestable　form　and　imagine　that　it　issued　from　the　tender　womb　of　a　woman。　He　could　never　have　been　born；　he　must　have　been　built　to　order　by　the　government。　Most　terrible　of　all　was　the　head。　The　face！　The　hairline　was　scarcely　a　finger's…width　above　the　black　tangle　of　the　brows　that　were　set　like　a　rank　growth　of　foliage　at　the　rim　of　the　black　pits　that　concealed　the　eyes…visible　only　as　baleful　red　gleams　in　the　Stygian　darkness。　A　nose；　broken　and　crushed；　squatted　above　the　mouth　that　was　like　a　knife　slash　in　the　taut　belly　of　a　corpse；　while　from　between　the　lips　issued　the　great；　white　fangs　of　the　canine　teeth；　at　least　two　inches　long；　that　rested　in　grooves　on　the　lower　lip。
　　〃I　am　Petty　Chief　Officer　Deathwish　Drang；　and　you　will　call　me　'sir'　or　'm'lord。'〃　He　began　to　pace　grimly　before　the　row　of　terrified　recruits。　〃I　am　your　father　and　your　mother　and　your　whole　universe　and　your　dedicated　enemy；　and　very　soon　I　will　have　you　regretting　the　day　you　were　born。　I　will　crush　your　will。　When　I　say　frog；　you　will　jump。　My　job　is　to　turn　you　into　troopers；　and　troopers　have　discipline。　Discipline　means　simply　unthinking　subservience；。　loss　of　free　will；　absolute　obedience。　That　is　all　I　ask　。　。　。〃　
　　He　stopped　before　Bill；　who　was　not　shaking　quite　as　much　as　the　others；　and　scowled。
　　〃I　don't　like　your　face。　One　month　of　Sunday　KP。〃
　　〃Sir。。。〃
　　〃And　a　second　month　…　for　talking　back。〃
　　He　waited；　but　Bill　was　silent。　He　had　already　learned　his　first　lesson　on　how　to　be　a　good　trooper。　Keep　your　mouth　shut。　Deathwish　paced　on。
　　〃Right　now　you　are　nothing　but　horrible；　sordid；　flabby　pieces　of　debased　civilian　flesh。　I　shall　turn　that　flesh　to　muscle；　your　wills　to　jelly；　your　minds　to　machines。　You　will　bee　good　troopers；　or　I　will　kill　you。　Very　soon　you　will　be　hearing　stories　about　me；　vicious　stories；　about　how　I　lulled　and　ate　a　recruit　who　disobeyed　me。〃
　　He　hatred　and　stared　at　them；　and　slowly　the　coffin…lid　lips　parted　in　an　evil　travesty　of　a　grin；　while　a　drop　of　saliva　formed　at　the　tip　of　each　whitened　tusk。
　　〃That　story　is　true。〃
　　A　moan　broke　from　the　row　of　recruits；　and　they　shook　as　though　a　chill　wind　had　passed　over　them。　The　smile　vanished。
　　〃We　will　run　to　breakfast　now　as　soon　as　I　have　some　volunteers　for　an　easy　assignment。　Can　any　of　you　drive　a　helicar？〃
　　Two　recruits　hopefully　raised　their　hands；　and　he　beckoned　them　forward。
〃All　right；　both　of　you；　mops　and　buckets　behind　that　door。　Clean　out　the　latrine　while　the　rest　are　eating。　You'll　have　a　better　appetite　for　lunch。〃
　　That　was　Bill's　second　lesson　on　how　to　be　a　good　trooper：　never　volunteer。
　　The　days　of　recruit　training　passed　with　a　horribly　lethargic　speed。　With　each　day　conditions　became　worse　and　Bill's　exhaustion　greater。　This　seemed　impossible；　but　it　was　nevertheless　true。　A　large　number　of　gifted　and　sadistic　minds　had　designed　it　to　be　that　way。　The　recruits'　heads　were　shaved　for　uniformity。　The　food　was　theoretically　nourishing　but　incredibly　vile　and　when；　by　mistake；　one　batch　of　meat　was　served　in　an　edible　state　it　was　caught　at　the　last　moment　and　thrown　out　and　the　cook　reduced　two　grades。　Their　sleep　was　broken　by　mock　gas　attacks　and　their　free　time　filled　with　caring　for　their　equipment。　The　seventh　day　was　designated　as　a　day　of　rest；　but　they　all　had　received　punishments；　like　Bill's　KP；　and　it　was　as　any　other　day。　On　this；　the　third　Sunday　of　their　imprisonment；　they　were　stumbling　through　the　last　hour　of　the　day　before　the　lights　were　extinguished　and　they　were　finally　permitted　to　crawl　into　their　casehardened　bunks。　Bill　pushed　against　the　weak　force　field　that　blocked　the　door；　cunningly　designed　to　allow　the　desert　flies　to　enter　but　not　leave　the　barracks；　and　dragged　himself　in。　After　fourteen　hours　of　KP　his　legs　vibrated　with　exhaustion；　and　his　arms　were　wrinkled　and　pallid　as　a　corpse's　from　the　soapy　water。　He　dropped　his　jacket　to　the　floor；　where　it　stood　stiffly　supported　by　its　burden　of　sweat；　grease；　and　dust；　and　dragged　his　shaver　from　his　footlocker。　In　the　latrine　he　bobbed　his　head　around　trying　to　find　a　clear　space　on　one　of　the　mirrors。　All　of　them　had　been　heavily　stenciled　in　large　letters　with　such　inspiring　messages　as　KEEP　YOUR　WUG　SHUT…THE　CHINGERS　ARE　LISTENING　and　IF　YOU　TALK　THIS　MAN　MAY　DIE。　He　finally　plugged　the　shaver　in　next　to　WOULD　YOU　WANT　YOUR　SISTER　TO　MARRY　ONE？　and　centered　his　face　in　the　o　in　ONE。　Black…rimmed　and　bloodshot　eyes　stared　back　at　him　as　he　ran　the　buzzing　machine　over　the　underweight　planes　of　his　jaw。　It　took　more　than　a　minute　for　the　meaning　of　the　question　to　penetrate　his　fatigue…drugged　brain。　　　〃I　haven't　got　a　sister；〃　he　grumbled　peevishly；　〃and　if　I　did；　why　should　she　want　to　marry　a　lizard　anyway？〃　It　was　a　rhetorical　question；　but　it
brought　an　answer　from　the　far　end　of　the　room；　from　the　last　shot　tower　in　the　second　row。
　　〃It　doesn't　mean　exactly　what　it　says…it's　just　there　to　make　us　hate　the　dirty　enemy　more。〃　。
　　Bill　jumped；　he　had　thought　he　was　alone　in　the　latrine；　and　the　razor　buzzed　spitefully　and　gouged