by Cathryn Cade
Too much change, coming at her too fast. She wanted—no, needed—something to calm her. Like maybe another mind-blasting session with VX. Wait, no. That had happened, but it was not happening again. So she was keyed up as before a big raid. She'd get through this and get over it.
She had no one to laugh and unwind here with afterward, but later she'd have a drink of something nice, and link one of her friends back in camp. Wherever camp was now. They'd moved on without her, and the tonts would be circled without a spot for her, as if she and Var had never been there.
Anyway, a convo would have to be enough.
She glared at her reflection, because for a sec there she'd looked a little lost, and she was not lost, she was quarking found. She was on a mission of vengeance that would let her man rest in cosmic peace, and assuage some of the grief burning cold and raw in the hollow of her chest. Sex might be calming, but it couldn't cure heartbreak.
Playa was fingering her tablet thoughtfully. “Once you get past the special effects, the casino operation is actually very straight-forward.'
'Since you know tech, you'll understand that much of what you see and hear is just flash. The casual gamblers want a show along with the actual games. They want to dress up, drink, dance and celebrate in a deluxe setting. We give them that.”
“They're here to escape their lives,” Ilya mused. “Pretend to be wealthy enough to live like a magnate for a weekend.” And for some, male and female both, that involved the pleasures of sex with a stranger ... like VX.
“Exactly,” Playa said, and Ilya flinched. No, the woman was merely answering her comment about escape, not sex. “Along with the thrill of knowing that they may just possibly win the chance to have that permanently.”
“But not many do win.”
Playa shook her head. “No. Not many win. The odds are against them—that's how casinos make their profits.”
“All right, let's do this.” Ilya nodded and the hatch slid open.
The casino was mind-boggling. It was as big as a Quasiball stadium, and although Ilya hadn't seen the Palace schematics yet, she reckoned it must take up a good bit of the center of the station. She and her companions stopped at the mezzanine railing outside the private elevator.
The noise, rising up to envelop the balcony was nearly deafening. A band played rezz-rock on several holovid screens around the huge space, fronted by a redhead with agile hips and a throaty voice.
Underneath the pounding beat pulsed voices from across the galaxy, too many for a comlink translator to process. Screaming with excitement as a game progressed, yelling with glee when a winner sign flashed, howling with despair as their credit display showed they'd lost, and conversing at the top of their voices just to be heard.
A party of young humans dressed to the max in evening wear crowded around a small pit where holoballs bobbed and wove in a purple mist, one of them occasionally flying up to hang in midair, numbers glowing. Each time this happened the gamblers screamed and jumped up and down.
Ilya shook her head. Had she ever been that young? Not really—at their age she'd been struggling to keep herself fed and safe, working in the Quol-Ray Serpent's Tooth.
She hadn't had leisure time or trust to make friends there. Until Var showed up at the end of her bar one night and smiled at her. He'd been her best friend, her family and he’d given her a whole new world.
A Barillian gambler trumpeted through the tall lavender pipes on his head, jerking Ilya back to the present.
Lights, lasers, holovids and faux fireworks filled the air above the pit where customers roamed. The array of colors was mind-boggling. Ilya could've just watched the shows. She promised herself time to do that soon, and puzzle out how they created each one.
A huge firework shot up in a bullet of brilliant gold, then fountained into an enormous spray of chartreuse sparks, which arced downward, exploding into diamond-bright stars, shimmering from purple to chartreuse to red to fuchsia to blue before slowly fading just above the heads of the beings crowding the casino floors.
The next firework was a flat oval of shimmering coral that swarmed outward into spirals of sparkling fuchsia and yellow, some drooping low among the crowd before dissipating.
Ilya tore her gaze from the beautiful holovid flowers and focused on the casino games.
She opened her mouth to speak, and realized neither Playa or Bek would be able to hear her over the deafening sound. She made a face of frustration, but Playa smiled and tapped a button on her tablet. A bubble of quiet slipped around the three of them.
