Wild Card
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
V
"Good hunch, Alan." Phil Connors was looking pleased. "The office informs me that, according to their records, Peeks spent twenty-three weekends within the last year in Luna City."
Linley clapped him on the shoulder. "Good work, kiddo. Looks like we might be gettin' somewhere. Whatcha think, Pop?"
Phil turned to Alan. "What do *you* think, Alan?"
Alan squirmed, feeling very self-conscious. "It's just a *feeling*, but I think we should go to Luna City. But look, I might be on the wrong track, altogether ..."
"I'll get your tickets," Phil interrupted. "And, we'll establish a couple of identities for you. Shouldn't take more than a few hours."
"Okay." Mark scowled. "What th'hell's goin' on, Pop? Spyin', gamblin' problems, or what?"
"Good question, but considering the fellow's position, we can't afford to take risks. I'll notify the Underground station in Tombaugh City that you'll be in the dome complex and to be ready to help if you need it."
"That's reassurin'. At least we won't be completely on our own."
Three hours later, Alan and Mark were boarding a passenger shuttle to Luna City.
The domed cities of Luna were reknowned for their low grav sports, for the exotic entertainment offered, and, of course, for their gambling casinos. The large satellite of Terra had been bought by big business early in the 22nd Century, and turned into a fantastic vacation resort, offering every sophisticated entertainment conceivable -- for a price. Legally, the satellite was part of Terra, which made passage through Customs unnecessary for those arriving from Earth.
Alan and Mark boarded the Luna Shuttle amid a crowd of other passengers, mostly well-dressed, good-looking people -- the pampered upper class of Terra. Alan identified two actors, a politically powerful government figure, and a well-known playboy among the group.
Mark, himself, stood out among them and elicited no little attention for his height, looks and military bearing. His hair was now a glowing, coppery red and his lashes had been dyed to match. He wore green contact lenses of exactly the same shade as Alan's brilliant, green eyes, and the Underground's makeup artists had added the thin, white line of a scar across cheek and chin. His eyebrows were now a bushy, almost metallic red, and a matching red mustache adorned his upper lip. To anyone casually acquainted with the model for this disguise, the tall, powerful figure was undoubtedly who he appeared to be: Strike Commander Bradley Russell of the Jilectan Battlecruiser "Dragon".
The Underground's selection of Linley's disguise had been carefully made. Bradley Russell was currently on extended leave, due to a shoulder wound he had acquired in a skirmish with the natives of the Jacquani System. The officer had taken his long overdue leave immediately upon his release from the Patrol hospital and at the moment, his whereabouts were unknown to the Jilectans, although not the Terran Underground. The real Strike Commander Russell stood three-and-a-half centimeters shorter than Mark and was eight years older, but the deciding factor in Linley's disguise was the fact that Russell was a native of Smeekvil, one of the larger cities of Mark's home planet. Linley's left arm reposed interestingly in a sling made of black cloth and he wore the latest style in leisure clothing from the Autonomy: a snug, elastic jumpsuit that molded itself attractively to his muscular frame.
Alan looked enviously at his partner, wishing for the hundredth time that his psychic abilities had not destined him to be so short. He was well-built for his size but next to Mark, he felt like a midget. Linley stood two full meters tall in his bare feet, with a breadth of shoulder that would have caused the denizens of muscle beach to turn green with envy. A brilliant blue, hip-length cape fell gracefully down his back and the neck of the tunic plunged to mid-breastbone, exposing a generous portion of broad chest. To Linley's embarrassment, the hair on his chest had also been dyed a coppery red, and to his vast annoyance, he now wore a regulation Patrol haircut. Alan caught more than one pair of admiring and speculative female eyes on his friend. He sighed and resigned himself to obscurity.
