CHAPTER 5Asner had an apartment on an upper level, a suite that he shared with another, now absent. The living room was decorated with murals depicting alien worlds—strange scenes of exotic mountains, seas, rolling plains illuminated by multiple suns. The carpeting was soft, the furniture luxurious; the room itself was dominated by the round table in its centre.
“Cards?” The dealer was Mark Stanislac, a man with a mottled face and a harassed expression—an environmental engineer who had drunk too much and lost too heavily. Asner hesitated, studying his hand, and Stanislac scowled. “You going to take all night?”
“One.” Asner threw out his discard. “A big one.”
“Give me two.” Calton, from communications, sat relaxed as a cat. “Both the same.”
“You?” Stanislac stared at Varl. “You in or ou
