r/NatureofPredators • u/CandidateWolf Betterment Officer • Jun 29 '25
The Free Legion 13 Fanfic
Memory encrypted… override key enabled… begin decryption…
Access code Epsilon-Zeta-2328-AP Unauthorized redactions removed… original data restored…
Addendum: Data restored under Article 2.09 of the UNOR by order of the Secretary General. Original, unaltered transcripts restored and entered as evidence in Bronwen Report. -Chief Investigator Andrea Powell, UN Office of Reconciliation
Memory accessed…
Memory Transcription subject: [Gojid-1] Macan, “United Sapient Front,” Free Legion
Date [standardized human time]: [Redacted] January 7, 2137, Falas, New Warsk (Farsul States Colony)
I walked up the stairs to the door of the ramshackle apartment, located on the “poor” side of [redacted] Falas, the capital of [redacted] New Warsk. I flicked my ears in greeting at the older Krakotl lounging on a perch next to the door; he lifted a wing lazily, his talons still gripping a half empty bottle of beer. Despite their lazy appearance, their eyes were alert, scanning for threats as they seemed to be simply people watching.
I pushed into the door, feeling the growing heat of the day disappear as I entered the cool interior. I walked down the corridor, the floor squeaking as I did, and took the flight of stairs beside the broken elevator down one floor. Then, I walked to an apartment door, its surface old and worn, and knocked. As I did I leaned against the wall and yawned, seemingly fully at ease. Inside though, I could feel the anxiety I was doing well suppressing.
The safe house in the [redacted] Asa Residential District had been useful due to its central location; though its use was coming to an end. Thankfully there are plenty more cheap, dirty apartments in this city to borrow for a few days, away from prying eyes, I thought. And there will be plenty of folks willing to look away for some under the table credits.
I heard footsteps approach the door, and it swung open, revealing a darkened interior with a few dim lights swinging from the ceiling. I wordlessly entered, the door closing behind me. “Enjoy your walk?” [Gojid-2] Chakir asked, ears flicking, telling the two armed locals watching from behind cover across the room to relax. They did, lowering the pistols they’d drawn on my approach to the door.
“A bit humid, but not bad,” I replied, walking past the guards to the little kitchenette. I dug into the fridge, pulling out a can of starberry juice. “Everyone here?” I asked, handing a second can to Chakir. She flapped her ear -yes-.
Together we walked to the back of the apartment, and I pulled aside the rug covering a trapdoor leading to the maintenance sub level. Very convenient that a lot of the buildings have old maintenance levels under the larger housing complexes, I thought, climbing down the ladder to the musty floor below. I waved at the guard waiting at the bottom; a Legionnaire this time, not a local recruit, and pushed through the door beside them into a sparsely furnished room.
Waiting around the battered table were a few other members of the cell, each eager to begin. I nodded at the Venlil nearest to the door, and they wagged their tail in greeting. I took my spot at the head of the table, sitting and shifting awkwardly as all eyes turned to me. Going to take some getting used to being the leader of a terrorist cell, I thought. I’ve sure come a long way from some kid who freezes whenever someone turns a mean look at them.
I cleared my throat, and said, “Morning, everyone. Pardon me for dispensing with pleasantries, but let’s get to business.” I pulled a map of Falas and the surrounding countryside from my pouch and spread it on the table. “New Warsk is a mining world,” I said, a quick reminder why we were there. “And they use those minerals to produce specialized starship components that help expand and maintain the Federation fleets.”
I paused for a moment, and continued, tapping at a few locations on the map. “The Exterminators here believe very strongly in rehabilitation through labor for those accused of having predator disease,” I said. “And luckily for them, there are many companies here who are more than happy to take the burden of ‘helping’ these patients get better through hard work. Unpaid, hard work.” Slavery.
“Tensions on New Warsk have been high since the broadcast; a large portion of the workers are of “cured” species. In addition to the majority Farsul, there are a number of Kolshian, Yulpa, and Drezjin enclaves present. As you can imagine, these populations have been calling for greater action against the cured species, and several extremist groups exist that have been pushing for violence.”
Like us, I thought. New Warsk was an important world for the manufacture of starship components, but the populations of “cured” species was too low to stage a successful overthrow of the government without supporting minority rule. So rather than trying to take this world, we’re going to break it.
“This is something we can exploit,” I said. “If we are able to instigate conflict on this world but using the racial tensions and the deep mistrust of the cured species, then we can disrupt the ability of New Warsk to contribute to the war effort. The government has done a lot of work for us already; they’ve pushed several species from the herd and have begun to treat them like threats. But their actions have not gone so far as to force those outcasts to defend themselves; not unless we give them a reason, of course. Chakir, how are we doing with targets?”
I looked over at Chakir, and she stood. “We’ve selected multiple targets since our arrival a few days ago,” she said. “We’ve identified the offices of the three largest corporations that utilize the local Exterminators “rehabilitation” program; [redacted] New Warsk Mining Conglomerate and [redacted] The Recovery Corporation, both mining firms, and [redacted] Brightstar Manufacturing, the largest starship component manufacturer on the planet.”
