General Hawkins spoke on the phone as he walked through the creche of Earth’s last-living humans. “We’re out of time. We’ll never survive the alien assault.”
Just then, a little girl pulled his sleeve and pointed to toys she’d arranged upon a geometric pattern.
“Joan, don’t bother the General.” Her father smiled shyly at Hawkins. “She plays ‘General’ with her toys.”
Hawkins squinted at the familiar topography, his heart beating faster. “Those aren’t toys.”
“They represent our only completed stealth tank, finding a gap in the alien defenses.”
Hawkins grinned. “Your daughter’s battle plan may have just saved all humanity.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2021/11/03/5-november-2021/