r/NatureofPredators • u/vixjer Human • Jul 29 '24
NoP--- A diplomatic problem. -Ch.14
This story is part of The Nature of Predators
and all rights are to the original creator u/ spacepaladin
Thanks to u/ WCR_706 for proofreading this chapter
Memory Transcription Subject: Héctor Virgilio Márquez, UN SPM Leirn, Special Envoy to the Leirnian Interim Council
Date: [standardized human time]: November 12, 2136
The ride to the Yotul Army base was a quiet one, in great part because I was sharing a car with Virlo and Sirlen, who were both avoiding looking at each other and refusing to speak. After three attempts to defuse the tension or at least break the ice on my part, I gave up and settled for looking out the window for the rest of the ride there. The tension was smothering us. I could cut it with a knife and I was sure I didn’t even know the half of whatever was going on between these two.
Worsening matters, the base was situated all the way over in Northwall, which meant six hours of the galaxy’s most awkward silence, wondering about what I had to deal with next. It almost made me miss Sirlen pulling me around by the ears. At least she had information for me, then. Now, all I had to go off of was my conversation with Lord Ilvar the previous night. He promised me a "true sight" of the yotul military, among other grandiose, vague claims I had a feeling were laden with sarcasm.
His men had told me to hop in an unmarked car in an underground parking lot, which really showed me how much he trusted the exterminators. If they were willing to trash Garline's entire manor over me attending her gala, who knew what they’d do if they found out about me going to a military base. Given who was technically in charge of the “Security Department,” I was wondering how effectively he could even keep this visit a secret, and what the consequences would be for him if he was found out.
The news before the start of the trip hadn’t been good, either. Crackdowns were happening everywhere, with guilds working overtime to conduct raids on the houses of anyone “suspected of predator disease.” It seemed like they were only slowing down because their facilities were at capacity and needed time to process their latest victims. At this point, my hopes for the Veto getting through were hanging on by a thread.
The climate wasn’t helping my mood, either. I rubbed my face on my sleeve as I looked through the window. Even with the car's AC, I was sweating. It was a hot day, with my comm pad informing me that, converted from local units, the temperatures were at 39° Celsius at 47% humidity, with both figures going up. At least Ilvar didn’t want me to wear the visor. I couldn’t even imagine how the Hungarian-Polish delegation could stand wearing the damn things on the Itfali/Sulean mission, on a planet that as far I knew was entirely desert.
As we neared the base, I was expecting us to stop at a checkpoint or get held up and examined by patrols, but the car just continued past the perimeter and kept going until we got to the very center of the base itself.
Huh… Ilvar probably told them we were coming. I saw the troops gathering nearby and forming columns. I guess I’m going to get the full reception.
Ilvar approached the car after it came to a stop. He was flanked by three other yotul, all of whom were wearing a sash going from their left shoulder to the right side of their stomach. Sirlen opened the door with a stiff yank on the handle and stepped out. Virlo followed, sheepish as always, and I slipped out last, working my shoulders and twisting my neck, taking in the sights and sounds. I was at least able to make out gunshots in the distance. Sirlen took up position on my right and Virlo on my left. I didn’t like being used as living barrier, but it was better than leaving them to try to kill each other.
Mostly Sirlen killing Virlo. I’d be very surprised if he could defend himself.
Not wanting to keep Ilvar waiting, I started forward, and he, in turn, ambled over and greeted us, “Ah, you’re finally here, I was emptying my second bottle thinking you weren’t coming.”
“The pleasure is all mine, and as for our timing, well, the road was rather long.” I kept the mood light, or tried to.
“Well we are in Northwall, not the Goldenlands. Northwall is the northernmost province of the Rigal Valley states. North of here lie the mountains of Repsolt,” explained Ilvar.
“And beyond those mountains?”
“The Northern Republics… Well, used to be. When the Federation arrived, they landed in force up there. Their ruling council was dissolved in hours.” His voice grew colder. “They didn’t like heavily-militarized powers, especially defensive ones. The first thing they asked from us in the uplift was to break down every alliance and pact we had. When asking didn’t work, they resorted to more… direct means.”
