At poker, Rafferty knew he could beat any
man alive. Now, needing money badly, he walked
into the Ganymede Casino looking for a patsy....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
December 1957
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Rafferty was a gambler of the old school. He didn't believe in any of
the fancy electronic gadgets that the casinos went in for these days,
didn't much care for the psionic games of chance and other tricky and
probably rigged affairs. Give him a good poker game any time, and he
would be happy.
He stood in the door of the Ganymede Casino, outlining himself against
the gaudy lights flashing within, standing there patiently. Inside, the
rich and would-be rich of a dozen planets were enjoying themselves,
playing the brightly-lit games and throwing money around in handfuls.
Rafferty waited for some attention. His hand slid to the bulky roll in
his pocket--one hundred hundred-credit bills, 10,000 smackers in all.
It was all Rafferty had. He was here to triple it, or else.
Tomorrow 30,000 had to be handed over to Lee Walsh. It was the result
of the one mistake Rafferty had made.
Walsh was a big-time gambler, with ulcers and high blood pressure and
ten million in the bank. Rafferty was straight middle-time, a man who
genuinely enjoyed his chancy profession. And Walsh had said, "Why don't
you play something _I_ like to play? All the time poker, poker, poker.
Why don't you switch to something else."
"I like poker," Rafferty said. "I win at poker. Why switch?"
Walsh seemed to stiffen. "Let's have a little game of planet-faro,
Rafferty. Just you and me. I'm tired of all this poker."
"I don't like planet-faro. It's a lousy game. All those flashing
lights--it's more like pinball than honest-to-darn gambling."
"You ain't chicken, Rafferty?"
"Chicken?"
"Yeah. Let's try some planet-faro."
So they did--and Rafferty had sat by leadenly while Walsh cleaned him
out. Thirty thousand shiny credits down the drain, and the debt due
tomorrow at noon. You didn't welsh on Walsh, either. It was sort of a
slogan.
Rafferty didn't have the thirty thousand. He had two alternatives: he
could scrape up the cash somewhere and hand it over, or he could grab
an out-system liner and get going toward Aldebaran, and hope to live.
He wouldn't--not for long.
He decided to scrape up the cash. And there was one sure way to do
that. Poker.
Poker was getting to be an unpopular game, and there were two reasons
for it. One was the advent of more popular new types of gambling
devices; the other reason was that Rafferty was so good it didn't pay
to compete against him. He often had trouble getting up a game. People
tended to slink away when they heard Rafferty wanted to play poker. He
played it hard and he played it mean, and he didn't lose too often.
That was why he had come to the Ganymede Casino. On the big
pleasure-moon, anyone could find some sort of game going--and if he
couldn't, the house would be glad to provide some competition. Rafferty
didn't much like the idea of playing a house operator, but he was
confident.
He patted the ten g's and waited. After a couple of minutes an
impeccably-dressed man in tails came over to him and smiled courteously.
"Yes, sir?"
"My name is Rafferty. I'm looking for a poker game in the house. There
one around I can get into?"
The impeccable man frowned slightly. "I don't think so,
Mr.--ah--Rafferty. Wouldn't you care to try our Roto, or the
planet-faro, or robot roulette? We--"
"I want to play poker," Rafferty said. The chips were down now; he had
to stick to his specialty.
"Well, I'll see what I can do. Would you wait here, please?"
Rafferty waited. He waited while the impeccable man cruised around
the huge gameroom, murmuring gently to someone here, someone there.
In all cases the response was the same: a shrug, a curious glance in
Rafferty's direction, a quick and emphatic shake of the head.
No one wanted to play. Usually Rafferty could count on some fool
millionaire anxious to try to best the great Rafferty at five-card
stud. Not today, though. There were no takers.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rafferty; I couldn't seem to promote a game. But the
planet-faro--"
"Poker," Rafferty said.
"Would you object to playing a two-handed game with one of our
employees?" the usher asked suddenly. "Naturally he'll be staked by the
house, and I think you'll find him fit competition for you."
Rafferty chewed at his lip. He needed the money--and if the house
operator was staked by the casino, it might be possible to cart off
quite a load.
"Okay," he grunted. "Bring on your shill."
* * * * *
The usher led him to a small, highly-polished card table in the back,
and signalled to a man waiting to one side.
"Mr. Steel, this is Mr. Rafferty."
"Hello," Rafferty said.
"Pleased to meet you," said the other. His voice was a soft purr; his
face, an expressionless mask. Rafferty smiled. He was quick to size up
his opponents, and this time he could tell he was up against a good one.
"Chips?"
A house girl had come by. She was clad only in a strip of something
filmy across her breasts and another round her middle, and she had a
trayfull of chips. Rafferty casually handed her the hundred bills and
accepted his stack of chips. She also gave him an unopened deck of
cards.
"Care to?" Rafferty asked, offering the cards to his opponent.
"No. Go ahead."
Methodically Rafferty broke the seal, spilled the cards out, flipped
the jokers to one side, and riffled through the deck. There were
fifty-two of them, all right, and they looked good. He started to
shuffle.
The first few hands passed quickly. Steel was a quiet, noncommittal
player who seemed to have a tremendous reserve of calmness. It wasn't
too surprising, thought Rafferty, considering it wasn't his dough at
stake. But a shill has professional pride.
The first three deals were in the nature of warmups, and Rafferty
emerged from them twenty or thirty credits to the good. He felt the
cards moving the right way; luck was with him tonight. He wondered if
he could come away with a million. The Casino had no limit.
Fourth hand he decided to experiment with some offensive tactics. Steel
dealt; Rafferty scooped up his cards and looked them over. Jack, Four,
Eight, Seven, King. Spade, club, spade, heart, diamond. Coolly he
fanned the cards out and pushed a hundred credits toward the middle of
the table. Steel saw him.
"How many?"
"I'll stand pat."
"So will I."
"Five hundred," Rafferty said.
"See that and raise it a hundred."
"I'll bump to two."
"I'm with you," Steel said. "What do you have?"