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Chapter 2


"Hey Princess, going to bed soon?"

"Yes Daddy, I just need to finish some more on this report,"

Elaine's father looked over her shoulder, "Report?'

"Mrs. Schonig wants us to do a summary of the 2nd Interstellar war and its consequences for the Republic."

"They've written a lot of books on that already," he laughed, "Report on the Terran Empire in the Second Interstellar War eh? Be sure to include something on the slave revolts and lousy weapons."

"Slave revolts? Wasn't it the lower caste? I mean humans didn't have alien slaves, did they?"

Her dad smiled.  Elaine was already a teen and at the stage where he could seldom tell her anything.  "The lower caste revolts only came at the end- but even  before this war the Terran Empire enslaved the native races they encountered.  See, this was long before the Great Revival and humans still believed they could live alongside aliens.  The nobles, at least, had the idea that aliens were lower than even low caste humans and treated aliens a lot worse than the lower caste, which caused the Terran Empire to spend a lot of time fighting behind their lines as well as fighting the war…."

Date:  February 16th, S.D. 2368,
Planet/System: Saraton
Location:  Mcleach resort and 2nd battalion support base:

"I said this is the menu for the Senator's dinner, and this will be the menu."  Emphatic and only a tad shrill.  As the Senator's new consort, she was young and determined to immediately establish her authority in his household.

"Mistress, perhaps you could explain to the chef..." her spineless lackey sputtered.

With a crisp "Very well," and firmly setting her jaw, Eka marched into the kitchen.  The Tajan chef and his two assistants were clustered by the contraband from earth making muted, worried clicking sounds.  Summoning her imperial dignity, Eka squared her shoulders and brushed a strand of her carefully coiffured lustrous black hair from her face.  "Senator likes lobster dinners, he will have lobster for his birthday dinner, and there is to be no further argument."

More clicking, then, struggling with the alien sounds, "Mistress, lobster not law here.  No cook."

Startled that an alien knew of a treaty, much less its provisions, Eka paused a moment before forming a reply.  "Treaties do not concern servants.  You will boil these lobsters for dinner and you - will - remember - your - place."  The last with deadly emphasis, as her blue eyes flashed angrily.

Silence as she marched out.  Then the Tajan chef glanced at the earth lobster happily snuggled within his claw, so like the chef's own children.  The next series of clicks didn't sound worried.

Six miles to the southeast, Squad A, 2nd Platoon, Company C, 2nd Battalion, Royal Fusileers, two survivors of the assault on the Lolan position with four newly arrived and somewhat bewildered recruits- subject to punishment by virtue of the their recent assignment to the squad- awaited military justice.    Joe stood stiffly at attention at the head of the unit as the highest ranking survivor, Ryan, newly promoted to Private First Class, stood beside him.  The soldiers were again confronted by Lt. McPenn (in the flesh this time) and briskly reminded of their atrocious behavior.  Lt. McPenn stopped before Corporal 0405 and glared.  Joe didn't drop his eyes, it was Lt. McPenn who had to look away.  Snapping "25 lashes for this man, and 48 hours in lockup on half rations for the squad", he stalked off leaving Sergeant Major Bosworth to handle the execution of the sentence.

The Sergeant Major, a rotund veteran wearing his hair in long dreadlocks, did not conform to dress regulations.  Older officers were tolerant, in light of his demonstrated ability to manage troops, and he mollified younger officers by playing the 'roly poly clown' to the hilt.  With his characteristic grin and a jovial "Come on mons, this is war not a waltz, eh? In line and go mons," he lined the Squad up to watch Joe's lashing.  Slipping Joe a pill while maneuvering him into position and whispering, "For the pain mon.  Lean like this, the machine, she not hit as hard like this." After the mechanically applied whipping he tenderly lowered Joe from the machine.  Lt. McPenn, satisfied that justice had been served, had retired to officers' quarters to drink and sulk.

The cells were located in the basement of the administrative building of the compound.  This compound, a battalion outpost detached from the main base and located several miles south of the major resort area on the planet Saraton, was nominally there to protect the resort.  The system was considered safe due- despite their ferocious appearance- to the docile nature of the native Tajans.  Consequently Lt. McPenn was the only officer present, thanks to his need to preside over trials of offenders.  His foul mood was increased, in no small part, due to that day's arrival of the 'fishing fleet'- the sarcastic title for the young ladies of the upper caste who came to military resort areas in the hopes of catching a suitable officer husband.

The troopers' social activities were of a far more sedate nature; centered primarily on who would get which bunk.  As the Sergeant Major closed the cell door he assured them "Corporal Tuck will have your resort dinner here so
on mons, your gear, she in these lockers, you party hearty, no?" a gentle laugh and he walked into the late afternoon sunlight.

Eka was in the midst of her wardrobe, deciding what outfit was most appropriate for their special dinner, when a Tajan boldly entered her room.  Her screeching was unanswered by the human servants, already dismembered and scattered about the mansion.  Brought into the kitchen before the Tajan chef, serenely clicking to the lobsters nestled in his claw, Eka made her outrage known.

"I am a lady of the J'uanita house, I will not be abused in this fashion, and you will pay for this outrage," shouted with remarkable authority given the circumstances.

As she paused for breath, the chef raised his claw to show the lobsters he was holding.  "Boil? Dinner?" he queried.

"Of course you fool," snarled ucomphrendingly, her eyes blazing with rage.

With a slight sarcastic bow to her, he nodded to the Tajan holding her and moved aside, allowing the softskin a view of the pot, a large pot, rocking from the furiously boiling water within.  "Boil.  Dinner."

