Winner Takes All by Jacqueline Rayner

other countries. We will increase the number of winning cards. Humans are greedy: order them to aid us and they would protest, but make it seem like a prize, like something for only a select few . . . ha! They will snatch at any chance of getting something for nothing! The more humans who play the game, the more competent controllers we will find, and the more carriers we will need . . . If you played the game for us now and did as we wanted, got to the centre of the Mantodean stronghold, no more humans would have to die. But until someone succeeds, the game will continue to be played.’
    â€˜Stop calling it a game!’ yelled the Doctor in fury. ‘People are dying!’
    â€˜Our research suggested that death was a common pastime on Earth,’ said the Quevvil. ‘Humans spend much of their time killing. There is hardly a species on Earth that humans do not kill, including other humans. That, with your greed and cunning, was why you were considered ideal subjects for this task.’
    â€˜Yeah, we humans are a bit rubbish,’ said the Doctor. ‘A lot of us aren’t very nice at all. I can’t defend all that killing we do, all that greed and cunning. So I’m hardly going to sit here and commit genocide just to save a few of us, am I? What have these Mantodeans ever done to me?’ He threw down the control pad, and slapped his forehead. ‘Oh, hark at me, completely forgetting to mention I’m not human. You won’t get a human to solve this “game” for you. Yeah, they’re cunning and all that, they’re pretty determined, and a few of them might even be geniuses like me. But not all that many. It’s going to defeat them all in the end. You should sack your market researcher.’
    The Quevvil didn’t seem to know what to say to that. So it raised its gun again, and pointed it straight at the Doctor.
    Rose arrived in town, but she still didn’t have a plan. Get into the Quevvils’ base, find the Doctor, hope he’d know what to do, how to save her mum? She hurried to the newsagent’s shop. It was closed. She glanced at her watch: 5.40. The whole day had gone by without her noticing. She started to examine the lock, hastily pretending to be tying up her shoelace as a couple of uniformed policemen walked past, hoping they didn’t notice that her shoes didn’t have laces. But it was no good, she didn’t have the faintest idea how to pick the lock, and the shop had a prominent alarm system. She’d be arrested before she got halfway to the cellar.
    She turned her attention to the Quevvils’ prize booth, a few metres away. Still didn’t have a proper plan, but she couldn’t just do nothing. Let’s hope they’re the sort of aliens who think all humans look alike. They barely saw me, she thought, trying to convince herself; just if they looked out when I was trying to get in with the Doctor, and there was only one of them when I was scattering salt all over the place, and they would have seen me only for a split second before we teleported away . . .
    She’d have to risk it. She knew this wasn’t the right plan, wasn’t the one that would work, didn’t have a hope, but it was all she could think of just now, and she’d have to risk them recognising her.
    Rose went up to the booth, acting casual, nothing to indicate she knew these were aliens, nothing to say you might have killed my mother.
    She got one of the winning cards out of her pocket, stuck it in the reader, waited to be allowed through the door. There was a Quevvil behind the counter. So much for her hope that the Quevvils couldn’t tell humans apart – pot calling kettle, she had no idea if this was the one she’d encountered before or not.
    The Quevvil produced a boxed games console and tried to hand it to her.
    â€˜I’ve already got one of those,’ Rose said. ‘I just wanted to