The Casino Job

Posted on Sun 25th Sep, 2022 @ 12:28am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Renato Solis & Criswell Sandbags & Qaraq
Edited on on Fri 7th Oct, 2022 @ 3:42am

2,411 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: The Hunted
Location: Casino
Timeline: MD 6

Renato nursed a root beer with cherry juice, drinks in Brown Sector tended to take on simpler recipes but always had powerful flavors. He mused it was to cover the content, as mixing and matching was common between the similarly colored spirits. This was a new casino, Renato was so far impressed by the service and the bartender made a delicious foam head for the soda. Even the glass, usually a chip or stress fracture of some kind was present, but the edges were molecular precision, and gloriously free of any deformities. This was real crystal, brand new, it didn't have the identical star pattern replicators used to assemble the structures, it was just barely imperfect. The effort it took spoke volumes to the attitude of management to provide the white glove service these people had never known.

Spotting Criswell, Renato marked the man working the crowds, part of his observational goal was to assess how the cheaters avoided getting caught. The other two men were playing Kotra, but had kept an honest game so far. Stalking the men had allowed Renato to overhear an exchange where they intended to “steal thousands”. Elementary deductions and more stalking, supplied by candied children who did his watch work, lead to this man Criswell Sandbags and the myriad affiliations of his network. Observation took the investigation from there, two humans and a quasi Deltan worked a simple con to seat the two Humans at the same table. They shared card info, giving them both card counting capabilities. The Deltan would appear whenever it was unsafe to cheat, and distract the pit boss. It wasn't enough, there was another element to this scam and time would reveal it.

"Renato to Sector constabulary, we may need a constable here shortly, the new casino here is getting worked over by some cons, I'll have a case for you shortly but no new businesses can open here if they get fleeced the moment they start up y'know?"

A surprising voice came over the comms, Kya, working the dispatch station at the community center. "Renato, all deputies are on assigned walks. Is there a local security officer who can help?"

Qaraq, the owner of the bar certainly qualified, "Sure Kya, the owner, Qaraq, will be a great help. Get a cell ready, these guys are pocketing serious coin from the tables."

Qaraq stood behind the crowded bar serving drinks and various appetizers not in the buffet: nacho tater tots, cheese-stuffed pretzels (mozzarella, sharp cheddar, or pepper jack), chili cheese fries, and something called a "blooming onion" that Qaraq found particularly delicious. All of them made from natural ingredients by the casino's expert chef. Qaraq had spared no expense on the food. Most of the cuisine were Earth dishes, and all of them were carefully picked by Qaraq's assistant, Criswell Sandbags.

It was time to cast the net. Renato hoped he could figure out the rest of it with the Batman’s help. Renato used the station intranet to supply a message to the bar’s online ordering. He ordered a refill of the root beer and saw “ice cream” could be added to it as well. Curious enough to try he thumbed the order, with a special request in the field, “To Criswell Sandbags: (From Renato Solis)- I’d like to meet you sir. Discretion is advised.”

Being observant himself, Criswell had also spotted Renato at the bar. In fact, Criswell knew who Renato was before Renato knew Criswell. It was Criswell's specialty. The art of invisibility, the reason Qaraq had hired him in the first place.

Renato was intrigued by Criswell. He was as slippery as a snake, often saying one thing but meaning another, using homonyms as synonyms and vice versa. To say he was verbose would deny the scope, he was liquid language. Words fell like candy to the eager, and he was at home in a crowd, sometimes even holding conversation with every one of them. His suit was clearly a week old, the plastic sheen from the protective coat hadn't rubbed off evenly everywhere, the lights of the casino reflected in parts. He wore it like a man who's never touched a suit before, his collar was crooked and he was clearly using a clip-on tie. That made sense though, a man accustomed to quick escape would have a second set of clothes and nothing anyone can grab to hold him back. Armor, weapons, devices of any kind could be amply hidden under such attire, and to have the air of a cheap huckster was a true performance trick. His eyes were wild, never resting, no true connections until he needed to make one. Observant, shifty, calculating, his slang was much like a Ferengi would speak. Renato had heard Criswell grew up on Ferenginar, with adopted Ferengi parents. It was elementary, all he needed was a head scarf to round out the hybridized finesse man. The man's behavior wasn't human at all, yet he was Human, and combined with a Ferengi's skills and acumen made Criswell a certain man to keep an eye on.

