Just That Lucky

Posted on Mon 14th Sep, 2020 @ 4:59pm by Yuliette Marayan Dr.
Edited on on Mon 14th Sep, 2020 @ 5:08pm

1,189 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Brown Sector: Zodiac. The Gemini Casino
Timeline: MD 13 - Evening

In a private lounge room in the back of the Gemini casino, a holographic sossourah deck was centered on a hexagonal table, surrounded by six players, one on each of its sides. The certified projector bore all the requisite tamper-proofing insignia and inspection stickers, and a signature of the station gaming commissioner. From it issued a figure most simply described as a holographic robot genie, which, from its six radial arms, dramatically showered sparks of light that twinkled as they fell. The sparkles resolved into photonic six sided tiles, which were perceptible to the player to whom each were dealt, but masked from the visage of any other player by a growing shimmer of lattice backdrop.

Right away the tiniest player at the table levitated with excitement, its spindly fingers rearranged the tiles, strategy lighting it’s four eyes with glee. It made chittering noises like a bird.

James Macgillicuddy, the table-neighbor to the left of the floating gremlin ball-of-eyeballs, side-eyed it with some distrust. Being an ex-starfleet engineer, and now a border patrol contracted mechanic, he’d had the misfortune of running into their kind once on a mission, and come away with one who had somehow imprinted on him as a hatchling, leaving Macgil inextricably bound to this most annoying semi-sentient. “No, *you* stop trying to look at *my* cards, Kapara. I swear I’ll wrap you in tennemi-scrubber-foil and bowl you through the exhaust ports.”

A lean muscled Flaxian with Orion green skin perched intensely over the table, his knee bouncing as he twirled a straw in one hand. He had been made not to bring knives into the lounge after the incident last week, and he always felt like he was missing an arm or something without his knives on him.

“What’s the matter, Brant, child?” A dark skinned woman drawled. She appeared as young as Brant did, but everyone who lived in the Zodiac knew that Viridian was well on her way to her two hundred fiftieth birthday. She hated counting in terran annuals though. It made her feel too old.

“Nothing, Lady Viridian, just….” He was trying to stay respectful, but it was Viridian who made him leave his blades— she knew exactly what was eating him. “Place your bid already. I’m aging faster than you are here.”

“Rush, rush, rush....” She chuckled, still considering her options as she sipped her drink. Like an orchestra conductor, Viridian rearranged her tiles in the air with one laconic finger.

Gocheb Lovel rolled his cigar over his tongue, back and forth, back and forth under his mustache. He squinted at his tiles, holding on to the table with one hand and poised to grasp the cigar with the other. He’d lost enough money at this table this week, but he found he kept coming back out of a matter of pride. He wasn’t going to lose to that pissant-half-cardie one more time. He blew smoke through the photonic tiles, such that it would dissipate in the weasel’s smug face.

Javir Bonaventura—better known by a slew of contemptful invectives, or as Bo— held his breath. Normally he was a little more talkative, but he was sensitive to secondhand smoke. It set him to coughing, so he’d had to be mindful only to inhale between each of Lovel’s exhales. He was stroking his mutton-chop sideburns and feigning sorrow. The smoke passed him by and he picked up again waving off the remnant toxic cloud. “Well, if there had been a better round of greens last time, I might have stood a chance. You know, If I’m going to go out, I’m going to go out in style.” He placed a ridiculous bid and threw away four tiles from his set.

That raised more than a few eyebrows. The mechanic and his pal both upped their antes.

Viridian looked at Bo and shook her head, braids trailing on her shoulders. “Mmhm. I’m going to cut my losses here.” She lowered her bid accordingly. Which left even more tempting opportunities for share claims.

Brant upped his, ignoring Viridian’s motherly glance. She shrugged. “I guess we all have to learn sometime.” Viridian sat back to watch the real showdown now. “What do you think, Gocheb?”

“I think he’s been lucky all week, and nobody can be this lucky again. It’s gotta be a bluff.” Lovel turned up his own bid as high as the options would allow, and threw out two tiles to claim more bids, yet.

One more round of bidding was all it took for the mechanics to drop out, though Brant wasn’t so easily shaken.

The holographic-robot-genie closed the bidding stage with much fanfare and lights, the trellis covers evaporating upwards to reveal everyone’s tiles and the digitally placed bids tallying themselves up in front of players accordingly.

While Brant kicked back his chair and stormed out with disgust, Lovel bit down on his cigar as he watched his stack, for the fifth time this week, redistribute to Bo’s.

“Oh Bonaventura. Child.” Viridian said as she stood, ceremoniously dusting herself off. She saw the rage burning like the cigar in Lovel’s eyes. He took the stogie out of his mouth and crushed it into the dish, once, twice, three times, til it was good and mashed. Then he lifted himself up on his knuckles against the table.

“I think you ought to pay those winnings back,” Lovel said through his mustache.

Bonaventura laughed. “I really don’t see why.”

“Why? Because that combination of tiles is about as likely as running into a line of Vulcans dancin’ the funky chicken. Because no one is that good, that’s why.”

“Mmm. You could be right in your assertion. Perhaps no one is that good. Perhaps it *is* the case that there are some that are just that *bad*.”

Lovel’s hand shot out and yanked him forward by the vest, which had a whiplash effect on Bo. “You’re a cheat!” Lovel leveled.

“Really! I’m so very moved that you believe I could possibly devise some ingenious way of defeating one of the most secure games in this entire establishment. How, pray tell, do you think I’ve done it?”

Viridian put a hand on Lovel’s shoulder. “Set the boy down, Gocheb.”

Lovel pulled Bo nearer, right up close enough for Bo to feel the brush of his whiskers and set him to choking on the stench of tobacco, and then Lovel dropped Bo, leaving the worm to his coughing fit.

As the rest of the losers filed out, Lovel was aware of Viridian’s warning look through the doorway, watching and waiting to see them all out safely.

“Mommy Viridian won’t always be around,”Lovel leaned forward and said low. “I’d better see my account balance bounce back for the whole week's worth by next Friday or you’d better up and build a tent in her skirts.” He gave Bo one solid pat on the back, grinned for Viridian’s sake, and then left.

(tbc)

 

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