Junior and Trixie May dragged the sled into town and into the workshop behind The Rusty Tankard to clean up the paint scrapes and dings and get Firebird ready for her first official, league approved, public appearance.
While Junior's nervous feeling was ramping up as one would expect, Dank had taken to actually sleeping in the workshop with the Beater, "Just to be on the safe side," he'd said.
Dank's protective leanings were appreciated, especially the night before when two people had tried to break the lock on the back door in the dark alley. Dank had chased them off with a few swings of a pipe wrench (he swore he connected at least once) and some screaming.
The Beater was definitely worth defending now.
She was responsive and powerful and perfectly balanced. Junior felt completely comfortable piloting her, even against Big Roy and Bessy, though he thought he'd rather personally kick the crap out of Big Roy than by proxy through a couple of Beaters.
That night Junior dreamed, and in his dream Firebird stood over the shattered remains of a Beater that looked just like Bessy, but must have been twice as large. Straddling the shattered, smoking hulk, Junior soaked in the appreciative roars from the crowd. Big Roy was absent from the dream altogether, but Junior had the unmistakable feeling he'd definitely beaten him, and beaten him soundly and probably for longer than was completely necessary.
While Big Roy was absent from the dream, an extremely impressed Trixie May made an appearance. A gentleman never discusses that type of thing, though Junior spent much of the next day dwelling on it and catching himself grinning stupidly.
As the time for the fight drew near, Dank and Trixie May worked furiously, trying to finish the final last minute upgrades courtesy of Dank's latest parts foray into the crater. Many of the expected junk piles had already been shoved out of the way by the fight promoters in anticipation of Big Roy's sold out return to professional Beater fighting.
"Done," Dank pronounced, having electronically verified the last successful solder.
Chapter Fourteen Interlude
File: Datanet Core Server Epsilon Theta Gamma Eleven, Galactic Current Events, Era: Modern -0, Headlines, Data source Benevolent States United Sanctioned News Feed
Un-Faithful terrorists have struck a Benevolent States United power generation facility, throwing large swaths of the former australian union of confederated states into darkness. "Any interruption in power services over the past fifteen years is now easily correlated to the activities of these misguided protesters. Obviously, they have been slowly sabotaging the more-than-adequate power production plant to cause intermittent loss of power all this time. This attempt seems to have gone badly for them, as they were incinerated in the blast from the reactor arcing back upon itself."
Questions of names for the terrorists and organized groups were brushed off, as they should be, because the investigation is ongoing. Contradicting reports from just after the blast noting a gradual heat build up at the unmanned facility and no sign of human trespass cannot be verified, as the Benevolent States United has declared that the persons filing these false reports have all vanished. They have been convicted in their absence of aiding the terrorists and filing false reports, so they are not to be trusted by any of the Faithful. A list of their names, family members and all associated addresses follows this report.
"Things are gettin' mighty shitty on Earth Prime, y'all," Dank tapped the side of his terminal to punctuate his report.
"Tryin' to keep your mind off the match, Dank?" Trixie May asked, her tone light.
"I ain't about to just sit here and stare across the crater fer hours," Dank defended, "A feller's got to keep busy."
The shipment had arrived early and been carted away immediately by match officials. Presumably, they had people going through the pile to pull out the requested items. Otherwise, Junior and Dank just knew their work was literally piling up while they sat, huddled around the Beater, waiting for the party to start, so to speak.
"You sure she's ready?" Junior asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"I'm sure," Dank asserted.
"Daddy said he has somethin' for you, Junior," Trixie May said, "I don't know what it is, but he said not to start up Firebird without talkin' to him first."
As if on cue, Doc came over the rim of the crater dragging a crate about half a meter high and a meter long, on one of the cargo movers he kept in the bar to assist in removing intoxicated patrons after they'd passed out.
He walked up and put his arms around Trixie May in greeting. Looking over her shoulder he winked at Junior.
"Junior, I got somethin' I want to share with you," he said, turning and opening the crate behind him, casting a cloud of dust into the thin morning air.
He removed from the crate, two bottles of amber liquid, the labels log ago having rotted off.
"This here is the last of my supply of some old Earth liquor," He brushed the dust off the neck of the bottle, "Legend says it was called 'Southern Comfort' on old Earth and they used it as a drink. Ain't no market for it here, but I figger Firebird'll put it to good use."
"Are you sure, Doc?" Junior, eyes filled with awe, reverently took one of the bottles and looked through the liquid, casting an amber tint to his field of vision. It was smooth and dust free, not at all like the beer locally produced in and around Impact.
"Course I'm sure, Junior," Doc was smiling, "I been sittin' on this stuff for years. 'Bout time it got put to good use. I can't think of a better use than beatin' the pants off Big Roy."
"Southern Comfort," Dank dug through the crate and pulled out another bottle, "I heard of this stuff. Ain't supposed to be a finer drink ever made."
"I wouldn't drink it, anyway," Doc waved away the notion, "After a life spent drinking EcoHope 11's piss water beer, this stuff'd prolly kill a man."
"Maybe you should offer Big Roy a drink on the house, Daddy," Trixie May suggested, eyes twinkling.
As Dank, Doc and Trixie May laughed, Junior continued to stare through the amber tint of the liquor, his vision golden and glorious.
