This was fixing to be a good night. From Dan Wirth’s perspective as he walked the floor, The Jewel was in fine form. Not only that, but it was raining outside. His businesses did better on nights when it was raining. Gave the locals an excuse to be indoors, not standing around on the streets enjoying the evening and gossiping with their neighbors.
“Raise you fifteen,” Deb Spiro’s strained voice carried above the chatter.
Dan glanced her way as she tossed a couple of SDRs onto the table. She’d taken to The Jewel like a chamois to the bush. Turned out that poker was a pastime in the marine barracks, and according to now-ex-private Michael Chavez, Spiro was noted for winning.
She was certainly taking Szong Sczui—a farmer from the south side—for every SDR he had. Wye Vanveer was holding his own, and Tad Johnson was losing the last of his recent hoard of SDRs. All paid out by the tannery for the load of chamois hides the hunter had brought in from beyond the Blood Hills up north.
Art Maniken, keen-nosed as he was for trouble, had taken a position just back from the table. Art wasn’t the kind to fear any man, but he was damned respectful of Deb Spiro. And not just because of the shooting in the tavern. The Marines didn’t just hand out the rank of lieutenant. It had to be earned. Usually because someone was tough enough, hard enough, or deadly enough to engender the respect of his or her superiors.
Not that Spiro was particularly smart. But as Art’s instinct and Dan’s experience suggested, her calling to command had come from the ruthless application of force to a problem. Not the sort of woman anyone with brains would cross over a card table.
Not to mention that she’d shown no hesitation when it came to shooting somebody dead.
Dan watched her rake in yet another pot.
“Shit,” Szong muttered, shoving back from the table and pocketing the few SDRs he had left. “I’m outta here.”
“Sure you don’t want a chance to win at least part of this back?” Spiro called.
“Naw. I got just enough for a roll with young Manzanita over at Betty Able’s. Think I’d like to take the memory of her hitting a high C back out into the bush with me.”
“Think you can get her to reach a high C?” Vanveer asked. “Heard that the best you can do with a woman, given that little, hand-stroked stiff of yours, is a B flat. Even when she’s paid to sing like Manzanita.”
That brought a round of chuckles and guffaws.
“Aw, to hell with all of you,” Szong growled as he headed for the door.
Spiro’s gaze didn’t so much as flicker as she watched him go. Only after the door closed behind him did she smile slightly and turn her attention back to the table.
Art met Dan’s eyes, nodded, and wandered off, apparently having figured the only potential troublemaker had pulled stakes.
“I’m out of here, too,” Vanveer said, raking in his chips. “Time to cash out. Catch one last beer at Inga’s. Big day tomorrow at the mine. Trying a new excavator that Montoya’s got running from the Turalon’s hold.”
Tad Johnson, too, laid his cards to the side. “Me, I’m headed home. See what Clara and the little one are up to.”
Spiro arched a mocking eyebrow as she flipped the deck of cards back and forth and quoted Mechalander’s play: “Alas, but there’s no guts, nor sense for glory, among the whole damn bunch of them.”
Dan pulled up a chair, seating himself, and sighing before quoting Tybalt’s rejoinder from the classic old VR: “And such, good lady, is the curse of the talented and proud.”
Spiro’s lips twitched and she indicated the cards. “You want to try your luck?”
“Sure. Five-card draw.”
From long practice, Art shifted his course, subtly ambling back until he slouched against the wall, just behind and to Spiro’s left. Ostensibly the man was keeping an eye on the room, his arms crossed, fingers tapping his elbows.
Spiro shuffled and dealt.
Dan tossed in a ten-SDR chip for the ante.
As Spiro studied her cards, Art’s fingers traced patterns on his elbows. His index, middle, and ring fingers on the right hand were held level; they tapped his elbow three times.
Okay, Spiro had three eights.
Dan had nothing. “I’ll fold, Lieutenant.”
“That quickly?” Spiro gave him a sour look as she raked in his ten.
Wirth took the cards, shuffled, knowing she was watching him like a hawk. He dealt, took a look at his hand, and tossed in another ten.
Art’s fingers danced on his elbow.
This time around all Spiro had was a jack high.
“Raise you ten,” Dan told her, holding two queens.
She chipped in, said, “Take two.”
Art’s fingers telegraphed a pair of eights.
“So, what’s the story on this Mundo research base?” Dan asked, tossing out another ten.
“Quite the place.” Spiro, deadpan, watched him through predatory eyes. “Huge dome, lots of land under cultivation. Almost nobody there. Well, but for a dead quetzal, some women and children, and a deserter.”
