Agent Kell walked away from the table with SHRIMP, his last remaining charge. The diminutive aquatic alien raced toward the next game as fast as his crabthrall servitors could carry the heavy tank and keyboard, which, Kell was acutely aware, was not very fast at all.
“WHAT’S THIS GAME?” A printout asked. SHRIMP had slowed as several of the crabthralls scuttled out from underneath the tank to tap out the message.
They had entered the section of table games devoted to craps, baccarat, and pai gow. Unsure of which table SHRIMP indicated, Kell decided to explain the only game of the three that he even partly understood.
“It’s called craps. It’s a dice game. Pretty fun for parties, actually.”
“WHAT IS DICE?”
It took two attempts, but Kell managed to explain the concept of dice to the crabthralls, who then did their best to elucidate their somewhat dense master.
By the time SHRIMP felt ready to play, a sizeable crowd had gathered at the craps table, drawn partly by the strange alien and partly by a hot shooter, who crapped out just as SHRIMP and Kell had bought a stack of chips.
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“New shooter up!” The croupier called out, shoving the dice toward the ambassador with a long stick.
Two tiny crabthrall servitors scuttled down onto the felt surface. With their claws, they weakly tapped the dice, sending the cubes tumbling forward, end-over-end, until they came to rest.
“Throw’s gotta hit the back wall,” the croupier scolded.
“How about I do it?” Kell intervened, picking up the dice for his charge.
“WHAT DO I DO?”
“Just bet on the pass line.”
After the little crabs had moved SHRIMP’s chips, Kell tossed the cubes with some strength, sending them bouncing against the back wall of the long table.
“The point is ten!” The croupier announced, placing a marker on the table that matched the value of Kell’s dice.
“THIS IS FUN. WHAT DO I DO NOW?”
Kell grabbed the printout, allowing a snooping pit boss in a black dress to read over his shoulder.
“You can stay on the pass line until he craps out,” the casino employee explained helpfully, “and you can also bet on individual throws.”
“I LIKE THE ONE WITH THE TWO FOURS.”
“That’s a hard eight.” The boss said, nodding her head.
A squadron of scuttling crabs carried a stack of chips onto the table, covering the picture of the two dice showing four pips each.
“Here goes nothing,” Kell said before throwing the dice.
They clattered and came to rest, the equilateral pattern of dots showing an eight, the hard way.
“Winner!” the croupier announced.
“Hell yeah!” Kell pumped his fist.
“Congratulations.” The pit boss smiled.
“THIS IS FUN.”