Firm, impassive, Tajan justice.

It is not pleasant, thought the chef, even for a softskin to die thus, much less one of our kindred.  He marveled at the softskins' ignorance- to repay kindness with first contempt, then treachery- so very foolish.  Turning to the remaining Tajan, he issued final instructions.  By moonrise next the softskins would be swept from Saraton.

Firm, impassive, Tajan justice.

Elaine shook her head.  Her book referenced the cause of the rebellions as the sinfulness of humans attempting to live alongside other races, even technologically primitive races.  The thought that someone didn't understand, why the Bible was so clear….. she sighed.  No wonder human history was so quiet about this aspect of the war, they were such dweebs.  Looking at the clock she remembered her dad's admonition and closed her tablet, preparing for her night's prayer.

The troopers woke to the sounds of the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Fusileers dying.  Hoarse shouts, a few, pathetically few, shots, and finally nothing but the sharp crackle of hundreds of Tajans savagely clicking.  Several Tajans entered the cell area, but unable to master the locks they moved on, presumably content to deal with these caged softskins indirectly.

As smoke began to drift into the cell Corporal 0405, resuming command despite the lashes, vigorously confirmed that the cells were not made for easy escapes.  Blinded by smoke they could barely see Sergeant Major Bosworth staggering in clutching an unmounted B-Bridges with an empty clip and smoking barrel.  Clumsily fumbling to open the cell, he gasps, "Big haram chadi roaches, they overran the perimeter, big roaches," a faint, angry glint in his eye, "McPenn in charge of watch, no watch set, roaches caught my mons in bed," the cell unlatched, and with a final lucid look, the Sergeant Major stiffens, "Leave me, get civilians from that resort, my order," and collapsed across the console, unconscious, as flames became visible at the door.

"Yeah, sure," Joe grumbled to no one in particular.  Shouting "Grab Sarge," he began.  The pain in Joe's shoulders was doing nothing for his humor.

"Corp, he ordered…." a new recruit objected.

"You heard the Corp, drop it and get Sarge now!"  Joe smiled despite his pain.  Even amidst this chaos Ryan had obviously taken his promotion to heart.

"Just get Sarge, we don't leave anyone behind; grab the Bridges BUT DON'T use it without emplacing it!" Joe was emphatic, the Bridges had a lot more power than a 14, but it took a strong and experienced trooper to fire it from the hip without losing control, and Squad A was notably short on that type of trooper at the moment.

Date:  December 21st, 2722
Planet/System: Taratupa
Location:  Darkside, Private Residence

Returning to her paper the next evening, Elaine clicked open her notes on the paper, Ok, so revolts kept happening, what had her dad said about weapons again?  Of course primitive weapons were lousy, but had these been worse than others?  Elaine flipped screens to a Janes reference.  There was a lot of technical stuff, but finally she triumphantly highlighted a section,

The B-Bridges was a heavy weapon designed for Infantry deployment.  While effective, it had two drawbacks. First, essentially it had no recoil buffer, thus before firing it had to be emplaced-a process taking nearly a minute.  On the upside, the emplacing process was automatic; the trooper placed the weapon, switched to "emplace" and waited for the environmental impact statement.  The statement always recommended against going forward, the trooper then hit "override" and the prongs deployed for firing.  By all accounts, no one ever found a way to avoid this process.

Second, the Senator in charge of weapons appropriations liked the number 14; (something about being the 14th prince of the 14th dynasty of the 14th Royal house..etc.) thus when Bridges made its pitch to supply this weapon, they pointed out the impressive effect of 14 bursts of laser cannon death- so effectively that as a condition of its appropriation the cannon could only fire in bursts of 14.  Thus, in a desperate situation a trooper could fire the B-Bridges without emplacing it and could aim several shots, depending on how strong he was, before the recoil knocked the weapon loose.  At that point the Bridges would swing wildly about releasing the remainder of the fourteen rounds randomly, frequently killing or maiming the trooper holding it and anyone in his Squad not taking cover.

Janes Early Powered Weapons, 2nd Edition, Published Taratupa, 2738, page 27.

Elaine puzzled a minute, reducing the note to some generality and added a check mark to decide later to add this under 'warfare' or 'politics'.


Date:  February 16th, S.D. 2368,
Planet/System: Saraton
Location:  Mcleach resort

Joe stopped and drew a deep breath once clear of the burning building.  The Tajans had looted this area and were already scattered about the camp on their way to the coast, or the resort, he thought grimly.  The Compound was a cleared area with three buildings, all in flames and a lot of bodies- or to be more precise, body parts.  The single sky cycle was gone, Lieutenant McPenn no doubt, and the only transportation remaining was some trucks that the Tajans had smashed up fairly well.

Joe looked at the sky, darkness replacing the ludicrously dull blue sky of the day.  The two rising moons cast an ethereal light over the dense vegetation around the camp.  Joe was reluctant to venture into the jungle; wading through the thick alien vegetation while dodging homicidal seven foot tall crustaceans didn't seem like a good plan.  The resort was maybe four miles away by road.  Making his decision he turned to the squad, "Any mechanics here?"

After a moment a new recruit tentatively raised his hand, "Private 3159, Corporal, I worked in my dad's garage before I was drafted."

"We're men, not equipment, what's your name?" especially now, Joe couldn't stand to use a number for one of his men.

"Bill, Corporal."

"Ok, Bill and you three," pointing to the new recruits, "carry Sarge to the truck and emplace the Bridges on it and get it running; we'll find some weapons." Joe didn't want to have to waste time explaining the merits, or lack thereof, of the XM-14 to the new recruits, he and Ryan had their weapons from the lockers and knew the weapons to look for.