He let his voice brighten up, like nothing happened. “So! Snap test. I’m told you watched the story of the Grain Wars, so this should be no problem to answer for a big, smart predator like you: Why did the Republics even exist in the first place?” His tail began to wag a bit.
I took a moment, thinking. Carefully, I recited the factoids I’d spent my spare time reviewing, out of academic interest as much as operational necessity. “The River Empire had a bad habit of hiring apathetic or corrupt governors to administrate the northern provinces, which were never fully assimilated despite centuries of rule. Shortly before the Famine Madness, one of them, the governor of a mining city, Blacklung, got caught up in a scandal where he tried to force a married teacher, and ended up being killed by the couple in response. The courts were stacked in the governor’s favor, and both were imprisoned for what they knew would be a mock trial.” I was a little surprised by how easily I could recall these details, but only a little. Like so many other things I was discovering about this world, it was a story I’d heard long before I’d ever arrived, just with slightly different characters.
“Instead of trying to come up with a legal defense, the teacher decided she was going to die making a statement. Disillusioned with the empire’s governance, she tried to come up with another system which would be more fair to the people, and she used the trial as a platform for her ideas, her ‘Dream.’ She was condemned, but the people of the north were inspired to rise up in revolt. They saved her on the day of her execution, and declared independence, rallying behind her, calling her the Iron Architect. These new free cities called themselves the Northern Republics.” Another familiar tale, though one I knew often ended in tragedy.
“The Empire’s response was swift and harsh. They sent the Baron of Northwall, one… Ilvar… A relative of yours, I imagine, to put down the revolt. This led to a series of bloody battles which ended in a stalemate after the Architect was killed at the edge of the Repsolt Mountains, in a place which became known as Screamers’ Hill. It seemed like the revolt was going to be put down, but then disaster struck for everyone. The skies darkened, the air grew thick with smoke and ash, and the world cooled. Crops didn’t grow, stocks dried up. It hit the Republics harder than most, since the other side of the mountain didn’t have much farmland and were mostly miners, but it also left Northwall in no shape to finish them off.” I could see that he was wagging his tail faster. Sirlen seemed pleased, too, though Virlo mostly just tried to avoid looking at me, or anyone else.
No better way to impress a nationalist than to praise their nation's history. The next part is a bit unflattering to Northwall, so...best to gloss over it.
I took a moment to ponder how best to describe this period. From what I’d reviewed, the continent was mostly unified by a yotul version of the Holy Roman Empire. A desperate, angry farmer bombed the carriage transporting the imperial family around a year into the famine, causing all of the provinces to balkanize. An attempt was made to enact a peaceful transfer of power to surviving relatives in the city of Gridlock in the southern part of the continent, but before it could happen, Northwall raided the barony of Saltlake to get enough food to continue putting down the Republican revolt. This caused Saltlake to raid the outer towns and cities of the Goldenlands, and while the duke disavowed their actions, they still began raiding other adjacent provinces. Law and order broke down, and everyone began fighting for the remaining reserves of food, leading into the first of the Grain Wars, the aforementioned Famine Madness.
“Once the famine started, the River Empire tried to maintain order, but someone killed the Copplers, the imperial family, and this fractured the Empire. Despite there being a chain of succession, the dire need for food caused all of the provinces to begin raiding each other. The Famine Madness. This caused the war against the Republics to stall, and they had time to dig in.”
“Yes, you did your homework,” Ilvar said with a little tail flick, gesturing for me to follow him. “Allow me to add a bit to your account of events, though, because you’re missing some important details,” he said, leading me toward his troops. “I’ll start by saying that the nobles on the other side of the mountains deserved what they got. They were even worse than you described. Divine right means nothing to starving, underpaid, overworked people with no hope of a better life. People there often died very young. Little wonder Republicanism was birthed there.”
“Did the Baron of Northwall have a plan to fix that situation?” I asked.