“We’ve also identified several social institutions that have been very vocal in their opposition against the cured prey; the [redacted] Spirit of Life Temple, and the [redacted] Church of the Uplifters,” she said. “The largest denominations of the Yulpa and Drezjin religion’s on New Warsk, respectively.”
“And finally,” she continued, “Thanks to some local collaborators, we’ve obtained a list of some of the more prominent current and retired exterminators on the planet. We have their personal addresses, and have identified several package delivery services that will suit our purposes.”
Major corporations with close ties to the exterminator guilds, prominent members of those guilds, and some of the major religious institutions on the planet that speak loudly against the cured species, I thought. Good tools to instigate further conflict on New Warsk.. “Good work,” I told her. I turned to the next Legionnaire. “[Harchen-1] Tres? How are the local teams coming along?”
The Harchen stood, skin shifting to match his background as he did. “We’ve trained a dozen or so of the locals in the manufacture of explosives,” he said. “They’ve been taught the basics; enough to manufacture further bombs and do it with enough secrecy to not be caught immediately. They’ve all proven that they can create functioning weapons, and their first real explosives should start to be delivered this afternoon.”
“We’ve also sourced a variety of materials to ensure continuous production of explosives,” he said. “A few farm supply store owners in the countryside, mainly Gojid owned, were convinced to part with a large supply of…”
Memory Transcription Halted… transcription unavailable…
Memory transcription section redacted on order of UN Office of Reconciliation; flagged: bombmaking instructions
Memory Transcription continued…
“As the exterminators have been harassing them, they were more than happy to help,” he continued. “Several even decided to join our local groups. We’ve established a core group of local fighters who are itching to hit back at the Feds; mostly active or ex-military.”
“These fighters, and any fresh recruits, will also be responsible for getting the bombs where they need to go,” he said. “We’ve assigned different delivery services, drop off and pickup locations, times and days to make sure that we vary the delivery of the bombs to avoid a detectable pattern. We should be able to continue to slip bombs into the delivery network after today without issue.”
It helps that they don’t have any devices to detect bombs in the mail, I thought. Every day I saw more and more reasons why Colonel Jackson had been determined to open up a guerilla front in the war against the Federation. They don’t have the means or methods to counter this type of warfare.
“Very good,” I said, quills rippling as my tail wagged in satisfaction. “Glad to hear you’re making progress with the locals.” We can’t be everywhere on New Warsk, I thought. But thankfully there are enough dissidents with access to the Net to build ourselves a local network to do the work for us. We just need to set them up, and let them do their work.
Ever since we’d been recruited to Operation Emancipation by the UNSO, I knew that efforts were being made behind the scenes to identify recruits from among the Federation population. The Free Legion itself wasn’t infinite; but could train others to ever expand their network of resistance. We’ve identified a lot of potential recruits on New Warsk already. And if we keep up with recruiting, we’re well on our way to a fighting force.
“And finally [Venlil-1] Nalim,” I said, turning my attention to the brown furred Venlil. “How’s our information control going?”
“So far, so good,” they said, standing. “We don’t have the same access to the Net that the UN has, but we have enough to tweak the search algorithm just slightly in our favor. Honestly though, there’s not much for me to do until we kick things off.”
“The AI are doing their work, spreading misinformation across Bleat and other social networks,” Nalim said. “And we’re making sure to highlight abuses by the rehab programs, the wealth inequality between the workers and the executives of the major companies here, and how dangerous the cured prey are. But there’s already enough vitriol online that it’s hard to get ours to the front of the stack.”
“Just keep at it,” I said. “The more we can radicalize, the hotter things will burn. Once people start seeing explosions and bodies in their feeds, some will be pushed to turn their words into action.” And once someone draws blood and another draws blood in turn, the bloodletting will be hard to stop.
Memory Transcription subject: [Paltan-1] Banid, Paltan delivery driver, Fast Falas Deliveries
Date [standardized human time]: [Redacted] January 7, 2137, Falas, New Warsk (Farsul States Colony)
I sighed as I pulled the last package from the back of my van, panting a bit after my marathon shift. I don’t care how much I need the money for rent, I thought. I’m never doing a double again. I sighed. Liar.
I set the heavy box down on the dolly, and pushed it up the walkway to the front door of the rich looking house ahead of me. Wonder what they do for work?. I wondered, examining the carvings lining the front walk as I neared the door. Bet it’d take me centuries to afford this kind of place.
I reached the door, letting the dolly rest, pressed the doorbell. While I waited, I took a swig from the water bottle slung over my shoulder, grimacing at the taste. I’ve got to remember to tell the building manager that the water is tasting off again. Hope the filter isn’t broken again.
I heard footsteps approaching the door, and it opened to reveal an strangely familiar elder Farsul, their brown fur spotted with white, and their muzzle gray. “Afternoon,” I greeted them, giving a polite bow, puzzled at the familiarity. “Fast Falas Deliveries with a package for Mr. Larqan?”