Using the very few dead Tajans as markers they were able locate a few decent rifles. Joe didn't want to get too far from the trucks.  He wasn't all that sure the Tajans wouldn't return and even as accustomed as he was to carnage, seeing the rendered remains of the Battalion was a strong incentive to stay close to the emplaced Bridges.  Returning he heard Bill lecturing Nick and Vince from beneath the hood on the intricacies of the particular engine type for this truck while Jeff, the remaining recruit, anxiously scanned the perimeter for moving brown shells.  Equipping the squad with two Schneerk-27's and two Elorian Mac-236's he posted them around the truck Bill was repairing and climbed aboard to check Sarge.

"Couldn't find a med-kit," he answered Sarge's questioning look, "so don't talk.  I imagine the kits went up in the buildings or got used, not that they helped any of the guys."  Sarge nodded sadly.  "You sure they're hitting the resort?" he asked.  Joe had no desire to take on the Tajans with just this Squad.

"That bokachoda McPenn got a call from the resort reporting they were under attack…too drunk to do anything but grab a skycycle and head for the main base," Sarge was spitting blood as he spoke but he waived off Joe's efforts to silence him, "make sure they know that," here he coughed on his own anger, "they know he killed my mons, my mons…." and Sarge slipped into unconsciousness.  Joe fingered his Elorian Mac thoughtfully, in this confusion, if they came across McPenn he might get a chance to avenge the battalion without depending on the dubious prospects of justice from the Empire.

His murderous thoughts were interrupted by the engine roaring, literally roaring, to life. Over the din, that surely would attract every Tajan within ten miles, he shouted to quiet the engine down.

"Can't Corp, it took parts from all three trucks to get this bai larh  to even start.  See when they made these they wanted to save about one sixteenth of a credit each by using a plastic…."  Joe cut him off and ordered everyone aboard, reassured that Bill was indeed a true mechanic.

A true mechanic, but his driving, as Joe and the squad again lurched to one side of the truck while taking a corner, Joe wished he had quizzed Bill on his skill as a driver before setting him behind the wheel.  The B-Bridges roared beside him as a group of Tajans appeared on the road before them, its fourteen bursts shredding them before the truck plowed through the survivors.  "Easy on that Jeff, the new clip was already low and all they seem to have are logs and rocks, I doubt they can hurt us at this speed," Jeff nodded, but expressed reluctance at leaving Bill with 'all the fun'.

"Oh aaga, we got fun."  Per his order Bill was pulling into a nearby mansion.  There were several around the resort, and Joe had wanted to give the squad some practice in a smaller, and hopefully not too crowded building before tackling the larger complex.  The number of Tajans pouring out to greet them was tremendous and they were actually tripping over themselves in their battlelust to reach the truck.  Jeff's well aimed salvos from the B-Bridges cut swathes in their ranks, but undaunted they advanced.

Bill had the sense to pull broadside to their assault and stop without killing the engine.  He and Ryan popped out of the cap and began firing their Schneerks while the rest of the Squad blazed away from the back of the truck.  Joe noted that even the new recruits were maintaining good fire discipline as they mowed down the Tajan assault waves, dropping them by the dozens before any could get within 30 feet of the truck.  As the last wave went down, still charging across the mound of shattered brown shells as savagely and as futilely as the first wave, the firing slowed and stopped.

Joe looked at his rifle, the charge was almost gone.  "Check your energy level," he shouted, "if you're at minimum, stay with the truck."  "Jeff how much left on the Bridges?" Jeff had been nursing the Bridges toward the end.

"Just enough charge for three bursts Corp," he said with the satisfied tone of a true professional.

Only Nick and Ryan joined Joe with enough charge left in their rifles to, hopefully, survive clearing the building.  Leaving Jeff, Vince, and Bill with the truck, Joe led the other two men around the smoldering mass of Tajans and into the mansion.   Thankfully the Tajans appeared to have all died in the attack on the truck; thankfully because while the bodies of the battalion had been rent, the residents of the mansion had been rent, rerent and rendered a third time, and in these close quarters an encounter with an infuriated seven foot tall hard shelled alien with massive claws was something none of them wanted.  Initially.

Nick and Ryan provided cover as they burst into the mansion, securing the rooms one by one.  In the kitchen, it was Ryan who first looked into the steam rising from an enormous pot suspended above an open fire.  "Cooks must have fled, no bodies in here.  Just some clothes and that pot.  What's cookin' Ryan?"  Joe managed some banter, the hope growing in him that the mansion might indeed be empty.

"Can't tell," Ryan spoke slowly as he considered the boiling water, "Nick, help me dump this, Corp stay back, this water's hot enough to melt a boot."

Joe wondered why Ryan would bother to check the contents of a cooking pot in that way, but held his tongue, no point in raising a fuss over something so trivial, and anyway, with the carnage in the mansion, no one had an appetite at this point.

The pot went over with a racket and Joe's complaint about the unnecessary noise died on his lips as the pot's content became apparent.

"To think, I was starting to feel sorry for those haraam jadas….", Ryan muttered finally as they stared at her sprawled steaming corpse, the room silent except for the sound of Nick on his knees puking.  Joe stood silent a moment trying to keep his stomach down.  Death, even the dismembered dead in the mansion, was one thing, but boiling alive?

"Ryan, you get your weapon charging there," Joe gestured to the kitchen power outlet, "Nick, you on guard, when Ryan's charges get your rifle up, I'll get the rest of the squad started in the front room."  And have them look in here, he thought grimly, we're going into the resort, and they better know what to expect.

