Fired

"Elevation 17 degrees, angle 46 degrees!"

I quickly cycled the wheels around with my arms, moving the cannon around, while my legs moved the other paddles to lower the cannon quickly. Once it was at the designated angle and elevation, I pulled the firing lever.

I awaited the loud booming noise of the cannon firing.

Nothing happened.

I tried pulling the lever a few more times, but there was a lack of boom.

"Cannon malfunction!"

"Negative, cannon is at perfect angle for correct purpose!"

I was confused, before I realised the voice giving orders wasn't the radio, but the saboteur.

The Sniper

The sniper was observant, doing calculations constantly, and taking in data more constantly.

The sniper was patient, waiting for the target to appeared, not moving from their nest, not quite sleeping, but rest at all times.

The sniper was ruthless, ready to take a life with no hesitation or regret, as soon as they had the chance to take their shot, they would.

The sniper was prepared, an exit strategy behind them, equipment ready to get them out of there.

The sniper observed the target, with  their child.

The sniper took the shot.

The sniper bagged an acceptable kill, technically.

Weaponised Food

There have been many food based weapons in history. From the Blackhill Dwarves and their feared Dwarven Pasta flails, to the Jimoss Forest Elves and their Roasted Chestnut Grenades, many races have used edible items as weapons.

Then there were the Gnomes, with their Dank Valley cheese, the odor of which was banned by several treaties and bylaws. These were in the process of being updated to include Gnomes eating the cheese and then breathing on beings, which was worse.

But the biggest weaponised food ever was a simple piece of cake.

That contained fruit the king was allergic to.

Long Lasting Battle

The arrow landed just next to my mp3 player.

"We're under attack!?" I said, incredulously.

The old hand shook his head.

"Relax greenhorn. This arrow has been going back and forth over No Person's Land for decades now. There's a bow in the mess hall, go get it."

I fetched the bow, but when I came back I ran. Thus I saw him trying to hide the message in the arrow.

Triumphantly, I grabbed it and looked at what I was sure was a code.

"You sunk my battleship!

B8"

I gave it back to a spy, I learned later.

Faith In Negotiations

It shouldn't have been a planet worth fighting for, it was just a lump of rock.

But for the Roxtost, it fit the description of the planet of their birth, from their holy texts.

And for the Lin-Sten, their obsession with 8 meant they had to have the 8th planet of the 8th star 8 staryears away from their home.

And the Caldins, war was everything they believed in, so of course they wanted to claim it.

Only the Wasysia pulled their claim, despite knowing what the planet truly was, they had faith the others would wipe each other out.

Surviving Battlefields

Too many people want the glory of victory. They want their place in the history books, to be taught to children as a paragon of heroism. They want titles, prestige, honor.

Me? I've seen a lot of people like that. I've seen them charge into battle, full of pride and energy and guts.

Then later on I would invariably see them dead on the battlefield, full of flies and worms and, well, guts.

The secret to living through a battle isn't to fight for glory or for a cause.

But to fight to not die.

And maybe loot, I suppose.

Projecting An Image

The Princess had been locked in the tower for a week, but she was still polite to the servants.

On the 8th day, the maid quietly had a word with her.

"I appreciate that this isn't the ideal start to the relationship, but Master is actually a nice man, he just needs to portray an image of ruthlessness to discourage enemy attacks."

The Princess nodded at this, as the maid continued.

"Now, I'm sure you disbelieve me, but I-"

"Why should I disbelieve you? You're lying? Shame!"

The maid burst into tears, knowing she'd get the whip for failure now.

Captain Wrong

I kept him around because he was always wrong. Like, always. If he suggested that the enemy would advance, then I knew they'd hold the line, or retreat. If he thought a weapon would prove ineffectual, I'd train my soliders to defend against it.

I never let on about this, because I was worried that it would ruin the streak. But I wondered if he knew.

Then one day, a sniper got a lucky shot, slammed into my gut. As I bled out, I asked him how bad it was. He paused.

"You're a goner."

The sole time he's right...

Symbolism

The arrow was the one that killed King Brek. It was pulled out of his neck, and given it had maintained its shape but was blood soaked, it made for a perfect symbol of the new Republic.

It was framed and hung above the throne, as a reminder to all that the throne would remain empty, and why.

But then, Suvia claimed the Goddess had chosen her to rule, she claimed that the throne was hers.

After a long battle, she captured the throne, and when she sat down, the arrow fell.

And landed in her hand, proving her point.

Probed

As soon as Earth got past light speed, we were warned by a repeating, automated broadcast, go quiet, go dark. The Technodroids were searching for societies worth consuming, based on either finding them physically, or sensing their technology. They were probing the galaxy for another few dozen years then leaving.

Earth heeded the warning, and went silent, intent to wait it out, like every other race.

