The Last Legion: Book One of the Last Legion Series Read Online Free Page A

Inside was a thick roll of bills. He dressed hurriedly, making sure his boots were carefully strapped.
    Njangu’s eyes were open. “What’s going on?”
    “There’s a game back in the refresher. Thought I’d get in it.”
    “Didn’t think you were a gambler.”
    “I’m not.” Jaansma hesitated. “And neither is the guy with the cards. He’s a mechanic.”
    Njangu sat up. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
    “Make me some money.”
    “Be careful.”
    “I’m always …” Jaansma broke off, thought a minute. “You want in on the action?”
    “I don’t play cards.”
    “You don’t have to. Look, I just got an idea that’ll make for a lot of fun for everybody.”
    Garvin spoke in low, quick tones. Njangu frowned, then started grinning.
    “One question,” he said. “Why’re we doing this? It could mean trouble.”
    “Didn’t you just answer your own question?”
    “Maybe I did,” Yoshitaro said. “Sure. We can do it like that.”
    Jaansma peeled some bills from the roll.
    “Here. Give me, oh, fifteen minutes.”
    • • •
    Garvin curled the five cards in his hand, examined them. Not good, not bad. This was the fourth hand he’d played. He’d dropped out of two, bet on one and lost.
    “Ten credits to play,” the woman said, and tossed a bill into the center of the blanket.
    Garvin tossed two coins on top of the ante, and other notes followed. Three players, including Kipchak, stayed in.
    “Go ahead, kid,” the dealer said. “You’re off.”
    “I take one,” Jaansma said, discarding and taking a single card from the five-card widow, and the dealer replaced it from the deck in his hand.
    “No help,” he sighed, and tossed his hand into the discards.
    Betting went around twice, and Kipchak took the small pot.
    The dealer was shuffling when Yoshitaro slipped in. “Hey, Kipchak,” Njangu said. “I’ve got the money I owe you. Found a dice game yesterday.”
    Petr blinked, looked hard at Njangu, was about to say something. Yoshitaro moved his head slightly up, down.
    “Oh. Yeah. Hold my place.” Kipchak got up.
    “I got it in my bag,” Njangu said, and the two went out.
    Another hand was dealt, and the dealer won.
    Petr and Njangu came back in. Kipchak’s face was dark, stormy, then calmed. He sat down, and Njangu leaned against a bulkhead, not far from the lookout, someone who couldn’t sleep and was boredly kibitzing.
    The game went on for another hour. Garvin noted that one man licked his lips when he was bluffing, the woman pulled absently at a lock of her hair when she had a strong hand, other traits. But mostly he watched the dealer. The luck went back and forth, but the credits slowly and steadily flowed toward the heavy man with the ring.
    Finally Garvin stretched his legs, and happened to tap Petr with his toe.
    “ ‘Scuse me,” he said. Kipchak didn’t answer.
    “Wisht we had some quill,” a man grumbled. “Losin’ like I’m doin’ is easier if you’re not too sober.”
    The dealer swept up the cards, shuffled them hastily.
    “Mind if I cut?” Jaansma said.
    “No,” the dealer said shortly. “You’re right.” He set the deck down on the blanket.
    “Deep and weep, thin and win,” somebody intoned.
    Garvin picked up the deck in one hand, cut it smoothly. The dealer looked at him carefully, took the deck, and cards flicked out.
    It was quiet in the refresher except for the soft whine of the conditioner fans, and the snap of the cards being dealt, the sound a bit louder than it might’ve been.
    The dealer’s lips quirked when he picked up his hand. “This one’s got to be expensive,” he announced. He picked up bills. “One hundred even to see if I’m braggin'.”
    “I’ll play,” Kipchak said, and put most of his small reserve in the pot.
    “Me too,” Garvin agreed.
    Two others stayed, two tossed in their hands.
    “I’m taking two cards,” Jaansma said, and his hand passed over the widow as he discarded. His expression didn’t change