For he was far less prominent, of course. Part of Linley's flamboyance was designed to draw attention from his partner. Alan was wanted for far more than simply the fact that he was a Terran psychic. Sentenced to death for his powers, he had managed to escape the fate in store for him, but he had been forced to kill a Jilectan, Lord Salthvor, in the process. He was the first person in recorded Jilectan history to commit such a deed, although no longer the only one, and carried an enormous price on his head. It was just possible that he could be recognized should someone look at him too closely, but no one was likely to suspect that former Strike Commander Linley was present in the unlikely disguise of another Strike Commander. Alan was identified as Alan Russell, the Strike Commander's Terran half-brother. Anyone aware of the reputation possessed by the Viceregal Patrol would be unlikely to disbelieve that, Alan thought, somewhat wryly. Mark's own father had been some unknown patrolman, and Alan would be quite willing to wager that Mark had a few half-siblings scattered around the Sector, and, no doubt, a child or two of his own, as well.
Linley wore a shoulder holster under his cape, displayed openly. The transportation of deadly weapons by private citizens aboard the Luna Shuttle was forbidden, of course, but a Patrol Strike Commander was different. Terran authorities were understandably intimidated by the Jilectans, whatever their private feelings might be, and no one was anxious to offend such a high-ranking servant of the aliens.
Mark strode up the boarding ramp, the image of confidence and command, Alan trailing along in his wake. A smiling attendant met them at the entrance, directing them to seats. They took their places near the rear, on the portside of the cabin and pulled safety webbing across their laps. Mark glanced at him, making a face.
"I'm a fop," he remarked, in an undertone. "I dunno how Brad can wear this sorta stuff without feelin' like a jackass."
Alan grinned a little wistfully. "Wish I had your body, pal. I think you look great."
Linley snorted.
The Luna Shuttle was hardly more than a gigantic planet hopper. It contained no light speed capability, for it never left the gravity field of a planetary body long enough to need one. The jaunt to the moon took no more than half an hour, most of which was occupied by takeoff and landing -- a far cry from the first trip to Terra's satellite over two centuries ago.
The viewscreens in the main sections of the craft showed the passengers who were interested the details of the takeoff -- the shrinking of the planet behind them and Luna, glowing a pale white, swelling rapidly as the shuttle approached. In what seemed no time at all, they touched the Lunar surface and the hum of the repulsers died.
Alan felt suddenly very light. He unstrapped his safety webbing when the light on the bulkhead changed from red to green, and stood up. The motion sent him half a meter into the air and he landed clumsily, stumbling a little. Linley grabbed his elbow. "Easy li'l brother. Ain'tcha ever been to the moon before?"
"Once," Alan admitted. "During my second year at Terran Space Academy, our class came here -- but we landed at Tycho Base, and didn't get to visit the city. They wouldn't let us."
Mark grinned at his disgusted expression. "They didn't wantcha losin' your shirts, kid. The Lunar gamblin' joints don't got no age limit."
"I know." Alan laughed. "Kurt McDougal -- he was my bunkmate -- sneaked out. He'd have picked up thirty demerits if he'd been caught, but he wasn't. Came back two hours later with nearly two hundred credits jammed into his billfold. He never *did* tell me where he got it."
"Probably figured you were too young an' innocent to know about that sorta stuff. I wonder what he thinks about you now."
"Yeah," Alan said. "I wonder."
A sharp clang interrupted the conversation and Alan saw that the flexible tube extending from the spaceport terminal had just attached itself to their airlock. They proceeded to the hatch amid a crowd of passengers. A very pretty young woman was struggling to maintain her balance, giggling as every step bounced her twenty centimeters into the air. Mark caught her arm. "Careful, baby."
She looked up, fluttering her eyelashes. "Oh, *thank* you! How am I ever going to walk? I feel so silly!"
Alan recognized her, with a shock, as Lola Davenport, one of the hottest new singers on Terra. Blond hair fell silkily over her slim shoulders, and she wore a stylish, sparkling union suit that set off the curves of her body to full advantage. She was beautiful, Alan thought, with a sigh. Much too beautiful to look at him ...