Qaraq approached Renato at that moment. "Can I freshen up your drink, Mr. Solis?" His voice boomed the question. Solis had not identified himself when he'd ordered his root beer, which wasn't even half-gone and didn't need "freshening" at all.

One could prepare for a meeting by observing or having others observe, but the booming voice was not adequately conveyed by the children. Visibly startled at the sudden sound of rocks falling into a deep chasm, Renato turned slightly and took into his view what could only be the proprietor of this establishment, Qaraq.

To call the giant blue creature "horny" would be extremely funny and literally accurate. Horns protruded from his bright, scaly, indigo face from his forehead down his cheeks and under his chin. His skin was iridescent, with small purple blemishes appearing and disappearing with a soft regularity. He was huge, too. Not just tall. Renato could tell he was very muscular, with arms the size of anacondas and a firm midsection that could probably stop a charging Klingon targ. His fists were massive as well, with small horns protruding over each knuckle that looked like they could crack open the largest horta egg.

What looked abnormal was the Goliath's face. While the horns on his brow gave him a sinister edge, his eyes had a softness to them, and his smile appeared to be natural and genuine. His voice, resembling a sonic boom inside a basketball court, was quite jovial, as Renato had examined through his interactions with other customers. Now, however, there was a tinge of suspicion that was impossible for Renato to miss.

The niceness in his inflection suggested that of someone being caught in an act but given the benefit of the doubt ... at the moment. It wasn't much of a surprise. Renato could tell by his mannerisms that he remained very aware of what was happening around him. He knew Qaraq had been quietly observing him at all times, and had probably seen Renato talking to thin air since the first time he had spoken quietly over his comm. Between Qaraq and Criswell, no kind of activity went completely missed in the whole casino.

All this was a prelude to a smile and nonchalant reply, as though his wits weren't up in his throat as he finally spoke. "Qaraq, no presumption needed, you are a singular individual and I am ecstatic that you've taken on our community here as a business venture. I am Renato Solis, a man of the community."

"So I'm told," Qaraq rumbled. "I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Likewise. I try to keep abreast of everything, your shop is a wondrous addition, but the people here are desperate and used to taking for themselves. I overheard a conversation about trying to "lift some serious coin out of your establishment." Renato pointed with his body language but never looked at them.
Qarag had already looked before Renato pointed, "I bet you have pegged the two at the table, and I can confirm the Deltan is involved. I have picture evidence, but the method of the Deltan communicating eludes me. I've ruled out lip movement, foot tapping, positions of napkins and cutlery ... I can keep ruling it out, or I can get to my point. There is a fourth, and my deduction leads me to believe they are telepathic."

Qaraq nodded. "Criswell has had an interest in them since they walked in," he said. "So far, he's gone unnoticed by them. He'll be joining the table in a few minutes. They won't suspect a thing."

"Well, if you've got the tiger by its tail, then I have nothing but time to enjoy my drink. If you have a moment though ... I am not exaggerating to say I represent this community in some degree. While I am ecstatic there is a place for people to gain employment and have a fun time, I also want to ask for diligence in preventing addictive behaviors, or allowing the desperate to drown in a bottle. There are lots of folks here who could lose everything in a place like this."

Qaraq sighed and leaned on the bar. "I run a casino," he said. "It's a place where people gamble with money. All of my patrons are of consenting adult age. People who lose everything here do so of their own volition, addictive behaviors or not. By design, I have no control over that. I will discourage reckless behavior, and even refuse to serve those who repeatedly display it.

