Bring it Fools -- Science Fiction Smack Down

The Heist at 9 Ceti

The casino was filled with brutal noise and light.

Emote bugs hung in the air, clustering over patron's heads and sparkling when their target won or lost; they played cheers or groans or applause. The music was low and pulsing, a bass that writhed and growled. It was synced with the gambling machines, so that the beat was provided by the whole vast room as it thudded and clinked. Numbers flickered everywhere, floating in the spaces between punters, shimmering above tables and bars, tumbling with the dice and the cards, blazing on the ceiling. They were the only light source beyond the emote bugs, and they beckoned and cajoled and whispered promises as the gamblers celebrated and swore and drank.

Into this beguiling glow walked four people.

Lena TwelveSticks was delighted at the scene. She laughed, showing her vivid blue mouth. She grabbed Karsten Fleet's hand and pointed at the sights, the big man grumbling but allowing himself to be led. Behind them, Namir Chuoi was unreadable, his flat black eyes constantly scanning the room, the sensory overload washing through his filters like water through a sieve. He said a word or two to Lena and Karsten as they walked.

Finally, Cothi Wernod Wen was silent. The casino seemed to slide off her: the emote bugs ignored her, the serving robots didn't even realise that she was there. The lights reflected in the silver lines scored into her face, and yet she seemed like a projection, a trick of the light that happened to be sipping a tall, pale drink.

'Look, Karsten! They have a stonefall table,' said Lena. 'Come on you big baby, let's start there.'

Karsten scowled, but did as he was told, and sat down next to Lena. She produced a stack of chips with a flourish. Namir and Cothi melted away into the crowds.

The croupier machine dealt them cards, even the little squares of paper landing with the beat of the bass. The chip dispenser clattered a counterpoint, clicks playing out a complicated hi-hat line, dispensing change and fresh credit to the rhythm.

Karsten played conservatively, winning a little here and there, but mostly losing small amounts. His huge hands held the cards protectively, and his only expression was a grimace. Lena, though, laughed and drank, and threw big stakes in, intimidating the other players through her exuberance and unpredictability, not caring what she lost. Finally, she pushed everything she had in front of her.

'All in!', she said. 'Karsten, you're going to fold again, aren't you?'

With a grunt he threw his cards into the centre, and got up to go the bar.

'No, wait, honey. This is going to be epic.'

The table had drawn a crowd, the golden numbers shimmering above them telling a tale of money won and lost. The other punters folded one by one, except for a man with an expensive suit and a hungry smile. He pushed his money in, too, everything about his demeanour saying that he had found an easy mark as he showed his hand. It was good. Not amazing, but solid.

'Oh sweetie,' said Lena as she picked up her cards. 'Let's have a look, shall we? That's a seven, a five, and... oh look! Another seven!'

The emote bug's synthetic cheer was matched by the onlooker's real one; the chips tumbled down into the table's machinery, and three significantly higher value ones clicked into Lena's palm. She stood, toasted the crowd, and followed Karsten away from the table.

However, before she got to him, she was intercepted by a casino employee.

'Ma'am: there are certain opportunities for distinguished persons away from the main floor. Would you perhaps be interested?'

She smiled, and held up her hands in mock surprise. His eyes tracked across her stained blue mouth and fingers, the signs of a knockknock berry addict; at her slightly tipsy pose; at the value of the chips in her hands. And he smiled back.