The Weight of War

Footsteps echo down the empty hallway as Prince Dane Caldwell approaches the elevator. He strokes his fingers repeatedly over his sweaty palms before attempting to dry them on his trousers.

He was glad he had sent his personal security to secure a perimeter out of sight so he could have a few moments alone to think before entering the meeting with the nation’s leaders to present his decision.

He was not prepared for this level of responsibility that was thrust on him too soon by the untimely death of his father. He inherited a nation that was politically divided and in economic crisis, and the people of an allied country requesting aid as a tyrant hostilely took over.

Yes, he had been taught political policies and trained to be a leader since birth, but studying policies in books did not prepare him for the weight of this decision. The hypothetical problems he was asked to solve in the classroom did not come with a body count.

Does he send aid knowing what it will cost his people? Or does he turn his back on them for the sake of his people, knowing what it will cost his soul?

Both will result in backlash. Extremists will call him a heartless hypocrite if he does not, or weak and incompetent if he does. They argue their points loudly and often, as is their right, and he has to admit, they both make good points.

But ultimately, the choice is his alone. The lives of those suffering across the border, as well as those in his military, are in his hands.

How is he supposed to decide?

His mind is still at war with itself as the elevator doors open and he steps inside.

This indecisive buffoon is going to get us all killed.

Kate Hanson watches from her hiding spot in an alcove near the elevator as the prince fidgets nervously as he walks in her direction.

This was her last shot to get him alone and convince him to help her people. Thanks to a guard who was accepting of a significant bribe, she knew where he would be and was able to get into the building. It was a bonus that the idiot sent them all away making it so much easier for her.

She waited until the elevator doors opened to emerge so she could slip in behind him. He’s so lost in his own world and accustomed to having others watch his surroundings for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice her. How nice it must be to live a life where you don’t feel the need to keep your head on a swivel.

Shock and fear fill his face when the doors close and he realizes he is no longer alone. “Where did you come from? This hallway is supposed to be secure.”

He is backed up to the wall as if the extra three of distance between us will stop me from killing him if that was my intent. He made no attempt to fight or defend himself. Fearless leader indeed.

“Relax, I just want to talk,” Kate assures him, holding her hands out in front of her in a placating gesture.

Suddenly, the elevator halts with an eerie metallic creak that sends a shiver up Kate’s spine. She knew the plan and had been expecting the stop, but being trapped, suspended in a mechanical box, causes her physiology to react in ways that are beyond her control. She can only assume that this spineless boy in front of her is having a similar reaction only amplified.

She looks at him and there is panic in his eyes. “Was that you? Is this some kind of assassination plot?” He streaks a hand through his hair and his breath quickens.

“Yes, we stopped the elevator. No, we are not trying to assassinate you,” She replies, her tone flat. “If that was the goal I would have shot you in the hallway, not trapped myself in here with you to be hauled away the crime.”

He swallows hard realizing she is right. It would not make sense for a killer to trap themselves with the victim. “Well, why have you trapped yourself in here with me?”

“Because I needed to get you alone, away from your advisors with their own agendas, and convince you to help my people.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that you are the voice of reason in this situation?” He gestures to the walls around them.

“I don’t care what you think of me, just that you listen to me,” She takes a step toward him, desperate to make him understand. “My people are dying at the hands of our own government. Yes, we elected the wrong people into power but we didn’t know that until it was too late.” She takes a steadying breath before proceeding, “Now they will stop at nothing to avoid relinquishing that power as our laws demand. They have cut off our food supply, ensuring our only rations come through government channels. They’ve destroyed homes and denied medical care. It’s easier to coerce people into cooperating when their survival depends on it. They have control of our military and police and use them to silence those who speak out.” She pauses to fight the tears threatening to spill down her cheek, knowing she isn’t putting the horror into words properly. But she is no politician. She doesn’t have eloquent words to persuade. She is just a regular human being and hopes that is enough to convince him that she and the others like her are worth saving.

The prince relaxes slightly in response to her rawness. He truly does want to help, but can’t he justify the price to his own country if he sends aid to hers?

Can he still believe himself a good person if he allows her people to suffer so that his can thrive?

But his duty is to serve the best interests of his people and not concern himself with others unless they pose a threat.

But how can he expect other notions to come to his aid during times of war if he does not honor his own alliances and answer this call now?

The elevator clicks back to life and begins to move again. “I’m almost out of time,” She takes another steadying breath, bracing herself for what she knows is about to happen. “When those doors open, your people will take me into custody and probably lock me away for the rest of my life. And you,” She points a finger at him, “Have to make a decision. Please tell me this was worth it and I haven’t thrown my life away for nothing.”

“I-I-um,” He sputters, unable to give her the assurance she so desperately needs.

A ding indicates that they have reached their floor and the doors open.

It is time.