“We’ll see. If we play simple draw poker with no outside influences affecting the rules, I just might win.”
“That’s the spirit!” exclaimed Mirelle. “Simple draw poker it is. No wild cards, no optional hands.”
Abbot raised an eyebrow at Titus. “All right, we’ll make it a contest of pure poker skill, no other influences.”
He’s either overconfident or I’ve underestimated him. In the past, Abbot’s apparent arrogance had always turned out to be extreme modesty. Titus wiped cold sweat off his palms. In a truly fair game, Titus knew he might even win. But—
The escort attendant poked her head in the door and called pleasantly, “Dr. Nandoha?”
He waved her away. “Never mind. I’ve become engaged.” There was no way Abbot could take the Varian with him without using Influence to make the others overlook his odd behavior.
Mirelle located the package of miniature magnetic poker chips. “Who wants to be banker?”
“You do it, Mirelle,” suggested Abner. “You’re the only woman here, and we all know what we’re playing for, don’t we, fellows?” He glanced from Abbot to Titus.
Mirelle shrugged. “I’ll divide the chips and if you run out, you’re out of the game. No bookkeeping. Whoever ends up with the most chips wins. We play until docking maneuvers and settle up in line at the boarding gate.”
“We should be able to settle up here,” objected Abbot.
Mirelle spun the table distributing the chips. “Abbot! You doubt your ability to remember commands?”
Titus was disturbed by the way Abbot held her gaze. He knew all too well how Abbot used human women, and he despaired as Abbot’s lips trembled hungrily.
But the other was no more hungry than Titus at the outset of the mission. Abbot mastered himself easily. “I have not had cause to doubt my abilities in a great while.”
They fell to playing in a concentrated silence, each of them focused on the discard pile, calculating odds, measuring each others’ expressions for any hint of worry. Abbot, no doubt, wasn’t worried. He had nearly total recall.
While Abner Gold pondered his second bet, Titus caught Andre Mihelich peeking at the game over his newsletter.
“Raise ten,” announced Abner, sliding a stack of chips out, taking care that they adhered to one another and the bottom one stuck firmly to the table.
“Call,” announced Mirelle prettily.
She was yet a different person now. She acted as if each development was the delight of a lifetime. But she didn’t chatter. Titus wished she’d just stop playing her anthropological game. Every once in a while, when something got through to her, she revealed flashes of her true self that intrigued him unbearably.
Titus put his cards down. “I’m out.” He’d been holding a pair of threes and a pair of twos. He figured Mirelle had at least a flush, and Abbot a full house or above, for he hadn’t drawn any cards.
Abbot and Gold called. Mirelle won with a flush just one card higher than Abbot’s. Then they each won a round, Titus raking in the highest pot as he bluffed out the two humans when Abbot folded. But two rounds later, Mirelle was ahead and Titus caught Abbot glaring at him. Titus grinned back, knowing his father wouldn’t bring Influence to bear after promising not to.
Play became brisk and silent, a battle of nerve in which even Mirelle settled into stony concentration. Mihelich lowered his newsletter and stared. Responding to the tension between Titus and Abbot, the humans also played as if their lives depended on it. In a way, they did. The luren who’d respond to the Tourists’ SOS would regard humans as cattle and Earth’s civilization as an inconvenience to be wiped away. With all the space stations long ago rendered defenseless by W.S. treaty, it would be no contest.
Then Titus sensed a thrum of Influence gathering about Abbot. He might consider it fair to read the other players’ cards or the next cards to be drawn. Looking straight at his father, he roused his own Influence and cast a wave that interfered with the older vampire’s nearly tangible power. At will, Abbot could overpower anything Titus could do. Titus said, “I’m glad we’re playing straight, uncomplicated draw poker. It reveals the mettle of one’s opponents.”
“Honor takes many forms,” Abbot mused. “Sometimes real honor lies in the sacrifice of honor.” Simultaneously, the Influence tension abated. Without even counting his chips, Abbot shoved them all to the center of the table.
Gold stared at the pile. He couldn’t match the bet. He folded and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
Mirelle matched the bet with one red chip to spare.
Titus’s hands shook as he counted chips. He was holding a royal flush, but there were eight hands that could beat his. He was pretty sure Abbot didn’t have one of those, or he wouldn’t have been worried enough to use Influence. But Mirelle might have that hand. Not might, does!
Titus matched the bet, with one white chip left over. Titus stared at her red chip. She’s won.
“Throw it in, Titus,” urged Mirelle. “Raise.”
It was a symbolic gesture, nothing more. Mirelle had won, but would be under Abbot’s Influence in a flash as soon as the game was over. With a shrug, Titus pushed the remaining white chip out. “Raise one.”
Abbot placed his cards face down in their holder. “I’m out.” His eyes never flickered, but his Influence gathered. He’d dictate to Mirelle how to distribute the devices.
Mirelle fingered her red chip and explored Titus’s eyes. Then she gazed at Abbot. “I did say the one with the most chips at the end of the game would win, and that’s me. But I’d rather match hands with Titus. Winning seems to mean a lot to him. Perhaps if he wins, we’ll find out why.”
Titus felt Abbot start, a frisson of alarm that shivered through the thick fabric of Influenced space between them. Abbot had always dominated humans. He had never bothered to understand them. Titus smiled. She had chosen him over Abbot, and he marveled at how warm that made him feel.
She snapped her cards down on the table. “Hearts. King. Queen. Jack. Ten. Nine.”
Titus, realizing she was in this only for fun, extended the tension much as he would prolong foreplay because a woman liked it. As if about to announce his win, he snapped his cards down. “Spades. Eight. Nine. Ten. Jack. Queen.”
She burst out laughing. Twisting in her seat, she could just barely reach Titus’s shoulders to embrace him. “Titus, you are wonderful! But even so, I’m glad I won.”
Then she reached for the net. “I’ll take Abner’s Alter, and give my custom job to....” Titus felt the Influence build. He tried to block Abbot. She paused and looked as if she’d forgotten what she’d intended to say then started over, “Since it seems to matter to Titus and Abbot more than I’d ever expected, I’m going to award Abbot’s Varian to Titus. And my custom to Abbot. Which leaves Titus’s Bell to Abner.” With a little frown, she said, “Doesn’t that make perfect sense?”
“Are you sure that’s the way you want it, Mirelle?” asked Abbot.
“Well....”
In a hard voice, Titus answered, “She’s sure. The game isn’t over until we settle up!”
She cocked her head to one side, and Titus felt her strive against the Influence aimed at her. If a resistive human had fought Influence half so valiantly, the luren would have little chance in public. But Mirelle was susceptible. She said doubtfully, “I think I’m sure. The object of the game is to make it interesting. And since Abbot seems to want to keep his Varian out of Titus’s hands, the best way to make the game interesting is to put it into Titus’s hands.”
Even though Abbot could have made her