The bar was crowded and loud and smoke-filled, but they managed to squeeze into a smaller booth along the crater-facing wall.
Junior was so intent on trying to make out the details of the store Big Roy was relating to his hangers on that he was completely surprised by Dank's kick under the table.
"I said, sugar," Lizzy was obviously repeating, "What do you want? To drink?"
"Beer, Lizzy," Junior felt extremely uncomfortable for some reason, "I always have beer."
Lizzy glared at Trixie May, "You always have somethin', Junior."
As she stamped off, Dank asked, "What the hell was that about? I thought she dumped you? Did I miss somethin'?"
"The important thing is we've both moved on, you know?" Junior tried to address Dank as plainly and directly as possible while communicating with Trixie May as transparently and indirectly as possible.
"I suspect she and Big Roy have hit a rough patch, Junior," Trixie May, for the first time acknowledging the conversation at all, pointed at the measured distance Lizzy was keeping from Big Roy's side of the table.
If anything, Big Roy seemed almost oblivious.
"Daddy says Big Roy ain't paid for his own drink since he got back from his last championship," Trixie May confided, "His fans there buy him beer in exchange for stories."
Junior thought about the implications of this.
"I expect Big Roy ain't as 'loaded' as Lizzy thought," Trixie May sounded almost sympathetic, though Junior and Dank would have had a hard time guessing who it was she actually felt sorry for.
As Lizzy carried a loaded tray of mugs to Big Roy's table, Junior saw her steal glances at the table where he sat with Dank and Trixie May.
Chapter Eleven Interlude
File: Datanet Core Server Delta Epsilon forty-two, Galactic Religion, Era: Modern -0, Index All That is Known, General, Data Supplied by The One True Text
With the end of the last Earth Prime based war, there was a period of peace filled with the search for new Truth. The founders of the Benevolent States United had, after all, scientifically disproved every religion the ancient Earth Prime citizens had ever heard of and united the people under a common belief -- even if that belief was a misguided lack of Truth.
After a long and diligent search by some of the finest minds on Earth Prime, the Benevolent States United issued an edict:
Whoever can show us the Truth, shall be named the head of the new Faith.
Challenge issued, the Benevolent States United spent forty days and forty nights reviewing submissions from those who had been seeking Truth. Then, certain they had chosen correctly, They told us the Truth.
The Benevolent States United (long may They reign) had solved the eternal mystery for us. And we, the Faithful, have heard the Truth from Them, automatically declared the head of the Faith, ever since.
No religion in the history of human kind (though there are no records of any other religion having existed) has enjoyed such a time of peace, enlightenment and harmony.
Aid the Benevolent States United in Faith, dear reader. To think about the alternative is to deny Truth. To deny Truth is to deny life.
Big Roy laughed explosively and Dank set his terminal down in disgust.
"Gets so a feller can't even read in peace in The Rusty Tankard no more," Dank waved to Doc for another round. If he couldn't read he may as well blur his vision a bit.
Trixie May and Junior had taken to the dance pad for a while. Watching them, Dank had no idea how Junior managed to walk straight at all, much less keep a Beater upright.
At least the music was good. Ain't nothin' wrong with Skynyrd.
Lizzy brought his beer and slid into the booth next to him.
"Dank, if I tell you somethin' you have to promise not to let it get back to Big Roy," She kept her voice low and refused to meet Dank's eyes.
"I wouldn't tell that asshat to jump in the spring if his face was on fire, Lizzy," Dank tried to make her more at ease as her tension was contagious. It didn't work.
"Big Roy is plannin' to do something at the match -- somethin' to make sure he wins," Lizzy glanced up in the direction of Big Roy's table.
"I suppose you mean somethin' besides just knockin' the crap outta Junior, don't you?"
"I do, Dank," Lizzy looked actually frightened, "I don't care who wins a damn Beater match, but Junior could get hurt and he don't deserve that."
"No, Lizzy," Dank had changed the subject, "He sure don't."
As Lizzy slid out to shuttle more mugs back and forth between the bar and the patrons, Dank watched the dance pad.
Shit, he thought, that boy don't need no help gettin' hurt. With grace like that it was a miracle he hadn't killed hisself on a late night trip to the refreshers.
