Assara was a small desert moon, orbiting its gas giant parent at a distance just great enough to put it outside the planet's radioactive reach. It had little to offer, really. It was cold, dusty, and barely capable of supporting the microbic life that had evolved there millions of years ago. It did have one thing in its favour, however: its location.

Assara was in the gray zone, an area of known space almost central to the six worlds. None had ever claimed it, and no rules applied. Which was why Kalam Tae had sprung up and, in the eighteen years since the cease- fire, thrived.

Officially, Tae was a spaceport. It was also a glowing tribute to vice and hedonism. Once the visitor had paid the docking charge for his ship, there were three main ways for him to squander the rest of his money. The first was to enter one of the many bars, where you could forget your cares looking down at the bottom of a glass. The second was to pay a visit to the beautiful women of the pleasure quarters. The third was to try your luck in the Den.

The Den, or The Casino, as it was formally titled, consisted of a series of huge, dark, marble-domed chambers two levels below ground. There, people could play the establishment at dozens of games, or match themselves against machines that rarely paid out. Scattered amongst this hive of activity were smaller annexes for the private card games. It was in these areas where the real excitement was, and often the most danger, too.

At a table in one such annex sat three very different figures, playing their hands. Just under an hour ago there had been eight of them, but house rules forbade anyone who had folded to remain. People got killed that way, and that wasn't good for business.

Two of the three—a human and a reptilian Tuolon—were far from happy. Holding their losing hands, they glared at the third player, imagining all sorts of violent acts. If the third player noticed the hostility directed at him, he seemed unfazed by it. But then, he was an unusual individual, indeed.

If Sillow had been human, he would have been judged to be no more than fourteen. But he was a Sylvan, and his childlike face and adolescent build were quite normal for his twenty-seven years.

As he looked over his cards from beneath a fringe of long, dark green hair, only his large eyes could be seen; his face, of a much lighter shade than the matching hair and eyes, was hidden. It was just as well; his teeth were bared in a grin that would only have served to anger the other two players at the table even more. Finally, he gave a little nod and laid his cards face down. He took his cigar from the ashtray and began puffing on it in a self-satisfied manner.

The human, a tall, skinny man with long dark hair and slightly pockmarked features, ran a hand over two days worth of stubble.

"Make your goddamn move," he growled. "If you got the goods, show 'em."

Sillow looked at the man who, despite their current differences, had become almost a friend over the last couple of weeks, and shrugged.

"Hey, Snake, give me a break, okay?" he replied in a high voice. "This is thinking time. You can't rush something like this. I've got to decide on my bet." He looked at his cards again, studying them as he blew smoke rings in the air.

All the while, his little feet tapped on the hard marble floor. He was far more nervous than he looked. Snake might think he was trying a bluff, to unnerve his opponents, but the truth was, he was scared. He was in big trouble, and knew it, and was deciding how best to safely extricate himself—and the money he needed—from his present situation.

Although he had no idea why, Sillow was sure the Tuolon had come here for him. He'd seen the big reptile many times over the last week, and each time had sensed the danger he presented. When his ship had blown up under mysterious circumstances a couple of days ago, just as he'd been preparing to leave, he'd known he was being hunted.

Since then, he'd been busy at the card tables, making the money he'd need to get a freighter off Tae. He had to get off this rock. He had his mission to think about, after all.

But first, there was the Tuolon to worry about. Sillow had done a good job of eluding him, at least until now. Desperate to catch his quarry, the reptile had followed him into the Casino—which was a bad move. Sillow was far more at home here than the warlike Tuolon ever could be. And it was here that he'd finally come up with the plan to not only get rid of his reptilian stalker, but also get himself off this moon.

"Okay, I'm ready," he finally announced. "But if you want to see this hand, it'll cost you…"

He paused for effect. "Six more credits."

Snake cursed, imagining his hands around the little Sylvan's neck. But even were he inclined to act on the impulse, he was too aware of the sentinels, floating black spheres that were the law keepers of the Casino. He thought hard for a moment then shook his head.