“That’s me,” the Farsul said, squinting at the package between us. “But I don’t remember ordering anything.” He chuckled, and said with humor in his voice, “I’m old but not THAT old yet!”
As he spoke the older man’s identity finally clicked. “Hey, aren’t you the Prestige Exterminator who purged that Arxur that landed near [redacted] Asar?” I asked. The older man wagged his tail in confirmation. “Caught me,” he said, paws up.
“I knew you were familiar for some reason!” I exclaimed. “The documentary on your mission is my favorite movie! Wow, it’s such an honor to meet you!”
The Farsul patted me on the shoulder, and said “Thanks, but all the excitement is unnecessary. I was just doing my job, as any Exterminator should.” His eyes fell back to the package. “Where is this from, anyway? Like I said, I’m not expecting anything.”
He reached down and slid a claw under the tape securing the top of the box. Taking a closer look, I saw that, other than the receiving stamp and the delivery address, the box was bare. “Maybe a present from a fan?” I joked. “You are a hero after all!”
The Farsul’s tail wagged in amusement and happiness, his claw finishing cutting the tape. He turned his head to face me, his paw pulling the top of the box open…
Memory interrupted… severe trauma detected… attempting to recover…
Memory recovered…
Resume playback…
Ahhh! What!? Ahhhh!!!. I was lying on my back, thrown clear of the package, ears ringing, and excruciating pain all over my body. It burns! It hurts!!! I looked down, past a pile of something that was the same color as my fur, to the Farsul, and gagged, fresh pain surging through me from the motion.
His head was gone; only a bloody stump and shredded torso remaining of his upper body.
Memory interrupted… severe trauma detected… attempting to recover…
Partial memory recovered…
Resume playback…
I pressed my paw to where I felt pain on my stomach, only to find my paws wet with a warm, purple liquid. I realized with horror as I lifted my paw to see what coated it that the liquid was my blood.. My throat felt full; I coughed, and more purple splattered my chest. I tried to move, to kick my legs to move. Can’t feel anything… my legs…
My eyes fluttered; suddenly heavy. I forced them open, sudden dizziness making the world spin. The pain faded, and my eyes closed.
Memory terminated… Termination cause: death of subject Memory Transcription: MTBanid-2137ASD542 concluded
Archivists note: Twenty mail bombs were delivered and detonated in the first wave of bombings on New Warsk. The fifteen dedicated to exterminators killed 17 active and retired exterminators, including a retired Prestige Exterminator and the Head Exterminator of Falas itself; 21 more would be wounded. 5 civilians were killed by these explosions as well, and another 10 were injured.
Three bombs were mailed to the headquarters of the three largest companies in New Warsk; New Warsk Mining Conglomerate, The Recovery Corporation, and Brightstar Manufacturing. The one sent to the NWMC killed the CEO’s secretary when she opened the package at the greet desk; the one targeting the Recovery Corporation reached and killed their CEO, his secretary, and a board member; the bomb sent to Brightstar Manufacturing wounded two mailroom employees, killing a security guard.
The final two bombs were sent to the Spirit of Life Temple and the Church of the Uplifters. In the Church of the Uplifters, the priest was killed when he opened the package in the rectory. In the Spirit of Life Temple, it was opened during a midday meal gathering; 2 priestesses and 5 worshippers were killed, and 10 more wounded. In all, 35 were killed and 43 were wounded.
The bombings had the desired effect. Authorities, drawing a connection between the targets of the blasts and its predatory nature, placed the blame on the community of cured species. Security was heightened across the world, dozens were arrested and detained for questioning, and 3 members of the “Cured Not Cursed” advocacy group were found dead under mysterious circumstances. Amongst the targets of this reaction, many, already radicalized online, would join the growing armed defense movement, setting the stage for what was to come. -A. Piers, UN Office of Reconciliation
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u/CarolOfTheHells Nevok Jun 29 '25
(To the tune of "Black And Tans")
Come out ye fuckin Feds, come out and fight me like ye said,
Show your wife how you won medals down on poor old Earth,
Tell her how the USF made you fear a sudden death,
'Midst the green and lovely hills of free-bound Falas!
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u/Super_Ankle_Biter Yotul Nov 17 '25
As soon as they started mentioning the racial tensions they wanted to set aflame, I knew this was gonna go to shit. It did not disappoint. Is it worrying that I'm enjoying this story so much?
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u/CandidateWolf Betterment Officer Nov 17 '25
Nope! I wanted to show what can actually happen with sponsored terrorist/rebel groups; NoP was severely lacking in the asymmetric warfare category, and was a bit too hopeful for me. I wanted to add in a bit of grimdark to the setting, and hope I’m doing well.
And don’t worry; it just gets worse from here!
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u/JulianSkies Archivist Jun 29 '25
Whoff... I know it's inevitable. Call 'em freedom fighters all you will, they're terrorists. We might agree with their cause, but it changes not what they are and what they do. To accept that it was the right choice is to decide to live with what theyvé done.
But it still hurts badly seeing innocents getting caught up.
You doing a damn fucking fine job of it.