‘Really, chief?’ Vesta’s tail snapped aloft, her pointed ears quivered with eagerness. She hugged him ecstatically, burying her face in the curve of his neck and inhaling deeply. ‘You zmell zo wonderful, chief—but a wonderful man like you would have to smell zo, wouldn’t he? I thought you’d smack me bow-legged if I even hinted at wanting to lay a ten-cento chip on the line. But I know I can beat the games they’ve got on this planet … and besides, I’ve been gone half a year and haven’t spent a hundred credits and I’ve learned nine languages including your cursed English…’
She took out her book of Travelers’ Cheques and stared at it thoughtfully. ‘Maybe, though, just to be on the safe side, I’d better tear one of these out and hide it in my room. It’d be awful to have to call my mother for jet fare home from the ‘port.
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She and dad both’d yowl to high heaven—they’d claw me
‘Huh? But listen!’ Cloud was puzzled. ‘If you shoot such a terrific wad as that, what possible difference would it make whether you had plane fare for a few hundred miles left or not?’
‘Oh, lots,’ she assured him. ‘They don’t expect me to have much of any of my allowance left when I get home, and I never intended to, anyway. But anybody with half a brain is expected to be able to get home from a party—any kind of party—without crying for help, and without walking, either; so I’ll go hide one of these slips.’
‘If that’s all that’s bothering you, no matter,’ Cloud said quickly. ‘You’ve got another pay day coming before we get to Vegia, you know.’
‘Oh, I never thought of that—I’ve never been on a payroll before, you know, and can’t get used to being paid for doing nothing. But can we go now, Capain Nealcloud, please? I can’t wait!’
‘If Joan’s ready we can. We’ll go see.’
But Joan was not ready. ‘Did you actually think she would be?’ Helen asked. ‘Don’t you know that the less a woman puts on the longer it takes her to do it?’
‘Nope—I s’posed Doctor Joan Janowick would be above such frippery.’
•You’d be surprised. But say, how’d you talk her into this vacation? Your manly charm, no doubt.’
‘Could be, but I doubt it. All she wanted was half an excuse and the promise I wouldn’t get sore if we have to kill a couple of days in space before starting shooting on Vegia … Hot Dog! —just look who’s here!’
Joan came in, pausing in embarrassment, at the burst of applause and whistles that greeted her. She was richly, deeply tanned; taut, trim, and dainty—she had trained down to a hundred and fifteen pounds—her bra was a triumph of the couturier’s art. She, too, was armed; her DeLameter harness sported the two-and-a-half silver bars of a lieutenant commander.
‘Ouch—I’m bedazzled!’ Cloud covered his eyes ostentatiously, then, gradually and equally ostentatiously recovering his sight: ‘Very nice, Joanie—you’re a veree slick chick. With a dusting of powdered sugar and a dab of cream you’d make a
right tasty snack. Just one thing—a bit overdressed, don’t you think?’
‘Overdressed? she exclaimed. ‘Listen, you—I’ve never worn a bathing suit half as skimpy as this in my whole life, and if you think I’m going to wear any less than this you’re completely out of your mind!’
‘Oh, it isn’t me!’ Cloud protested. ‘Patrol Regs are strict that way—when in Rome you’ve got to be a Roman candle, you know.’
‘I know, but I’m a Roman candle enough right now—in fact, I feel like a flaming skyrocket. Why, this thing I’ve got on is scarcely more than a G-string!’
‘QX—we’ll let it pass—this time …’
‘Hey, you know something?’ Joe interrupted him before Joan did. ‘Vegia is a couple of degrees warmer than this, and they don’t overdo the matter of clothes there, either. I am going to start basking under the radiants. If I get myself cooked to a nice, golden brown, Helen—like a slice of medium-done toast—will you do Vegiaton with me?’
‘It’s a date, brother!’
As Joe and Helen shook hands to seal the agreement, the two Patrol officers and Vesta strode out.
They took a copter to the Club Elysian, the plushiest and one of the biggest places on the planet. The resplendently decorated —in an undressed way, of course—doorman glanced at the DeLameters, but, knowing the side-arm to be the one indispensable item of the Patrol uniform wherever found, he greeted them cordially in impeccable Galactic Spanish and passed them along.