"Damn your pointy ears," he snarled. "You take me on this hand, and I lose the whole pay from my last haul! I won't even have enough to pay the docking charge." He took some of the triangular black chips in front of him and threw them into the pot in the middle. "Ah, what the hell. Let's do this thing."

Sillow turned to En'n. "How about you?" he asked, knowing his reptilian companion was more than out of his depth.

The leathery green hide around the Toulon's flat, black eyes tightened, and he opened his canine-looking jaws as if to reply. However, his physiology prevented him from forming words in Amalgam, the language that had developed between the different species, and he was forced to rely on technology instead. Adjusting the electronic collar at his neck, he addressed Sillow.

"Not enough credits," he answered in a synthesized voice. "But stay, watch."

Sillow shook his head. "Sorry, En'n. You know the rules; you fold, you leave." He gestured with his cigar at the exit on the other side. "See ya."

"Stay!" the reptile snarled.

"You can't do that, En'n," Sillow said with a mocking grin.

The Tuolon's anger was rising. He stuck a clawed hand at the little Sylvan. "You try to make me leave, I—"

Sillow raised an eyebrow. "You'll what, scaly?" he taunted, provoking the reptile as far as possible.

The side of the Tuolon's leathery lip curled away from his razor teeth, "I … hurt you."

Sillow leaned back, taking a satisfied draw on his cigar. He'd done it, made the Tuolon threaten violence. En'n might not know it, but in The Casino, that was big mistake.

The faint hum of a sentinel was suddenly heard, hovering above them as it began to monitor everything in its immediate environment: heart rates, respirations, skin hormone levels. It checked its audio memory banks to match the form with the threatening voice it had detected. One of its three red optics trained on the Tuolon.

"Was your statement a threat?" it demanded in a cold, metallic voice. "Answer yes or no."

The reptile stared up at the black metallic sphere, muscles bunching as he tried to keep his violent instincts under control. "No," he answered, nostrils flaring. "Not threat." His chest heaved up and down.

"No threat here," Sillow agreed, reaching over and giving the reptilian warrior a friendly pat on the arm. "But En'n was under the impression you can remain at the table even if you aren't playing."

"Negative," the sentinel declared. It positioned itself in front of the Tuolon, red optics blinking dangerously. "State your intention now," it ordered. "Do you wish to up the stay in the hand or fold?"

En'n's body flushed with chemical messages that told him to break the droid into tin shards and then tear the Sylvan apart. With a huge effort of will, he remained in his seat and nodded his head. "Stay."

Sillow was beginning to enjoy this. He was now confident of his ability to bankrupt the reptile and then drive him into a fury. It wouldn't be difficult. Tuolons weren't normally the most cerebral species; at least, not those of the lower caste En'n obviously belonged to.

"So, what can you bet with?" he asked, leaning back and tapping a finger on his cheek. "You got no more money. How about jewelry?"

Sillow looked over the reptile's dark, simple, animal hide attire insolently. "Uh, no. No jewelry." He frowned, then snapped his fingers and grinned at the Tuolon. "I know!" he announced, pretending the idea had just come to him. "Your ship!"

The Tuolon gave a start.

Sillow took a puff on the cigar. "I could really do with one. You see—" he fixed the reptile with a knowing look "—someone blew mine up."

"Do you agree to this wager?" the Sentinel asked in its emotionless voice.

Sillow watched En'n's discomfort with more than a hint of amusement. The Tuolon, he knew, could not afford to lose his ship, but neither could he afford to let his prey out of his sight, especially now that he was finally so close. He would do everything he could to wait Sillow out.

At last he nodded, anger burning in his eyes. "Okay," he said. "I bet."

Sillow turned to Snake. "You're a witness to this, right?"

The human sighed. "Guess so."

"I am also a witness to this wager," the cold voice of the sentinel added. "If the Sylvan wins the hand, the relevant information regarding the ship's new owner will be conveyed to the docking computer." There was a pause, small lights flashing on and off as the sentinel prepared to convey the relevant signal. "Proceed with the hand."

