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Description
Chapter 1

Date:  February 12th, S.D.  2368,
Planet/System: Mishawaka,
Location:  South Front, Charlie Sector:

Burrowed into the dank slime of a crater, enemy fire sporadically spraying muck on him, Joe concluded the infantry was not an ideal career choice.  Not that he had a choice, he reminded himself as he squinted, his view restricted by ooze drying on his visor; a visor he didn't really want to clean since by the smell- and other less savory clues- he was fairly certain his shelter wall was the putrefying remains of a Scot's Guard- courtesy of last week's failed assault.  While reflecting on his odds of joining him in the ranks of fallen heroes, sudden motion to his right startled him into action.

A single reflexive turn, crouch, raise weapon, and...only an officer, standing tall at his crater's lip and glowering at the grimy remains of the squad.  One new trooper, too shell shocked and terrified to remember, snapped to attention- and an instant later his decapitated body collapsed into the watery mud sloshing about Joe's legs.  A crimson smear oozing to the surface marked his grave.

"You are aware that failure to salute an officer is a court martial offense?" roared the officer.  Reluctantly they chorus the one acceptable answer, "We're overcome by fear, unable to emulate our superior, sir."

The officer gave a contemptuous snort before continuing, "You've failed to reach your objective again; the colonel's calling off the attack.  Report to the support line."

As he casts his piercing, steel grey eyes ahead, searching for other survivors, an unlucky handful of slop, thrown up by a stray shell, passes through his holographic image.  Veins
atanding out with fury, he turns back to them and in an icy voice demands, "Who dared throw that?"

Joe, glancing at the widening stain marking Private Verde's final resting place, replies,  "It was thrown up by some of the fire your image is drawing,…..sir," hoping his pause is long enough to convey contempt.

"Name."

"Corporal 0405…sir."

"You and your squad are on report," and with that the officer's image blinked out.

Managing a weak smile of apology to the reproachful looks of the five survivors of Squad A, 2nd Platoon, Company C, 2nd Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers he inwardly groaned.  Getting the message across on behalf of Verde seemed important, but Verde was beyond help and report in the Terran Imperial Army was no simple matter….

Date:  December 20th, S.D. 2722
Planet/System: Taratupa,
Location:  Darkside, Private Residence

Elaine sighed, her paper was due in two weeks but history was not her favorite subject and Mrs. Shonig was an absolute tartar about thorough research.  She found some cold comfort in the thought that she only had to cover the war and its impact on the revolution in this sector and not all of the 200 odd alien races humanity fought with in that war.   Yielding to the inevitable she started her research searching for summaries of 'The Second Interstellar War-Gold Sector'

A.  Terran  Empire Background:
Having overcome their own internal fratricidal impulses, humanity enjoyed a golden age of peace and growth.  As adversity brings out the best in people; prosperity had the reverse effect.

Consequence?  A caste system; so rigid and complete that by the beginning of the Second Interstellar War many scientists speculate that humanity was within a few centuries of diverging into two species.   The Ruling, or Noble, caste which viewed the lower caste as enhanced animals, to be treated as pets, beasts of burden, or casual entertainment.  Just as torturing animals is not considered acceptable, the Noble caste didn't approve and seldom indulged in gratuitous intentional cruelty- although they were perfectly capable, as ample documentation confirms,  of euthanizing lower caste individuals as an act of mercy.

The lower caste was generally willing to offer due respect to the ruling caste, although few fully believed in their inherent superiority.   The lower caste generally dealt with the ruling caste by performing as requested when possible, and when not, by playing up to the prejudice against them.  (I'm sure sorry Sir, I jist dunno how this here thing works...)  While some , probably less than 5% at the time of the Second Interstellar War,  resented the ruling caste severely, most were unwilling to assault 'the system'.

Officers in the military were always Nobles, Lower caste could only rise to the level of Master Sergeant…..

Ellen paused, puzzled.  She wasn't sure if this was a necessary item for her report, but…. she shrugged, she could resolve that later, this was just an overview of her topic.  Anyway everyone knew the basic idea for the Terran Empire, two "castes", noble and lower.  But what about the war?  She scrolled down.

Having burst into the universe on a mission of exploration and conquest, humanity occupied a vast expanse of the galaxy- over 400 inhabited systems at its height.  In this, the AU or 'Gold' sector the  Terran Empire crossed swords with several alien empires that were not amused by the Terran Empire's Doctrine of Cultural Superiority.  By a combination of appalling ignorance, arrogance, and delusional miscalculations the ruling caste blundered the Gold sector  into a genocidal war against three alien empires and their allies.

