Chapter 7

Jim Bob looked at Zeke. The big man stared at the mass of creatures milling past them. “What do you think big fella? Ready to go?”

“Ah don’t know. Do you think it’s safe?” Zeke asked.

Jim Bob looked up at Zeke and then out at the street. Zeke easily stood out and above the crowd. The giant rolling eyeball was close to Zeke’s size but only barely. “Ah don’t think that will be a problem, big fella. These here little fellas should move outta our way, no problem.” He stepped onto the street.

The tide of life almost knocked him down and his feet were trod on by an impressive collection of alien paws, hooves, rollers and tentacles. Zeke caught Jim Bob as he bounced off the crowd.

Jim Bob stood and tried to massage feeling back into his right foot. He stared first at the moving mass of life and then to Zeke. “You know, Zeke, if you shouted at them, ah bet they would stop for us.”

“You really think so?”

Jim Bob patted the big man on the shoulder. “Ah’m sure of it. Go ahead and give it a try.”

“All right. Here goes nothing.” Zeke sucked in a big lungful of air and shouted. “EVERYBODY MOVE!”

The sound of Zeke’s shout reverberated up and down the street and every being stopped in its tracks. 

Jim Bob looked at Zeke with a grin. “Told ya!” He led the big man across the street to the shop offering drinks.

The door slid open and a blast of sound struck them from inside the building. It appeared to be music, but not like any either of the men had ever heard before. As soon as they walked through the door, Jim Bob knew he had found what he was looking for.

Creatures of every description sat or lounged or played a variety of games in the gloom. The air was thick with a haze that could have been smoke or something else entirely. Waitresses and serving bots moved among the patrons with practiced ease.

A long bar stood in front of one wall. A six-armed humanoid stood behind it polishing the top. He/it, Jim Bob couldn’t be completely sure which, looked up as they walked in. A pair of tusks jutted out of the bottom of its jaw and it was completely hairless. At least, what Jim Bob could see had no hair. It had bright green skin and a cro-magnon brow furrowed over bright red eyes. Muscles that would have done a bodybuilder proud covered its massive frame.

The creature’s voice, when it spoke, was deep, raw. “What’ll you have have… ladies… gents… whatever you are?” Its muscles bunched and bulged like some live thing under its skin as it wiped the bar.

Jim Bob leaned against the bar and grinned. “We’re male, mister.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to the bartender. “Listen, my buddy and me have been out on a ship for some time now. He hasn’t had any…relief in a long time if you get my meaning.” He pointed at Zeke and winked as he spoke. “He needs some companionship, but not until he’s had something to drink to ease his nerves. You got anything strong that might help him out.” Jim Bob winked again.

The bartender looked at Jim Bob with a glare. “Don’t call me mister. I’m a miss.”

“Whatever you say,” Jim Bob said, his eyes widening.

“Is there something wrong with your ocular units, sir? Or perhaps you’re telling me I’m not feminine?” the bartender asked flexing her fingers into fists. “Either way, I could get medical down here to have a look at you.”

Jim Bob stepped back. “Oh no, ah’m fine! Um, you’re extremely feminine too. Ah never had a moments doubt.” He wiped sweat off his brow. “Now about that drink?”

The bartender stared at Jim Bob for a long moment before she smiled, her tusks highlighting her eyes. She held out a right hand. “Name’s Tharka. Nice to meet you gentlemen.”

Jim Bob hesitantly gripped her hand, his disappearing in the large paw. He looked carefully for broken bones when he retrieved it from her grasp.

Tharka chuckled and pointed to the wall behind her. Bottles of every shape, colour and material were stacked on shelves. Thousands of them. “As you can see, I’ve got a pretty good stock. Tell me what you want and I’ve probably got it.”

Zeke stepped forward, the worried frown he had been carrying around finally slipping off his face. “Have you got some shine?”

Tharka’s expression brightened. “Shine? Sure do. We got Dalgrassian Starshine, Mudgarbian Sunshine and six different vintages of triple-filtered Astroshine. Which would you like?”

“Ah just want some moonshine.” Zeke said with a confused grimace.

The bartender looked shocked at the request and quickly reached under the counter, pulling out a solid metal bar as she straightened up. “What are you trying to pull, fellas?”

“Whoa, there,” Jim Bob said, backing away, hands raised in surrender. “We don’t want no trouble.”

“You boys trying to bring the law down on me?” Tharka asked, smacking the rod in one of her meaty six-fingered hands. “I run an honest establishment. We don’t do any of that prohibited stuff.”

“What do you mean, prohibited?” Zeke asked. ( It wasn’t that Zeke couldn’t understand why moonshine might be a prohibited substance. More accurately, Zeke didn’t understand what the word ‘prohibited’ actually meant.) 

The bartender looked around to see if anyone was listening before she spoke again. “Moonshine is illegal in this sector. If I were caught selling it I’d be shut down, my bank accounts emptied and then I would be sent to break rocks on some far-off asteroid.”

“You’re kidding!” Jim Bob said. “All that from simply selling shine?”

“Shhh! Don’t talk so loudly. Someone might hear you.”

“Well, what DO you have to drink?” Jim Bob asked. He pointed at Zeke. “My friend here is powerful thirsty.”

“Like I told you before, I have a wide selection,” she said. “Just don’t ask for moonshine again or I’ll have you thrown out.”

“Fine,” Jim Bob said. “What have you got that’s strong?” He pointed at Zeke. “This big fella can handle a lot.”

Tharka’s smile was wicked. “I have just the thing.” She waved over one of the barmaids and spoke quietly with her. The barmaid easily stood six feet tall. A chain-mail bikini barely held in a muscular frame and obvious female assets. Her skin was a light golden colour and a thick mane of auburn hair framed a goddess’ face.

Jim Bob could only stare at her, his mouth hanging open like a dying fish.

The two females huddled close together, backs to the two men, talking for several minutes. When Tharka turned, she held a frothing mug of milky white liquid. The barmaid appeared to be adjusting her top.

She slammed the mug down on the bar in front of Zeke, sloshing a bit of the liquid on the bar top. A small wisp of smoke curled up from where it spilled.

“What is it” Zeke asked.

“Tamaranian Warrior Milk.”

Zeke picked up the mug and sniffed it dubiously. He took a small sip. “It’s warm.” He tipped the mug back and drained it. He wobbled for a moment and a big smile crossed his face.

“Of course it’s warm,” the bartender said, its smile even wider. “It’s fresh from a Tamaranian Warrior.” Tharka waved at the barmaid who gave her a saucy green-eyed wink. She waggled her prominent mammaries as she did so.

Jim Bob turned a little green.

Zeke was looking mournfully at the empty mug. He held it toward the bartender. “Can ah have some more?” No sooner had he said it than his eyes rolled back in his head and he crashed to the floor like a felled tree.

Jim Bob looked at the fallen man and grinned.