The aliens revolted constantly it seemed, as Elaine worked to somehow summarize the innumerable revolts recorded in the Gold sector during this period.  "a lot" isn't a good summary she mused, but what effect did they have, aside from killing a lot of people and aliens?  Finally she gave a triumphant murmur, at last something aside from casualties.  A reference to the first cracks in the caste system brought about by promotions of some of the founding fathers from 'the ranks'.

"Found some medkits Corp", Nick waved a bundle of small white boxes with red crosses.

"Get one on Sarge and stow the rest, we'll need 'em at the resort," Joe ordered, hoping he didn't look too obviously relieved.   So far it was going OK, but he wanted Sarge back.  He checked the last batch of charging rifles.  They were close to max and everyone wanted to get on to the resort, any reluctance melted in their white hot fury at the atrocity sprawled on the kitchen floor.

Returning to the truck Joe was surprised to see Sarge still on his stretcher asleep.  "Did you give him the kit Nick?"

"It's a civilian kit for nobles, knocks them out for 12 hours or so but when he wakes up he'll feel great!"

Joe groaned inside, Nick was right about the kit, he had forgot the difference in kits in his eagerness to have Sarge in charge.  Probably better he rationalized, the military kits got you moving with patches and lots of drugs and you usually had a stint in the hospital after they wore off; Sarge would be better off.  Even if it did leave him still in command.

They were only a mile and a half or so from the resort as his feet left the floor again, Joe regretting giving Ryan the wheel, Bill had at least kept it on the road.  As they careened into the resort area, any hope of stealth already gone owing to the engine's roar, Joe's eyes widened as he realized Ryan's intent.  "Blast the doors Jeff, blast them!"  He was closer to panic than he wanted to admit as Ryan steered the truck directly toward the central tower of the resort.  Joe dove over Sarge as Nick and Vince cowered on the floor beside.  Jeff, whooping with delight, shattered the glass lobby doors moments ahead of the truck.  Skidding to a halt in a crystal shower of broken glass, Jeff swung the recharged Bridges in an arc ahead of the truck, annihilating the three stunned Trajans in front of them as Nick and Joe dispatched four more gawking from a balcony.

Recovering his composure Joe ordered Jeff to stay on the Bridges with Bill, (who wanted to complain that Ryan may have overstressed a cylinder head or something) and drive around outside the resort towers to keep Tajans from reinforcing as they cleared the building.  Jeff whooped as they drove back out the hole he created and Joe motioned to Nick, Vince and Ryan to resume their room clearing.  "Four men, thirty floors and how many Tajans?" Joe muttered.

There was a blast beside his ear as a Tajan popped out from a hallway.  "One less Corp," Ryan smugly assured him.

It was debatable as they passed through the halls and restaurants of the lower floors as to which was worse.  Here the bodies weren't as mutilated, and being able to recognize the remains as human made it better and worse.  Better inasmuch as less was left to the imagination, worse since the reality was numerous young women and their 'nans'  had been indiscriminately slaughtered.   The few Tajans they encountered suffered briefly but spectacularly from their rage as they obliterated them with an avalanche of fire on sight.

The first survivor they encountered had lain still beneath the corpse of her blood soaked nan and was too scared to do more than whimper as they came upon her.  Getting her to her feet, Joe looked at her glazed eyes and blood soaked clothing and turning to Ryan, commanded, "Secure her in." He paused and pushed open a door to a small cloakroom, "Here.  Vince, stay with Ryan, keep your eyes open and we'll bring anymore survivors back here.  If we hear shooting we'll come on the double."

Ryan nodded and took the girl's arm.  As he led her toward the room she stopped, "I can't leave Nan in the hall like…."  The men exchanged glances.  The floors were running with blood and bodies were piled everywhere….  She whimpered and looked at Ryan imploringly.  Giving Joe a resigned shrug, Ryan walked to the Nan and lifted her corpse as Vince hovered protectively beside the girl.

Nick went down on their third rescue- another young noble lady had been successfully shielded by her Nan and Nick forgot to watch the hall ahead.  In the instant they were distracted, the Tajan lunged from the shadows impaling Nick with his spear as Joe pumped rounds into him.  The girl, already stunned and left wide eyed at this sudden violence meekly allowed Joe to led her back to Ryan and Vince.  Briefly telling them to take the girls to the truck and head for the main base if he didn't return in half an hour, declining Vince's offer to replace Nick, Joe trotted back down the hall, briefly considering the elevator instead of the slog up eight flights of stairs then dismissing it from an elemental fear of being cornered in a box.

Arriving at the top of the flight he hesitated, Nick's body lay where he had fallen and Joe reasoned that since he was nearly to the top, odds were that there were no more survivors or Tajans around.  He sighed, and went on; if there were no Tajans, no problem.  Survivors would be simple enough he thought as he passed Nick's corpse, throwing himself into the wall and swinging his rifle as he heard the distinctive crack of a powered rifle ahead.  "If you can hear the shot, it wasn't at you," he comforted himself as he moved toward the corner.  The sound of Tajans clicking frantically was now echoing down the hall.

