Dragon Devours Rabbit
Carn Carby strode down the corridors at the head of his army. Outwardly he was calm, face expressionless and stride confident and controlled.
Inwardly he seethed. If he could've borne to embarrass his men and the reputation of Rabbit Army by breaking the role of commander he would've slammed his fist into the wall at every corner, cussed out every single one of his soldiers individually and in great detail, smashed his gun against a ladder until it was fragments on the floor, and spent the rest of his life in the showers.
The thing of it was he couldn't even be mad at Ender for beating him. Dragon had been professional from the moment they streamed out of their gate, through the victory ceremony all lined up and motionless in commendable discipline for a bunch of fart-eating seven year olds, and all the way until the last glimpse he'd had of them as he flew out of his gate to escape the humiliation. Ender himself had been gracious in accepting his congratulations, but even the one student in Battle School most renowned for being in complete control hadn't managed to hide his embarrassment for just how thoroughly he had ripped his enemy apart.
Embarrassment for Rabbit Army's sake. The worst insult of all, and it left Carn no choice but to find someone else to be angry at. Not his army, never his men who did their best even when they were at their worst.
Which left only him. He had failed them. He had talked them up before the game with how green and ridiculous Ender's kids were, how little time they'd had to prepare for this battle, how Rabbit would never shame them by being lenient but that they could at least handle their victory well. He'd talked himself right up to the biggest goober Battle School had ever seen, then led his men to defeat using brand new tactics he'd prepared just to go against Ender.
He let them shower. He let them eat. He hadn't ordered them to stay silent but they all did. Perhaps because he was, perhaps lost in their own miserable feelings of humiliation and rage.
Back at the barracks he stood by the door watching as they streamed by. He had a hand for the shoulder's of stragglers, encouraging them onward. And when his army was assembled in front of their bunks, waiting for him, hoping he'd have something for them besides the ashes of their defeat, he mercifully cut the silence short.
"As of today, the game as we know it is dead." He expected some response to that outrageous claim, but all he got was sullen silence. His men were hurting more than even he'd thought.
Nothing to do but continue. "I won't try to pretend it was anything but what it was. We all knew Ender Wiggin is the best, and we were all expecting any army he trained to be a strong contender right out the gate." He couldn't help but sag against the doorway. "Of course I didn't expect each of his runts to individually lean us over and spank us until we were red, but it is what it is, and I blame only myself."
Still silence. They were embarrassed for him, that he had to admit his failure to them. Perhaps also angry, because they blamed him and agreed.
"Forget formations," he abruptly said, straightening. "Formations are a turd in a toilet bowl waiting to be flushed. Let the other armies learn that as Dragon devours them." He began looking around the room matching stares with anyone who would meet his eyes. "From this day forward I want you to forget everything you know about the battleroom. Wiggin was able to do that before he even started training his army, and because of it he was able to change up the way he did things in ways none of us had even considered because we were too busy focusing our brilliance on doing things the way they've always been done better than anyone else."
"So you want us to go lick Ender's butt?" Zury, D toon leader, muttered angrily. "Go follow Dragon around and copy everything they do?"
Carn slammed his fist against the door, making a few of his men jump. "We don't have to follow anyone around," he snapped. "Especially not a bunch of kids can't piss without someone tell them how. We're all at Battle School because we're some of the best and brightest the world's got. Rabbit army is where it is in the standings because we've got more than our fair share of the best and brightest. We don't have to follow anybody around, because we're all here to be leaders!"
His words had been intended for everyone, himself as much as the rest, but Zury took them personally. "So what do we do?" he demanded. "No formations, so we just jump around like chickens with our heads cut off?"
"Don't you mean rabbits?" one of the new kids from the back said.
Carn shook his head savagely. Never again would Rabbit be humiliated like that. Not even against Dragon. "We were quiet through breakfast. Whatever the reason for your silence, we're going to keep being quiet. The quiet of determination, more determination than any of us have ever felt before. Not a word to anyone, even each other except during practice, until we win a victory."
"We're going to look like a bunch of Grade A chumps if we do that," Wiry, A toon leader and his nominal second in command, complained.
"Let them think what they want. They'll just be even more surprised when we whip their butts." Wiry opened his mouth but Carn kept going. "You think we're keeping our mouths shut is going to be some stunt? We're doing it to think. All of us geniuses. We're going to think about all the usual ways things are done in battle rooms, and find out how they suck. All the stuff we've thought was stupid and wrong from the beginning but never had the sacks to complain about. And all the stuff we thought would be a good idea but never had the guts to mention, we're going to try them. Wiggin already showed us how with his little knee shields maneuver. And did you notice he was out there watching us deploy while I was shouting formations like a madman and getting everyone out the gate, and only then he sent his own people out to rip us a new one?"
Carn paused to look around him, and now more of his men were looking back. "We're going to train our butts off until our next battle. Every second we can finagle our way into a battleroom, we're going to tear it apart. Rip to shreds every single outdated tactic and standard operating procedure. How about a maneuver where we protect our vitals with each other's legs? How about going back to real war tactics and focusing fire on their leaders to leave them running around like chickens with their heads cut off? Ender was splitting his forces way too much to have the usual toon sizes, and he didn't have set formations or strategies, so he's got to have plenty of leaders. And he probably depends on those leaders almost entirely to make it work. What if we took them out and left him with a bunch of launchies looking around for someone to tell them what to do?"
Now his Rabbits were murmuring to themselves. Carn ignored the near direct counter to his orders not to talk. Instead he pointed at the wag earlier who'd made a dig about rabbits. "You, Michaels. What's something you've wanted to try but never have?"
The younger kid squirmed a bit at being put on the spot. "Ah, um, what about decoys? If we gathered up our disabled soldiers and launched them at the enemy, then fired on them while they were shooting at the decoy."
Carn nodded. "Not sure you could fool anyone to focus fire on a disabled soldier, but we'll think about it." Now the hubbub in the barracks was louder, other soldiers telling him or each other their own ideas or picking at stupid battleroom habits they'd never liked. Carn raised his hand for silence and, after a few minutes, got it.
"Silence," he said quietly. "Everywhere but to answer teachers, in practice, or here in the barracks. And here in the barracks you'd better only be talking new ideas. We'll brainstorm through the day and work on what we've thought up in practice. And remember, formations are dead."
He formally saluted his men, waiting for them to salute back. Then he left.