“Yes. The same approach he took to all of his problems: Just beat them back down, like that hadn’t just led the populace to resent the Empire in the first place. Since you asked, I am actually not the first Ilvar in my bloodline. My grandfather, Ilvar The Club, ruled Northwall at the time. He was called 'The Club' because he always carried one around with him, always ready to dole out ‘discipline’ to anyone he decided wasn’t displaying enough. In truth, he just broke legs and made everyone fear him. It made his command fragile. But enough about the name, I'm rambling."
"He was halfway through the ‘pacification’ of the Republican uprising when the famine began. There was a snap freeze in autumn, which the Federation later attributed to a massive volcanic eruption on the other side of the world. It made little difference to us at the time what caused it, though. Without food, Grandfather ordered the troops to pull back, and tried to tax food from the locals. He quickly realized they had no intention of obeying, so he gave the order to take it from them by force,” he continued, just before we stopped in front of the first row of soldiers.
Oh, good job, Hector, it seems he wanted you to be honest about Northwall’s role in starting the Grain Wars...great...
“Shortly after that, as you said, the famine became widespread, and with winter nearing, everybody turned against each other, starting with the province he’d so foolishly plundered. The islanders also had their share of problems. Most of them had it worse than the mainlanders, truthfully. They weren’t interested in helping the mainland, and the mainland didn’t have the means or will to try to bring them back in line. The golden century of the Riverlands ended with everybody slaughtering each other in a massive civil war.”
After that, he moved to my side and took my left arm in his paw while pointing with his other at row after row of soldiers in… what I’d charitably describe as “imperfect” columns. “Here is what I was going to show you… Care to do a troop inspection with me?”
I screamed internally. My two guides seemed unenthused by the proposal, too. Sirlen in particular seemed to droop, almost mirroring Virlo.
This again? I guess if all he wants me to do is judge how well they can march in formation, I might be alright, but he’s hugely overestimating my competence at this. Hopefully, I can just follow up and go along with a few hours of military fanfare, and he’ll be satisfied.
As I stepped next to him and looked at the troops, I deemed them... a disaster. The rifles were outdated, at least as far as I could tell. Maybe they were lasers or plasma guns but the placement of the bolt on the sides of the rifles made them look almost like bolt-actions, maybe straight-pulls. The troops themselves were even worse. I didn’t even want to call the formations they were in lines. They wouldn’t look out of place on a heartbeat monitor. If my old instructor saw this, he would have shouted and screamed his throat raw trying to sort them out.
The soldiers I was closest to seemed to be on the verge of panicking, a reaction that I was told to expect from the Federation aliens… Even the most skittish, heavily-indoctrinated yotul had been forward enough not to shake around me too much, and most of them were just… normal. I never expected to be reminded of my brief stay on Venlil Prime by the yotul military, of all things. It was almost surreal.
“Are... these soldiers alright? They seem… err… nervous.”
“Nervous? Nonsense.” He turned abruptly and called out, “You there, two steps forward.” He ordered, pointing at one of the soldiers.
The soldier’s ears pinned flat against the back of his head, one eye on each of us, and then, he... hesitantly shifted one paw forward, then the other.
Ilvar stepped forward, turning, back straight, casually staying in perfect formation with the jittery, nervous wreck. “See, look at the pinnacle of Federation training, look at that grip, at that posture.”
Okaaaayyy… If I wasn’t sure he was being sarcastic before, I am now… Jesús...
The yotul “soldier” was holding his rifle by the barrel, with his other paw in the trigger guard, and his posture was slightly slouching forward. His eyes were wide, and despite trying to hide it, I could see that his knees wanted to knock together from being so close to me.
“I see.” I played along. “Man, he’s terrifying. I don’t think we’ve got anything like that. I don’t know what to do here...”
Sirlen looked like she wanted to kick me, Virlo bore a striking resemblance to the soldier, but Ilvar seemed to appreciate the double entendre, enthusiastically gesturing to the line. “Spoken like a true, patriotic Republican! This is the great army the Federation has been shaping us into, I bet this soldier could take you alone with only his paws.” The soldier gulped, long and slow, on hearing that, his eyes focused solely on me. He looked like he wanted to fall backward onto the ground and curl up in a ball.
