been created by starminers as a useful way to stretch the mind as their shipsâ automatic systems processed tons of ore, but that didnât necessarily mean the tattooed man had a natural advantage. Kodiak winced as he saw the equation presented to his fellow player. The poor guy had drawn a very difficult calculation indeed.
The gnarled player had already pushed a large pile of chips toward the dealer, an early gamble that now looked like a gigantic mistake. He frowned at the grid, reaching out with a finger, ready to drag his solution through the air in front of him. But then he quickly drew back, like heâd got a shock. He wet his lips and tried again, slowly drawing a series of lines over the puzzle as he linked formula and mathematical functions. Kodiak watched, tryingâfailingâto solve the problem in his own mind. Tough luck.
The tattooed man hissed in annoyance, dropping his hand and pushing his chair away from the table. He couldnât solve it. He shot the other players a dirty look, his lip curling into a snarl, and pointedly picked up his remaining chipsâjust six small yellow pieces, a fraction of the teetering stack heâd gambled and lostâbefore walking away from the table, mumbling under his breath.
Kodiakâs turn. The equation appeared in front of him, and it was just as bad as the one the third player had drawn. Kodiak took a breath and did his best to solve it, but it was impossible. There was a tiny error, introduced by his hack, that made it unsolvable. Kodiak glanced at the other two remaining players, but they were expressionless, as any good gambler would be. He turned back to the equation, tried a couple of options, but thenâall according to planâhad to concede defeat.
The holographic board dissolved as the game was reset for the next round, the dealer sweeping Kodiakâs bet back into the bank and counting out the winnings of the other two players. While he waited, Kodiak drained his glass and scanned the room, pretending to look for a top-up from one of the wandering hostesses. Green squares flew around in his vision as his AI glasses crosschecked faces, but no flags popped up.
No sign of a hostess either. Kodiak sighed, licking the last remnants of the sweet, sticky liqueur from his teeth as he turned back to the game. The Sentallion dealer, a young woman about the same age as the two young men seated next to Kodiak, smiled at him as she invited him to place his bet.
Kodiak blinked. The HUD in his eye line flashed. Time to start making waves.
He shoved his entire pile of credits forward. âDouble-up,â he said.
The crowd gasped in awe. Kodiak smiled to himself. Were they in for a show or what?
The two other players glanced at each other. Then one laughed and shook his head, slapping Kodiak on the shoulder as he got up from his chair. The other man looked more annoyed than happy, and the pile of credits he then bet was, in comparison to his earlier plays, very small.
The game board shuffled. Kodiak watched the HUD in his glasses spin as his hack fixed the equation. He quickly dragged the formulae around and solved it. When the board tilted toward the other remaining player, Kodiak felt his chest begin to tighten. Heâd worked it out, calculated the riskâwell, okay, guesstimated itâfiguring out how much he needed to lose and how much he needed to win. The hack in the servitor dock far beneath his feet would not only throw the games computer, but block any failsafe, preventing alerts being sent to casino security, keeping the games floor open even when the monetary losses became too heavy.
And it would work. Of course it would work. But that didnât stop him from being nervous. Kodiak reached for his glass and went to take a sip before remembering it was empty.
At the other end of the table, the other player sat and stared at his equation, not lifting a finger to try and solve it. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Still
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