Barbarians

Gravity keeps my head down

Or is it maybe shame

At being so young and being so vain

Holes in your head today

But I'm a pacifist

I've walked La Rambla

But not with real intent

Manic Street Preachers - “If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next”

Formerly Acolyte, now Recruit Nassat, struggled to keep his weapon on the target, the way Drill Sergeant Lin had shown them. It wasn’t the fault of the weapon, no matter how much he would have liked to blame the evil thing cradled in his arms. The Mark I-B (the Mark I-A being the human variant) was a straightforward piece of technology, simple enough to operate, even if he could barely bring himself to look at it. No matter how hard he tried to keep the weapon steady on the target the barrel would slide away, or his hands would shake so badly aiming was impossible.

He was a disaster as a soldier, and he knew it, though compared to the other recruits in Bravo company he scored somewhere in the upper third. It was just that training to fight...to kill...was so foreign, so alien to his nature that every fiber of his being rebelled against it, no matter how hard he tried. The same was true for the others, though there were a few things he and his fellow Saurotaurs did well. Marching, for one, though being a herd species had something to do with that. When the situation called for large groups to do the same thing in unison racial memory seemed to kick in automatically. Individual tasks like weapons training were proving far more difficult.

“It’s just a target, people!” Sergeant Lin shouted, “You can’t hurt it!” He marched up and down the firing line, checking for safety. “Left side is ready…right side is ready, shooters...commence firing!” he ordered, as a ragged volley of coughs rippled up and down the line.

Nassat forced himself to concentrate on what they’d learned during Marksmanship training, as he began to squeeze the trigger. The helmet’s targeting system tied into the weapon clearly showed the bull’s eye he was supposed to be aiming for, and once he had it locked in the ammunition would do the rest.

And yet despite all the built-in advantages to the weapon he, using it with any proficiency seemed to be forever beyond him. The target seemed to swim before his eyes as the shakes started up almost immediately, and in his hurry for it to simply be over he jerked the trigger in rapid succession, emptying his magazine well before Sergeant Lin shouted, “Cease Fire!”

He cleared the weapon as they’d shown him, standing by as their Drill Sergeant checked their scores, before shaking his head in disgust. “Un-fucking-believable,” he snarled. “If that had been a real enemy out there, you’d all be dead!” The human glared at them all before turning his attention towards him. “Nassat! Front and center!” he shouted, as he winced in anticipation for what was to come. They’d all quickly learned that being singled out for anything was never good, but he carried his weapon at port arms as he trotted up to face the sergeant. “Recruit Nassat reporting as ordered, Drill Sergeant!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, as Lin glowered at the rest of the company.

“I think it’s time we had a real demonstration,” he said, as he reached into his pack and retrieved another magazine, handing it over to Nassat. “Lock and load, Recruit,” he ordered, as Nassat hastened to do as he commanded. That much at least he could do, they’d drilled over the simple procedure so many times he could perform it in his sleep. As he readied his weapon Sergeant Lin removed his sidearm and swapped out his magazine...as that evil smile appeared on his face once more.

“Combat is simple, boys and girls,” Lin told them. “If you don’t kill your enemy, he will kill you.” He turned and walked away from Nassat until they stood about thirty meters apart, before facing him once more. “The ammo you have loaded is a training round,” the Drill Sergeant explained, “just like what I have in my weapon. It won’t kill you, or cause any real damage...but it will cause excruciating pain if it hits you.” Nassat shuddered in sheer terror as he stared at the predator facing him, non-lethal weapon or no. Lin holstered his sidearm, as the grin on his face grew wider. “Allow me to introduce you to an old human tradition known as the Gunfight, Nassat. On the count of three, I will draw my weapon and fire. If you haven’t shot me by the time I do, well…” He cackled with glee at the prospect of causing him pain, as Nassat’s eyes darted about looking for an escape. There was none to be found...and even as he did the rest of the company sidled away, giving him a very wide berth.

“Are you ready, Recruit?” Lin asked, and what he wanted to say “Dear Creator, no!”, but they’d all learned by now there was only one acceptable answer. “Yes, Drill Sergeant!” he replied...even as he began to tremble in fear once more.

“Good!” Lin replied, licking his lips in anticipation. “One!” he shouted.

Nassat struggled to bring the weapon up but it seemed so heavy in his arms, as if suddenly made of lead.

“Two!” Lin counted off, and time itself seemed to slow down to a crawl as he fought to point the weapon at the human target. Please Creator, I don’t want to do this! his mind howled, even as he felt his finger tighten on the trigger.

“Three!” The human’s hand darted down to his holster, and it seemed impossible that any living being could move so fast as the weapon came free, whipping up to point at him...when Sergeant Lin suddenly disappeared.

Nassat stared in shock. What had just happened? His eyes whipped around in panic...only to spot the Drill Sergeant seated on the ground, drawing deep breaths as he grimaced in pain. He looked down at his weapon in horror, before returning his gaze to the human, who despite the pain he felt was now grinning at him.

“Good job, Nassat,” he got out, “you did it.” He pointed to a red mark on the center of his chest. “Good aim, too,” he chuckled, as he slowly rose to his feet.