Snake gave a shrug of his bony shoulders. "What the hell," he groaned, throwing down his cards. He had a straight.

The Tuolon looked shocked, and then relieved. He gave a soft grunt and threw his own hand down, a full house.

Snake's jaw fell. He moaned, put his hands over his face, and crumpled forward in despair.

Sillow's childlike face was unreadable. He shrugged, scratching his cheek absently and studying the cards in front of him as the others waited.

"Oh, well," he concluded. "Guess that makes me the winner." He flashed his reptilian opponent a smug look and laid a royal flush down in from of him.

En'n froze, unblinking. His chest rose and fell dangerously fast, and his fists clenched so tightly that his claws cut into his palms. He glared at the Sylvan with murderous eyes.

Sillow knew the sentinel would be monitoring it all. Time to push the Tuolon over the edge.

He took a long draw on his cigar and blew a stream of tobacco smoke toward the Tuolon, assaulting the reptile's large nostrils. "Bad luck En'n," he said, scooping the pile of credits towards him and putting them into the leather pouch around his waist. "Or, how do you say it in Tuolon? Ah, yes, I remember." He finished putting the last of the credits away and leaned forward.

"Ekstarin," he hissed in a bad imitation of the Tuolon warrior farewell.

To the cold logic of the sentinel there was nothing provocative in these actions. But Sillow knew that such familiarity, daring to speak to the Tuolon warrior as if he were of the same caste, would infuriate the reptile. Anyone not of the same clan was forbidden to use such words, and Sillow guessed En'n would find such behavior unbearable.

He guessed right.

The Tuolon roared in fury and, forgetting all other considerations swung at the Sylvan's throat with his lethal claws. With the quick reflexes of his race, Sillow backed out of range. Frustrated, En'n plunged into a berserker rage, lashing out wildly in all directions.

Sillow, realizing that Snake was in just as much danger as himself, pushed the smuggler's chair backwards, sending its occupant sprawling to the floor.

En'n lunged at the Sylvan. But before he could close the distance, the sentinel fired a beam of energy into him, disrupting his nervous system. His heavy lids closed over his eyes and he fell forward, his jaw slamming into the table before he slumped, unconscious, to the floor.

The black metallic body of the sentinel turned, a large optic focused on Sillow. "State your name and when you intend to depart."

"Silla Low," the Sylvan answered. "And I plan on leaving right now."

A wave flickered over the black metallic body as smaller lights blinked on and off in succession. "I will make the arrangements for the ship transfer," the sentinel said. "Take your winnings and depart."

Sillow needed no prompting. He nodded and was about to leave when he caught the haunted, despairing expression on his human friend's face. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a handful of credits. Turning to Snake, he motioned for the human to hold out his hands. When the smuggler complied, Sillow dropped the credits into them.

"Next batch of cigars on the house, okay?"

Snake could only nod dumbly. He looked down at the prostrate Tuolon, trickles of black blood escaping from the corners of his mouth, and then up at the metallic sphere still hovering overhead. Coughing self consciously, he looked over at the entrance to see Sillow speeding out the door.

"Guess I should be going as well," he said.

The Tuolon ship was a wreck, old and battered, and with a power core so atrophied it was a gamble even taking the thing into space. But that wasn't the worst of it. It was a two-man ship, maybe even three, and the onboard computer was monolingual.

Sillow had learned a little of the Tuolon written language at the academy, but he'd been thrown out before he'd progressed very far. It was just possible that he could get by using manual controls, but how could he do the work of two? Irritated, he brushed a lock of green hair out of his eyes and studied the cumbersome controls.

Hell, he thought. He'd just have to do his best. He couldn't hang around here any longer, especially now he knew that En'n wasn't working alone.

Decision made, he rushed out of the craft, exited docking bay forty-four, and headed for his quarters, failing to notice two figures huddling under heavy brown cloaks.

As they saw the little figure disappear down the corridor, they pulled their hoods down. They were Tuolons, and they had just watched the Sylvan taking possession of their ship.