Deciding how best to round the corner without being mistakenly shot by the gunman is an art, an art appreciated and practiced by any veteran with a desire to survive.  Joe heard another shot and a woman scream as the clickings rose to a crescendo.  Shouting "Friend!" repeatedly and ducking low he rounded the corner to see a pile of brown shells at the end of the hall with several very live Tajans scrambling over a pile of broken crustacean corpses.   Firing from the hip as he rushed them, he heard another single shot from within the room as a female's cry cut through the clicking.  Diving over the smoldering corpses of the Tajans at the door Joe plunged into the room, rolling from his fall through a clear puddle of Tajan blood.  He saw an elderly man with a sporting rifle behind a young woman who was desperately clubbing a Tajan away from a motionless nan on the floor.  As he rose he decided against a shot from this angle; even if he killed the Tajan, his shot could easily finish off the girl as well.  Stumbling forward on the slick floor he had an innocuous memory from his childhood of a game played with his brother and without hesitation he dove to the floor tucking his shoulder and rolling to his back as he hit to slide head first beneath the Tajan and fire up into his exposed belly.

It was an inspired plan, brilliantly executed and successful, except he had not considered the impact of a lifeless seven foot tall crustacean landing on his chest.

At one level he appreciated the gorgeous young lady's frantic efforts to move the Tajan,  Each shift in its weight caused new waves of intense pain to sweep over him.  Finally, with the assistance of the elderly gentlemen, they freed him.  Rising slowly he concluded he was OK, so long as he didn't breathe, move his upper body, or try to walk.  This realization came a moment before the elderly gentleman gave him a hearty slap on the back.

"Capitol job my boy. Capitol. Now fetch your commanding officer; we need to recover Lady Spindler, room 2719, Lady Knobby, 2804, and… Alicia dear, do you remember where Lady Bowles was staying?"

Alicia put an arm around Joe and very gently helped him back up from his knees.  "No father, I don't keep track of your," here she looked at Joe and considered a moment before continuing, "your 'friends', you do that well enough without me."

"Rather" he chuckled, "I'm just a bit rattled with all this native excitement, why even your nan fainted," as he pointed to the now stirring woman on the floor.

"Mistress Alicia, I'm sorry, when I saw that beastie come at you…Why DO YOU HAVE your arm around HIM?!?" the nan did a commendable job of switching from faint to fury.

"He saved my life, and yours, and was hurt doing it," Alicia was firm, Joe would give her that.  "And until the rest of the troops get here he's our defense"

Joe walked slowly, and leaning as much as he dared on Alicia, to the door.  "This the only exit?" he asked, dubiously eyeing the pile of Tajan corpses.

"It's the only exit, Corporal?...."  Alicia queried.

"Corporal 0405 at your service, ma'am, and sir' he nodded politely to both of them, speaking quietly and sure that at least half of his ribs were broken.

"Thank you Corporal 04.."

""0405" Alicia added with some annoyance, "he saved our lives, at least you should remember his, umm, name."

"He's only part of the troops sent to rescue us…now be a good fellow and call in some men to clean up this mess and I want to speak to your commanding officer…who is he again?"

Something about Alicia calling him a number hit a nerve, maybe the fatigue, the fighting, but whatever it was; it was an end, "My commanding officer is Lieutenant McPenn, and you're going to have to talk very loudly, for that drunken boga is probably 50 miles from here.  Now we need to move these Tajans and get out of here.  We don't have troops to spare on cleaning details at the moment."

At a nod from Alicia, she and the nan gamely began tugging on the top corpse, Joe offering some help with one arm while watching for any live Tajans.  The man was silent a moment, startled at this outburst from a lower caste.  The warning look from Alicia detoured him from commenting on this breach.  He reluctantly came forward to help.

"You had best use a med kit, that fall must have cut your back somehow, it is bleeding rather heavily," the gentleman mentioned as he took Joe's place removing corpses.

"We don't have med-kits and the fall didn't cut my back, I was lashed today."

Alicia gave an appropriately horrified little gasp as her nan clucked, "with your mouth I shouldn't wonder….." stifling the rest of her observation at Alicia's glare.

"I'll speak to the officer in charge about getting you treatment, but for now can we get my friends, and find a quiet spot until this mess is cleaned up?" Joe had to give the elderly gentleman credit for keeping his composure.

"I suspect your friends are dead, we can check their rooms on our way down.  We only found three other survivors in this building," here all three of them gasped.  "As for quiet spots, I'm afraid you'll have to wait in the truck while we clear the other two buildings and it's anything but quiet."

"How could the aliens kill everyone? I thought it was an assignation attempt on me because I'm a senator, and with an army base nearby…." The gentleman, Senator gentleman, showed his first break of composure as Alicia covered her mouth stifling a gasp of dismay.

"Lieutenant McPenn didn't post a guard at our camp, so the Tajans caught us unprepared and wiped out the battalion" he explained tersely and somewhat breathlessly.  "My squad and I survived because McPenn had us locked up for my suggestion his suda-sudi holograph got one of my men killed."

"If you suggested it, why did the squad get locked up?" Alicia blurted out.

"Military discipline dear, punish the group and they in turn will keep offenders like our Corporal here in line," the Senator explained placidly, but with a creeping horror.

Joe nodded, "Works real good too.  Now if you will follow me please."

Stepping around the remaining Tajan corpses Joe led them out into the hall.  They stopped at Nick's corpse as Joe retrieved his Mac-236 and handed it to Alicia.  "If they try to rush us, just point and pull the trigger," Joe let his eyes linger a moment on her hands, they were the most beautiful and delicate hands he had ever seen.  They continued quietly, Alicia and her nan stifling an occasional sob as they passed some particularly gruesome or pathetic corpse.  They only checked the first room of the Senator's friends, after finding an expensively clad corpse and odd silk garments scattered though one of the better rooms, the Senator expressed his agreement with Joe that they concentrate on returning to the other survivors.

Vince greeted them as they entered the hall, "Found three? It was just about thirty minutes and Ryan was going to have me take the girls while he came looking for you."

"That wasn't what I ordered," Joe muttered.

