“What?” Kem was outraged. He was twice as big as the runt but held back. “Aces, this guy cost me a big score! For no good reason he comes in here mouthing off, I’m distracted, and—”
“I saw all that,” said Aces. “Also that you were about to be blown sky-high. So he put you off a little—maybe. So what? Didn’t you hear what the man said? He said five gets you fifteen he’s the best.”
Kem looked past Aces at Pavanaz. “Shit,” he said, “this beanpole doesn’t look like he ever had fifteen!”
Pavanaz waved a wad at them. “I have it,” he said; “and a lot more. But I’m greedy and you suckers are in here spending money that could be mine. So can you play or can’t you? I mean, if you don’t want to try me out—hell, there are other arcades where I won’t be wasting my talent!” He offered them his best come-and-get-it sneer, and began to turn away. But Aces caught his sleeve and stopped him.
Pavanaz looked at the hand on his arm until it was taken away, then said: “Yeah?”
“Kem could probably take you,” said Aces, all soft-voiced. “And if he can’t, I sure as hell can.”
So you’re the big cat around here, are you? But out loud Pav said, “Zat right, Kem? You play good? You can borrow five to go after my fifteen?”
“I don’t borrow shit!” Kem slapped a five into Aces’ open hand. Aces held out his hand to Pav, who stuck three fives in it. “What’s your name, anyway, beanpole?” Kem scowled. “I like to know whose money I’m spending.”
“Name’s Grint Pavanaz,” said Pav, “but you can call me The Man.” Kem’s score was still lit up on the ’Vader screen. Nine hundred and eighty-seven thousand was OK—but only just. Pavanaz knew he could beat it without even trying, but he wouldn’t.
“Checking my score?” Kem grinned. “Starting to feel warm?” But then he snarled again: “Remember, it would have been a lot higher if you hadn’t bust in here mouthing off!”
“That was when you were playing for laughs,” Pav told him. “Anybody can make a score when there’s nothing riding. But now it’s for money, which is different.” He bowed sarcastically and offered Kem the bucket-seat. “You want to show me what you’re made of?”
“Brother—Pfefferminz?—do you have things to learn!” Kem grinned and climbed into the bucket, paid for the game, scored almost one and a quarter million before being scrambled. But he was an amateur like the rest of them. They didn’t live it, that was their trouble. And this time Pav wouldn’t either.
He got into the seat, let her roll and was taken out with a score of seven hundred and sixty thousand. Kem was jubilant. He laughed at Pav and yelled, “Hey, you got any more of the green stuff you want to give away?”
The crowd hee-heed and hoo-hooed. Pav scowled. “So you were lucky. Hell, it was the first time I played this model!”
“Excuses, excuses!” Kem snorted, laughing nasally.
Pavanaz scowled harder, yanked out his wad. “Laughing boy,” he said, “I got eighty-seven here, all I’m holding. My eight-seven against yours—or is that too rich for you?”
Aces stood to one side, arms folded on his chest. Not as innocent as he looked, he believed he’d seen all this before. Heard about it, anyway. His eyes narrowed where they followed Pav’s every move. Kem, on the other hand: he obviously wasn’t thinking straight—or maybe he was bloated with success.
Eighty-seven creds! Kem’s mouth formed a silent “O.” He counted thirty-one out of his pocket, plus the twenty Aces was holding. “Fifty-one,” he said, biting his lip. “I’m looking for thirty-six more. Anyone want to double his money, fast?”
“I’m with you, Kem!” A shriveled kid with specs pushed his way forward. He counted out thirty-six into Kem’s sweaty paw.
Which was when Aces cut in. “You sure you want to do this?”
Kem grinned. “Are you kidding? This is candy!”
“I’d say it was hard shekel,” Aces retorted. “But—” and he shrugged, “—it’s your ass.”
Kem still couldn’t see it. “Hell, no! It’s his ass, Aces!”
The opponents handed over their cash to Fat Bill, who just happened to be standing there. And Pav told Kem: “Your turn in the hot seat, I believe?”
Kem clocked a million six hundred and forty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-one—and Pav took it exactly nine higher to a million six hundred and fifty thousand. This time Kem had sweated, but Pav wasn’t even mildly fazed.
As he got down from the bucket Kem looked at his score, shook his head, and staggered away through the crowd to throw up in a corner. Fat Bill stood them with his bottom jaw flapping and the money flapping in his hand—until Pavanaz snatched it from him. And: “That’s all, folks,” Pav grinned.
“Not so fast, hotshot,” said Aces, having moved in close. “You knew you could beat him. It was robbery.”
“Now you’re really joking,” Pav sneered. “Is it illegal to bet on a sure thing? Or are you saying he was the best you have to offer, and you don’t much cotton to a new champ? Sure it was robbery. Like he said: candy from a baby! So unless the rest of you kids have business with me, I’ll just—”
“My turn,” Aces cut in. “I can’t fly as high as you, Paraquat, but I’ve got fifty—if you’d care to go for it…?”
Pavanaz looking like he might accept, narrowed his eyes, then said: “Naw, who needs it?”
“You’re backing off? Backing down?” Aces’ face was blank.
Pavanaz shook his head. “Lessons from me are expensive,” he said. “Fifty—” he shrugged “who needs it?”
Aces nodded sourly. “You played Kem when all he had was five. What’s wrong, Paraquat? Nerve gone?”
“I’d seen Kem’s game.” Pav grinned. “He looked easy to me.” His words sounded loose but he’d chosen them with care.
“You only play the easy ones?” Aces spoke quietly but his words held a sneer. The sort that said: brother, you are real chickenshit! The crowd held its breath.
Pavanaz made himself go white. He’d had the practice; it wasn’t hard. “Find another twenty-five—make it seventy-five—” he snapped, “you’ve got yourself a game!”
The rest of the gang forked out and again the stake went to Fat Bill. And Bill was grinning now. He liked Pavanaz a lot.
Five minutes later it was all over; Pavanaz had a pocketful of creds; the kids followed him as he went back out through the humidity doors to his ’Vader. When they got there he turned and said: “Listen, chumps. This one is mine and it makes those antiques in back look like so much scrap. But this is a nasty big old planet for nice expensive metal like this, which is why the Fat Man is going to find me a nice dry room all my own to keep her in. If you guys are good, I might let you watch me practice with this baby. And if you’re especially good—you could even get to play a game or two yourselves! So tell me, am I good to you or am I good to you.”
“Shaganass,” said Aces, now recovered. “I just can’t hate someone who plays like you do. But I can’t admire you either. So let’s just say I’m coldly indifferent.”
“What you mean is,” said Pavanaz, “that you’d like to try out my ’Vader, right? Live and let live? Forgive and forget?”
“I didn’t say that,” said Aces. “In fact I’d like to see you get your ass best! But I’m not the one who can do it to you, so in fact I’m not going to have anything to do with you. ’Cos you just don’t smell right. Look after yourself, Parrotsquat.” And he turned on his heel and left.
But the rest of them were putty in Pav’s hands. He played for them; they oohed and aahed! He let them play, watched as they got blasted all over space. He was light-years ahead of them. Any fool could see that….