Ellen pursed her lips in thought.  Dralmians allied with the Squantors and Elorian?  Shaking her head she smiled, she'd probably be adding the Breguet to one side or the other if she wasn't careful.  Then remembering something from a children's show about the war she looked back at the material.  Where were the Lolans?

Corporal 0405 risked a quick glance above the crater's edge.  He saw nothing but mud, broken equipment, and the Lieutenant's holograph on the gentle rise behind them as a series of bursts sprayed him and the remainder of his squad.  "McPenn marked us good," he muttered to no one in particular.

"Well.  McPenn marked us 'well'" Ryan corrected him as another burst sprayed mud and gore over them..

"Careful, that kind of back talk can land you on report," an irony that got a smile from Ryan, "Not to worry, our glorious leader is already lecturing another squad over there, they'll lose track of us before long," Joe smiled grimly.  What was left of the squad was turning into a good team, IF he could get them out of here.  He was the only veteran in the squad.  He knew that when the officers wrote off the attack you had to save yourself or give up and hope for a quick and painless death.

As the fire shifted to Lieutenant McPenn's new position Joe decided it was time.  "Ok, we're going to move along this stream bed," he pointed up the line of craters that was once a stream.  "We'll need to do a lot of suppression.  Remember, suppression fire is where you fire a full clip from cover that draws their fire and gives the rest of us a chance to move," basic stuff, but most of these guys had less than three weeks of training, "we leapfrog along under their guns on top of the ridge to that point where our lines curve close, and then scamper on home."

They successfully scrambled nearly two hundred yards, staying in the lee of the hill before them as much as possible.  Each time they moved Joe got a quick look at the situation, noticing that since the attack was called off their cover fire had stopped and the Lolans were picking off anyone trying to climb up the opposite hill to their lines.  He was pleased with how well his Squad was working as a team, but as he scrambled ahead with Ryan following, the remaining three men in his squad providing cover, a shell obliterated them, leaving him and a stunned Ryan alone.  Looking ahead and seeing the gap between their lines and the Lolan positions, estimating their diminishing odds for survival, Joe spared a moment to glare at the sky.  Every planet with oxygen- at least every planet he had encountered so far- had a blue sky, but each had its own distinctive tint that was present day or night.  This planet had an aqua, almost watery, shade to it that somehow repulsed him, and the thought of not only dying but being left forever under this sullen canopy churned his stomach.

Taking the lead and scrambling to the next crater, he was too busy looking ahead to notice the wounded Lolan officer.  Joe slid in head first ahead of a spurt of fire.  The Lolan was clearly injured and no threat to him.  He didn't have a communicator for Lolan on him, though all the Lolan Officer- at least Joe surmised he was an officer because of the ornate collar he wore- seemed capable of was muttering something about "Mage", the Lolan title for sergeant.  Private Ryan joined them and Joe noted approvingly that he didn't try to shot the Lolan on sight.  The Lolan took notice of them finally, and seeing they weren't ready to kill him just yet, he fumbled to reach a Lolan Med kit on his waist.

Joe took it from him, and given that all med kits were automated, with a nod from the Lolan he applied it.  The change was dramatic but not unexpected.  Wars improved certain technologies and the kits were designed to return someone badly hurt- or even a little bit dead- to the fight immediately.  The Lolan growled a bit as he raised himself just slightly and looked at them with clear and alert eyes.  "Give me your rifle Ryan," Joe held out his hand without taking his eyes or rifle off the Lolan.

"Are you nuts Corp?"  Ryan had a healthy regard for common sense things like not handing your weapon to the enemy.

"Do it," he said in an irritable voice of command."

Joe felt the rifle in his hand.  Carefully keeping it pointed up; he offered it to the Lolan while pointing to the Lolan's rifle beside him.  The Lolan looked, bared his teeth in a ferocious grin and gurgled a barking laugh as he accepted the rifle from Joe and nodded.

"Here you go private," he barked.  Joe thought it well to remind Ryan who was in charge, "you've just upgraded from an XM-14 to a Schneerk-27, in this case I would say an improved Lolan assault rifle." Joe finished admiringly.  He held an Elorian Mac-236 himself, any Terran Trooper with ten minutes of combat experience knew to relieve himself of his issued XM-14, famous for frequent shorts and doing next to no damage, even when it worked, for practically any other weapon available.

