High Temper

The only sound was that of Commandant Cahill’s boots as he paced the room.

“It’s a psychological tactic, sir,” Spartan said. He still maintained that calm Andy saw in the sickbay. “They’re trying to get to us. I also suspect they’re trying to buy time for what Viking did. I don’t know if the Butcher was on that ship, but if he was he may need immediate medical attention.”

“I understand it’s psychological,” the Commandant said. “The problem is it’s working. Have you seen the men in the halls? They’re scared shitless. I can see it in them. And their fear is making me doubt our chances. How exactly is a scared man supposed to win a fight?”

“I believe doubt and fear will be our damnation here, sir. We can’t give in to them.”

The Commandant stopped and placed his hands on the table in the middle of the room. “And what do you suggest?” he asked. “I’m open to ideas.”

Spartan straightened himself. “There’s a story from my world. A general once found himself surrounded and outnumbered, trapped in a city. Knowing he and his men wouldn’t last much longer, he told his men to hide. He then sat in the middle of the city, alone, and ordered the gate open.”

Annoyed, the Commandant shook his head. “And?”

“And nothing. The enemy believed it was a trick and left.”

“I think they have the weaponry not to worry about a trap,” said a man on the other side of the room. Viking told Andy his name was Mathews.

“There was another general who led only three hundred men against over a hundred thousand. They made such a racket the hundred thousand fled in terror, believing a great force was descending upon them. The point is we need to find a way to get inside their heads, too.” Spartan stood up. “My world’s history is full of stories like this. I know for a fact your world is full of them, too.”

The Commandant slumped his shoulders. “You’re a smart man, Spartan, but I’m inclined to side with Mathews.” He nodded at Viking. “The Berserkers failed. The cliff has been demolished. It’s only a matter of time before the Khardis swarm us. Actually, I have to ask: why only the Berserkers?”

Spartan sighed. “I believed the Berserkers would be able to handle it. And I was right for the most part.”

“We needed more men out there.”

“The Berserkers had it.”

The Commandant slowly walked over to Spartan. “No, they didn’t. And now we have no escape.”

“More men would have created more issues. With their training in stealth, the Berserkers were the best choice.”

“One of the Berserkers is dead!”

Spartan said nothing.

“We’ve faced worse,” Viking said. “I believe one of the Khardis got enough of his wits together to rally the others. If anything, this shows us the Butcher doesn’t rely on common soldiers. Tells us we need to be a bit more mindful of our next step.”

“We should have been more mindful then,” the Commandant sneered.

“I was being mindful,” Spartan shot back. Though his frustration was obvious, he kept his voice calm. “Mindful of the battle to come. We knew the mortars weren’t the best option for taking on the Warmonger. We also didn’t know for sure if the one from Älgenhul was going to be a problem. I was not going to risk men we might need for the impending invasion.”

“Do we even know if they have enough men to stage an invasion of the castle?”

“According to Sergeant Calhoun’s report, they had quite the force,” Mathews answered.

“There’s also a significant Khardi presence in Älgenhul,” said Viking.

“Doesn’t mean they’d all fit on the Warmongers.” The Commandant tapped a finger on the table.

“Even max capacity is enough to overrun us if we’re not careful,” Spartan said. “I am not wasting our men to attempt a quick victory, sir.”

The Commandant glared at him, saying nothing.

“I understand the frustration, sir. I do. But we need to keep our heads. Now, we have to plan for the invasion. There’s no guarantee when the Warmonger will cross the lake to drop its troops. It may wait until the fire is done, it may not. Without a clear view of the other side of the mountain, we may need to consider posting men at the various entrances and at the front of the castle.”

The Commandant took a minute to think. “And what would you say for troop placement?”

“More near the front, including the Berserkers. Even when the fire dies out, it’s still possible they won’t try to navigate the tunnels, but wait for us to expose ourselves in an escape. I also still believe giving everyone different escape routes will benefit us if we do have to flee.”

“You mentioned playing the psychological game with them, as well.”

Spartan’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Yes, and I have some ideas about that, sir.”

The Commandant took a long, slow breath. “Very well. How many on the other entrances?”

“Only a couple per, enough to get a message out if the castle is breached from any of those points.”

“And where should we put him?” The Commandant pointed at Andy.

“Out of harm’s way.” Spartan looked Andy up and down, carefully considering his words. “Crusader isn’t ready for combat.”

Thank you. Andy thought his little prayer of thanks, only to be met with an odd feeling. He wasn’t dying to be on the front lines or anything, but there was a dull jab at his core with Spartan’s words. What was that? He tried to shove it down, to ignore it. He was going to stay out of the way, maybe stay alive long enough to get home. At the end of the day, that’s all he really cared about.