‘The second floor, I presume, sir and mesdames?’ The host, a very good rule-of-thumb psychologist, classified these visitors instantly and suggested the region where both class and stakes were high. Also, and as promptly, he decided to escort them personally. Two Patrol officers and a Vegian—especially the Vegian—rated special attention.
The second floor was really a place. The pile of the rug was over half an inch deep. The lighting was neither too garish nor too dim. The tastefully-placed paintings and tapestries adorning the walls were neither too large nor too small, each for its place; and each was a masterpiece.
‘May we use Patrol currency, or would you rather we took
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chips?’ Cloud asked.
‘Either one, sir; just as you wish.’
‘We Tellurians are all set, then, but Miss Vesta here would like to cash a few Travelers’ Cheques.’
‘Certainly, Miss Vesta. I’ll be delighted to take care of it for you. How do you wish the money, please?’
Til want a little small stuff to get the feel of the house … say a thousand in tens and twenties. The rest of it in fifties and hundreds, please—mostly hundreds.’
Vesta peeled off and thumb-printed ten two-thousand credit cheques and the host, bowing gracefully, hurried away.
‘One thing, Vesta,’ Cloud cautioned. ‘Don’t throw it away too fast. Save some for next time.’
‘Oh, I always do, chief. This’ll last me the week, easily. I run wild only when I’m in a winning streak.’
The host came up with her money; and as Vesta made a beeline for the nearest wheel:
‘What do you like, Joan?’ Cloud asked. ‘A wheel?’
‘I don’t think so; not at first anyway. I’ve had better luck with the under-and-overs. They’re over there, aren’t they, sir?’
‘Yes, madame. But is there anything I can do first? Refreshments of any kind—an appetizer, perhaps?’
‘Not at the moment, thanks.’
‘If you wish anything, at any time, just send a boy. I’ll look you up from time to time, to be sure you lack nothing. Thank you very much, sir and madame.’
The host bowed himself away and the two officers strolled over to the bank of ‘under-and-over’ tables, which were all filled. They stood at ease for a few minutes; chatting idly, enjoying their cigarettes, gazing with interest and appreciation around the huge, but wonderfully beautiful room. There was no indication whatever that either of the two Patrolmen was the least bit interested in the fall of the cards, or that two of the keenest mathematical minds in space knew exactly, before the man ahead of them got tired of losing fifty-credit chips, the denomination and the location of every card remaining in the rack.
Joan could, of course, have read either the cards, or the dealer’s mind, or both; but she was not doing either—yet. This was a game—on the side, so to speak—between her and Storm. Nor was it at all unequal, for Cloud’s uncanny ability to solve complex mathematical problems was of very little assistance
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here. This was a matter of more-or-less simple sequences; of series; of arrangements; and her years of cybernetic training more than made up for his advantage in speed.
‘Your pleasure, madame or sir? Or are you together?’
‘We’re together, thanks. We’ll take the next, for an M.’ Cloud placed a one-thousand-credit note in the velvet-lined box.
Two thin stacks of cards lay on the table at the dealer’s right; one pile face up, the other, face down. He took the top card from the rack, turned it over, and added it to the face-up stack. ‘The ten of clubs,’ he droned, sliding a one-thousand-credit bill across the table to Cloud. ‘What is your pleasure, sir and madame?’
‘Let it ride. Two M’s in the box,’ Cloud said, tossing the new bill on top of its mate. ‘Throw one.’
‘Discard one.’ The dealer removed the next card and, holding it so that neither he nor the players could see its face, added it to the face-down pile. ‘What is your pleasure, sir and madame?’
‘Throw one.’
‘Discard one.’
‘We’ll take this one,’ and there were four thousand credits in the box.
Throw one take one, and there were eight thousand.
The eight became sixteen; then thirty-two; and the dealer lost his urbanity completely. He looked just plain ugly.
‘Maybe that’s enough for now,’ Joan suggested. ‘After all, we don’t want to take all the man’s money.’