bill_the_galactic_hero_v1.1-第2章

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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　a　bit　of　flesh　from　his　lip。
　　〃Who's　there？　Why　are　you　hiding？〃　he　snarled；　then　recognized　the　huddled　dark　figure　and　the　many　pairs　of　boots。　〃Oh；　it's　only　you；　Eager。〃
His　anger　drained　away；　and　he　turned　back　to　the　mirror。
　　Eager　Beager　was　so　much　a　part　of　the　latrine　that　you　forgot　he　was　there。　A　moon…faced；　eternally　smiling　youth；　whose　apple…red　cheeks　never　lost　their　glow　and　whose　smile　looked　so　much　out　of　place　here　in　Camp　Leon　Trotsky　that　everyone　wanted　to　kill　him　until　they　remembered　that　he　was　mad。　He　had　to　be　mad　because　he　was　always　eager　to　help　his　buddies　and　had　volunteered　as　permanent　latrine　orderly。　Not　only　that；　but　he　liked　to　polish　boots　and　had　offered　to　do　those　of　one　after　another　of　his　buddies　until　now　he　did　the　boots　for　every　man　in　the　squad　every　night。　Whenever　they　were　in　the　barracks　Eager　Beager　could　be　found　crouched　at　the　end　of　the　thrones　that
were　his　personal　domain；　surrounded　by　the　heaps　of　shoes　and　polishing　industriously；　his　face　wreathed　in　smiles。　He　would　still　be　there　after　lights…out；　working　by　the　light　of　a　burning　wick　stuck　in　a　can　of　polish；　and　was　usually　up　before　the　others　in　the　morning；　finishing　his　voluntary　job　and　still　smiling。　Sometimes；　when　the　boots　were　very　dirty；　he　worked　right　through　the　night。　The　kid　was　obviously　insane；　but　no…　one　turned　him　in　because　he　did　such　a　good　job　on　the　boots；　and　they　all　prayed　that　he　wouldn't　die　of　exhaustion　until　recruit　training　was　finished。
　　〃Well　if　that's　what　they　want　to　say；　why　don't　they　just　say；　‘Hate　the　dirty　enemy　more；〃'　Bill　plained。　He　jerked　his　thumb　at　the　far　wall；　where　there　was　a　poster　labeled　KNOW　THE　ENEMY。　It　featured　a　life…sized　illustration　of　a　Chinger；　a　seven…foot…high　saurian　that　looked　very　much　like　a　scale…covered；　four…armed；　green　kangaroo　with　an　alligator's　head。　〃Whose　sister　would　want　to　marry　a　thing　like　that　anyway？　And　what　would　a　thing　like　that　want　to　do　with　a　sister；　except　maybe　eat　her？〃
　　　Eager　put　a　last　buff　on　a　purple　toe　and　picked　up　another　boot。　He　frowned　for　a　brief　instant　to　show　what　a　serious　thought　this　was。　〃Well　you　see；　gee…it　doesn't　mean　a　real　sister。　It's　just　part　of　psychological　warfare。　We　have　to　win　the　war。　To　win　the　war　we　have　to　fight　hard。　In　order　to　fight　hard　we　have　to　have　good　soldiers。　Good　soldiers　have　to　hate　the　enemy。　That's　the　way　it　goes。　The　Chingers　are　the　only　non…human　race　that　has　been　discovered　in　the　galaxy　that　has　gone　beyond　the　aboriginal　level；　so　naturally　we　have　to　wipe　them　out。〃
　　〃What　the　hell　do　you　mean；　naturally？　I　don't　want　to　wipe　anyone　out。　I　just　want　to　go　home　and　be　a　Technical　Fertilizer　Operator。〃
　　〃Well；　I　don't　mean　you　personally；　of　course…gee！〃　Eager　opened　a　fresh　can　of　polish　with　purple…stained　hands　and　dug　his　fingers　into　it。　〃I　mean　the　human　race；　that's　just　the　way　we　do　things。　If　we　don't　wipe　them　out　they'll　wipe　us　out。　Of　course　they　say　that　war　is　against　their　religion　and　they　will　only　fight　in　defense；　and　they　have　never　made　any　attacks　yet。　But　we　can't　believe　them；　even　though　it　is　true。　They　might　change　their　religion　or　their　minds　some　day；　and　then　where　would　we　be？　The　best　answer　is　to　wipe　them　out　now。〃
　　Bill　unplugged　his　razor　and　washed　his　face　in　the　tepid；　rusty　water。　
〃It　still　doesn't　seem　to　make　sense。　All　right；　so　the　sister　I　don't　have　doesn't　marry　one　of　them。　But　how　about　that　〃　he　pointed　to　the　stenciling　on　the　duck　boards；　KEEP　THIS　SHOWER　CLEAR…THE　ENEMY　CAN　HEAR。　〃Or　that…〃　The　sign　above　the　urinal　that　read　BUTTON　FLIES…BEWARE　SPIES。　〃Forgetting　for　the　moment　that　we　don't　have　any　secrets　here　worth　traveling　a　mile　to　hear；　much　less　twenty…five　light　years…how　could　a　Chinger　possibly　be　a　spy？　What　kind　of　make…up　would　disguise　a　seven…foot　lizard　as　a　recruit？　You　couldn't　even　disguise　one　to　look　like　Deathwish　Drang；　though　you　could　get　pretty　close…〃
　　The　lights　went　out；　and；　as　though　using　his　name　had　summoned　him　like