Another step bounded her into the air and she grabbed Linley's forearm. "May I hold onto you? You seem to have your Lunar legs." She giggled again. Her Basic, Alan noted, was nearly as good as his own. "You're the Strike Commander, aren't you?" The idea didn't seem to upset her. "I heard you'd be on board. I've never met a Strike Commander before."
Linley grinned and put an arm around her. "Yup. Bradley Russell, baby. You just hang onto me. This your first trip to Luna?"
"Yes." She was making no attempt, Alan saw, to free herself from Linley's arm. On the contrary, she was snuggling up more closely to him. It must be pheromones, the boy decided, resignedly. Whatever it was, he sure didn't have it. They proceeded out the airlock amid the crowd of passengers, Lola Davenport still clinging to Mark's arm, and down the tunnel to emerge into the Luna City Spaceport.
The passengers arriving from Terra didn't pass through Customs, unlike those arriving from the Autonomy or one of the other stellar nations. Alan and Mark, with the lovely singer attached, proceeded toward the baggage claim. The girl glanced at Linley. "Where are you staying, handsome?"
"Lunar Hilton, baby." Mark winked at her. "Wouldja like to drop by for a drink later, maybe?"
"Maybe." She snuggled up to him, again. "I'm staying at the Hilton, too. Oh! There's my bag!"
Mark snagged it deftly for her. "Here you go."
"Thanks." She took it. "Are you from Shallock, Brad?" Brad already, Alan thought.
"Yep. Born an' bred in Smeekvil." Mark knew Bradley Russell and his history very well.
"Where's that?"
"Little inland city, 'bout a hundred kilometers south o' Scaifen." Mark grabbed Alan's suitcase and, a moment later, his own, a Patrol bag, suitably worn, emblazoned with Russell's name and insignia. Lola glanced for the first time at Alan.
"Hi, sweetie. Who are you?"
"M'li'l brother," Mark said. "Half brother, actually." He grinned meaningfully at the singer. "M'pop got around. The kid an' me are getting' acquainted this trip. Turns out I got a li'l half sis, too. Cute li'l doll. Her mom didn't think she oughtta come along, though." Mark cocked an eyebrow at the girl. "Might cramp m'style."
Lola snuggled up to him. "Mine, too," she remarked. Alan sighed.
They left the Spaceport and stepped out onto the slidewalk that bore them toward the central section of the dome.
Luna City was the central city of the dome complex, and the other towns branched away from it, connected by tunnels like the spokes of a wheel. From Luna City, any other city could be reached in short order by simply taking the appropriate tunnel. Alan and Mark were aware of this but at least for now, planned to stay in the central done. The Blue Owl Casino was located in Luna City, although it was not one of the larger, more flamboyant establishments.
Alan craned his neck to see the sights as the slidewalk bore them smoothly along. No air vehicles of any sort were to be seen, except those of the Luna City Police, but a number of ground vehicles were visible. Most of the city's inhabitants seemed to prefer the slidewalks to the moonmobiles, the appearance of which Alan privately considered to be ridiculous, with their huge, balloon-like wheels and tiny bodies.
Luna City was probably the greenest city he had ever seen. Wherever greenery could be fitted in, it had been. Trees and shrubbery lined the slidewalks and emerald lawns covered huge expanses. Gardens growing every sort of fruit, vegetable and decorative plant imaginable adorned each dwelling. Joqueleaf bushes, native to Riskell and well-known for their high oxygen yield, dotted the landscape everywhere he looked. The air was the freshest he had ever breathed anywhere. Brightly clad people moved past them, chattering and laughing, and everywhere were the gambling casinos. Across the park to his left, he could see what appeared to be a swimming pool, the diving board high above the water. A scantily clad girl launched herself into space as he watched, soaring high into the air, then curving gently and slowly downward like some sort of fantastic bird. Her dive took a long time and the splash was tremendous. Belatedly, he realized that must be the reason that the water level was so far below the rim of the pool.
The slidewalk bore them onward through this strange city. Green, flowering vines climbed the odd, domelike dwellings and Alan saw honeybees buzzing about the blossoms, moving with a speed and agility he had never seen them display on Earth.