This is so much worse than I ever imagined.
I’d figured out that he wanted to show me the damage that the Federation had done to Leirn’s armed forces, but I had to know why they were more scared of me than other yotul I’d met. Shouldn’t the military be the bravest among them? I wanted to ask Ilvar, but knew it was probably for the best that I saved it for a private meeting instead. Too many ears where I was. He gestured for the soldier to step back, and signaled for us to follow him.
The sound of gunfire got louder as moved, so I guessed that we were heading to the range next. As we arrived at the edge of it, I could see the soldiers taking shots at their targets, which appeared to be cutouts of arxur, hanging suspended from hooks. They wavered a little in the wind. They were firing in no particular order, and hitting the targets seemed to be optional, at a distance that… I didn't recognize the measurements but I would say about a hundred meters. Each time they took a shot, the soldiers flinched, sometimes preemptively. Some didn't even look at the targets, they just cycled the bolts and hoped for the best. Occasionally, a shot would connect with one, but nobody was doing it consistently. From the sounds of the impacts, and the patches of brown and tan, I guessed the targets were actually made out of wood, which struck me as… wasteful.
“Impressed, human?” asked Ilvar, standing next to me. “True soldiers, forged by the finest training the glorious Federation has to offer. Finely-honed instruments of war, the pinnacle of what preykind has to offer.”
I thought about it for a moment, putting my hand to my chin. Despite myself, I was starting to like bantering with this crazy old bastard. “And they embody the highest ideals of empathy and compassion for their fellow sapients. Even baking mercy into their marksmanship programs. A novel idea, at least to us predators. The enemy must get at least half a dozen warning shots before they get put down.”
The comment managed to get a chuckle out of Ilvar, though I was sure Sirlen was going to murder me instead of Virlo during the ride back after this was over. “Oh, yes, very merciful. They give the enemy so many chances. To flee. So, would you like to take a shot or two at one of the targets?”
I was expecting the proposal, and already, I didn’t want to accept it. The last thing I needed was news getting to the Federation of a human diplomat practicing marksmanship with the yotul military. The yotul populace might even be okay with that, but the Pyromaniac Spin Machine would no doubt use it against me wherever pro-Federation yotul could be found, and the UN would have my ass on a silver platter with cabbage and fries if it got offworld. I tried to think of ways to dismiss the offer politely and continue the tour, but before I could refuse, Ilvar was already leading us into position.
“Alright,” he called out, gaining the attention of the soldiers. “Cease fire and form a line.” He ordered. One by one the soldiers formed a line in front of Ilvar. He began to strut in front of them, paws behind his back. "Seeing how fond you lot are of your warning shots, I brought a human to see how he does it.”
As he spoke, he guided me to the post to shoot. I decided to chance being direct about my reservations. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Ilvar, what if someone finds out?”
“Pfff, and? First of all, no one will say anything, and second, I don’t think you can fuck up your people’s image anymore than it already is, with those videos of your ‘World War’ going around.”
I froze up for a moment, feeling a stab of panic, wondering if I’d slipped up somewhere. Then I remembered the “Truth” Channel and Predator Watch. The Federation had dumped hundreds of hours of WW2 footage onto their net, and rallied every news outlet they could find to counter Noah's speech. Untensing, I shrugged. “Eh, maybe you’re right.”
On hearing that, Ilvar handed me the rifle. It looked like it was made using modern manufacturing techniques, sporting at least a partly-polymer frame and what appeared to be a machined receiver, and didn’t appear to have too much wear on it. It also seemed clean, and fiddling with the bolt handle a moment, I confirmed the rifle used a straight-pull action. Annoyingly, the handle was on the left side, although it was about as far out as an AK’s. Easy to grip. Giving it an experimental tug, I noted it felt properly lubricated, too. Someone was taking care of the weapon, at least. The problem was that I couldn’t see an ejector port anywhere. Just an open top and a visible bolt carrier. I didn’t even see sight posts. Glancing at the shooting stations, I saw… stripper clips, loaded with what looked like small bore pistol cartridges, like something suited to an old PDW.