And then the Technodroids found the Earth, descending from the skies, led there from a sublight speed probe with a record on it that led them directly to Earth. Not that Earth knew that.

Silent Orbit

He was supposed to be one of three people on the station high above the world, but after the other two left at the end of their stint, the replacements never arrived.

But the station was mostly automated, so he could run the station solo. And he had access to TV.

So he had a front row seat to watch as the world quickly imploded. Unable to communicate (HQ had stopped responding months prior), only able to observe and hope.

Then a missile was launched, and he moved the station in the way, which at least saved some people.

Temporarily.

Wizard War

The Wizard's War raged for a thousand years, and also three seconds.

It was fought between five men and two women, and also an infinite number of beings drawn from other universes.

Billions died, but there was no known casualties.

No-one was left unaffected by it, but no-one remembered it.

Every battle was long and bloody, every weapon more powerful than whole armies, every casualty changed the course of world history. And it never happened.

Because the only thing more powerful than someone fighting in a war is someone who can stop it.

And who has a few magic lamps.

Worth The Price

The Devil appeared in a puff of brimstone, a look of annoyance on his face.

"I'm rather busy, you have a war on you know."

"I know, that's why I've summoned you, I want you to end it, and I know what you charge."

The Devil laughed, bitterly.

"You need to learn about R.O.I. Why in hell would I end something that will bring me so many souls so fast, in exchange for what, one soul? Even as King, that's not worth it."

"Not my soul. My army's. All of them."

The Devil smirked.

"That'll be yours too, eventually. Deal."

Cup Of Cheer

It was the only error in the topographical map of the region. The surveyor had celebrated his team's victory in the finals of the continental cup the previous night, and if he'd been asked, he'd have stated that the fact that he only slacked off once that day despite the hangover proved his dedication.

But yes, he'd not checked the ground on that hill, assuming it was the same as the rest of the area.

Which meant that his side won out when the continental forces' general died when a lookout post collapsed due to insecure ground that wasn't recorded.

Training For Lives

Anyone can kill someone in a fit of emotion, or a moment of inattention, or a lifetime of bad choices.

To kill on demand, that's harder. To end a life when ordered, to not think about all that you are ending in a single strike, armies have to train people for years to truly instill that ability into their soldiers.

It's easier for some people, yes. But it's still hard. But there is something harder.

Because ending someone else's life is hard. Ending your own, when ordered, to save someone else you don't know? You can't train for that.

Obviously.

Something In The Eyes

There is a unique facial expression for the moment that someone realises that because of their actions, millions have or will die, but that was not their intention.

(Killing millions when you wanted to is a common variation of orgasm face)

I saw it on the faces of the scientists who delivered the nuclear bomb to the military.

I saw it on the face of the world leader when he was informed of the declaration of war by his supposed ally.

I just saw it on the face of a woman across the street. I eagerly await being disproved, but...

Power People

The problem with power is people.

Not so much that there will inevitably be an uprising and evil will be vanquished and all those other stories told to make people feel better. Because evil wins most of the time.

The problem is that people are not reliable, not predictable. Yes, you never know when a populist rabble-rouser turns out to be corruptible, but the more common switch is when a peon suddenly develops a conscious or falls in love or something.

The first reliable robot army will be the last new conquerors. Although hacking may mean this isn't strictly true.

To Unify

The summit of the races was supposed to finally bring peace and unity to the lands, but the differences were apparently too great. The Elves insisted on the right to dam the rivers, regardless of if the Dwarves needed them to flow to survive. The Demonspawn insisted on Angelite mining to cease, the Starchildren insisted it continue.

But before some minor wars broke out, the Kobolds tabled that, given everyone had signed (fairly one sided) pacts with them, they were in a position to run things peacefully.

Which helped immensely, a common hated enemy to fight really brings beings together.

Safely Ignored

The signal was ignored for a long time. A long series of irregular beeps, dismissed as white noise from a binary star systems' complicated pulsar belt.

The occasional crackpot would pop up and claim it was proof of whatever theory they already assumed was true, but they were safely ignored.

Until a bored astronomer set up a program to record the beeping as a learning exercise, then forgot to turn it off.

And then the three year long pattern was discovered, and everyone began scrambling for analysis.

Bit too late, given the warfleet was already en route, per the message.

Pain And Purpose

I walked over to him, a few steps away from the fire, where most of the squad was either engaged in or cheering on a 'friendly' fight. I sat down next to him and offered a swig of whisky. As he took it, I reached out.

"You wanna come join the rest of us?"

He swallowed the booze and handed back the bottle.

"No pain without purpose, no purpose without pain."

I considered this.

"The purpose of this is to help avoid future pain, though."

He winced, clearly pained by my extension of the metaphor. But he walked over, eventually.