"Here we are." Mark drew him from the slidewalk and Alan found himself standing before a low, sprawling building completely smothered in creepers. The floodlights of the city were starting to come on, and he realized suddenly that only a sliver of the sun was visible above the Lunar horizon. It would be dark for several Terran days but the inhabitants of Luna City would not notice, for the floodlights would take the place of the sun. As a matter of fact, the great, plastic dome itself was polarized to shield the people of Luna City from the rays of Sol, unfiltered by the layers of Earth's atmosphere during the hours of the Lunar day phase.
Mark was grinning at him. "We'll take in the sights later, if you don't mind, li'l brother. Let's go stow our gear now, okay?"
"Sure." Alan glanced furtively at Lola. The singer didn't notice. She was smiling at Mark.
"I have a party waiting for me, handsome, but if you'd like to drop in later for a nightcap, I promise not to throw you out."
Linley grinned. "Sounds great t'me, baby."
Lola reached across and tapped a bell. A smiling, very attractive young woman appeared behind the desk.
"May I help you?"
**********
VI
Mark Linley closed the door to their hotel room and released his bag, which drifted in a leisurely fashion to the floor. Alan had apparently mastered the knack of walking in the low gravity, for he was moving with more confidence now, his steps graceful and sure. Trust a psychic to pick up the ability so easily, he thought, a little enviously. Linley, himself, had taken several hours to learn to negotiate easily the first time he had visited Luna.
Alan deposited his suitcase on one of the smoothly made beds and turned to Linley. "Now what?"
Mark bent to open his bag. "Now, let's get changed and start doin' the casinos. If I remember, the Blue Owl's on the south side -- not one o' the biggest establishments around, but it ain't the smallest, neither. We'll just work our way down to it."
The casinos of Luna were all they advertised to be. As they entered the Shooting Star, Linley grinned faintly at his young partner's expression. Change girls in extremely scanty costumes, consisting mainly of glittering stars in all the right places, moved about among the throng of gaily-dressed people. A waitress paused beside them, a tray of drinks held before her. Mark looked appreciatively at the clothing in which she was nearly dressed and decided he'd remember this place when their chore was finished.
The young woman smiled dazzlingly at them. "Would you gentlemen like a drink? Complements of the house."
Mark took one. Alan wrenched his gaze from her neckline and picked up another of the glasses without looking at it. The waitress smiled again and moved gracefully away. Alan's head turned after her and Mark had to grab his arm to prevent a collision with a blue-feathered Procyon in native dress. He grinned to himself. It was obvious to him now how Alan had landed himself in trouble over that damned swimming pool. Shy or not, no one could say he didn't have the right instincts.
"Well, li'l buddy," he remarked, "shall we get down to business? Whatcha wanna go for first?"
Alan shrugged, watching in awe as a well-developed young change girl slithered past. "Gosh! How do they keep 'em *on*?"
"Dunno. We could try pickin' up a couple later on an' see if we can find out."
Alan turned bright red and took a gulp of his drink. He gasped and broke into a series of coughs. Linley slapped him on the back. "You okay?"
"Yeah, sure." Alan wheezed and coughed again. "What *is* this stuff, anyway?"
Linley took it and swallowed an experimental mouthful. "Wambari firewater. Only about a hundred and eighty proof. Here, you take mine and I'll drink yours."
"Thanks." Alan traded with him and sipped cautiously. His ears turned pink, but he gasped only slightly. "What is it?"
"Terran Scotch and soda. Just carry it around with you. You don't hafta drink it."
They stayed at the Shooting Star long enough for Mark to lose thirty credits at roulette, then left for the Comet, some distance further on. They worked their way slowly down the line of casinos and nightclubs. Mark was careful to lose a small amount of money in each, and in each he took a free glass of some complementary beverage. Had anyone been watching him closely, they might or might not have noticed him pour the majority of the drinks into the various plant containers decorating the casinos, consuming only enough to ensure that the scent of alcohol remained unmistakably on his breath. After the fourth glass, he began to put a little unsteadiness into his walk.