“Nice,” Ilya said, raising her brows. “You'll have to show me how to do that one.”
“I'd be happy to,” Playa said, looking pleased. Bek smiled at the brunette and then turned back to watching the casino below.
“You see how the games are arranged inside big intersecting loops,” Playa explained, at the balcony railing beside her. “Guests are led along paths of opportunity no matter which way they turn.”
“Opportunity?” Ilya repeated with a grin. “You mean temptation.”
Playa shrugged serenely.
Ilya squinted, not sure what some of the games even were. “Okay, holodice I recognize, and tiles. That one's poker, and that big turquoise globe flashing sparks and numbers looks sort of familiar.”
“Yes, that's Star Lotto. It's always popular.”
“Easy to rig.”
“We don't rig ours,” Playa said. “We merely stop and start the program every few days, so that no one can establish a pattern of probability. That's much easier than rigging, and has the same effect.”
“Casinos don't really need to cheat,” Bek added. “The odds are with us, not the guest. Not gonna say all our games are straight. Operators get greedy, or sloppy, credit slides through the cracks.”
Ilya nodded, but she was gazing at a long, oval holotable with a brilliant green ring of faux turf. The table was ringed with spectators, jostling in a friendly way to get a good viewing spot as lights flashed above a bright grid at one mid-point on the oval. As she watched, gates flung open and five holovid catamount ponies sprang out, each with a brightly-silked rider.
“Racing, huh?”
“Yes, from Serpentia. Extremely popular,” Playa said. “Replays of actual races at the Dune City tracks.”
“And I'll bet none of those original races were rigged,” Ilya said dryly.
“Oh, I'm sure most or all were,” Playa said. “Serpentia is not known for honest gambling.”
Ilya nodded, but she was no longer listening. She was scanning the casino floor, watching heads turn, faces tip up in their direction. Hands pointing.
“Why is everyone staring at us?” she asked. Then that warm prickle ran up the back of her neck, and she froze. “Damn it, VX.”
She turned, glowering at the huge 'borg. He'd changed his clothing again. Now he wore black pants with his short-sleeved tee, both of which fit him like second skin. The black boots covered his feet and lower legs, and he wore plain black leather mitts on his hands.
“Hells, now what are you supposed to look like?” she asked, ignoring the thrill of sheer pleasure that ran through her at his nearness. “A cheap club bouncer?”
“I am here to be your bodyguard,” he told her, his gaze riveted on her face through his mask.
“I don't want a bodyguard,” she snarled. “Or at least, not you. So go back where you came from, and stay there.”
He simply stood, gazing down at her.
Once when she and Var were ready to take off from camp in their old cruiser, a herd of skrog had wandered close to camp.
One male had stood, nose to nose with the cruiser and chewed its cud, refusing to move, a mountain of muscle, shaggy hide and horns that could do serious damage to the cruiser shell if the beast decided to charge. Also, they couldn't take off without blasting the creature with potentially damaging heat from their thrusters.
Ilya had let out a shriek of frustration, eager to get on their mission, which had been to surv
eil a suspicious camp on the other side of the hills. Var had cocked his head, stared at the animal and then sat back in the pilot seat, chuckling.
'Settle down, baby,' he'd told her. 'Nothin' we can do, may as well relax.' They'd played holodice for the better part of an hour, until the skrog finally wandered away and they could take off.
Ilya felt the same impatient, angry frustration now. She couldn't just laser VX, even if he was annoying the hells out of her. And it seemed she wasn't getting rid of him any other way.
“Fine,” she snapped. “You wanna be my hulking shadow? Do that. Just stay out of my way.”
She turned back to Playa and Bek, both of whom looked wary. Playa gave Ilya a troubled look and tilted her tablet so only Ilya could see it. 'Spying' it read.
“There's a workaround for everything,” Ilya murmured. “I'll find one for this.”
Playa looked doubtful. “So, what game would you like to discuss next? Roulette? Galaxy Grind? Star Sweeper?”
