Deuces Wild

Deuces Wild: Stacking the Deck

by L. S. King

"Fractured Facets, part one"

Tristan refused to allow the cargo to encroach on the section of the bay where the exercise equipment was. Slap had moaned about it, but now, he was glad. He would have missed working out, especially on the long jaunts. And things had been quiet so far on this run.

Well mostly, but he didn't want to ruin his mood thinking about Addie.

Slap watched as his dark friend bounced off a ramp with springs underneath he called a beatboard and grabbed the horizontal bar called a trap. Tristan then contorted his body and did what looked like a jackknife up to a handstand on top of it. He began spinning around and around the bar. Slap looked away before he got dizzy and returned his attention to the weights.

Addie climbed down the ladder, and Slap inwardly groaned. That gal had been nothing but trouble with her childishness. But for the moment she stood transfixed, her mouth open, as Tristan flipped and spun. After a few minutes, she came over to Slap.

"Where did he learn how to do that?"

Slap grabbed a towel and wiped his face. "I dunno. He don't talk about it. And—" He grabbed her arm as she started forward. "I wouldn't ask him. He don't like questions about his past."

Her head tipped, her lip jutting out in a curious pout. "Why? Does he have something to hide?"

"Little girl," Slap said softly, "we all have something to hide."

"Yeah? Well, I don't." She twisted to watch Tristan for a few moments then turned back to Slap. "And don't call me ‘Little Girl.' I'm about your age."

"Ya don't act like it."

"You're still holding it against me for shooting at your friend, aren't you?"

"I don't hold nothing against nobody." Slap hesitated, then said, "Almost nobody. But I would take it kindly if you wouldn't throw your soup at me next time you get mad."

"I said I was sorry." She crossed her arms, her pout returning. "And I cleaned it up."

"After a fashion—and after all three of us got on you about it."

She made a face and stalked away. Carter strolled up from the direction of the engine room, wiping his hands on a shop towel. He gestured with it in her direction. "That girl is a pistol."

"Yeah." Slap glanced past the engineer at the man swinging on the trap. "Don't tell Tristan, but I'm starting to be sorry I took her on."

Carter chuckled. "Live and learn." He walked toward the ladder, saying over his shoulder, "but she keeps the voyage from being dull, at least."

Slap shook his head. "Dull's startin' to sound good."

Slap cleaned up the galley, then went to his cabin and got out his new guitar. He meandered into the rec lounge with it slung over his shoulder. Tristan sat on a cushioned chair in the corner, reading. Carter and Addie weren't there.

"Look what I found." He held up the instrument.

Tristan glanced up. "So that's what you bought."

"You mind if I play?" Slap asked.

"If I do, I'll go to my cabin."

Slap grinned and sat, tuning the guitar by ear. He began playing soft, slow songs—the ones Shallah had liked. Tristan didn't leave. After awhile, Slap noticed that although Tristan still held the book, he had quit turning any pages.

Carter came in and slid into a chair quietly.

Slap hadn't even thought about playing since Shallah and Evan died. But when he saw the guitar, he'd had to buy it. It felt good to play again, although his fingertips were a might raw, and he stumbled a bit remembering some tunes.

Addie broke the mood when she came in—no surprise there. She was silent for a bit, then declared, "Can't you play something less boring?"

With three glares pinned on her, she had the grace to turn red. "Well, sorry, but I like music I can dance to."

Carter snorted. "And who do you think would dance with you?"

"You think I'd want any of you as a dancing partner? What a choice. A hick, an old geek, or Mister No-smiles over there."

"Your pa never did teach you much about manners, did he?"

"I learned to survive."

Tristan barked out a laugh and dropped his book on the cushion beside him. "Slap, are you up for chess? If not, I'm going to my cabin."

"I'm game. I'll get the board."

Addie sat on the table across from them, peering at the board with a frown. Carter thumbed through Tristan's book, then wandered over to watch the game as well.

"You know how to play chess?" Carter asked her.

"No, but I can play checkers."

"I'll set them up."

Except for Addie's moans, tsks, and occasional squeals, the room was quiet. And then the checkerboard board crashed to the floor, making Slap jump. Addie stalked out of rec lounge, and Carter sighed. "She's not a graceful loser."

"Or winner," Slap said.

"Check," Tristan said quietly, taking Slap's bishop.