The young recruit could only stare at him in dismay. “I’m...sorry, Drill Sergeant,” he stammered, only to have Sergeant Lin snarl at him once more.

“Sorry?” he shouted, “God damn it, when are you people going to fucking learn?” The rest of the company shrank back from him once more as he advanced on Nassat. “This entire company will go into combat! People die in combat, and the only thing that will keep you alive is what you learn here!” He stopped a mere handbreadth away and poked him in the chest. “We will perform this drill every day, all of you, until it becomes second nature...and anyone I catch stalling or missing intentionally I will shoot myself! Do you understand?”

“YES DRILL SERGEANT!” the company shrieked back at him.

Lin spent a few more moments glowering at them, before returning his attention to Nassat. “Next time, don’t wait so long to fire,” he told him. “The enemy won’t give you three seconds. He won’t even give you one.” The human paused, as his voice dropped to an almost conversational tone. “If you learn anything from me...learn that,” he said, before waving Nassat back to the others.

“All right, you useless bastards...draw training ammo and pair up. Time to see who wants to stay alive,” he growled...as Nassat struggled to process what had just happened.

HELL NO, WE WON’T GO!

HELL NO, WE WON’T GO!

HELL NO, WE WON’T GO!

Governor-General Granville stared out the window at the chanting crowd and sighed. They were peaceful, and from what he’d seen would likely remain so. He’d read about this kind of thing in the history books, but he’d never imagined he’d actually see an anti-war protest in his lifetime. They were a rather small, if somewhat vocal minority, but he was growing concerned that the sentiment would spread.

He should have seen this coming, Granville realized...and the irony of the situation bordered on the ludicrous.

Humans were such a contrary and cantankerous bunch. Tell them that the sky was blue and half of them would argue it was actually green out of sheer cussedness, while the more pedantic types would insist on pointing out it varied from black to red to yellow, before turning blue. A sizable bunch would contend it was all a conspiracy, while the rest would simply shrug their shoulders in contemptuous apathy. Sometimes, he didn’t blame the Triumvirate one bit for keeping them at arm’s length.

For ninety years humanity had chafed at the restrictions imposed on it, as they’d struggled to channel Man’s aggression. There had been plenty over the years that had demanded war...and now that they had one they were demanding peace. Granville hoped it wasn’t the same group in both cases, but you never knew. He sighed yet again as the crowd took up a new chant.

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!

WE DON’T NEED YOUR XENO WAR!

There wasn’t anyone in that crowd in actual danger of being drafted. The psychological screenings had been thorough, and any of the Wannabe’s that only played at war were unsuitable for the task at hand. Of course, there was no telling them that. The training camps that had sprung up around the globe were churning out recruits as fast as they could cycle them through, but by any realistic standard, they were woefully unprepared. Granville dreaded the casualty reports he knew would soon cross his desk...but unless they sent somebody out to fight, the Triumvirate would fall.

...and then what would happen to Earth?

Granville didn’t know, but the possibilities flat-out terrified him.

In the wake of the latest attack, they had called an emergency meeting as the Ministers requested (demanded, actually) that the newly formed units do something. They were trying to do just that, but these things took time…and no one was willing to wait.

“You must attack!” Lassoarth wailed, “before any of our other worlds fall to the invaders!”

Marshal Antuma did his best to maintain an outward appearance of calm. “Minister, we’re simply not ready,” he informed her. “We need more time to build up our forces.”

“How much more time will you require given that every day we delay means more casualties?” Qomzoixaa demanded.

“Our current projections suggest at least another month,” Admiral Fujimoto replied. “Any less and we risk not only losing the forces we send against them, but also tipping our hand. If we give the enemy an idea of our capabilities before we’ve built up a sizable enough Navy, then we’re also giving them a chance to counter our strategies.”

“And have you calculated how many worlds will fall in that time?” Σ 121 Sub Δ countered. “How many more of our citizens will die?”

The two humans suddenly looked uncomfortable, and Leandra grimaced. She was no more sanguine to their losses than they were, but she at least had the advantage of knowing Earth’s bloody history.

“It’s difficult to say for certain,” Antuma said at last. “At least one or two more planets will fall before we’re ready to take the fight to them. I’m sorry Ministers, but there’s simply no way around that.”

“We must be patient,” Leandra counseled. “I know it’s difficult, seeing the images from those worlds, but if we attack before we’re ready we risk losing everything.”

“Unacceptable!” Lassoarth howled. “Too many have already died!”

“You asked us to help you,” Hélène told them, “since we have more experience in these matters, and that’s what we’re trying to do. So please, I urge you, listen to those who have studied tactics and strategy their entire lives. Give us the time we need,” she pleaded with them.

“Our citizens grow more terrified with every passing day,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said. “In a month’s time…there may be nothing left for you to defend.”

“...very well,” Marshal Antuma said quietly, drawing a surprised look from his counterpart, “We’ll try.”

“But…” she began to say, as he raised his hand to interrupt her.

“If we ignore the morale of the citizenry, we do so at our peril, Minister," Antuma explained. “History has proven that, repeatedly. As much as it pains me to say this... even a tactical military defeat could prove to be a strategic victory.”

Leandra bent her head in sorrow. “God help us all,” she whispered.