"Ryan said if you were dead, he was in charge and those was his orders," Vince grinned, "though that one lady was pretty bent on him not running no risks," and here his grin broadened.

Joe, despite his aching ribs, had to smile back as they joined the other survivors.  The young lady in question, the first girl they had rescued, never seemed to take her worshipful gaze off Ryan.

The Senator eyed the three of them, "A Private First class is in charge if a Corporal dies?  Who is in overall command of this rescue?"

Ryan and Vince looked at Joe, and he looked at Alicia, her eyes, so clear and sweet.  Ignoring his aching ribs and back he straightened to attention and looking firmly at the Senator answered, "Corporal 0405, commanding squad A, 2nd Platoon, Company C of the Royal Fusileers at your service sir." For his effort he nearly fainted.

Description
Chapter 2


"Hey Princess, going to bed soon?"

"Yes Daddy, I just need to finish some more on this report,"

Elaine's father looked over her shoulder, "Report?'

"Mrs. Schonig wants us to do a summary of the 2nd Interstellar war and its consequences for the Republic."

"They've written a lot of books on that already," he laughed, "Report on the Terran Empire in the Second Interstellar War eh? Be sure to include something on the slave revolts and lousy weapons."

"Slave revolts? Wasn't it the lower caste? I mean humans didn't have alien slaves, did they?"

Her dad smiled.  Elaine was already a teen and at the stage where he could seldom tell her anything.  "The lower caste revolts only came at the end- but even  before this war the Terran Empire enslaved the native races they encountered.  See, this was long before the Great Revival and humans still believed they could live alongside aliens.  The nobles, at least, had the idea that aliens were lower than even low caste humans and treated aliens a lot worse than the lower caste, which caused the Terran Empire to spend a lot of time fighting behind their lines as well as fighting the war…."

Date:  February 16th, S.D. 2368,
Planet/System: Saraton
Location:  Mcleach resort and 2nd battalion support base:

"I said this is the menu for the Senator's dinner, and this will be the menu."  Emphatic and only a tad shrill.  As the Senator's new consort, she was young and determined to immediately establish her authority in his household.

"Mistress, perhaps you could explain to the chef..." her spineless lackey sputtered.

With a crisp "Very well," and firmly setting her jaw, Eka marched into the kitchen.  The Tajan chef and his two assistants were clustered by the contraband from earth making muted, worried clicking sounds.  Summoning her imperial dignity, Eka squared her shoulders and brushed a strand of her carefully coiffured lustrous black hair from her face.  "Senator likes lobster dinners, he will have lobster for his birthday dinner, and there is to be no further argument."

More clicking, then, struggling with the alien sounds, "Mistress, lobster not law here.  No cook."

Startled that an alien knew of a treaty, much less its provisions, Eka paused a moment before forming a reply.  "Treaties do not concern servants.  You will boil these lobsters for dinner and you - will - remember - your - place."  The last with deadly emphasis, as her blue eyes flashed angrily.

Silence as she marched out.  Then the Tajan chef glanced at the earth lobster happily snuggled within his claw, so like the chef's own children.  The next series of clicks didn't sound worried.

Six miles to the southeast, Squad A, 2nd Platoon, Company C, 2nd Battalion, Royal Fusileers, two survivors of the assault on the Lolan position with four newly arrived and somewhat bewildered recruits- subject to punishment by virtue of the their recent assignment to the squad- awaited military justice.    Joe stood stiffly at attention at the head of the unit as the highest ranking survivor, Ryan, newly promoted to Private First Class, stood beside him.  The soldiers were again confronted by Lt. McPenn (in the flesh this time) and briskly reminded of their atrocious behavior.  Lt. McPenn stopped before Corporal 0405 and glared.  Joe didn't drop his eyes, it was Lt. McPenn who had to look away.  Snapping "25 lashes for this man, and 48 hours in lockup on half rations for the squad", he stalked off leaving Sergeant Major Bosworth to handle the execution of the sentence.

The Sergeant Major, a rotund veteran wearing his hair in long dreadlocks, did not conform to dress regulations.  Older officers were tolerant, in light of his demonstrated ability to manage troops, and he mollified younger officers by playing the 'roly poly clown' to the hilt.  With his characteristic grin and a jovial "Come on mons, this is war not a waltz, eh? In line and go mons," he lined the Squad up to watch Joe's lashing.  Slipping Joe a pill while maneuvering him into position and whispering, "For the pain mon.  Lean like this, the machine, she not hit as hard like this." After the mechanically applied whipping he tenderly lowered Joe from the machine.  Lt. McPenn, satisfied that justice had been served, had retired to officers' quarters to drink and sulk.

The cells were located in the basement of the administrative building of the compound.  This compound, a battalion outpost detached from the main base and located several miles south of the major resort area on the planet Saraton, was nominally there to protect the resort.  The system was considered safe due- despite their ferocious appearance- to the docile nature of the native Tajans.  Consequently Lt. McPenn was the only officer present, thanks to his need to preside over trials of offenders.  His foul mood was increased, in no small part, due to that day's arrival of the 'fishing fleet'- the sarcastic title for the young ladies of the upper caste who came to military resort areas in the hopes of catching a suitable officer husband.

The troopers' social activities were of a far more sedate nature; centered primarily on who would get which bunk.  As the Sergeant Major closed the cell door he assured them "Corporal Tuck will have your resort dinner here so
on mons, your gear, she in these lockers, you party hearty, no?" a gentle laugh and he walked into the late afternoon sunlight.

