“Commander Torias Alven, Investigations,” he said, eyes narrowing on the cluster of exhausted shipyard officers shuffling past. “Word is some of your people are pulling double shifts because a friendly chess club’s turned into a racket. Walk me through it – who’s winning too much, and what’s the angle?”

“I got no idea on most of it. All I know is 2 of my guys have beem slacking off for a week cause they’ve been working shifts for some guy in the Social Sciences department. They said his name was Bart, I overheard them saying he was Lt…apparently he’s been unbeatable the last few weeks in that new 3D chess club in rec lounge 13K” Traan shrugged, not knowing if that was enough for the security officer to go on.

“That’s a great start. I’ll pull up more details on this Bart and we’ll make sure we’re prepared.”

Alven tilted his head toward the cluster of boards on the viewscreen, eyes narrowing on the holographic pieces flickering in their precise orbits. “Alright, so what’s the pattern? One guy winning every game, or a few of them taking turns bleeding your people dry? Nobody gets this kind of streak without help.”

“I’m not much of chess player, but it strains credulity to say the least. He’s cheating.” Traan said as he and Alven sat in a nondescript office (that Alven had procured for this sting operation) down the hall from rec lounge 13k near the promenade.

Alven thumbed open his tricorder, scanning the boards as if they were crime scenes instead of leisure tables. “Hidden subroutines in the holo-emitters? Signal jammers throwing off focus? Or is it good old-fashioned sleight of hand: fast moves the sensors don’t pick up?” His gaze cut back to Traan. “You’ve been watching. What smells wrong to you?”

“Sleight of hand…would be my guess….so, think we got enough to do a sting?” In the intervening time Alven had heard reports that 3 other crewmembers had fallem prey to thos shark ams were now workong double shifts.

Alven’s attention drifted to the pair of junior officers trudging by, eyes half-shut with fatigue. “And your people – why’d they keep playing if they were losing that badly? Pride? Or did someone lean on them to stay in the game?” A beat, his expression hardening. “Debts don’t rack up this fast without a push.”

“Pfft, that I couldn’t tell ya…bit they are dock workers…and we are usually a bit more rough around the edges then most….slight gambling addiction maybe. I referred 2 guys for reprimamds and suspensions for being drunk on duty just last week” Traan snickered derisively about some of his underlings lifestyles.

Alven’s voice dropped just enough to cut through the low murmur of the promenade. “Doesn’t matter if it’s a few strips of latinum or a few hours of overtime. A con is a con, and if it’s happening on my station, we’re shutting it down. So, who do we sit across from first tonight?”

“How about I’ll play the rube and you sit and watch from that office down the hall tonight. And we catch him in the act? Extortion and fraud committed against a crewmate… grounds for court martial isn’t it?” Traan replied.

“Let’s see what happens. Sometimes the fear of a permanent stain on their record is enough to shake them into good behaviour.” Alven tapped his fist on the table. “I think you’re the perfect mark. A wily lieutenant commissioned from the ranks. I’m sure you’re capable of playing a part?” Alven leaned in, looking at Traan. “The overconfident older officer? Drop a few lines that imply that confidence doesn’t come with a real understanding of the game?”

“I think I might be able to pull that off….I’m guessing you’ll be watching remotely to figure out how’s cheating?”