Larry Niven - The Moon Maze Game

Beyond the play area blackness loomed.

“It’s some kind of kid’s game. I don’t see a threat,” Scotty called.

Angelique eeled in and rolled left. Then Ali, Wayne, Sharmela, Darla. Maud followed, leaning on Mickey. Wayne was trying to work a “detect danger,” but there weren’t any signals from the Game Master’s control suite. “We’re on our own,” he said, “but there’s power-”

“Look at this,” Ali said. He was on the floor some distance in, playing with a toy cannon a foot long. He triggered something. A light foam projectile flew from the cannon to impact a foot-high toy soldier, which rolled away.

No. Crawled away. In the shadows, Scotty had assumed the soldier shapes were carved wood, or ivory. Now he saw that they were grubs, infant versions of the mooncows, balanced absurdly on their tails and waiting for instruction. Their tiny limbs twitched. Their eyes rolled in endless loops.

“What in the world is this?” Angelique asked.

“At first I thought it was lawn chess, with living pawns and pieces,” Ali replied. “But now I don’t think so. This is part of Wells’ world. It’s from a pair of pamphlets called ‘Little Wars’ and ‘Floor Games.’” He lined up another target. The projectiles were little wooden cylinders; the gun was spring-loaded. There were several scattered about the floor, clustered like opposing artillery. He fired into a rank of frozen grubs and when the soft projectile struck they skittered away in different directions, then regrouped and looked at the gamers, their faceted eyes somehow… hopeful.

Alien children playing toy soldiers.

“‘Floor Games’?” Wayne asked. “What in the world is that?”

“H. G. Wells,” Maud gasped. “Tracts on gaming. Little-known, but legitimate canon.”

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.”