They stopped at a nightclub, modestly named "Galaxy of Stars" and watched the strippers with appreciation. Mark took the opportunity to stoke up on a hearty meal as a base for further drinking, while watching a slim, young woman peel away an incredible number of garments, each appearing to be the last until the next was revealed. Mark gleaned nearly as much enjoyment from watching his partner as the shapely, young females on the stage. Alan's eyes were huge as he tried to look everywhere at once, and Mark could have sworn the kid was almost drooling.
"Watch it, pal," he whispered. "Your fangs are showin'."
Alan flushed. "Sorry. I've never been any place like this before." He turned his head as a young woman in a snug, semi-transparent outfit that seemed to consist mostly of holes, oozed past their table. "I've never seen so many half-dressed women in my life."
"'Course not." Linley grinned. "I've been to Luna a couple o' times. They ain't got a lot o' the zonin' an' local statutes the rest o' Terra does. Here, if you're alive an' got money, you can gamble an' drink, an' find any other sort of amusement that suits your fancy. More profitable that way."
"I guess so." Alan's gaze went back to the stage. "Gosh! She's a good dancer!"
Linley hadn't noticed. "Got real nice legs, too."
Alan nodded emphatically.
Following their meal, they went on to the Sunspot.
The Sunspot was one of the smaller casinos, but like the others, it was lined with the inevitable slot machines and crowded with a glittering throng of people. Mark moved jovially among them, towering over most of the men, conspicuous in fluorescent green clothing that set off his copper hair to the best advantage. He was weaving more noticeably now, and speaking more loudly. As a scantily clad change girl went past, he reached out, pinching one buttock lightly. The girl yipped, spinning about. "Hey!"
"Sorry, baby." Mark winked at her. The girl looked annoyed for a moment, then relaxed as Linley gave her his most charming smile.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked. Mark dropped an arm across her shoulders, leaning a bit more heavily on her than he should.
"You sure can, baby." He bent down and whispered in her ear. The girl shrugged herself free.
"Sorry, sir, but I'm on duty. You'll have to find somebody who ..."
Alan took his arm, letting Mark lean on him. Linley did so, still ogling the girl. Alan smiled apologetically at her.
"Sorry, Miss. My brother's had a couple more drinks than he should."
"That's all right." She returned the smile warmly. "It happens a lot. I hope you're having a good time."
"Oh yes," Alan assured her. "I've never been to Luna City before."
The girl smiled again. "In that case, have a complementary chip." She handed him a small, metallic disk. "It's good for a free try at the slot machines on that side of the room." She pointed. "Better get your big brother a sandwich or something, though." She winked at him. "I'm off duty in four hours, if you're still around."
Alan went faintly pink. "Sure ... if I can find Brad a date."
"He doesn't look like he'll have much trouble." The girl surveyed Linley appreciatively, then, to Linley's amusement, turned back to Alan. "Take a tip from me, though. Don't go to Halley's Comet. I hear the games are crooked."
"Oh, thanks." Alan nodded. "I'll remember that."
"You're welcome. Have a good time, honey." The girl turned toward a customer. "Yes, sir? May I help you?"
Mark and Alan wended their way to the side of the room that she had indicated and Alan selected a machine, inserting the chip. Mark pulled the lever on the side and the three columns of pictures spun. He grinned at Alan. "I think she liked you, kid."
Alan turned pink. "She was nice."
"She's trained to be, but I think she liked you a lot more'n me."
"Well, I didn't pinch her on the ..." Alan broke off as a bell pealed musically, lights flashed, and four chips dropped into the little pan. He picked them up. "Hey, I won!"
"Y'know, you could walk out a big winner, if you wanted to," Linley remarked in an undertone.
Alan shook his head firmly. "That wouldn't be fair," he said, dropping a chip into another machine. Mark pulled the handle and once more the pictures spun.