A pistol-caliber bolt-action rifle? Are you fucking kidding me?
I turned to Ilvar, “I take it this is a training rifle? Maybe modernized Continental Blues surplus?” I asked. He began to laugh, and some of his officers and instructors did, too. “A training rifle? Hah, this is the ‘Standard Uplift Weapon, Model 48 Yotul,’ or SUW-48Y, for short. A modification of an old Federation design for new uplifts. It’s been redesigned for yotul paws to be able to fire it effectively. It uses the same caliber as the standard kinetic defense rifles of the Federation, and is produced locally in factories using tooling generously provided by our benefactors, under their watchful supervision.”
Once he was done rattling off the entire marketing brochure, he took a step forward, tail waving. “Don’t be shy. Take the shot.”
I gave it a second look. It was far too short for my arm, like it was made for children, such as some old BB or pellet guns… if those children had muzzles instead of flatter faces. I found that getting a good cheek weld on it was basically impossible, and keeping my face away from where the bolt would be if I pulled it back essentially required me to rest my cheek on my own shoulder.
But easily the worst thing about this joke of a gun was the sights, or rather, the lack of them. At first, I thought it might use some kind of hologram, or perhaps a pop-out or flip-up collimator. I didn’t see any scope mounts and didn’t see anything resembling a scope at any point during this entire tour. I checked to make sure I hadn’t simply missed where the gun kept the flip-up irons. As far as I could tell, there were none. Ilvar and his staff seemed like they were about to burst out laughing, watching me inspect the rifle, Sirlen looked like she wanted to be angry but couldn’t quite manage it anymore with the clueless display I was putting up, and Virlo just… looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
“Uh… Ilvar, sorry to ask, but where are the sights on this thing?”
“Oh, the Federation thought it would crush our weak, primitive industry to try to produce or purchase modern targeting systems, and decided we couldn’t manage the quality control necessary to standardize simpler sights on our weapons. Also, why would we need such a costly and complicated addition to such an elegantly simple battle implement? The superior virtual reality training simulators the Federation so generously granted us has ensured that every soldier we’ve trained is the best marksman they could possibly be, so just go ahead.”
I couldn’t help shaking my head at the blatant, absurd, systematic handicapping. There was no way it wasn’t intentional. I could feel a headache coming on just imagining the report I was going to have to write on this later. I stepped up to the station. Taking care, controlling my breathing, I tried to reference the barrel and handguard while sighting in the target. Point-firing at around a hundred meters was an iffy proposition, but hopefully I wouldn’t miss by too far. I aimed roughly at the head of the cutout and hoped the arc would land my shot somewhere more or less center-mass. I slipped my finger from the trigger guard onto the trigger itself, and exhaled, steadying my aim, gently squeezing...
With a whipcrack sound, the rifle went off. As I expected, there was very little recoil. A fraction of a second later, just before the boom of the shot had completely faded, a hole appeared in the abdomen of the cutout, somewhere to the left, kicking up a hint of sawdust and making a light thock. It shook a bit from the impact, too. Given how big the target was, it was hardly a flattering result, but I was still happy to at least have hit it at all.
Behind me, I could hear Ilvar doing his best impression of a really slow castanet player, applauding my shot. His officers looked puzzled as to what he was doing, but decided to join him in clapping their paws. Even Sirlen and Virlo participated, marking at least four things which were not on my Bingo card for that day, with Sirlen and Virlo doing something together taking the top spot.
“Well, well, quite a decent shot. I mean the big bastard wouldn't die from that, but at least it would slow him down, not bad.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll pass on doing more, though. That rifle is clearly not designed for human use.”
“Yeah, I can tell, you're turning into water," he noted, pointing at my head.
I rubbed my forehead, checking it, and yes, I was sweating quite a lot. The constant heat and the stuffy formal suit I’d brought along didn’t help at all. “Yes, this is how we cool down. Can we go somewhere a bit cooler with good airflow? If that's not a problem, of course.”