"Thanks Corporal…but why give him my rifle?"  Ryan had taken the hint.

Joe nodded to the Lolan, who did a good job of conveying his contempt for the Terran weapon as he edged himself to the top of the crater. "He might need some help getting back."

"Aren't we supposed to bring him back?"

"And let the Intelligence goons work him over before killing him?  We're here to 'defend' the Empire-I'll fight for it because it beats prison- but I don't torture and I'll be chooded  before I turn anyone over for execution." He had seen Intelligence work over a Squantor once, and he wasn't going to submit anyone, alien or human, to that.

The Lolan paused and turned to Joe speaking clearly, "Corporal, wait ten minutes, then take your squad straight back to your lines," and with that he was gone over the top.

Ryan broke the silence first, "What now Corporal?

"We wait ten minutes and hustle back to our lines, I think we just got ourselves a temporary cease fire order," Joe grinned.  If word got out he could probably be court-martialed for this stunt. At least he would be alive to get court-martialed.

After ten minutes they, and a very few miscellaneous survivors of the assault, scrambled to safety under the silent guns of the Lolans.  Fortunately for Corporal 0405 the officers, having declared the attack a failure, had ceased to monitor the battle, and therefore failed to observe his little diplomacy.

Here it is, Ellen concluded triumphantly.  She knew there were Lolans in the Second Interstellar War.

Lolans

History:  The Lolans served as mercenaries with the Dralmian Empire beginning in the third month of the war.   Five Regiments (the Imperial Lolan Assault Regiment and the 1st to 4th Lolan Regiments) were raised by the Dralmian.  Having been led to ally with the Dralmians based on some commitments that were not being kept the Lolan troops became somewhat disenchanted with the Dralmians and proved very unwilling allies.

Society:  The Lolan are of canine appearance and follow a tribal/pack approach to politics.  They, as with most warrior races, have a strong code of honor based on respect for the leader of the pack.   This loyalty is earned by courage under fire, an area where the Dralmians were -and still are- not conspicuous.

History is really confusing she thought, Lolans as mercenaries for the Dralmians?

Description
Chapter 1

Date:  February 12th, S.D.  2368,
Planet/System: Mishawaka,
Location:  South Front, Charlie Sector:

Burrowed into the dank slime of a crater, enemy fire sporadically spraying muck on him, Joe concluded the infantry was not an ideal career choice.  Not that he had a choice, he reminded himself as he squinted, his view restricted by ooze drying on his visor; a visor he didn't really want to clean since by the smell- and other less savory clues- he was fairly certain his shelter wall was the putrefying remains of a Scot's Guard- courtesy of last week's failed assault.  While reflecting on his odds of joining him in the ranks of fallen heroes, sudden motion to his right startled him into action.

A single reflexive turn, crouch, raise weapon, and...only an officer, standing tall at his crater's lip and glowering at the grimy remains of the squad.  One new trooper, too shell shocked and terrified to remember, snapped to attention- and an instant later his decapitated body collapsed into the watery mud sloshing about Joe's legs.  A crimson smear oozing to the surface marked his grave.

"You are aware that failure to salute an officer is a court martial offense?" roared the officer.  Reluctantly they chorus the one acceptable answer, "We're overcome by fear, unable to emulate our superior, sir."

The officer gave a contemptuous snort before continuing, "You've failed to reach your objective again; the colonel's calling off the attack.  Report to the support line."

As he casts his piercing, steel grey eyes ahead, searching for other survivors, an unlucky handful of slop, thrown up by a stray shell, passes through his holographic image.  Veins
atanding out with fury, he turns back to them and in an icy voice demands, "Who dared throw that?"

Joe, glancing at the widening stain marking Private Verde's final resting place, replies,  "It was thrown up by some of the fire your image is drawing,…..sir," hoping his pause is long enough to convey contempt.

"Name."

"Corporal 0405…sir."

"You and your squad are on report," and with that the officer's image blinked out.

Managing a weak smile of apology to the reproachful looks of the five survivors of Squad A, 2nd Platoon, Company C, 2nd Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers he inwardly groaned.  Getting the message across on behalf of Verde seemed important, but Verde was beyond help and report in the Terran Imperial Army was no simple matter….

