"This is stupid, Dank," Junior yelled over the roar of Firebird's engine.
"You can't learn nothin' beatin' on coolin' units, Junior," Dank asserted, "Hit me!"
Dank stood in an improvised false Beater made from an old chest freezer perched atop two battered food storage modules. He waved "arms" made of simple steel rods in semi-random circles.
"Alright, Dank," Junior stepped forward, "But you hollar real loud if you think you might get hurt."
With Trixie May staring at the read-out on the data terminal, Junior moved in to attack.
There was a loud clang as the first metal rod connected with the shoulder armor on Junior's Beater. Surprised, he glanced towards it to hear a second clang as the other arm slammed into the black-painted head of Firebird.
As Junior stepped back, Dank smiled. The improvised arms continued to trace lazy circles in the late afternoon air.
"Watch your coolant levels, Junior," Trixie may called, seemingly (and thankfully) ignoring the embarrassing first pass.
Obligingly, Junior cranked up the liters per second on the coolant pumps, "Anything for you, Trixie May!" He tried to flash her his most winning smile.
More carefully the second time, Junior stepped in again, arms raised defensively at his sides.
As one of the steel rods bounced off the Beater's left forearm, Junior brought the right arm forward in a shove, attempting to topple Dank.
His move was interrupted when Firebird's arm caught on the tip of the steel rod.
Distracted, he completely missed the next hit to the head from the steel bar on Dank's left.
Unable to hear the sound over the rumbling motor, Junior could still see Dank's laughter.
He leaned and kicked out with his left foot, leaving a crescent-shaped dent on the right storage module.
Dank leaned right a bit, but kept his seat. He also managed to bounce a steel rod off the right shoulder of Junior's Beater.
Firebird stumbled backwards as Junior considered his next move. Dank's reach was far better than Junior's, but his position was static.
Junior began to circle Firebird to the left, watching the arms swing in those maddening lazy circles. Just before he came into range, he jumped right and brought his left slag mitt down hard on the top of the chest freezer.
Hopping out of the way, he saw that Dank was uninjured, if a bit more cramped. Only then did he notice that the swinging arms had missed him completely.
"Again?" Junior asked.
Dank did his best to nod from under the large u-shaped dent.
Knowing the same feint wouldn't work twice, Junior decided to avoid the painful wade in completely by jumping to cover the distance. The knee, hip and ankle joints flashed bright blue and he propelled Firebird into the air directly towards Dank.
Quickly he brought the slag mitts together on either side of the chest freezer in an attempt to cave it in further and limit the mobility of those damn steel rods.
Hindered by the center dent, the walls didn't collapse as much as he'd hoped. Trying desperately to avoid the sound of another hit, Junior threw himself backwards.
He came down poorly, one foot teetering on a large stone. Before he could plant the other foot somewhere solid, his center of gravity pulled him crashing to the ground.
Chapter Ten Interlude
File: Datanet Core Server Alpha Kappa Twenty-One, Galactic Current Events, Era: Modern -0, Headlines, Data source Benevolent States United Sanctioned News Feed
Scattered reports from across the globe reporting mass power outages have been completely disproved by Benevolent States United Information Corps officials.
High Commandant Theo Phillips of the High Intelligence Bureau is quoted as having stated, "Our dedicated agents have been working non-stop for the good of the Faithful, as always, and they have managed to uncover an attempt by radical fringe groups of the Un-Faithful to discredit the extremely fine job of providing reasonably priced and constantly available power the Benevolent States United is doing for us all. Long may They Reign."
The Faithful are further advised to report any citizens who still may suffer from the lies of the Un-Faithful that they may attend refresher courses in Truth provided at no charge at the nearest Command Center. In most cases, the nearest Command Center is very near indeed.
Dank set down the terminal and handed Junior a fresh buffing wheel, "Told you, Junior, git in quick and bounce back out."
"But watch where you land," Trixie May added, pounding the dents out of a shoulder plate.
"I get it," Junior was applying a fresh coat of matte black to the arms to cover the deep gouges left by the steel rods, "I'm also gettin' a lot faster at repaintin' Beaters."
"Well stop lettin' folk knock the paint off 'em," Dank had brought the steel rods from the crater in with him. He brandished them in a mock intimidation attempt.
"Ain't no Beater moves like that, you swingin' them bars around," Junior shook his head, "Beater moves'r more . . . mechanical."
"Junior, you ain't fought but one Beater in your entire life," Dank reminded him, "How do you know they all move the same way?"
"They just do," Junior began to feel doubt begin to blossom into worry. He'd seen plenty of Beater fights on terminals since he started watching them before he could walk. No Beater ever swayed around like those simple, damned annoying steel bars.
"What do you recommend then, Dank?" Junior knew that if he could learn to dodge the swinging metal rods, actual Beater arms would seem slower than a two-legged pile rat.
Trixie May had the first suggestion, "We can re-distribute the power from the Be-esunium capacitors out of the combat motors and into the propulsion system. Her limbs'd be faster, but they prolly wouldn't hit as hard."
"That's worth tryin'," Junior admitted.
"You should keep your eyes on anything Big Roy can hit you with," Dank tried to help, "He slammed you good with Bessy's head last time. I figger he'll do it again."
"Great," Junior noted, "Fix the Beater and don't get hit. Y'all are priceless, you know that?"
"Don't take it like that, Junior," Trixie May placed a soothing hand on his arm, "We are just tryin' to help, is all."
"I know, Trixie May," Junior smiled, "Y'all are the best friends a pilot could hope for." And he meant it.
The three set about making the modifications and repairs needed to help even the odds.
They worked long into the night without stopping. The dents and creases eventually smoothed away to nothing as Dank and Trixie May worked in tandem, moving coolant lines and re-directing the electrical subsystems.