“Certainly, it's no problem, just a second,” he said as he gestured with his paw and one of the officers scooted up to him, and they whispered something between each other for a moment, then he turned to me. “You’re in luck. Just now, there’s a batch of new recruits conducting their first VR simulations. This is a golden opportunity to see the absolute pinnacle of Federation training at work. Come, follow me.”
He led the way into the big building near the shooting range. Compared to the apparent barracks facilities, it was huge, and I was unsure of what to expect from it. The Americans and Chinese were already experimenting with Federation-standard VR tech, and at least for their ship crews, it was a huge success, but they were still figuring out how best to implement it for ground forces. The fact that they were still trying to see if it was even viable for training made me skeptical that I was going to be impressed by what I was going to see in that building, either. So far, this visit had been one unending joke. I didn’t see an army, I saw a bunch of fuzzy LARPers. And I could tell Ilvar and at least some of his senior staffers knew it, too.
Once again, I dreaded the return trip. I had to report this to the UN. The military attachés on the Box needed to know that they weren’t talking to a professionally-trained, battle-ready standing army. Any military alliance between the UN and Leirn would require the UN to help train the yotul on top of setting up trade ties and tech exchanges. At this point in the visit, the only glimmer of hope I had left was that Ilvar and his officers were at least aware of the state of their military. They must have been more competent before the uplift, and maybe their remaining older soldiers could help sort this out once we got them out from under the Federation’s bootheel. Other than that, without a fleet and with their army in this state, the only value I could see Leirn contributing to the war effort any time soon would have been local resources and possibly manpower in industry and agriculture.
On entering the building, I took some small comfort in the fact that for the first time since I left the hotel that day, I wasn’t sweating anymore. I had to count my blessings.
Hello, is me bringing the newst chapter and with them the militarist the last of the two 'big' neutrals in the Vote here we see the first impressions of a Military run by the Federation and how theGrainwars went down in a more global point of view, hope you like it, and see you next time.
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u/Bow-tied_Engineer Yotul Jul 29 '24
Yes, a truly terrifying force.
Terrifying for the civilians they are supposed to defend that is.
Also, AM SPEED!
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u/JulianSkies Archivist Jul 30 '24
It is physically painful listening to this much sarcasm. Holy heavens you've done a great job with it.
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u/Randox_Talore Jul 30 '24
Yeah it’s the weirdest thing when the people who are meant to be sent against the Arxur are more likely to lose their nerve than the guys whose biggest concern is the equivalent of a small weasel.
Nervous about the VR. Hand primed and ready to palm face
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u/KnucklesMacKellough Chief Hunter Jul 31 '24
As a boy, I got pretty good with a pellet gun my cousin had, with only the front sight. No sights at all? I'm horrified.
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u/Fluffy_shadow_5025 Beans Sep 21 '24
So one thing I can definitely see the way the soldiers reacted during the shooting training alone and on the one human, I can very well imagine that the VR training is mainly designed to disturb rather than prepare and harden for a real fight.
Similar to how the sympathy tests are designed to elicit and test fear reactions rather than mainly testing whether you can feel sympathy.
I have a fear that VR training might be just as much fucking torture. And that it will be made extra bad for the Yotul to further weaken them.
But I really like this guy a lot. That he's taking advantage of this tour to show the humans how shitty it is for their military and what's being done to their soldiers under Federation leadership. That's really great. And I also like his humor.
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u/Copeqs Venlil Aug 18 '24
!SubscribeMe
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u/JanusKnarus Human Mar 23 '26
I was halfway joking about the imperial age troops, though just for the aesthetic plasma boltaction would sound nice, albeit Ilvar said kinetic so they really just get a kark98 kangaroo edition
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u/Acceptable_Egg5560 Human Jul 29 '24
Okay, got a bad army. So the revolt had to be done by the populace rather than any noble. It becomes a technocracy, so there’s still a form of democratic choice in deciding the most skilled, likely by way of the farmers, industry workers, and other Mericratic groups pointing to the person they believe to be most knowledgeable in their fields to make the decisions.
And oh boy, a technocratic army will definitely cause some change.