The docking platform that Lilliana and Regan had just left stuck out like a lone fan blade from a circular hub which communicated among three of the Finger’s casinos and their associated hotels and other subsidiaries. The hub itself had all the features of a bustling passenger spaceport, and served the functions of one, as well. Most of the large craft which stopped for a few spins on the roulette wheels didn’t land, but merely put themselves on an “anchorage heading” with the drifting complex and either used their own shuttlecraft or took advantage of the Finger’s.
“Keep your eye and your ears open for an ambush,” Lilliana said to Regan as they made their way through the flow of humans, parahumans, and non-humans. Regan, with her spiked-up hair, obvious armament, and barbaric-looking eyepatch, was given a wide berth even in a crowd that included beings with spikes and tentacles. “If he’s going to try for an attack with plausible deniability, this would be the time and place. Here, in the crowd.”
“There! Right there!” Regan said, suddenly stopping and pointing down over the railing at the other side of the curving corridor.
Lilliana spun in place and jumped back, throwing her back against the wall. The force of her pulse pounding in her ears drowned out all other sounds, until she calmed down for a moment and realized that nobody was shooting, least of all Regan.
Instead, the Hibernian mechanic was leaning over the railing, pointing.
“There, what?” Lilliana asked, the adrenaline slowly draining from her body.
“Is that an ambush?”
Lilliana took a few cautious steps towards the railing, enough to see that Regan didn’t appear to be pointing at any person or being. She took a few moments to compose herself, then stepped up to the railing and looked down across the way.
“No, that is not an ambush,” she said. “It appears to be a synthetic leather goods store.”
“Are ya sure?” Regan asked. “Because it looks an awful lot like an ambush to me. Hey, do ya think they sell those new smart boots there?”
“Regan, this isn’t a shopping trip,” Lilliana said. “You don’t even need boots, with your void suit.”
“All I mean is, if they’re all that smart, then they could be in on it, like,” Regan said. “Maybe I should hop on down there an’ interrogate a few o’ them then?”
“You don’t need sentient footwear, Bard,” Lilliana said. “Let’s stay on task.”
“Well, then, if they aren’t in on it, they could be on our side, like,” Regan said. “I mean, the Bastard has got ya so twitched because we don’t know what’s goin’ on. A pair of smart boots could be our man inside, a couple o’ ears to the ground to give us the word on the street.”
“No, Regan.”
“But have ya seen how they make them? They’re custom grown,” she said. “Ya put yer feet in a bucket an’ they add the culture shite to it, an’ the boots just grow around ‘em…”
“I’m sure it’s enthralling,” Lilliana said. “But we can’t afford the distraction.”
“Course I can afford it,” Regan said indignantly. “I’m the son o’ the high king, aren’t I?”
“Of course you are. Assuming we aren’t fleeing too hard, you can stop and get your boots on the way back to the ship,” Lilliana said. “I promise. For now, though, I need you to stay focused. Now, I know your style’s usually to shoot first and ask questions after you’ve shot a few more times, but we have to play it cool. We’re on Fortunato’s turf now. That means he sets the rules of engagement, and you can bet he’ll be playing to win.”
“Got it,” Regan said. “Be cool. Discretion’s the word, it is. Mum’s the word, too. Word to yer mum.”
“We’ll go in here,” Lilliana said, as they approached the entrance to one of the largest casinos, named after the mythical birthplace of casino gambling back on Old Earth. “Then the game will be well and truly afoot.”
The cavernously wide hallway was lined with fluorescent lights and mirrored tiles, the latter of which only made the streams of casino patrons heading both directions seem even larger. Lilliana noted the security scanners, many of which had been left just slightly visible to “reassure” gamblers that they were there. She and Bard would have passed dozens of cameras before entering the hallway. Now they were being scanned from every angle. Automated systems would be noting biometric data and cataloguing the weapons and communication devices being carried by all travelers who passed beneath the neon. More subtly, mystic runes and symbols of power were woven throughout the seemingly abstract designs of the lights. In the area of magic more so than any other branch of technology—if the word could be so applied—the casinos were locked into an ever-escalating arms race with the professional cheaters.
The tube was long enough for a full threat assessment and cross-check with the casino’s database, affiliated networks, and various law enforcement systems to be completed and any persons of interest brought to the attention of living, breathing personnel before visitors reached the halfway point. If somehow, impossibly, Fortunato had missed the approach of the Rebellion… if somebody had been asleep at the switch or had missed a memo somewhere… she was confident that her face and biometric profile would be setting off alarms all over the place.
