"I can't believe you're saying that, Zana, you traitor!" Truck made a sweep with her muscly arm. "And it's not like I see a house rig, do you? Where is it?"
"Unseen assets, Truck dear," said Rivqua and pointed with nods. "Bottom end under the stage, the rest behind the curtains and up there somewhere, hidden in the darkness. Design minimalism."
"Minimal rock 'n' roll, if you ask me. And the desk? Better not be one of those holographic ones. I ain't touching one of them. Last time my fur sparked with static for a month!"
"You crackled nicely too," said Zana.
"Well, whatever type it is, it'll be up there." Rivqua pointed back toward an angled wall of dark glass above the entrance.
"The Grand Galactica control center," Zana said. "They run the casino from there. Make sure things don't go too well."
A stocky alien figure appeared in the dim light behind the glass and waved at them, signaling to wait right there, then disappeared again.
Truck shrugged and headed toward the stage.
"Right, dimwits!" she hollered and clapped her hands. "Let's do it!"
Metro's head slipped out from a gap in the backdrop.
"Check out what I found!"
His head slipped in again. A soft hiss of hydraulics began, and a section of the center stage rose up.
"Gotta love drummers," Truck said over her shoulder. "So easily pleased."
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