Date:  December 20th, S.D. 2722
Planet/System: Taratupa,
Location:  Darkside, Private Residence

Elaine sighed, her paper was due in two weeks but history was not her favorite subject and Mrs. Shonig was an absolute tartar about thorough research.  She found some cold comfort in the thought that she only had to cover the war and its impact on the revolution in this sector and not all of the 200 odd alien races humanity fought with in that war.   Yielding to the inevitable she started her research searching for summaries of 'The Second Interstellar War-Gold Sector'

A.  Terran  Empire Background:
Having overcome their own internal fratricidal impulses, humanity enjoyed a golden age of peace and growth.  As adversity brings out the best in people; prosperity had the reverse effect.

Consequence?  A caste system; so rigid and complete that by the beginning of the Second Interstellar War many scientists speculate that humanity was within a few centuries of diverging into two species.   The Ruling, or Noble, caste which viewed the lower caste as enhanced animals, to be treated as pets, beasts of burden, or casual entertainment.  Just as torturing animals is not considered acceptable, the Noble caste didn't approve and seldom indulged in gratuitous intentional cruelty- although they were perfectly capable, as ample documentation confirms,  of euthanizing lower caste individuals as an act of mercy.

The lower caste was generally willing to offer due respect to the ruling caste, although few fully believed in their inherent superiority.   The lower caste generally dealt with the ruling caste by performing as requested when possible, and when not, by playing up to the prejudice against them.  (I'm sure sorry Sir, I jist dunno how this here thing works...)  While some , probably less than 5% at the time of the Second Interstellar War,  resented the ruling caste severely, most were unwilling to assault 'the system'.

Officers in the military were always Nobles, Lower caste could only rise to the level of Master Sergeant…..

Ellen paused, puzzled.  She wasn't sure if this was a necessary item for her report, but…. she shrugged, she could resolve that later, this was just an overview of her topic.  Anyway everyone knew the basic idea for the Terran Empire, two "castes", noble and lower.  But what about the war?  She scrolled down.

Having burst into the universe on a mission of exploration and conquest, humanity occupied a vast expanse of the galaxy- over 400 inhabited systems at its height.  In this, the AU or 'Gold' sector the  Terran Empire crossed swords with several alien empires that were not amused by the Terran Empire's Doctrine of Cultural Superiority.  By a combination of appalling ignorance, arrogance, and delusional miscalculations the ruling caste blundered the Gold sector  into a genocidal war against three alien empires and their allies.

Ellen pursed her lips in thought.  Dralmians allied with the Squantors and Elorian?  Shaking her head she smiled, she'd probably be adding the Breguet to one side or the other if she wasn't careful.  Then remembering something from a children's show about the war she looked back at the material.  Where were the Lolans?

Corporal 0405 risked a quick glance above the crater's edge.  He saw nothing but mud, broken equipment, and the Lieutenant's holograph on the gentle rise behind them as a series of bursts sprayed him and the remainder of his squad.  "McPenn marked us good," he muttered to no one in particular.

"Well.  McPenn marked us 'well'" Ryan corrected him as another burst sprayed mud and gore over them..

"Careful, that kind of back talk can land you on report," an irony that got a smile from Ryan, "Not to worry, our glorious leader is already lecturing another squad over there, they'll lose track of us before long," Joe smiled grimly.  What was left of the squad was turning into a good team, IF he could get them out of here.  He was the only veteran in the squad.  He knew that when the officers wrote off the attack you had to save yourself or give up and hope for a quick and painless death.

As the fire shifted to Lieutenant McPenn's new position Joe decided it was time.  "Ok, we're going to move along this stream bed," he pointed up the line of craters that was once a stream.  "We'll need to do a lot of suppression.  Remember, suppression fire is where you fire a full clip from cover that draws their fire and gives the rest of us a chance to move," basic stuff, but most of these guys had less than three weeks of training, "we leapfrog along under their guns on top of the ridge to that point where our lines curve close, and then scamper on home."

They successfully scrambled nearly two hundred yards, staying in the lee of the hill before them as much as possible.  Each time they moved Joe got a quick look at the situation, noticing that since the attack was called off their cover fire had stopped and the Lolans were picking off anyone trying to climb up the opposite hill to their lines.  He was pleased with how well his Squad was working as a team, but as he scrambled ahead with Ryan following, the remaining three men in his squad providing cover, a shell obliterated them, leaving him and a stunned Ryan alone.  Looking ahead and seeing the gap between their lines and the Lolan positions, estimating their diminishing odds for survival, Joe spared a moment to glare at the sky.  Every planet with oxygen- at least every planet he had encountered so far- had a blue sky, but each had its own distinctive tint that was present day or night.  This planet had an aqua, almost watery, shade to it that somehow repulsed him, and the thought of not only dying but being left forever under this sullen canopy churned his stomach.