She felt the faint tingle of the selective restriction field at the end of the tunnel, as she stepped into the foyer of the great casino. The entrants were being funneled through gates with turnstiles manned by smiling uniformed ambassadors, but those were there purely for show. They provided a tangible sense of “hey, you’re in the casino now!” for people stepping onto the floor, and presented a psychological barrier to those who might otherwise think of leaving. Everybody had already had their ages, identities, and any legal restrictions checked and verified before this point. Anybody who wouldn’t be allowed on the floor would either have been stopped in the tunnel, or would be taken discreetly aside before they reached the gates.
As Lilliana expected, they were approached halfway between the mouth of the passage and the gates.
“Ma’am?” A woman said. She wore a smartly tailored black jacket and slacks over a woven armor skinsuit. Her facial expression was friendly and professional to a fault, placid and plastic; both it and the personality behind it were probably standard issue. With a set of implanted neuromuscular responses pulling the strings, it was impossible to know what was really going through her head. A lot of mid-range poker players ran similar programs. The best, however, were strictly analog. There was more room for improvisation that way.
“Here we go,” Lilliana whispered to Regan.
“Would you and your companion mind stepping this way?” the woman said. She had a badge on her blazer which read “Hospitality Hostess”.
“Certainly,” Lilliana said, returning the smile. Her facial expressions, naturally, were analog.
The woman led them through a little L-shaped hallway into a little nook off the lobby. From most angles or at a glance, the opening would look like just another outward dip in the wavy walls. There was a door at the end of it marked “SECURE PORTAL - NO GUESTS PAST THIS POINT”.
This was it, Lilliana thought. She waited for the hostess to open the door.
“Ma’am, you’ve been selected to participate in a survey for guest relations,” she said. “It’s entirely voluntary, but for helping us out, you’ll receive vouchers good for a free meal at any of our restaurants.”
“A survey,” Lilliana said. She laughed and shook her head.
“That’s right,” she said. “It only takes an average of seven point three minutes, and that’s including this spiel.”
Lilliana leveled her best look of imperiousness, and was rewarded when the hostess’s facial software defaulted to blank for a fraction of a second. “Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” she said.
“Oh, are you a Rhodium Plus Player’s Club Member?” she asked, dialing up some polite interest. “Because if you have your chip with you, we can get those vouchers upgraded to…”
“Look, I didn’t come here to play games,” Lilliana said.
“That’s perfectly fine,” the woman said. “Our survey is intended to capture data from a broad section of guests. The Meadows is a full service entertainment complex, with live music, stage shows, a relaxing spa, and a wide-variety of fine dining…”
“You’re serious,” Lilliana said.
“Yes, ma’am, I am very serious,” the hostess said. “When I say fine dining, I am talking nine-star restaurants, I am talking xenocuisine, I am talking family-style eating…”
“Let’s cut the shit,” Lilliana said. “I get the game now. He wants to play with me? Well, I don’t feel like playing. I want to talk to him now.”
“You want me to page somebody?”
“I want to talk to the boss man,” Lilliana said. “Now.”
“I can signal for a guest care supervisor if you have an issue that needs addressing,” the hostess said. “But you should be advised that the supervisor on duty may be a genderless cloud of spores.”
“Never mind,” Lilliana said, rolling her eyes.
“Ma’am, I assure you, the spore clouds are fully qualified to handle all your concerns…”
“Just never mind,” Lilliana said. “Forget I said anything, forget the survey, forget everything.”
“I’m sorry this interaction has not been satisfactory,” the hostess said. She held out her arm and a plastic chit slid out of her sleeve. “Please accept this voucher for two free drinks and an appetizer at any of our purple-coded bars.”
“Yoink!” Regan said, snatching it.
“Come on,” Lilliana said, grabbing Regan’s arm. “Let’s get out on the floor. We’ll get his attention, one way or another. And ditch that chip somewhere.”
“But… drinks,” Regan said. “An’ appetizers.”
“You think it’s just a voucher? If Fortunato wanted us to have it, it can’t be any good.”
“S’pose we can’t be too careful, can we?” Regan said. “So, let’s find us one o’ them purple-coded bars an’ get rid o’ it, proper-like.”
“Thank you for choosing The Meadows!” the hostess called from behind them.
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