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First chance you have you get blasted out of your teeny-tinys." "Sho what?"
Shomeone shaid. "Why not. We've had a tough time on this planet and a little
relaxation is very much in order." "Tell me about it! No don't!" he shouted
as they all started bitching at once. "That was a metaphorical statement to
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denote strong agreement. Can any of you lushes hear me? And understand what I
am saying? Nod your heads, good, good. I wanted to tell you that I tracked the
cable to the ships's atomic pile. It is still functioning after, lo, these
many centuries. But it is half way to its half life, I think.
A real antique. Hand operated fuel rods, crank them in and out with a wheel.
And the carbon block moderators also have to be shoveled in by hand. I
shoveled and cranked a bit and got the electricity flowing real nice."
"You are a technical geniushh," Praktis said thickly and they all nodded thick
agreement, all except Zog that is who, because of his age and his set-228
rows, had drunk himself unconscious and now lay on the floor. "Yes, thank
you, I thought you would approve. Now wait for it, more to come. I found the
control room for this antique, it even has a steering wheel and oil lamps, and
I switched on the power there. The bulbs lit up and it all looked very nice.
The radio room had the door welded shut but I broke it down. There is a FTL
transmitter in there in perfect working condition." He waited patiently as
the sound waves of his voice impacted their sluggish ear drums, which then
kicked the bones of the hammer, anvil and stirrup of the inner ear to life,
sent neural messages slowly across alcohol laden synapses, plowed down through
their ossified tissues and finally sunk home in what tiny bit of intelligence
still remained in their brains... "You what?" they shouted in unison,
surging to their feet, glasses shattering around them, sober in a microsecond.
"Boy, if I could bottle that I would have an instant soberer-upper. And yes,
you heard me right. There is an FTL signaler and it does work." "It makes
sense," Praktis said, dropping back into his rocker, red-eyed and vibrating.
"The nutcase captain who started all this Roman nonsense must have sealed it
up so none of his societal victims could radio for aid. But he didn't put it
out of commission just in case he personally needed some help. And it had been
there ever since." "Shall we make a call?" Bill suggested and they all
nodded their heads like fools and rushed out of the room on Cy's heels.229
Electra.Zog, leading her errant son by the ear, came in and sniffed loudly.
"Just what I should have expected.
Turn my back for a second and he gets drunk on the sacrificial wine. And look
at the mess!"C H A P T E R 25230Once the FTL message has been sent they
hurried back to the sacrificial wine to celebrate. But even as the first
glasses were being lifted in a toast to success they heard the sound.
"A spacer!" Wurber gasped. "They are here!" Glasses crashed to the deck
as they dashed from the cabin. There was the rumble of a mighty spaceship
passing overhead and they all ran to the airlock and poured out onto the
desert sand. The spaceship came down low over them and Meta shouted. "A
Chinger ship! They are going to bomb us!" They all tried to pour back into
the ship as the bomb bay opened in the ship above and something dropped free.
"Too late," Meta sighed, pushing her way out of the scrum. "You don't run from
an atom bomb. It has been nice knowing you, Bill, though I can't say the same
for some of your friends." "Likewise, Meta, but all is not over yet.
If I am not mistaken that is not a bomb but is a message tube hanging from a
tiny parachute." He ran and reached the chute just as it hit the ground.
The lid popped off and the sheet of paper dropped out into his hand.231
"It's a letter," he said. "From my old friend Eager Beager who turned out to
be a Chinger spy named Bgr." "I have made his acquaintance," Meta said.
"What's the spy got to say that we don't want to hear?" "It's very
interesting. Listen. Dear Bill, and companions. We are splitting this planet
and it is all yours. We caught your FTL transmission asking for help and
giving the planetary coordinates. So he who fights and runs away, etc. Our
scouts report that a sizable fleet is already on the way, so you will be
rescued soon. Signed, yours truly, Bgr. And there's a PS. He goes on-Bill,
don't you and your mates forget what I said about peace. We are out for
eternal peace and you should be too. End this eternal war, go for peace and
prosperity. You can do it! Help us, we beg. Peace, prosperity and freedom for
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all!" "Pacifist crap," Praktis said, pulling the letter from Bill's hand
and tearing it into lots of little pieces. "So you have been talking sedition
with the enemy, have you?" "We were captured by them! There was no escape,
until we escaped, but before that we had to listen." "Oh, no you didn't!
You could have put your hands over your ears. There have been a lot of
battlefield commissions in the history of warfare, First Lieutenant. Be
pleased by the fact that you are the first ever to get a battlefield
decommission. Trooper. Back to the ranks. No more decent chow, officer's clubs
or licensed knocking-shops for you!" "I never had a chance to enjoy that
sort of thing anyway!" "Then you won't miss them," Praktis cackled232
evilly. "War is hell, don't ever forget that." "For the enlisted troops it
is," Meta said, turning and going back into the SS Zog where she took another
bottle of sacrificial wine from the refrigerator. "I have got to think of a
way of getting a commission." Cy and Praktis, followed by a stumbling
Wurber, came in to join her and she poured them each a glassful. Captain Bly
did not have to join them since he had never left. As soon as the FTL message
had been sent he had dived back into the bottle and had not been out of it
since. They rested their feet on his recumbent body and listened to the sounds
of domestic quarrel echoing from the bowels of the ship. "Here's to peace,"
Meta said and raised her glass. "No way!" Praktis disagreed. "To war,
endless war." "You sound a bit like that fake Mars, God of War."
"Don't kid yourself-he talked a lot of sense. I would really like to fire up
the old god myself, it makes a nice racket. I would do it too if Merlin hadn't
slipped away when we were drunk. He'll blow the whistle and I suppose peace
will descend on this happy land." He frowned and twisted his face as though he
had a bad taste in his mouth. "But just here on this plateau," Meta
reminded him. "Not too far away the Barthroomians are locked in endless war.
just like us." "You're right! I forgot-nice of you to remind me. See, good
things do happen." She drained her glass and did not bother to answer.233
Outside, staring out at the trackless sand, scratching idly with his claws,
Bill faced the future back in the ranks. Easy come, easy go, it had been too
good to last. Anyway, at heart, he would always be an enlisted man. At heart,
deeper down, he wanted really to be a civilian but that was pushing things.
But all this thought was pretty heavy, not to mention depressing. What he
should do was seek the traditional troopers solution and go back into the ship
and get smashed out of his teeny-tiny with all of the others. Get smashed,
sing dirty songs, fall down drunk, throw up. Sounded like real fun! He turned
to go when he heard the distant rumble of a spaceship. Was help on the way
already? He had better get cracking on the booze before he was forcefully
returned to sober military life. But the spacer arrived at
supersonic speed, the boom of sound cracking across his head as it shot by
close overhead and vanished. He looked up, blinking, to see the Chinger ship [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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