This piece was my unfinished attempt at NaNoWrimo 2013. Unfortunately writing often takes a back seat to life so stories are never finished in accordance to the original plan. The excerpt below is not the full story but a taster. The full story (it’s a short story!) has not been finished yet, but when it is finished I’ll place it here.

This story follows a gambler’s chain of thoughts through a game which will sound like a mix of chess and poker. There is some inspiration drawn from Iain Banks, which is despite my criticism of his works. There is some overlap in what he has written and what I link to think about. My complaint of his work would be the execution rather than a complaint of his underlying ideas.

For those that have read my collection of sci-fi short stories may also be pleased to know that this one is set in the same Universe.

Convexity

The Light was quiet this evening, despite the fact that it was hosting the big game. Space junkers still punted their wares; guards still patrolled; drinkers still drank; and those of us who gambled vast fortunes still lost. No one cared about the big game. No one, except the gamblers and even we gamblers were a rare species on the Light these days. Where was the crowd? Tonight saw half of the galaxy’s top players, all of whom staked big on great and terrible hands alike, congregate at Armon’s bar for what ought to be the most exciting game in years.

Despite losing three crates of steel no one said “oooh” or “ahhh”. Popularity had dwindled to the point where “King” Darsam lost his planet, and three billion inhabitants in a single hand, it had only been witnessed by the players and the four drunks who propped up the bar. Who knows if the drunks were paying attention or just grunting at random intervals?

A view-screen behind the bar showed the other big game of the evening. Perhaps the drunks were watching Magball? But what was the appeal in watching 40 adults running around a maze throwing a metallic ball at each other? Sure there was skill involved but the outcomes were too predictable – the same teams always won the league.

Kerval could count five teams that had won the league in the last twenty series. The amateur leagues were more exciting, greater randomness, but their appeal was far more niche and only a few people talked about them. Joining an amatuer Magball appreciation club was beyond Kerval’s interest. He admired them, the amateurs, they played with heart and local rivalries were always fierce. Another problem with the big leagues was the player churn — Blitzer Zal had played for ten teams in the last eight series. Where was the loyalty, the dedication and passion to and for one team and one set of fans?

Three hammers, two daggers and five coin cards. Shit. Kerval had let his mind wander again. His brow unconsciously furrowed, but he caught himself. Give no signals. He wanted to scratch the itch at the end of his nose but feared this would signal that his hands were empty. This was only the beginning and already it felt like a rout.

He looked at his cards again and hoped they had changed. A card of four coins, the best he held, but the other two coin cards weren’t charged. They were blank; no coins. He guessed that a single card of four wouldn’t be enough to overturn the five separate coin cards of his nearest opponent. The first player was strong; Kerval was second in line to play but he was empty. Four sets of eyes to his left waited for him to make his move. If he could play the three plus the two empty coins then he might be able to bluff a defence.

The first player had a good hand and knew it. This gentleman had played his cards face up and was notably smug about it. Kerval cringed. No signals. Unfurrow that brow. Keep those lips straight. It was a mantra for Kerval. The face-up placement of cards was bold but not wholly arrogant. He saw it as a confident move with much merit. Such moves often ward off bluff attacks that can bleed a player before a large assault later in the game. Kerval had been, and had often partaken in, double teaming a number of opponents. Everyone at this level knew it would happen several times in a series.

There was a chance that if Kerval placed his hand face down he could pretend to have untold power. It wasn’t common for players to place very powerful cards face down in order to lure opponents into a trap. It can work wonders: an opponent’s ten card power play can be demolished in a single hand. Kerval smiled, almost laughing. What was he going to do with a backwards planet with a population of three billion primitives? Darsam had practically handed him the keys to the palace. Although Kerval knew that he might be forced to wager all of that in this game. He’d lose the planet but stay in the game. You win some, you lose some.

[More to come! Watch this space]