Ali rolled over and spoke rapidly. “I’m sorry to admit this may be more of my father’s doing. I have played a version of ‘Little Wars’ on many occasions.” He sighed.
“Regrets later,” Scotty said. “Right now, Daddy’s perfidy might save our butts. Give it up.”
“H. G. Wells invented tabletop war gaming with tin soldiers and spring cannons. He laid out systems of rules that were used for a good century. Blocks to make toy buildings. Coin flips, at first, to win hand to hand conflicts-”
“Ali! Lose the history lesson and tell us how we use this.”
“Well…” The grubs were lined up in three armies, like three different sides of a triangle. While all were the infantile insectoid forms they had seen previously, those directly in front of them were gussied up in little British uniforms. Those across the way were relatively uncostumed, and those to the right, amid toy tripod Martian walkers, had a vaguely Lovecraftian appearance.
The Selenite soldiers carried slender insects with wasplike hindquarters. In place of artillery stood rows of potato bug-looking critters, their butts turned up in the air. Coils of glowing intestines within transparent bodies, they resembled fancy little Christmas tree ornaments. Living energy weapons, perhaps? Surely, in the game Xavier had planned for them, all this would have been explained by now.
How to make it all go? The grubs mewled and crawled in little circles, then returned to their original positions. Awaiting instruction.
Wayne’s eyes lit up. “All right. This is the same biological tech we’ve seen all over the hive. Living chess pieces, and a nice plush chair here. I’m thinking Cavor sat here. ”
“And how did he control the game?”
Wayne shrugged. “Charisma. Language skills. I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter. We have psychics. If this game module is programmed for independent action, I would bet that…” He turned and looked Maud dead in the eye. “We have someone just about perfect for this adventure.”
“M-me?” Maud asked. She struggled not to stutter. “Maybe Mickey-” She grasped at his arm as if holding on for dear life.
Politely but firmly, he peeled her hands away. “I don’t know ‘Little Wars,’ love,” he said. “I think you really are the expert this time.”
“I don’t have time to learn,” she said, eyes gleaming with fear… but something else, too. Eagerness? “We’d have to play it first,” Maud said. “Think there is an instructional program built into this?”
“Meanwhile,” Sharmela said tartly, “we’re being hunted by armed killers. Madame Deceased Guide, is there an easy way through here? Or around? The real game is to get down to the aquifer.”
Darla frowned. “I haven’t seen this place. The lights are on, so we’ve got power. No communication. It’ll be on automatic. Between the bubble rooms it’s still vacuum until we get down into the aquifer. We’re going to have to game our way through.”
Angelique said, “We would have had a meal and rest break here, I think. Fat chance of that now.”
Scotty said, “The pirates can’t fly. They couldn’t have trained on the Moon, and I broke their wings. I’d say we have an hour, maybe a little more. We can do this, people. Look-this was almost the end of the overall game, wasn’t it?”
Angelique nodded. “Probably.”
“And do things accelerate toward the end? Or do they slow down?”
“Accelerate. More betting, more monsters, usually bigger special effects.”
“And this is relatively sedate.” He waved at the lawn, the mansion, the statuary.
Wayne seemed to catch his meaning. “This is a pause, a breather before Xavier hits us with whatever he’s got at the very end. It’ll be pretty straightforward. Actual play, usually combat, as opposed to running in circles trying to figure things out. That would be frustrating for the viewers as well as us. So assuming that we have the right resources, we should be able to just… play the damned game.”
He crouched down. “Look. We’re not going to have to read some friggin’ book. Wouldn’t that be exciting to watch? I’d say that game time would be no longer than we’ve got right now in ‘real’ time.”
“So…,” Ali said thoughtfully. “We’re supposed to be able to figure it out pretty quickly.”
“Right. So look. What is this game? What is it that all war games do?”
“Simulate wars,” Angelique said.
“That’s right. Whether you’re talking football, or chess, or RPGs, there is”-he started ticking off points on his fingers-“territory to be taken, people to be captured or killed, perhaps a King or Queen to be neutralized. Tactics and strategy. Individual and group action. Defenses to be degraded, and weaponry to be destroyed or taken. The rules are just to simulate the structure or chaos of a military campaign, and allow a conclusion within some agreed-upon framework of time and location, you see?”
A thread of excitement was worming through the group, but Scotty couldn’t let himself get swept up in it. “Listen: Moresnot may be an hour crossing that gap, but we still need to set a guard. That’s me, I think.” He waited for a nod from Angelique, then slithered out the front door.
Mickey said, “Maud and I’ll take the Earth army. The Brits.”
“I’m not sure there’s another choice,” Angelique said. The chair on the Lunar side held a grub that looked annoyingly like the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.
The Martian chair was filled with another young Selenite, wearing some kind of partial facemask with antennae and pincers more mollusk than insectile.
“I’m betting that this is straightforward: Our psychic sits, and the game begins. Shall we give it a try?”
Maud sat. Instantly, a gigantic head and shoulders appeared above the field. It was human, white, male, bearded. And spoke in thunder.
“I am Dr. Claud Eustuce Cavor. I have been on the Moon for twenty years. The Selenite Queen has entrusted me with some of the guidance of her children, over two hundred of them. I designed this place at her command.”
Scotty was studying the floating head carefully. “I know him,” he whispered. “Another Lunie, name of Piering. So he was supposed to be Professor Cavor? Geez, he must be pissed.”
“Shhh!” Angelique said, waving her hand angrily.
“I have never seen an attack by Martians, but I am assured that such has happened, and that the weaponry we have given them in this game accurately represents reality. So do the Selenites’ weapons and various troops, of course, and I’ve imitated our own cannon and transport and other devices as best I can.
“I ask you to be gentle with our young grubs, and to remember that the nurturance of tomorrow’s leaders is today’s greatest responsibility.”
Maud wiggled to find a more comfortable position in the chair, wincing as the helmet embraced her head. An instant later, the grubs “playing” game pieces commenced moving with purpose and apparent consciousness, shaking themselves and stretching as if from a prolonged slumber.
“How shall we begin our attack?” she asked. Her hands twisted in air, as if seeking control levers.
“Let’s try shelling the village,” Wayne said. “Soften them up a little.”
And she set herself to it.
“All right. Ah… burn down those villages.”
A thin current of moist air wafted through the room, but nothing else happened.
“It’s broken?” Scotty asked.
Wayne snapped his fingers. “The autopilot thinks you aren’t gaming hard enough. Rhyme it, Maud.”
She looked at Wayne as if he must be mad, but then laughed. With a level of theatricality she had not displayed in hours, Maud touched the tips of her fingers to her temples, and fluttered her eyelids closed.
“Children of Luna,” she whispered, “fulfill my desire. Use your strength and rain down fire!”
Their team’s little grubs mouthed the trigger strings controlling the cannons. The cannons roared, arcs of fire blazed above the field, and cannonballs the approximate size and heft of marshmallows sailed into the complex of buildings representing Luna.
With a fiery whoof they splintered or collapsed. Cannons on the lunar side popped, and some of the Earther buildings exploded.
Then the Martians weighed in, sending fire at either side, and the war was on.
Scotty set himself behind a foam pillar, wishing he had a better weapon than the crossbow. What he heard
