PANDORA

I watched the Nīpa's whiskers twitch and forced myself to take deep breaths, so my satisfaction wouldn't show on my face.

He wasn't the first Nīpa I'd encountered with that particular tell. Most people never noticed, because the Nīpa's constantly sniffing noses made their whiskers twitch all the time. But this was a different kind of twitch, one I'd picked up on in nearly a decade of lingering in gambling dens. It followed a fast, short rhythm, tick-tick-tick, and made the Nīpa's pointy, rodent-like muzzle wrinkle.

"Nīreep," the Nīpa said. His whiskers tick-tick-ticked all the faster.

Ante-up, basically. I shifted my Kāchik bag in my hand, letting the stones roll beneath the worn leather as if contemplating. I knew what was in my bag. If this bluff went wrong, I'd have to make a run for it, and this was the last gambling den in the sector that I hadn't thoroughly plundered. I'd have to move, find a new shithole for me and my birds to live in. And I knew at any moment I could slip, that my facial expression or body language would give off some signal I hadn't intended it to.

Nothing for it, Xan. Hesitate too long and he'll get suspicious. I reached for my pile of chips and, hoping for an air of nonchalance-not one I tended to pull off very well-shoved the entire set into the middle of the table with the rest of the prize pool.

My opponent's whiskers stopped moving all together. He heaved a dramatic sigh and I held my breath, awaiting his decision. Finally, he threw down his Kāchik bag.

"Fold," he said, his voice rising I watched the Nīpa's whiskers twitch and forced myself to take deep breaths, so my satisfaction wouldn't show on my face.

He wasn't the first Nīpa I'd encountered with that particular tell. Most people never noticed, because the Nīpa's constantly sniffing noses made their whiskers twitch all the time. But this was a different kind of twitch, one I'd picked up on in nearly a decade of lingering in gambling dens. It followed a fast, short rhythm, tick-tick-tick, and made the Nīpa's pointy, rodent-like muzzle wrinkle.

"Nīreep," the Nīpa said. His whiskers tick-tick-ticked all the faster.

Ante-up, basically. I shifted my Kāchik bag in my hand, letting the stones roll beneath the worn leather as if contemplating. I knew what was in my bag. If this bluff went wrong, I'd have to make a run for it, and this was the last gambling den in the sector that I hadn't thoroughly plundered. I'd have to move, find a new shithole for me and my birds to live in. And I knew at any moment I could slip, that my facial expression or body language would give off some signal I hadn't intended it to.

Nothing for it, Xan. Hesitate too long and he'll get suspicious. I reached for my pile of chips and, hoping for an air of nonchalance-not one I tended to pull off very well-shoved the entire set into the middle of the table with the rest of the prize pool.

My opponent's whiskers stopped moving all together. He heaved a dramatic sigh and I held my breath, awaiting his decision. Finally, he threw down his Kāchik bag.

"Fold," he said, his voice rising to distressed squeakiness.

Ha! Can't read people, can I? You'd be amazed what necessity can do for a person. I smiled, trying for gracious rather than triumphant, and reached out to sweep the pot to me. As I sat back in my chair, activating the magnetics so the chips would pull together in a convenient tube, the Nīpa remained in his seat, staring at me. Nerves rose in my stomach like the swelling of a wave.

"What did you have?"

"Doesn't matter," I said quickly, snapping up the last of the chips with the magnetized end of the stack. "Look, I actually need to get back to-"

He stood up on his chair and I tried not to flinch. A lot of people underestimated the Nīpa, who as a species rarely stood taller than a meter. But they also had a meter-plus of long, lightly-furred tail, and my current opponent's nasal horns were impressively large. My fellow humans might regard the Nīpa dismissively as "horned space rats," but I had enough experience with them to know better.

"What did you have?" he repeated.

Slowly, I reached for my Kāchik bag and upended it onto the table. My opponent's large black eyes bulged in shock and dismay.

I had two red stones, which were pretty good; they could take out green, yellow, and dark blue. But I also had a pair of white stones, which could only top out brown stones, a yellow, which only topped light blue, and a truly pathetic beige, which only topped white. Altogether, it was one of the shittier Kāchik hands I'd ever had, and I was glad the other players-who'd been knocked out in earlier rounds-hadn't stuck around to see the outcome.

"What is this?" the Nīpa demanded. "This is not a winning hand! You-you cheated!"

"No I-"

"Cheater! Cheater!" His voice rose to an ear-piercing shriek.

I shrank in my chair, flinching away from that sound, which seemed so loud and so sharp, piercing down through my flesh and straight into my bones. I'd never dealt well with loud noise, especially not when it was high-pitched. And now other people in the gambling den were looking up from their various games, turning their attention to us. Their gazes felt like sandpaper scraping against my skin and I wondered, not for the first time-and not, unlikely, the last-why it hurt so much, just being in a crowd.

"Bluffing," cut in a new voice, cool, soft, and authoritative in tone, "is not against the rules of Kāchik, to my knowledge."

