Starfist: Hangfire by David Sherman & Dan Cragg

those guys. At least one of them had to have a winner.
    "And I raise—you—all—back," Boyle said, carefully pronouncing each word as he shoved eighteen kroner into the pot.
    Now Bass considered himself more an observer of the game, not a player. Well, Boyle had hit his flush, and probably a high one at that.
    "Ahem, my dear friends and comrades," Hyakowa said gravely, counting out a stack of coins, "I reluctantly—I emphasize ‘reluctantly,’ because I hate to take money from the mentally retarded—raise you all back six kroner. This is the last raise, gentlemen, only three to a hand. House rules."
    "We all know the goddamn rules," Boyle muttered.
    "Twenty-four kroner to you Top, you too, Charlie," Hyakowa said as he shoved a pile of coins into the ante, a dangerously smug expression on his face.
    "Fuck you!" Top Myer snarled, "Next goddamn deployment, I'm gonna brief your ass the whole flight!
    I'm out." He showed two Ymers openers and some other cards that Bass did not see before the old first sergeant tossed them into the center of the table atop the coins and the other discards.
    "Charleee, it's on you." Hyakowa grinned. "You might—I only suggest it—look at your cards now, before you reluctantly, but with your usual gracious and consummate good taste and superb sportsmanship, fold and let me at last scrape into my hugely depleted coffers the winnings I have so richly earned."
    Bass shook his head. Wouldn't hurt to look. Bass looked. He pursed his lips. He scratched his head.
    "Uh, I need some change," he said, drawing a fifty-kroner note out of a pocket. He tossed it into the ante and counted out twenty-six one-kroner coins in change. "I call," he announced.
    "Well, girls, read 'em and weep," Sergeant Major Parant said as he laid down a full house, three tens over a pair of fours.
    "Beats my small straight," Horner admitted, throwing in his cards. "I'll go to Havanagas next year, maybe."
    Boyle showed a spade flush, Ymer and Frigga high. "The fate of my sainted mother is now on your head, Sergeant Major," he announced sadly.
    Hyakowa grinned and spread out four nines. The other players groaned. Sergeant Major Parant disgustedly gathered up his full house and pitched it into the center of the table. "Wang, you eat shit and whistle at the sailors."
    "He never whistled at me," Horner announced sadly, and pouted.
    "Yes, yes, indeed, my most respected sergeant major—you have too many teeth, Larry," Hyakowa said as an aside to the corpsman. "And now, Charles, the finest platoon commander in the Corps, what, pray tell, are you holding onto so tightly over there? It is only you, Dear Gunnery Sergeant Charles Bass, who stands between me and the delightful spread of fiduciary opulence on the table. Reveal thyself!"
    "Well," Bass said slowly, grimacing, "I have two pair."
    "Charlie!" Top Myer shouted. "What are you doing still in this game with only two pair?" The other players looked at Bass as if he'd lost his senses. Hyakowa laughed and reached for the money in the pot.
    "Not so fast, respected and dearly admired platoon sergeant," Bass said. "That's two pair of Odins.
    With a five kicker." He laid his cards down and spread them out. "One, two, three, and four. Four Odins. You can keep the five-spot kicker, Wang. I got two Odins on the draw." Bass grinned victoriously at Hyakowa.
    Hyakowa, entirely deflated, slumped back in his chair. "Four nines and I get beat," he whispered incredulously. "God?" he shouted toward the ceiling. "Why are you screwing with me like this?"
    "Fine hand, Charlie," Sergeant Major Parant said. "You played it like you knew what you were doing."
    He leaned over and whispered, "When the game's over, I need to see you and Top Myer in private for a little while, okay?"
    Parant would not say what it was he wanted to talk to them about until they were back in his quarters at Camp Ellis. He handed each a cold beer produced from a tiny kitchenette and indicated they should take seats in the small