But Slap's mind was more on the girl than the game. "I think her pa spared the rod a bit."

Carter snorted. "That's an understatement."

"We should have spaced her," Tristan muttered.

"Now, that ain't very gentlemanly," Slap drawled, moving his rook.

Tristan's eyes glittered with veiled amusement as he moved his queen. "Mate."

"An' neither was that." Slap dropped his chin into his hand to study his mistakes.

Carter chortled and rose. "Good night."

"Going to bed this early?" Slap asked.

"After checking a few things below." He nodded and left.

Slap picked up his errant rook and twirled it in his fingers. "He seems to be taking to his job, don't you think, Tristan?"

Tristan leaned back, stretching his spine with a nod. "We land on Medan tomorrow. You have the cargo manifests ready?"

"Yep. We're ready for customs and customers."

"Good." Tristan inclined his head at the board. "Another game?"

"Sure."

Carter stood by the ramp with his lopsided smile as Tristan approached.

"Captain? Mind some company into the city?"

"Not at all."

"Isn't Slap going?"

"Not right now." Tristan let himself smile. "The owner is busying himself with the details of making sure our cargo is delivered properly."

Carter's smile spread. "And Addie?"

"She already left on some prearranged appointments." Tristan paused for emphasis. "I made certain I was not ready to disembark earlier."

Carter laughed aloud as they descended the ramp together.

"The Xanthus Commonwealth has tightened security recently," Carter said as they went through a third checkpoint and inspection. "Even since my last job."

"Not surprising, considering the war on their border between Eridani and the Confederation."

"True."

"I wonder how the arms dealers are faring."

Carter shot him a quick look. "Oh?"

"Idle curiosity," Tristan said, shrugging, "since theirs is likely the most lucrative enterprise in this region at the moment. To use a quaint expression of Slap's, I try to keep one ear to the ground concerning activities which might impinge on my ability to carry out my own business."

Carter snickered. "You have a way of saying a lot without giving away anything. That's a gift, you know."

"I consider it a necessity."

The two men finally cleared customs and continued into Medan's port city, Caldar.

"I don't think we're going to have as easy a time in Xanthus's territory as we thought," Carter said. "That war has everyone on edge. Slap said there wasn't much cargo going in and out. Uh, legitimate, that is."

"Only natural, but we'll do better when we get to the Cygnus Hegemony."

"Yeah, we should. Are we going as far as the Aquila Freehold?"

"If we get runs there—it is a bit distant. And there are still the so-called free planets in the Pegasus Alliance. We'll do fine." Tristan paused. "We will be going no closer to the Confederation than this planet."

Carter's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Thanks, Captain."

The engineer tagged along as Tristan did some shopping, ordering more books and some music. He hesitated in considering which music to order; would Wagner drown out Addie's caterwauling? That sparked another thought, and he double-checked that his Shakespeare collection was complete—especially including Taming of the Shrew.

Lunch was quiet. Carter didn't have to moan in delight at every mouthful, or ask what was on his plate like the cowboy.

On the way back to Giselle, a familiar face in the crowd caught Tristan's attention—Jacek Polk. He was older, his blond hair streaked with grey, but yes, it was indeed Polk. His gaze was riveted on Carter.

The engineer started and stifled a gasp. "Captain, we have to get away from here," he hissed. "I just saw a Confederation source."

"Polk?"

"You know him?"

"From long ago. So he's a spy for the Confederation as well, is he?"

Tristan stopped—Polk's eyes strayed to him and widened. He let his dark glare bore into the spy who turned white and hurried away through the throng of people.

"By all means, let's return to the ship."

Damn. How many people did Polk report to? Did he still work for Dray as well as the Confederation? And did he still travel with them?

Tristan had the feeling his life had just become much more complicated...and deadly.

"Hey, Tristan?"

Slap's cheerful voice cut through Tristan like a stim-knife. He looked up from his novel with dark expectancy.

"Wanna go to the city with me?"

"I was there yesterday."

"Yeah, I know, but I ain't been yet, what with all this owner and cargo stuff to deal with."

The last thing Tristan wanted to do was go into Caldar again. Or have Slap go. But he knew the futility of trying to keep Slap aboard if he was determined to leave. And who knew what dangers awaited with Polk in the city. With a sigh, he rose. "I'll accompany you."

"Great!" Slap bounded away with an enthusiasm that made Tristan feel worn out already.

