“No help for the XO,” Nerila Janianial said. “Possible pair for the engineroom, and the doctor sits ace-high.”
Fisk Hurun, Chief Tactical Officer of the Fortune’s Smile, hesitated and then rapped softly on the open door of the Officer’s Mess. It was usually closed this time of day, unneeded for meals for either main or alter-day crew, the unchallenged preserve of the three officers who’d been with Pilot Roth for longest. It would take a hell of an emergency to get me to open that door under normal circumstances.
But he had been summoned, by XO Kamajeck herself.
Three heads turned at his knock: ‘Mitch’ Mitcheson, unshaven, a smudge of engine oil on his forehead, jacket off; Nerila Janianial, making her uniform look like haute couture as always, sleek dark hair pinned up; Luisa Kamajeck, hair gone more grey than brown, her eyes clear and steady in a face papery with age and pale with a lifetime’s worth of ‘spacer’s tan’.
“Fisk,” the XO said. “Come in. Pull up a chair.” She paused, and then one corner of her mouth twitched up slightly. “Not an order. You might have better things to do.”
Both by training and by inclination, Fisk was not a man to spend longer in a doorway than necessary. Even so, he hesitated a bare second before stepping forward and pulling out a chair at the table.
“Born in a barn?” Nerila asked, not unfriendly, with a glance at the door.
“Sorry,” Fisk said, and shut the door before sitting down.
“Oncer-ante, aces high, nothing wild,” Mitcheson said, pushing the cards of his unfinished hand across the table to Nerila. “You in, Fisk?”
Fisk glanced at the XO and she gave a tiny nod. “Yessir, I am.”
“No ‘sirs’ in this room,” Nerila said. “Nor m’m, either. Fisk.” She gathered the deck together, her long dark fingers flicking the cards into tidiness, and began to shuffle with the precision of a surgeon and the flash of a card-shark. "Not while the door's closed."
"Yes - " He hesitated.
" Nerila," she supplied, cut the cards one-handed and jerked her thumb towards Mitcheson. "Mitch." The deck cascaded between her hands, reformed itself and divided again with the barest movement of her fingers, and she gestured with her chin toward the XO. "Luisa."
"All right," Fisk said. He looked around at the three of them, Nerila's dark gaze steady on his as she split and ruffled the deck by touch, Mitch seeming to watch Nerila but, Fisk noted, looking in the same direction as the polished steel cabinet doors that reflect me like a mirror, and Luisa with her head tilted a little bit, studying Fisk like a sergeant sizing up a new recruit.
"You're new to the ship, Fisk. Newish," Luisa said.
"Yes'm. I mean, Yes. I am."
"Liking it so far?"
Fisk nodded.
Nerila flipped a card over, seemingly at random, face up in the middle of the table. Eight hearts, Fisk noted automatically. "You can tell the future by cards, you know, Fisk," she said, holding the card for a moment before shuffling it back into the deck. "Eight of hearts is an unexpected invitation."
"Then that deck is telling my past," Fisk said.
Mitch snorted. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe not."
Nerila dealt another card and held it for Fisk to look at. Five Acorns. "Five clubs," she said, reminding Fisk again that this was a mixed crew and two of the people in the room were Gallente. "Alliances."
"Few things happened on Pilot's ships before you came on board, Fisk," Luisa said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, hands folded. "One or two."
Fisk nodded. "Everyone knows there's history," he said. "Same everywhere, isn't it?"
"The three of us have been with her, oh, five months?" Mitch said.
"Seems like five years, sometimes," Nerila said.
Fisk Hurun, Chief Tactical Officer of the Fortune’s Smile, hesitated and then rapped softly on the open door of the Officer’s Mess. It was usually closed this time of day, unneeded for meals for either main or alter-day crew, the unchallenged preserve of the three officers who’d been with Pilot Roth for longest. It would take a hell of an emergency to get me to open that door under normal circumstances.
But he had been summoned, by XO Kamajeck herself.
Three heads turned at his knock: ‘Mitch’ Mitcheson, unshaven, a smudge of engine oil on his forehead, jacket off; Nerila Janianial, making her uniform look like haute couture as always, sleek dark hair pinned up; Luisa Kamajeck, hair gone more grey than brown, her eyes clear and steady in a face papery with age and pale with a lifetime’s worth of ‘spacer’s tan’.
“Fisk,” the XO said. “Come in. Pull up a chair.” She paused, and then one corner of her mouth twitched up slightly. “Not an order. You might have better things to do.”
Both by training and by inclination, Fisk was not a man to spend longer in a doorway than necessary. Even so, he hesitated a bare second before stepping forward and pulling out a chair at the table.
“Born in a barn?” Nerila asked, not unfriendly, with a glance at the door.
“Sorry,” Fisk said, and shut the door before sitting down.
“Oncer-ante, aces high, nothing wild,” Mitcheson said, pushing the cards of his unfinished hand across the table to Nerila. “You in, Fisk?”
Fisk glanced at the XO and she gave a tiny nod. “Yessir, I am.”