Yep, may as well continue on with her mission ... even with a skrog in the way. At least he smelled hella better than the real thing.
“I want a tour of the main floor,” Ilya decided. She could use a dose of the magic this place created, even if it was faux.
They rode down in a glassed-in elevator that let them out on the main floor. At once, they were engulfed in the revelry, the excitement. But as her senses were assaulted by the noise, the pungent scents of sweat, perfume, the musk of alien races, and the close-up sight of galactic gamblers, Ilya realized that what had looked like a giant party from above was tinged with something harsher.
Desperation. The gamblers reeked of it. Not only the Pangaean who wilted beside the holodice table, his hair wrapped over his mouth in despair, but the humans laughing loudly and guzzling foaming fluorescent drinks. These beings weren't just here to party, they were avid to feel, to escape their dreary lives back wherever they came from, to soak up every iota of celebration they could, so they could relive it later through the holovids some were filming of themselves and their companions.
And she and VX would be featured in many of those holovids, Ilya realized with mingled chagrin and reluctant amusement. At least she didn't have to wear the cheap globead necklaces the gamblers collected as they proceeded from one game to another. Many wore a heap of the glittering chains like trophies over their own jewelry. Looked more like badges of gullibility to her.
Turned out VX brought another advantage beside the questionable safety of his presence—every being in the place was scared of him. The crowds melted away before them like the dissipating fireworks, and beings of all races and levels of hauteur turned from their gambling and drinking to stare from a safe distance. There were other bodyguards among the wealthier guests, some of whom looked part Gorglon or Mau, but even these large, menacing beings appeared wary of VX. So he did make her job easier.
A female couldn't help but respond to being treated like some kind of instant celebrity. The experience worked its magic on Ilya's mood, and her stance. She paced gracefully, her head high, a small, cool smile on her face, parading through her casino like a queen.
They paused frequently as she questioned Playa about one of the games, or for Playa to introduce her to the dealers. A lot of them were Serps, their glamour and outgoing personalities making them perfect for the job of cajoling and charming gamblers. Several humans, a few Indigons. They all snapped to instant attention when Ilya and her entourage neared their games.
One of the pretty young waiters in a brief gold and white costume hurried to Ilya, smiling under her glitter makeup. “Anything to drink or inhale, ma'am?”
Ilya shook her head. “Not for us, thanks.”
The girl nodded, but glided along nearby on her air-boots, ready if summoned.
Not all of the dealers were happy to meet Ilya. She read this in opaque gazes that didn't match smiles. A few were nervous as hells—those she let Bek know with a look she wanted checked out, to see if their profits added up.
And one, a lean Serp with auburn hair and a hard face, looked from her to VX and then smirked the way the restaurant maître d had. A glance at Bek showed him giving the dealer a flat, warning glare. Quark, she really needed to know what that was about.
She leaned forward and held out her hand to the Serp. “Qaarl, is that right?” she shouted over the casino noise.
He took her hand, reluctantly, but he did it. Ilya smiled at him. He smiled back, and if it was more of a baring of teeth on both sides, so be it. “Nice to meet you, Qaarl.”
“Likewise, ma'am.”
She turned to her companions, and waved toward the nearest elevator. “Okay. Let's go.”
Back in the elevator, Ilya blew out a breath of relief as the hatch slid shut, blocking out most of the noise. “Hells, it's loud out there.”
Playa nodded. “The dealers wear volume mufflers. Guests link in when they begin a game so they can hear each other.”
Ilya nodded, but she was already tuning her com to pick up the read on the tiny spybot she'd sent slipping up the dealer Qaarl's wrist and into his sleeve. Ah, there it was. He was busy now, but later she'd hear every word if she wished, when he linked or spoke in person with whomever he shared confidences around here, because everyone had someone like that.
Everyone except for her.
She leaned against the wall of the elevator, and frowned as her stomach grumbled quietly. “How long did we spend in the casino?” she asked.