"Sheee-oot. It takes forever getting through customs, don't it? Why didn't you warn me?" Slap asked as they emerged from the final inspection.

"Would it have changed your mind about heading into Caldar?"

"No."

"Then what would be the point?"

"Well, so I'd know what to expect."

Tristan didn't deign to reply, instead pointed at the call buttons on the panel to their right. "Hover cab?"

"You know I like to walk."

"Lead the way," Tristan said, with an exaggerated sweep of his arm.

They wound through the city, Slap gawking, as usual, and Tristan watching for anything and everything.

As they rounded a corner, a multi-hued dome pulsed and glowed in the distance.

"What's that?" Slap asked.

Ignoring the bitter bile that rose in his throat, Tristan replied, "Circus dome." He should have known. Polk was here, after all...

"Really? I've never been to a circus."

The excitement in Slap's voice boded ill. The cowboy took off like a small child, homing in on the gleaming, opaque orb. Tristan ran to catch up.

Slap skidded to a halt as he came to the entrance of the midway, his mouth hanging open.

The beaconing lights, raucous music, calls of the jointees, shouts from the children, whistles, pops, and bangs from the games, the sawdust, and combined smells of roasted peanuts and frying foods brought unwanted memories cascading over Tristan. He tightened his stomach against the onslaught.

The holobanner above the dome glittered: Cirque des Étoiles.

Slap started forward.

Tristan shadowed his eager companion, subtly steering him from certain games while keeping his eyes open. Trouble could come in many forms in such a place, even without Polk—and whatever companions he worked for now.

A man bumped against Slap and casually walked on.

"Stay here," Tristan hissed and quickened his step to catch up to the man, who was aiming for a small crowd gathering in front of a talker. Tristan held his smirk inside as he relieved the pickpocket of his recently acquired treasure. The man held up his trousers with an old fashioned belt. In a rare fit of humor, Tristan took that as well. He left, subduing a chuckle at the gasps and shrieks behind him as his mark—and the crowd—discovered his pants around his ankles.

Reaching Slap, Tristan handed him his pouch.

"Huh?" Slap took it with a confused frown. "How'd—how'd you know he took it? And how'd you get it back?"

"A little prestidigitation."

"Presti-what?"

Tristan shook his head. "Never mind. Try to be more alert, all right?"

"But you—"

"You wanted to see that." Tristan nodded toward the dome.

Slap grimaced with frustration, but the promise of the circus dome itself sidetracked his query. His mouth dropped open as they approached. "Look at that thing!"

"Yes. The cost of these domes is incredible. The slightest variations in a planet's gravity can be fatal for performers. These domes aren't just show, a modern variation of the old circus tents. They generate their own gravity field."

Slap whistled through his teeth.

Tristan stared into the air, his mind seeing things from...a lifetime ago. "Did you know that ages ago on ancient Earth, circuses had all sorts of animal acts as well as human? And for quite a long time, ground circuses were almost extinct?"

Slap turned back to squint at the dome. "Why's that?"

"The allure of the feats available in null-gee, but in time the novelty wore off. It doesn't take much to learn to perform in that arena compared to the years of training for what you see here. So ground circuses became even more popular. There aren't many traveling the stars, due to the costs, but all of them put on a show worth seeing. However this..." Tristan nodded towards the pearlescent dome. "This is the greatest, the best—Cirque des Étoiles."

They approached the marquee, and Slap oohed at the show time. "There's a performance tonight."

"Every night that they're here. Look..." Tristan put a hand on the cowboy's chest. "Things are heating up again. I saw someone yesterday who could mark trouble. Coming here might have been a mistake. Going to a performance tonight isn't smart."

"But Tristan, I've never seen a circus."

The palm turned into a pointed finger and jabbed hard into Slap's sternum. "Don't start sounding like Addie. Haven't you learned to listen to me yet? This place is dangerous."

The expression on Slap's face morphed from defiance to defeat to acceptance. "You think once this trouble is over, we could track a circus down so I could go see it?"

"Yes, yes," Tristan said, relief washing over him that Slap would give in with such grace and understanding.

"All right. Let's get lunch and get back to ol' Bertha."

Carter waited at the top of the ramp, face grave and arms crossed. They climbed up to meet him, Tristan's heart sinking. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's kidnapped Addie."

continue to "Fractured Facets, part two"

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