Taking the lead and scrambling to the next crater, he was too busy looking ahead to notice the wounded Lolan officer.  Joe slid in head first ahead of a spurt of fire.  The Lolan was clearly injured and no threat to him.  He didn't have a communicator for Lolan on him, though all the Lolan Officer- at least Joe surmised he was an officer because of the ornate collar he wore- seemed capable of was muttering something about "Mage", the Lolan title for sergeant.  Private Ryan joined them and Joe noted approvingly that he didn't try to shot the Lolan on sight.  The Lolan took notice of them finally, and seeing they weren't ready to kill him just yet, he fumbled to reach a Lolan Med kit on his waist.

Joe took it from him, and given that all med kits were automated, with a nod from the Lolan he applied it.  The change was dramatic but not unexpected.  Wars improved certain technologies and the kits were designed to return someone badly hurt- or even a little bit dead- to the fight immediately.  The Lolan growled a bit as he raised himself just slightly and looked at them with clear and alert eyes.  "Give me your rifle Ryan," Joe held out his hand without taking his eyes or rifle off the Lolan.

"Are you nuts Corp?"  Ryan had a healthy regard for common sense things like not handing your weapon to the enemy.

"Do it," he said in an irritable voice of command."

Joe felt the rifle in his hand.  Carefully keeping it pointed up; he offered it to the Lolan while pointing to the Lolan's rifle beside him.  The Lolan looked, bared his teeth in a ferocious grin and gurgled a barking laugh as he accepted the rifle from Joe and nodded.

"Here you go private," he barked.  Joe thought it well to remind Ryan who was in charge, "you've just upgraded from an XM-14 to a Schneerk-27, in this case I would say an improved Lolan assault rifle." Joe finished admiringly.  He held an Elorian Mac-236 himself, any Terran Trooper with ten minutes of combat experience knew to relieve himself of his issued XM-14, famous for frequent shorts and doing next to no damage, even when it worked, for practically any other weapon available.

"Thanks Corporal…but why give him my rifle?"  Ryan had taken the hint.

Joe nodded to the Lolan, who did a good job of conveying his contempt for the Terran weapon as he edged himself to the top of the crater. "He might need some help getting back."

"Aren't we supposed to bring him back?"

"And let the Intelligence goons work him over before killing him?  We're here to 'defend' the Empire-I'll fight for it because it beats prison- but I don't torture and I'll be chooded  before I turn anyone over for execution." He had seen Intelligence work over a Squantor once, and he wasn't going to submit anyone, alien or human, to that.

The Lolan paused and turned to Joe speaking clearly, "Corporal, wait ten minutes, then take your squad straight back to your lines," and with that he was gone over the top.

Ryan broke the silence first, "What now Corporal?

"We wait ten minutes and hustle back to our lines, I think we just got ourselves a temporary cease fire order," Joe grinned.  If word got out he could probably be court-martialed for this stunt. At least he would be alive to get court-martialed.

After ten minutes they, and a very few miscellaneous survivors of the assault, scrambled to safety under the silent guns of the Lolans.  Fortunately for Corporal 0405 the officers, having declared the attack a failure, had ceased to monitor the battle, and therefore failed to observe his little diplomacy.

Here it is, Ellen concluded triumphantly.  She knew there were Lolans in the Second Interstellar War.

Lolans

History:  The Lolans served as mercenaries with the Dralmian Empire beginning in the third month of the war.   Five Regiments (the Imperial Lolan Assault Regiment and the 1st to 4th Lolan Regiments) were raised by the Dralmian.  Having been led to ally with the Dralmians based on some commitments that were not being kept the Lolan troops became somewhat disenchanted with the Dralmians and proved very unwilling allies.

Society:  The Lolan are of canine appearance and follow a tribal/pack approach to politics.  They, as with most warrior races, have a strong code of honor based on respect for the leader of the pack.   This loyalty is earned by courage under fire, an area where the Dralmians were -and still are- not conspicuous.

History is really confusing she thought, Lolans as mercenaries for the Dralmians?