"I am also donating a percentage of my profits to various clinics and recovery services on the station, most specifically in Brown Sector. I am investing time and money for the children living in Brown Sector to have school supplies, a place to learn, and a daily lunch, all free of charge. Mr. Sandbags has been invaluable to me in making all of this happen. He's one of the many who has suffered living here. Most of my employees also live in Brown Sector. So, while I may not by definition be managing a very 'respectable' type of establishment, I'm doing my best to give back to this community ... is that acceptable to you?"

Renato allowed the speech to unfold, Qaraq had assumed the words were asked with disdain for a place like this. Taking a sip of the froth without actually imbibing liquid, and with a conciliatory gesture, Renato acknowledged his overstep.

"I have implied, perhaps, that you are not a force for good, and your character does not deserve a slight from a stranger who only means well. Of course, I am dazzled with your generosity, clearing this space was a monumental effort of bureaucracy. Without a business plan or proof of concept, here lies both in plain sight. You have shown the people of this station Brown Sector is a community worth visiting and spending money in. I am in awe and support your ... efforts ... hold on ...."

As Renato was speaking ,the slight tingle of his temporal lobe alerted him to a telepathic presence below. The Deltan hybrid was definitely using its ability, but telepathic detection was on the shortlist for casino security, so how was she operating? He replayed the last several minutes in his mind, an eidetic memory recalling even the pitch of the laughters, cheers, and screams. The Deltan was presumably female, given the dress and deliberate accentuations of the body. Emphasis on hips, lips, chest, combined with the subtle effect of Deltan esper telepathy, she could command attention from anyone who was attracted in the slightest.

"Qaraq. Bring the lights way down, just for a moment. Search for a glowing eye that is quickly shut down."

Qaraq furrowed his horned brow. He hesitated for a second, but hit his civilian comm badge. "Criswell, I may be bringing the lights down in a moment." He looked back at Renato. "Could you explain why I might do this?"

Renato explained, "Telepathy at any level is something your security would detect. She uses pheromonal and empathic cues to be irresistible to dealers she can clearly manipulate. Technology worn openly is scrutinized, and cams cover faces, audio is processed, so visual cues remain. The players are communicating, but not getting caught. Our fourth man will be illuminated by the Corneal lens they are using to detect eye motion from the dealer. They use the Deltan to draw attention away and alert the players when safe to communicate non-verbally with well-planned and natural signals. It'll look like a gleaming eye, likely internal components, since it defies scans. Probably geared to be a false eyeball in aesthetic, it is a cleverly disguised surveillance camera."

Qaraq nodded and turned to the console behind him. "Criswell, I'm bringing the lights down for a moment. I need you to see if you can find a ... 'glowing eye.' You have three seconds."

"Understood," came Criswell's reply.

Qaraq brought up the interface that controlled the lights and brought them down to five percent illumination. He counted to three and brought them back up. When he turned around, he was pleased to see most people hadn't seemed to notice.

"I spotted him!" Criswell said.

It was a good ploy, but basic rules of nature are hard to defeat. Lights never lower to dark in a casino, where time is meant to have no form. Chaos was quickly brought to order down below as the whole ring had their biometrics scanned and were ejected. Too far away to make out specifics, the insults were hardly original, and the four were shoved out the doors.

Renato finished his drink, "Well, I hope we are well met. I have people in need of employment, and cooks aplenty. If we can assist your endeavors, please consider coming by my community center to see our operation. I am a man always looking to make new friends, and I love to help out ... just 'cuz." The subtle wink was not subtle, but the message was clear, Renato was a player in this sector.

"I will definitely take you up on that offer," Qaraq said. "Naturally, let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

With a small nod in farewell, Renato turned to walk away. The sound of laughter took some getting used to in Brown Sector, but it was a lovely change.

 

RSS Feed

Comments (1)