Chapter 18

Junior stared across the improvised arena, Firebird humming contentedly on her new, rich diet of Southern Comfort.
Her fresh paint shone, reflecting the blue light from her fully powered joint articulators. Fresh coolant flowed through her systems like chilled blood through her artificial veins. Her power levels were stable, her temperature was good, her slag mitts fairly cried out to smash and crush and destroy. She was as ready as she'd ever get, and Junior shared the feeling.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Scooter began over the loud speaker from his observation deck, "Prepare to witness history in the makin'!"
There was a boisterous cheer from the crowd.
"Y'all know Big Roy and Bessy been away from us for a while," he continued, his voice slightly tinny with distortion born of high volume and poor equipment, "Some of us think it's been too long."
More cheering communicated the crowd's agreement.
"Tonight, your friend and mine, Big Roy makes his official return to Beater combat as he and Bessy take on a fresh challenger," spotlights flooded Junior's vision briefly, "A local boy named Junior and his Beater Firebird in their first ever sanctioned fight!"
The crowd clapped politely.
"Firebird runs on a modified Kyocera engine," Scooter began the run down, "According to the lead mechanic, Dink, the power capacitors was chosen to store more power fer harder hits and a longer fight!"
This, the crowd loved.
"Firebird also features a strengthened skeleton and thick plates gather right here in this crater, so hopefully she can take a beatin'."
The spotlights swung across the field to Bessy, where Big Roy leaned out and waved to the crowd, who were so loud and enthusiastic that Scooter had to wait a full two minutes before he continued.
"Bessy, as y'all know, runs on a certified authentic Dodge Hemi powercore," Scooter had obviously given this speech before, "She features the finest parts we've seen in a hunnerd years o' Beater fights, on-board back up batteries, titanium infrastructure an' a suit of armor a full hand and a half thick over the vitals!"
The crowd, though most had heard the speech almost as often as Scooter had delivered it, fairly frothed in anticipation.
"Bessy an' Big Roy been out of the game fer a while," Scooter confided to the crowd once they had settled back in, "And to hear Big Roy tell it, he's right sorry about that. To make it up to y'all, Big Roy has also fished an old favorite out of his parts bin. Tonight, he brings back . . . . THE PIG STICKER!"
As Bessy suddenly produced the twelve foot sharpened steel rod, the crowd entered such a frenzy that Junior was temporarily deafened. Either that, or he was so stunned by seeing the deadly implement, spotlights gleaming hypnotically off of its mirrored finish, that his senses began to fail him.
Dank climbed up beside him and advised, "Don't you let him jack up Firebird with that thing, Junior. I worked too hard on her."
Junior looked at him.
"Don't you go gettin' yerself stuck, neither," Dank smiled.
"I'll do my best, 'Dink'," Junior smiled back, wondering the whole time just how fast Dank could weld some more rebar struts in front of his seat. Unless it could happen in the next forty five seconds, Junior would have to do without them. Damn.

Chapter Eighteen Interlude

File: Datanet Core Server Theta Alpha One Hundred and Twenty One, Galactic Anthropology, Era: Modern -0, Index Foreign Culture, EcoHope 11, Native History, As reported by [message reducted]

While the Truth of the Faith clearly lines out the name and number of inhabited planets in the universe, there persist records of a shipment of political prisoners, the Un-Faithful, being sent to other locations hundreds of years ago for the continued safety and well-being of the Faithful citizens of the Benevolent States United.
These terrorists and murderers were allegedly sent to any of several waste disposal planets, to live out their lives in isolation, or until they, or their descendants, chose to embrace the Faith in all its harmony and Truth.
Reports are sparse, but they lead the Faithful reader to believe that these camps existed for some time and may have eventually evolved into full fledged colonies. Of course, the veracity of these reports has been called into question by the true interpreters of the Truth, and as such, can be considered heresy and/or high treason, both of which carry an automatic punishment of death, in order to protect both the Truth and the Faithful.

Junior kept his eyes on the middle of the arena, where a scantily clad referee stood holding a black and white checkered flag.
She spun in place, blew kisses to the crowd, and waited for some signal to drop the flag and start the match.
Junior's eyes flitted from her, to the crowd, to the pig sticker, to his controls and back to the ring girl. What were they waiting for?
Bessy lifted the spear and shook it aggressively in the air. Big Roy began to wave it as a baton, whipping up the crowd and eclipsing the sound of the Beater engines with frantic crowd noise.
Just when Junior began to expect them to storm the field and tear both he and Firebird to pieces with their bare hands or whatever else they had laying around, the girl did one last spin and tossed the flag into the air.
With a rumble of gears and pistons, Junior started forward.
Bessy began to circle to the left, pig sticker at the ready, left arm held defensively high.
Junior knew he didn't have much chance of punch through the heavier armor plates on that limb, so he began to think of ways to get around it . . . Without getting impaled in the process.
Firebird thrummed beneath him, seeming almost anxious for him to step in and start swinging. Not long now, girl, he thought, but hopefully long enough.
He watched his power level indicators as he stepped lightly (or as lightly as a person can encased in a two-ton monster made of iron and steel) towards the center of the ring. He would not let Big Roy box him in and skewer him at leisure.
Closing to almost within range of the pig sticker, Bessy suddenly lunged forward, spear leading.
Junior leaned back, blunting what would have been a nasty system pierce into a shallow gouge and shower of sparks.
In spite of the minimal damage, the crowd cheered loudly.
Firebird stepped away, arms raised to ward off a second attack which did not come.
Big Roy had already turned Bessy away from Junior and started on a lap around the perimeter of the arena, waving pig sticker at the crowd triumphantly.
Junior moved to intercept him. When he had gotten into position and cocked a mitt back to punch, Bessy suddenly leapt forward and connected her foot, in a past life the tines of a fork lift, with the hip joint of Firebird, sending the Beater into a stumbling retreat.
Junior glance down at his motvational indicators. The joint impacted was still reading 100% efficiency. He briefly wondered if his gauge was broken.
In the end, he decided to trust the gauge.
Junior had Firebird take a tentative step forward with the left leg, seeming to favor the recently damaged hip.
Big Roy closed in, pig sticker leading.
Just before the intended impact, Junior leapt forward with his "injured" leg, connecting solidly with the right leg of Bessy.
There was a massive shower of sparks and a bright flash of light.
Firebird hopped away, carrying her surprised pilot, who was expecting some trick from Big Roy.
As Scooter's voice called out the end of the round, Junior noticed that Bessy had powered down.
As Big Roy angrily pounded his control board, Junior looked at his own.
His right leg was measuring as 140% charged.