Eka was in the midst of her wardrobe, deciding what outfit was most appropriate for their special dinner, when a Tajan boldly entered her room.  Her screeching was unanswered by the human servants, already dismembered and scattered about the mansion.  Brought into the kitchen before the Tajan chef, serenely clicking to the lobsters nestled in his claw, Eka made her outrage known.

"I am a lady of the J'uanita house, I will not be abused in this fashion, and you will pay for this outrage," shouted with remarkable authority given the circumstances.

As she paused for breath, the chef raised his claw to show the lobsters he was holding.  "Boil? Dinner?" he queried.

"Of course you fool," snarled ucomphrendingly, her eyes blazing with rage.

With a slight sarcastic bow to her, he nodded to the Tajan holding her and moved aside, allowing the softskin a view of the pot, a large pot, rocking from the furiously boiling water within.  "Boil.  Dinner."

Firm, impassive, Tajan justice.

It is not pleasant, thought the chef, even for a softskin to die thus, much less one of our kindred.  He marveled at the softskins' ignorance- to repay kindness with first contempt, then treachery- so very foolish.  Turning to the remaining Tajan, he issued final instructions.  By moonrise next the softskins would be swept from Saraton.

Firm, impassive, Tajan justice.

Elaine shook her head.  Her book referenced the cause of the rebellions as the sinfulness of humans attempting to live alongside other races, even technologically primitive races.  The thought that someone didn't understand, why the Bible was so clear….. she sighed.  No wonder human history was so quiet about this aspect of the war, they were such dweebs.  Looking at the clock she remembered her dad's admonition and closed her tablet, preparing for her night's prayer.

The troopers woke to the sounds of the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Fusileers dying.  Hoarse shouts, a few, pathetically few, shots, and finally nothing but the sharp crackle of hundreds of Tajans savagely clicking.  Several Tajans entered the cell area, but unable to master the locks they moved on, presumably content to deal with these caged softskins indirectly.

As smoke began to drift into the cell Corporal 0405, resuming command despite the lashes, vigorously confirmed that the cells were not made for easy escapes.  Blinded by smoke they could barely see Sergeant Major Bosworth staggering in clutching an unmounted B-Bridges with an empty clip and smoking barrel.  Clumsily fumbling to open the cell, he gasps, "Big haram chadi roaches, they overran the perimeter, big roaches," a faint, angry glint in his eye, "McPenn in charge of watch, no watch set, roaches caught my mons in bed," the cell unlatched, and with a final lucid look, the Sergeant Major stiffens, "Leave me, get civilians from that resort, my order," and collapsed across the console, unconscious, as flames became visible at the door.

"Yeah, sure," Joe grumbled to no one in particular.  Shouting "Grab Sarge," he began.  The pain in Joe's shoulders was doing nothing for his humor.

"Corp, he ordered…." a new recruit objected.

"You heard the Corp, drop it and get Sarge now!"  Joe smiled despite his pain.  Even amidst this chaos Ryan had obviously taken his promotion to heart.

"Just get Sarge, we don't leave anyone behind; grab the Bridges BUT DON'T use it without emplacing it!" Joe was emphatic, the Bridges had a lot more power than a 14, but it took a strong and experienced trooper to fire it from the hip without losing control, and Squad A was notably short on that type of trooper at the moment.

Date:  December 21st, 2722
Planet/System: Taratupa
Location:  Darkside, Private Residence

Returning to her paper the next evening, Elaine clicked open her notes on the paper, Ok, so revolts kept happening, what had her dad said about weapons again?  Of course primitive weapons were lousy, but had these been worse than others?  Elaine flipped screens to a Janes reference.  There was a lot of technical stuff, but finally she triumphantly highlighted a section,

The B-Bridges was a heavy weapon designed for Infantry deployment.  While effective, it had two drawbacks. First, essentially it had no recoil buffer, thus before firing it had to be emplaced-a process taking nearly a minute.  On the upside, the emplacing process was automatic; the trooper placed the weapon, switched to "emplace" and waited for the environmental impact statement.  The statement always recommended against going forward, the trooper then hit "override" and the prongs deployed for firing.  By all accounts, no one ever found a way to avoid this process.

Second, the Senator in charge of weapons appropriations liked the number 14; (something about being the 14th prince of the 14th dynasty of the 14th Royal house..etc.) thus when Bridges made its pitch to supply this weapon, they pointed out the impressive effect of 14 bursts of laser cannon death- so effectively that as a condition of its appropriation the cannon could only fire in bursts of 14.  Thus, in a desperate situation a trooper could fire the B-Bridges without emplacing it and could aim several shots, depending on how strong he was, before the recoil knocked the weapon loose.  At that point the Bridges would swing wildly about releasing the remainder of the fourteen rounds randomly, frequently killing or maiming the trooper holding it and anyone in his Squad not taking cover.

Janes Early Powered Weapons, 2nd Edition, Published Taratupa, 2738, page 27.

Elaine puzzled a minute, reducing the note to some generality and added a check mark to decide later to add this under 'warfare' or 'politics'.


Date:  February 16th, S.D. 2368,
Planet/System: Saraton
Location:  Mcleach resort

Joe stopped and drew a deep breath once clear of the burning building.  The Tajans had looted this area and were already scattered about the camp on their way to the coast, or the resort, he thought grimly.  The Compound was a cleared area with three buildings, all in flames and a lot of bodies- or to be more precise, body parts.  The single sky cycle was gone, Lieutenant McPenn no doubt, and the only transportation remaining was some trucks that the Tajans had smashed up fairly well.