“Three hours,” Bek said.
“How time warps when you're having fun, hmm?” she muttered, stretching her back. “I'm for lunch. Think I'll eat in my quarters—I could use a little down time.”
“Very well,” Playa said. “I will return to the business offices. Please link when you require anything.” Bek nodded his agreement with this plan.
“Got it, thanks.” They wanted to hover and keep her out of trouble. She couldn't fault them for that. It was just too bad she couldn't accommodate their wishes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Your level, Ms Mondas,” intoned the smooth voice programmed into the elevator.
Ilya strode from the elevator and along the wide, silent passageway to her quarters, VX treading silently behind her. He moved stealthily for such a big male.
In her office, she pointed to one of the large, black leather divans.
“Sit,” she said, frowning. “You can't stand all the time, it's tough on your back, even for monoliths of muscle like you.”
And his looming rezzed her last nerve, but she wasn't admitting that to whoever was listening in on his com. In this quiet space, she could feel the static charge stretched between them even more strongly—not painful, but not fun either.
He—or her awareness of him—made it difficult to concentrate on business, not only because he was one-hundred-ten kilos and nearly two meters of scary-as-hells cybernetically controlled male, but because he was so quarking gorgeous. Big and broad like Var, only ultra-honed, without a spare ounce of fat to pad those huge muscles, so that with each breath, each movement, muscle and tendon moved beneath his skin.
And her fingers twitched to touch, to stroke and fondle. To draw him close and get him revved up again, coax him close and take her time, use the chance to do some licking and sucking. To bury her nose in the angle of his thick neck, and lower ... just sniff her way down, down, down to where his male musk would be the strongest, in the crevice of his thick thighs, where his cock rested.
Shit. Shit, no. Now she was the one revved up, her fingers twitching to touch, her mouth watering, and her pussy clenching so that she wanted to press her thighs together and soothe the restless ache.
She waved a hand at him. “Sit.”
He looked from her to the divan, then took his sweet time about walking over to sit down, feet apart, hands on his thighs, gaze on her. Okay, that was one move in the right direction.
Trying not to preen as if she'd achieved a crucial victory, Ilya brought up the holovid menu and order
ed a large lunch tray.
“Let the waiter in, but no dancing girls,” she told VX. “And then feel free to head back to your quarters.” She turned away, then froze in her pretty boots as he spoke.
“You do not wish me to come to your bedroom with you?” he asked, his deep voice stopping her as surely as the grip of one of his mighty hands.
Ilya clenched her own fists, anger and embarrassment searing through her. “No,” she snapped. “Why would I?”
“I can smell your sexual arousal.”
“Gahh!” Fucking smug bastard. Of course they'd enhanced his senses with the cybernetics, along with his muscles. “Doesn't mean I want you,” she snarled over her shoulder. “Any male would do.”
And she'd keep telling herself that. Ilya stormed the rest of the way across the office, barely managing to pause long enough for the invisible hatch in the wall to open for her. The hatch mercifully slid shut behind her as she stalked through the narrow passageway to go to her bedroom. There, she closed and locked the door behind her. Not that these walls could keep out a 'borg if he was determined, but at least she'd hear him coming.
She used the lav, then washed her hands. Finally, she met her own gaze in the mirror. She rolled her eyes at the flush on her face, and the brightness of her eyes. Smell her, hells—all he had to do was look at her to know she wanted him.
She sneered at herself. The salon techs had made her prettier, and the stylists had dressed her up, but for what? VX would fuck a crone if he was ordered to. Just business for him.
Business, she reminded herself. She was here to do business too—the casino's and her own. That's why she'd had the styling. Not to flirt with a male who had no more interest in her than any other willing receptacle for his cock.
'And if you're still there when I get back, big guy, I'm gonna zap your com', she muttered, turning away from the mirror. 'We'll see what your shadow pimp, or whatever the hells he is, thinks of that. See how you function without directions in your ear.'
In fact, she’d do it right now.