Both myself and my opponent looked up, though not very far; the woman standing over our table couldn't have been taller than a meter fifty. At the same time, her presence filled the room. She regarded us expressionlessly, her features smooth except for the thin scar over one eye. Her dark hair was pulled back in a twist as authoritative as her voice, and she wore what looked like a uniform, with a high collar, and what I thought might be the trappings of a captain. That's not an Alliance uniform, though. It was gray and black, not blue.

"Well, no," my opponent admitted, cowed. "But-"

"There are ways to cheat, of course," the woman said, reaching out for my opponent's Kāchik bag. "I understand it helps if someone is in on it with the house, so the draw bag can be properly fixed."

She upended the contents of the Nīpa's bag and I stared as the stones spilled across the table. Two red, a dark blue, a deep sepia, and three black stones. Black stones could beat any color, and there were only every ten in the draw bag. Seeing how eight had already been played during the course of the game-I always kept track, because it was a common cheat for a player to promise the house some of his winnings in return for "assistance"-it was clear who the cheater here was.

"You scaly-tailed son of a Won Tak," I exclaimed. "You had three black stones and you still folded?"

"I thought you had black stones too-"

"Sweet Mother Universe! If you're going to cheat, at least do it competently. Eight black stones were already played! The most I could have possibly had was two."

He growled, leaning across the table towards me. Oops. Usually, I knew better than to rub my opponents' faces in their mistakes, but the words had just come flying out. I'd worked hard to control that habit, as I'd grown up and learned that people didn't much like it when you blurted out a string of blunt, honest opinions. Sometimes, though, it was like there was a customs check between my brain and my mouth, and occasionally the customs officers got lazy.

The mysterious woman leaned on the table, putting herself between me and the angry Nīpa. "I'm sure my young friend would be willing to let it slide," she said. "No one else has to know."

She tilted her head towards the rest of the gambling den. Most of our watchers had gone back to their games, unwilling to involve themselves in a fight. They'd perk right back up, however, if this woman started announcing that the house was interfering in non-house games. And my Nīpa friend here would be in deep, because the house didn't like to be found out. They'd find some way to wriggle out of it, using him as the scapegoat.

"Let what slide?" the Nīpa asked, sliding back down into his chair and climbing from there to the floor. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Me neither," the woman said. "You have a good evening."

"Fīreen jochāk," the Nīpa muttered as he disappeared into the huddle of tables.

I stared after him. "Wow, that was rude," I said, as I popped to my feet. "Well, thanks for the help, lady, but we both know we're not friends, so..."

"A moment, please," she responded, holding up a hand. "I'd like to speak with you. I have a table reserved upstairs, at the restaurant."

"I don't even know who you are." I took a wary step back, bracing to bolt.

"Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Chui Shan Fung, captain of the starship Carpathia."

I started to take another step back, then froze. "Carpathia? The Carpathia?"

The Carpathia was famous in some circles, infamous in others. She was an independent first contact and aid ship, working completely outside the government sphere of influence-and doing so with such efficacy that the government was known to take Captain Chui's advisement on a number of issues, not to mention allow the Carpathia to slide by with some...less than legal modifications.

On the other hand, the Alliance First Contact Division, whose job first contact officially was, didn't much care for the Carpathia and her crew. They really ought to appreciate her, I always thought, because she did what they supposedly cared about doing-the problem was, she tended to do it better. My latest peek at the news feeds showed that the AFC was lobbying for parliament to put a stop to the Carpathia's activities.

"I see you've heard of her," Captain Chui said, with that cool countenance.

"Oh, uh, yeah." I felt my cheeks heat up and hugged the stack of chips against my chest. This woman was hard to look in the eye. "I guess you might say I have a bit of a thing for starships."

Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly-expectant, perhaps?

"Um, and xenobiology and xenozoology."

"Of course. So what the Carpathia does would be of interest to you." She nodded. "Well, now we know each other a bit better. What do you say to some dinner and a talk?"

I hesitated, hugging the chips tighter. Ten years on the streets of Wraith had taught me many things, and one of them was simply: Trust no one. This woman might be who she said she was, or she could be lying. She looked like the shots I'd seen of Captain Chui Shan Fung, but there were ways to achieve a person's likeness.

Not for the first time, I wished I could tolerate a heads-up display. Then I could run her image through a database and see how well it matched the holo-images I'd seen before. But even on its lowest setting, a HUD drew in more information than my senses could tolerate. After I collapsed from the overwhelming sensations-in public, no less, the horror-my parents had gotten it deactivated, and I'd done without ever since.

"I don't think..." I began.

"Here," the woman claiming to be Captain Chui said, reaching out and showing me a stack of chips. "For your time. They'll pay out, I swear on my honor. If I'm lying, you'll know as soon as you try to cash them in."

I reached out and snatched the chips from her before she had a chance to change her mind.

"I'm in room seven. Meet me there after you're done turning those in and we'll talk."

I suppose I could've said no. Certainly, my heart was racing with fears about why she might have tracked me down. If she knew who I really was... But I've worked so hard to make sure no one knows. And it's not like my parents have been open about it. I'd see if the chips paid out before I made a decision. If she was willing to pay, and really only wanted to talk, well, I could use the extra money. Shitholes were always expensive to rent on Wraith, and my current one was shittier and more expensive than usual.