"Are you really gonna come back an' meet her in four hours?" Linley inquired, with interest.
Again Alan flushed. "I don't know. We'll probably be busy ..." He broke off with a jump as another bell chimed and lights flashed on and off. Mark felt mildly surprised as several more chips dropped into the little pan. Alan looked a bit surprised as well. He scooped up his winnings, glancing uncertainly at Mark. Linley grinned.
"Lucky," he remarked. "Try again."
Alan surveyed the row of machines thoughtfully, then selected one on the left. The columns spun, then lined up neatly. More bells, lights and sirens, and a cascade of chips rained from the machine. Alan grabbed for an ashtray to catch the flood. "Hey!"
Linley knelt to help him, gathering up the rolling chips. "Man! Three wins in a row!"
A change girl appeared beside them, a small, plastic basket in her hand. "Here, sir. Use this."
"Thanks." Mark accepted the basket, dropping the two handsful of coins into it. Alan added a double handful of his own.
"Gosh!" He looked awed. "I didn't think it would be so easy!"
"Usually it ain't." Mark glanced over his shoulder, but the change girl had gone her way. "You sure you ain't ..."
"Positive." Alan shook his head.
"Oh." Linley shrugged. "Well, probably just luck, then." He picked up a coin and inserted it into a machine. Alan turned away, apparently uninterested in Mark's choice, and absently dropped a chip into another machine. Mark pulled the lever on his own and the three columns spun.
As expected, they did not line up. Linley shrugged philosophically, then jumped as bells and sirens sounded. He spun, the basket in his hand, and saw Alan trying frantically to catch the flood of chips pouring from the machine he had selected.
Mark bent, handing him the little basket, and began to pick up the spilled chips. The change girl was beside them again, her eyes wide with astonishment, a second basket in her hands.
"My goodness," she said.
Alan turned, his face beet red. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir." She smiled. "Congratulations!"
Mark watched her move away, then turned back to his partner, grinning faintly. "I just figured it out."
"Huh?"
"You're not doin' nothin' on purpose, butcha *do* know which machine is gonna pay off, an' you been pickin' 'em without realizin' it."
"But I ..."
"Remember the swimmin' pool, kid? Did you concentrate before you made that guess? Weren't you really payin' more attention to the pretty girl in the bikini than the number of chips in the pool?"
Alan looked shocked. "Mark, you're right! I'd better give the chips back!"
"Don't be silly. What reason are you gonna give for doin' that?"
"I ..." Alan stopped, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Mark, I cheated!"
"No, you didn't. You're just a helluva good guesser." Linley chuckled a little enviously.
Alan sighed. "I guess I'd better let you play the slots after this, huh?"
Linley snorted. "Man, I wish I had your talents. I ain't as honest as you are. Look, let's go try the roulette wheel."
"All right." Alan's reply was subdued. Without a word, he followed Linley toward the roulette tables.
The tables were moderately crowded. Linley squeezed between a heavyset dowager and a Procyon noble, who glared at him, two feathers on his head lifting and the hooked beak opening in a half-challenge. Mark favored the being with his most intimidating stare and the alien's eyes widened for an instant and then fell. Mark turned toward the roulette table as the croupier called, "Place your bets, gentlemen!"
Mark placed a stack of Alan's recently won chips on black. Normally, Linley avoided roulette tables in the gambling parlors like poison. Except for common sense and judgement, the exercise of skill was all but impossible to influence the odds. Mark preferred games where his considerable expertise in the subject -- such as Poker -- could make a difference. However, tonight, he was here to be a convincing gambler -- a Viceregal Strike Commander on his well-deserved leave.
The wheel spun and the croupier dropped the little ivory ball into its track. For fifty long seconds by Linley's estimation, the little ball spun and then fell, with a decisive click, into double zero. A faint but general moan went up from the assembled players as the croupier raked in the stacks of coins. A single player had bet double zero. He collected his winnings, looking pleased. The croupier spun the ball again.
**********
tbc
