Bill 5 - on the Planet of Zombie Vampires Read Free

can go back to work. Plus, your foot will have regrown and you'll be ready for active duty.”
    The commander turned back to his window. “I envy you this assignment,” he susurrated insincerely. “You might even see some action. Of course a repair ship doesn't carry much in the way of weapons, so if you do get out there and toe-up to the enemy, it'll be in a losing cause. Such a noble way to die! How I envy you.”
    Bill stifled the obvious suggestion to change places and gave up. “I can't wait,” he disgruntled, knowing there was no way out.
    “Report to the Bounty in the morning. Captain Blight will be expecting you.”
    Bill had a real bad feeling about the whole thing.

CHAPTER 2
    The Bounty was nothing to write home about, and from what Bill had heard, Captain Blight was even less. Still, Bill was determined to make a good impression and gave the captain his very best salute, the one using both right hands. Under normal circumstances it was an extraordinary gesture that never failed to dazzle, but its effect was somewhat diminished by Bill having to drop his crutches to execute the complicated maneuver and consequently falling to the ground in a thrashing and undignified heap.
    “They send me a crippled MP. Wonderful.” Captain Blight sneered incontinently, scowling down at the struggling Bill. He was a large man, heavyset; husky, thickly rotund, and stout; overabundantly gross to a degree Bill would have thought physically impossible. The man apparently liked to eat. A lot. Often. With seconds of everything. He looked Bill over with growing disgust.
    “One foot, two right arms. Highly irregular. And what pray tell are those objects protruding from your mouth?”
    “Tusks, sir, your honor,” gasped Bill struggling to his foot.
    “Apparently implants,” said a voice from the door. “Not standard issue for homo sapiens. Of course they could be genetically engineered, or perhaps an evolutionary backslide. One should never commit oneself to a diagnosis from strictly visual evidence.”
    “That's sufficient, Caine,” said the captain, painfully rotating his ponderous bulk towards Bill. “Oh, the things I put up with,” he whined self-pityingly as he took a sniff of cocaine-snuff. “I've got a crew of criminals, a single, possibly alcoholic, surely decaying ex-Trooper to keep them in line — not to mention a fishbelly android science officer who couldn't make an unqualified statement if his batteries depended on it. It sure is lonely here at the top, being the only sane person around. Not to mention boring.”
    Bill looked around. The android looked considerably more human than the captain, certainly saner. Which wouldn't take much.
    “Reporting for duty, sir,” shouted Bill. “If you'll direct me to the brig, I'll check on the prisoners.”
    “What brig?” snorted the captain. “And keep the bowby decibels down. Repair shops don't have brigs. Those criminal prisoners are going to crew this vessel. And you're going to keep them in line and out of trouble, or I'll make a special brig for my so-called MP. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Perfectly clear,” said Bill, gathering up his crutches.
    “Show this Trooper to his quarters, Caine,” said the captain. "I'll expect him at my table for lunch after we lift off this execrable excuse for a supply station.
    Bill restrained himself and delivered a normal government issue one-handed salute, then hobbled out the door in the wake of the android, into the ship's corridor.
    “Science is really wonderful, sir,” Bill ingratiated, never missing an opportunity to brownnose, struggling to keep up with Caine. “A blessing to mankind. It can come in handy, too. This is the first ship I've been on with a real science officer aboard, even if it is an android. No offense, sir. Some of my best friends might be androids. I'm not sure that I ever met one before. I don't even know how to identify an android, unless maybe they smell too bad and glow in the dark. Hard