“But I know nothing about metals beyond basic theory,” protested Titus, “and less about anthropology or any of the Cognitives.”

She gazed up at him, close enough that she might discern his contact lenses now that he’d removed his sunglasses. “Titus, how much do you expect I know about astrophysics?”

Titus eyed Abbot but detected no Influence. “I carry a Bell 990. I doubt you’d know how to turn it on.” She could have dealt easily with his old Sharp. He pulled his jacket out from under the seat and produced the 990. No bigger than his palm, it was programmed for all his routine calculations, and had his standard reference tables in ROM with a meg of Project notes. On the moon, it could take him weeks to set up a new 990 or have one reprogrammed from his home files.

Abbot raised an eyebrow in sardonic amusement.

They thought they got the calculator with my bag! Score one!

Titus passed the 990 to Mirelle and watched her turn the smooth case over. “I don’t even know how to open it!” From her bag she extracted a stubby looking, thick instrument that she handed to Titus. “Can you make this do anything?”

Titus didn’t recognize the manufacturer. He found the activation switch, but every command he tried produced an error message in a different language. Gold chuckled and reached toward Titus. “Here, let me try.”

He had no better luck, and handed it to Abbot who said, “Custom-made, isn’t it? How many languages does it speak?” Abbot, Titus expected, could use anything that had ever been made, all the way back to the abacus, and was proud of it.

“It was a gift-from an admirer. I designed the commands. It’s unique.”

Gold fingered his silver-cased Alter and the screen lit up. “Then how are we supposed to figure out how to use it before we get to the moon?”

Abbot put her instrument on the table and spun the table until she could reach it. Taking it, she said, “Watch.” She touched a sequence on the pad and the screen lit up with a picture of the Rosetta stone. “I’ll do it again. See? Now each of you show us one easy function.” When they had, she added, “All we have to do is remember all three functions until the end of the game, and then whichever calculator we end up with, we can get our own back by making it talk.”

“Suppose I get yours but can’t make it show a Rosetta stone?” Gold asked Mirelle.

“Then, Abner, whoever has yours may demand a favor. We’ll say it can’t cost more than the calculator. As soon as the favor is rendered, the calculator is returned. Also-since we all must get to work immediately-it has to be a favor that can be done right away.”

Gold eyed Mirelle. “Even a very personal favor?”

“Certainly. This is poker. It gets very personal.”

Abbot signaled for a cabin attendant and began unstrapping himself. “If you folks will excuse me for a-”

“Don’t do that!” warned Gold. “They catch you loose and they’ll send you right back to Earth.”

Abbot subsided. “Thank you, I had forgotten.”

He’s in a panic!

Abbot poked at the signal again.

“Not feeling well?” asked Mirelle. “I have some pills.”

“Oh, no-I’m fine.”

She cranked the free-fall shuffler. “Mind if I deal?”

Clearly, Abbot didn’t want to play this game, but could find no graceful way out of it short of using Influence to divert them. Abbot himself had taught Titus the cardinal rule: Influence is a last resort. Too much, and people notice their own odd behavior.

Oblivious to all this, Mirelle went on. “We’ll secure our calculators in the middle of the table. There’s a small net around here somewhere-”

While she and Gold searched the edge of the table for the compartment and found the net, passing it around to collect instruments, Abbot fidgeted. Titus had never seen his father squirm before.

When Gold passed the net, Abbot made a business of fumbling with the Varian. Suddenly, Titus knew. There’s a piece of the SOS transmitter in there!

Abbot met Titus’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed. Titus said, “This should be interesting. I’ve never won at poker against you, and I’ve never seen you stymied by a pocket calculator. But there’s always a first time for everything.”

Abbot relaxed, and with a cool smile passed the net back to Ivlirelle. Fastening the net as close to the middle of the table as she could reach, Mirelle announced, “I warn you gentlemen, I do intend to win. I hope each of you does too.”

Abbot replied, “Rest assured, I do.” And to Titus, he added, “And I shall.”

I did it! He’s going to play!

While Mirelle dealt the cards into four holders and spun the table to distribute them, Titus thought hard. Connie had said that the Tourists’ transmitter was being shipped to Project Station in seven components, which would then be assembled to look like a legitimate part of the probe vehicle. In place, it would function as what it resembled, but it would also contain the powerful transmitter that would use the probe’s antenna to send a signal hidden under the humans’ message. Two of the Tourists’ transmitter components would be programmed at Project Station: the targeting computer that would turn the antenna in case the humans sent their signal in the wrong direction, and the component holding the message itself.

Three components were at the station already, two more were being shipped as cargo, and two were being hand carried by their agent. By Abbot. One, at least, in the Varian.

Abbot would surely carry the ones he could least expect to fabricate at the station in case of loss or damage.

As if following his thoughts, Abbot said, “Titus, I am going to win.”

“We’ll see. If we play simple draw poker with no outside influences affecting the rules, I just might win.”

“That’s the spirit!” exclaimed Mirelle. “Simple draw poker it is. No wild cards, no optional hands.”

Abbot raised an eyebrow at Titus. “All right, we’ll make it a contest of pure poker skill-no other influences.”

He’s either overconfident or I’ve underestimated him. In the Past, Abbot’s apparent arrogance had always turned out to be extreme modesty. Titus wiped cold sweat off his palms. In a truly fair game, Titus knew he might even win. But-

The escort attendant poked her head in the door and called pleasantly, “Dr. Nandoha?”

He waved her away. “Never mind. I’ve become engaged.” There was no way Abbot could take the Varian with him without using Influence to make the others overlook his odd behavior.

Mirelle located the package of miniature magnetic poker chips. “Who wants to be banker?”

“You do it, Mirelle,” suggested Abner. “You’re the only woman here, and we all know what we’re playing for-don’t we, fellows?” He glanced from Abbot to Titus.

Mirelle shrugged. “I’ll divide the chips and if you run out, you’re out of the game. No bookkeeping. Whoever ends up with the most chips wins. We play until docking maneuvers and settle up in line at the boarding gate.”

“We should be able to settle up here,” objected Abbot.

Mirelle spun the table distributing the chips. “Abbot! You doubt your ability to remember calculator commands?”

Titus was disturbed by the way Abbot held her gaze. He knew all too well how Abbot used human women, and he despaired as Abbot’s lips trembled hungrily.

But the other was no more hungry than Titus at the outset of the mission. Abbot mastered himself easily. “I have not had cause to doubt my abilities in a great while.”

They fell to playing in a concentrated silence, each of them focused on the discard pile, calculating odds, measuring each others’ expressions for any hint of worry. Abbot, no doubt, wasn’t worried. He had nearly total recall.

While Abner Gold pondered his second bet, Titus caught Andre Mihelich peeking at the game over his newsletter.

“Raise ten,” announced Abner, sliding a stack of chips out, taking care that they adhered to one another and the bottom one stuck firmly to the table.