Shattered Legacy by Shane R. Daley

open and tanned. He looked somewhat older than his twenty-four years, though he was the youngest in the group by at least five years.
    He glanced up at his coworkers in turn. Like the others sitting around the circle, he was wearing a white construction hat and dressed in a blue maintenance jumpsuit with Templar Enterprises insignias printed on the breast and back. Throughout the hand, Kanavos refused to look down at the pile of cash in the middle of the circle. He had lost the last two hands, and if he lost this one, he would have to sit out for the rest of the game. Worse than that, he would have no money for his midnight 'lunch'.
    “All right,” he muttered. “I'll see you, and I'll raise you another buck.”
    The group was sitting on scaffolding beside the TSO-2 orbiter's port side wing. Halogen lights from the ceiling of the Vehicle Assembly Building beamed down, throwing crisscrossing shadows through the supports above. Work progressed around them as technicians crawled over the orbiter like voracious ants. Down below, electric carts buzzed across the open floor. Sounds of large cranes and machinery echoed as larger pieces of equipment were transported from the loading docks.
    Kanavos felt a cramp coming on and shifted his legs. During breaks, hidden in shadow, his maintenance team sometimes played a few hands of poker. It was something they had done for a few weeks now. Kanavos had a knack for the game, though occasionally he purposely threw a hand or two, just to keep the others from getting too discouraged.
    “I’m in,” said the other man as he tossed another few bills on the pile. “And I'll raise you another two.”
    Kanavos looked at his cards again, and then tossed the last of his cash on the pile. “I call. What have you got?”
    The others watched as the bearded man laid down his cards. “Pair of fives,” he said, grimacing. He scratched his chin, waiting to see what Kanavos had.
    “You were bluffing?” Kanavos asked incredulously. “On a pair of fives?”
    “Yep.”
    “Wow.”
    “So, what do you have?”
    With a triumphant grin, Kanavos tossed down three fours, followed with two kings.
    “A full house.” The first man whistled softly. “How the hell do you do that, Tony?”
    “I count cards,” he replied as he reached out for his winnings. “And I cheat as a last resort.”
    “Cliff's heading this way,” the third man muttered. He was facing away from the group, watching out over the floor. The others tossed their cards at Kanavos, who quickly stuffed the deck into his pocket. As the others scattered up and down the nearest ladders, Kanavos dumped his winnings into his open toolkit, stood up, and set the small box on the smooth edge of the wing.
    “Tony!”
    Kanavos turned and squinted. Bright spotlights burned around an approaching silhouette. Heavy footsteps vibrated across the scaffolding.
    “Tony,” the figure repeated.
    Kanavos flashed a quick smile. “Cliff,” he said, casually flipping down the lid of his toolkit. “How's it going?”
    Cliff Newlon, the shift manager for Kanavos's team, stepped into the light. He was a thin, wiry man whose face carried an expression that only ranged between annoyance and anger.
    “What were you guys doing?” he demanded. He looked around with wide eyes, but all the other men had scattered.
    “When?” Kanavos replied innocently.
    “Just a minute ago.”
    “We were taking a break.”
    “There are designated break areas. You aren't allowed to take breaks on the floor.”
    “We weren’t on the floor. We were up here, on the scaffolding.”
    Newlon's scowl deepened. “I didn't mean the floor -floor. I meant that you can't take your breaks in the main assembly area. What were you doing up here, sitting in a circle?”
    “What do you think we were doing?”
    “You were playing cards again. Gambling.”
    Kanavos paused for a beat, frowning. “Are you sure?”
    “I saw you,” Newlon replied with growing exasperation. He pointed at the