“No ‘sirs’ in this room,” Nerila said. “Nor m’m, either. Fisk.” She gathered the deck together, her long dark fingers flicking the cards into tidiness, and began to shuffle with the precision of a surgeon and the flash of a card-shark. "Not while the door's closed."
"Yes - " He hesitated.
" Nerila," she supplied, cut the cards one-handed and jerked her thumb towards Mitcheson. "Mitch." The deck cascaded between her hands, reformed itself and divided again with the barest movement of her fingers, and she gestured with her chin toward the XO. "Luisa."
"All right," Fisk said. He looked around at the three of them, Nerila's dark gaze steady on his as she split and ruffled the deck by touch, Mitch seeming to watch Nerila but, Fisk noted, looking in the same direction as the polished steel cabinet doors that reflect me like a mirror, and Luisa with her head tilted a little bit, studying Fisk like a sergeant sizing up a new recruit.
"You're new to the ship, Fisk. Newish," Luisa said.
"Yes'm. I mean, Yes. I am."
"Liking it so far?"
Fisk nodded.
Nerila flipped a card over, seemingly at random, face up in the middle of the table. Eight hearts, Fisk noted automatically. "You can tell the future by cards, you know, Fisk," she said, holding the card for a moment before shuffling it back into the deck. "Eight of hearts is an unexpected invitation."
"Then that deck is telling my past," Fisk said.
Mitch snorted. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe not."
Nerila dealt another card and held it for Fisk to look at. Five Acorns. "Five clubs," she said, reminding Fisk again that this was a mixed crew and two of the people in the room were Gallente. "Alliances."
"Few things happened on Pilot's ships before you came on board, Fisk," Luisa said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, hands folded. "One or two."
Fisk nodded. "Everyone knows there's history," he said. "Same everywhere, isn't it?"
"The three of us have been with her, oh, five months?" Mitch said.
"Seems like five years, sometimes," Nerila said.
Mitch nodded. "Heard her on comms saying she'd come back for us. That she wouldn't leave us behind."
"And she didn't, neither," Luisa said. "You going to deal those, Nerila, or just play with them?"
"
"
"As you'd have reason to know, Fisk," Nerila said, beginning to deal. " Personal reason. Wouldn't you?"
Fisk watched Nerila's hands as she flicked down the cards, one, two, three, four, thinking personal reason covered a lot of things he didn't plan to ever think about again if he could help it.
One, two, three, four.
"Yeah," he said at last.
One, two, three, four.
"Guess we all owe her one," Mitch said, gathering up his cards.
"Guess we do," Fisk said, picking up his own and looking to see what the doctor had dealt him.
Three of a kind. Fisk wasn't the Cluster's best poker-player but you don't need to be to know that holding three Jacks is a strong hand.
His best poker-face wasn't a patch on Luisa Kamajeck's normal expression, but he tried to keep his face blank.
Nerila dealt Fisk a show card. "Queen of Hearts," she said. "My gran'mama'd say there's a good-natured, soft-hearted blonde in your life."
"I could be so lucky," Fisk said.
"Card don't mean she's in your bed, Fisk," Nerila said. She finished the round, ten of hearts to Mitch, seven bells for the XO, four bells for herself. "Are all men the same?"
"Vile slander," Mitch said. "Vile cards, too."
"Let's see if we can make it all better for you," Nerila said. "Club jack to our newest player - soldier for your queen there, Fisk, fighting her battles and keeping her safe. Ace of hearts for you, Mitch - if you can't make a flush at least you can rest assured the cards promise you true love. And for you, Luisa - "
"Don't tell my fortune," Luisa said, and it was an order even in a room where there were no ranks.
Slightly deflated, Nerila laid the last card of the game face up. "Four hearts."
Fisk pushed a marker into the centre of the table, trying not to move either too quickly or too slowly. "Raise one."
Mitch followed suit. "See and raise again."
"And me," Nerila said.
Luisa glanced from the doctor to the engineer. "I see you both," she said quietly.
Fisk raised again, and the bets went round, and round again, all of them still in.
"You know Nerila got arrested once for cheating at cards," Luisa said.
"Bad old days," Nerila said. "Long time ago, before, you know, I reformed. And got better. Raise."
"Raise," Luisa said. "It's on you again, Fisk."
"Raise," Fisk said. As the bets circled the table once more he lifted the corners of his hole cards, reassuring himself that he hadn't imagined his hand. Jack of hearts, jack of bells, jack of leaves.
And face up, one more jack - soldier, Nerila had said - beside the queen.
An incredibly lucky, unlikely hand.
Dealt to him by a self-confessed cheat.
He looked up and met Nerila's gaze.
She dropped one eyelid in a sly wink. "Your call, Fisk."
Four soldiers and one fair-haired woman.
"You in or out, Fisk?" Luisa asked.
"Make up your mind, man," Mitch said.
Fisk checked his cards again, then pushed his stack of markers to the centre of the table, betting everything he had on four of a kind.
"I'm in," he said. "All the way."
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