the nuts and bolts in this game."
"How come you didn't use nuts?" Novakovich asked.
"Trip didn't have any to spare, but these short, stubby bolts were in great supply."
"I can make you a die or two," Mayweather said. "Or rather, Trip can."
"I'm sure Trip has better things to do," Cutler said. "I probably could have made dice too, but getting the sides even and making sure they rolled properly seemed too fussy for this game."
"Are you saying we're doing this on the fly?" Anderson asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Of course we are," she said. "If we were doing it properly, we'd be on the computer, linked up from our quarters-and following preset rules."
"How come no one thought to put an RPG in the ship's files?" Novakovich asked.
"Gee," Mayweather said. "Maybe they thought about putting in files that might be useful instead of fun."
"No ship would ever waste space on recreation," Anderson said. "If it did, then the mess would be bigger and more comfortable. I think this one's actually designed to get people out of here quickly."
"It probably is," Cutler said, setting the bolt cup on the table. "Do you all remember where we are?"
"We're in the mess," Novakovich said, scratching at his face.
Anderson grabbed his wrist. "Let's not," he said with a shudder.
Novakovich grinned. "Sorry. I forgot."
Anderson swallowed, looking a little green. Apparently the transporter accident Novakovich had suffered made Anderson nervous.
It made them all nervous.
"In the game," Anderson said, leaning forward, "we're on the second floor of a building."
"Hiding after we blew away a bunch of Martians," Mayweather said.
"Expecting more to return," Novakovich said.
"So what options do we have?" Anderson asked.
Cutler glanced at her notes. "You can go back down the ramp, or up the ramp to the next floor. There are sky bridges to three other buildings five floors above you."
"And I assume some problems," Anderson said.
"That's the point of this game," Mayweather said. "Fight through the problems and get the rewards."
"I say we go up," Novakovich said. "Figure out where to go when we reach the sky bridges."
Both Anderson and Mayweather agreed, so Cutler glanced at her notes. "There's a slight chance of a Martian nest on the third floor."
She took the cup of bolts and dumped it out on the towel. The noise of the bolts on the table was still loud enough to draw the attention of a few of the remaining diners nearby.
"Four red," she said. "The floor is clear."
"Up to the fourth," Mayweather said.
She dumped out the bolts again. "Five red," she said. "Fourth floor's clear."
"One more to go until we hit the sky bridge level," Anderson said.
She dumped out the bolts for the third time. Her notes had it that for each floor they attempted, the chance of a Martian nest went up. Two or less for the second floor, three or less for the third, four or less for the fourth. When she dumped the bolts this time, there were seven red.
They all looked at her as she smiled. "Still safe."
"So what are we looking at?" Anderson asked.
Cutler smiled and called up a file on her padd. In that file, she had drawn the map of the center area of the Martian city. Each box was city block, and she had drawn lines between the boxes where there was a sky bridge.
She set the padd in the middle of the table, keeping her hand on it so no one called up her gaming notes.
"The piece of the Universal Translator is in the basement of this building," she said, pointing to a four-block-large building in the center of the map. Then she pointed to a building near the edge of the city. "You are here, on the fifth floor."
"Wow, you've really put some work into this," Mayweather said.
"I had to," Cutler said, "to stay ahead of you three."
Novakovich laughed. "And to make sure she made up the rules before we questioned her on them. Right?"
"Exactly," Cutler said. "Someone has to establish what is going on, and since I built this world, I get to be the one that does
Chelsea Camaron, Mj Fields