He won the hand, saying, “No wonder Aguila was interested. Rumor is she wanted it bad.”
“They laid an ambush. Had us outgunned.”
Oh, prickly. Best not to push her. “Shit happens. Heard that the woman Rebecca was up here, double-checking with Yvette that her deed was registered.”
Dan played her for three raises, and took the hand.
“Yeah, that back-shooting slit, Perez, had a hand in that. Every time that toilet-sucking bitch has done me rotten, she’s done it from behind. The day’s gonna come when she has to meet me face-to-face.” Spiro smiled grimly. “And on that day, I’m going to finally kill her for the cowardly cunt she is.”
Dan gave the woman a flat-eyed appraisal, expression neutral. “Others have tried.”
He let her win the next hand.
“Sure. I’m not saying the locals don’t have guts, and maybe some talent, but none of them were marines. Let alone marines who’ve been in the shit.”
“You take out Perez,” he told her, “you’ll be a hero to more than just me. But I’d say it might make your life tougher in some corners.”
Spiro shuffled, dealt. “I’m tired of taking shit from people. I don’t care who they are. Mosadek? Dushane? Something tells me they’re just walking sacks of skin without Perez to back them up.”
“So, what’s the real story behind The Corporate Mine? I hear she’s solved her mobber problem. Still, rumor is that Aguila’s just hanging on down there.”
“Sure, she shot the hell out of the mobbers.” Spiro studied her cards, two pair. Fours and sixes according to Art’s signals. She discarded and took one card. A ten.
Dan had her with his three deuces, but folded diplomatically when she raised.
“Trees are going to shut her down in the end,” Spiro added as she tossed out a five to ante for the next hand. “That’s a battle she’s slowly and surely losing. In the end, she can mine all the rich ore on Donovan, but if the forest overgrows that smelter, what damn difference does it make?”
“The trees can’t move that fast, can they?”
“Oh, yeah. But what’s she going to do? Spend every waking hour beating back the forest? It just keeps coming. Like a relentless damn tide. Five meters a day from every direction, like a noose being drawn tight. Her crews have taken to hauling the trees they kill off and dumping them. But that’s wasted resources. What happens when the saws wear out? Circuits in the laser cutters fry? They lost another four acres just over the slowdown during the mobber scare.”
“So it’s a matter of time? Maybe she’s not feeling too high and mighty now.” Dan had Spiro at ease now, talking, so he skillfully dealt her three kings. Let her win big.
“Her? She’ll feel high and mighty until Hell’s colder than Pluto.”
Guess we’ll see about that. Ah, the snakes in our dens.
“What about you, Lieutenant? What do you see yourself doing now that you’re retired from the Corps?”
She gave him that hard, dangerous stare. “Whole planet for the taking, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, indeed I would.” He gave her the slightest conspiratorial wink. “Opportunity everywhere. No telling where a tough, motivated woman like yourself could end up. Maybe even running your own operation. Got anything in mind?”
Spiro narrowed an eye. “Mundo’d be nice. Didn’t get much of a look around, but what I saw looked like it had real potential. Fucking Aguila did it all wrong. Show of force? Hell, they knew we were coming. Were ready for us. But if a small party landed without them knowing? A team of five could take the whole place without a shot being fired.”
“I see.” He glanced at her. “Where are you going to get this team? My people tell me that the only marine who’ll back you is Chavez.”
She scowled at her cards. “Nashala’s a sorry piece of work, isn’t she? Took a job as security out at the clay pit. I’d need reliable people.”
“I might have some.” He carelessly bid a twenty.
“What’s your interest in Mundo?”
“Power, Lieutenant. Same as yours.”
“You have such a team?”
“I do.” Now he matched her gaze for gaze. “But I’d want guarantees. Like the knowledge that Talina Perez wouldn’t waltz right in and take it back.”
“I can handle Perez,” Spiro promised. “But what about Aguila? She’s still got loyal marines, a shuttle, and enough people to back her.”
Dan smiled as he cocked a knowing eyebrow. “Poor Aguila. The Supervisor doesn’t know it yet, but the lady’s about to find out that a very sharp blade is hovering within bare millimeters of her precious balls. And she can either acquiesce to common sense, or lose ’em.”
“You can do that?”
“With a flick of my wrist.”
Spiro grinned, slapping down her hand. “You know, I think I could come to enjoy playing cards with you, Mr. Wirth.”
“That just leaves Officer Perez.”
“Yes,” she told him, eyes seeming to catch fire. “It does.”