Joe looked at the sky, darkness replacing the ludicrously dull blue sky of the day.  The two rising moons cast an ethereal light over the dense vegetation around the camp.  Joe was reluctant to venture into the jungle; wading through the thick alien vegetation while dodging homicidal seven foot tall crustaceans didn't seem like a good plan.  The resort was maybe four miles away by road.  Making his decision he turned to the squad, "Any mechanics here?"

After a moment a new recruit tentatively raised his hand, "Private 3159, Corporal, I worked in my dad's garage before I was drafted."

"We're men, not equipment, what's your name?" especially now, Joe couldn't stand to use a number for one of his men.

"Bill, Corporal."

"Ok, Bill and you three," pointing to the new recruits, "carry Sarge to the truck and emplace the Bridges on it and get it running; we'll find some weapons." Joe didn't want to have to waste time explaining the merits, or lack thereof, of the XM-14 to the new recruits, he and Ryan had their weapons from the lockers and knew the weapons to look for.

Using the very few dead Tajans as markers they were able locate a few decent rifles. Joe didn't want to get too far from the trucks.  He wasn't all that sure the Tajans wouldn't return and even as accustomed as he was to carnage, seeing the rendered remains of the Battalion was a strong incentive to stay close to the emplaced Bridges.  Returning he heard Bill lecturing Nick and Vince from beneath the hood on the intricacies of the particular engine type for this truck while Jeff, the remaining recruit, anxiously scanned the perimeter for moving brown shells.  Equipping the squad with two Schneerk-27's and two Elorian Mac-236's he posted them around the truck Bill was repairing and climbed aboard to check Sarge.

"Couldn't find a med-kit," he answered Sarge's questioning look, "so don't talk.  I imagine the kits went up in the buildings or got used, not that they helped any of the guys."  Sarge nodded sadly.  "You sure they're hitting the resort?" he asked.  Joe had no desire to take on the Tajans with just this Squad.

"That bokachoda McPenn got a call from the resort reporting they were under attack…too drunk to do anything but grab a skycycle and head for the main base," Sarge was spitting blood as he spoke but he waived off Joe's efforts to silence him, "make sure they know that," here he coughed on his own anger, "they know he killed my mons, my mons…." and Sarge slipped into unconsciousness.  Joe fingered his Elorian Mac thoughtfully, in this confusion, if they came across McPenn he might get a chance to avenge the battalion without depending on the dubious prospects of justice from the Empire.

His murderous thoughts were interrupted by the engine roaring, literally roaring, to life. Over the din, that surely would attract every Tajan within ten miles, he shouted to quiet the engine down.

"Can't Corp, it took parts from all three trucks to get this bai larh  to even start.  See when they made these they wanted to save about one sixteenth of a credit each by using a plastic…."  Joe cut him off and ordered everyone aboard, reassured that Bill was indeed a true mechanic.

A true mechanic, but his driving, as Joe and the squad again lurched to one side of the truck while taking a corner, Joe wished he had quizzed Bill on his skill as a driver before setting him behind the wheel.  The B-Bridges roared beside him as a group of Tajans appeared on the road before them, its fourteen bursts shredding them before the truck plowed through the survivors.  "Easy on that Jeff, the new clip was already low and all they seem to have are logs and rocks, I doubt they can hurt us at this speed," Jeff nodded, but expressed reluctance at leaving Bill with 'all the fun'.

"Oh aaga, we got fun."  Per his order Bill was pulling into a nearby mansion.  There were several around the resort, and Joe had wanted to give the squad some practice in a smaller, and hopefully not too crowded building before tackling the larger complex.  The number of Tajans pouring out to greet them was tremendous and they were actually tripping over themselves in their battlelust to reach the truck.  Jeff's well aimed salvos from the B-Bridges cut swathes in their ranks, but undaunted they advanced.

Bill had the sense to pull broadside to their assault and stop without killing the engine.  He and Ryan popped out of the cap and began firing their Schneerks while the rest of the Squad blazed away from the back of the truck.  Joe noted that even the new recruits were maintaining good fire discipline as they mowed down the Tajan assault waves, dropping them by the dozens before any could get within 30 feet of the truck.  As the last wave went down, still charging across the mound of shattered brown shells as savagely and as futilely as the first wave, the firing slowed and stopped.

Joe looked at his rifle, the charge was almost gone.  "Check your energy level," he shouted, "if you're at minimum, stay with the truck."  "Jeff how much left on the Bridges?" Jeff had been nursing the Bridges toward the end.

"Just enough charge for three bursts Corp," he said with the satisfied tone of a true professional.

Only Nick and Ryan joined Joe with enough charge left in their rifles to, hopefully, survive clearing the building.  Leaving Jeff, Vince, and Bill with the truck, Joe led the other two men around the smoldering mass of Tajans and into the mansion.   Thankfully the Tajans appeared to have all died in the attack on the truck; thankfully because while the bodies of the battalion had been rent, the residents of the mansion had been rent, rerent and rendered a third time, and in these close quarters an encounter with an infuriated seven foot tall hard shelled alien with massive claws was something none of them wanted.  Initially.

Nick and Ryan provided cover as they burst into the mansion, securing the rooms one by one.  In the kitchen, it was Ryan who first looked into the steam rising from an enormous pot suspended above an open fire.  "Cooks must have fled, no bodies in here.  Just some clothes and that pot.  What's cookin' Ryan?"  Joe managed some banter, the hope growing in him that the mansion might indeed be empty.

"Can't tell," Ryan spoke slowly as he considered the boiling water, "Nick, help me dump this, Corp stay back, this water's hot enough to melt a boot."

Joe wondered why Ryan would bother to check the contents of a cooking pot in that way, but held his tongue, no point in raising a fuss over something so trivial, and anyway, with the carnage in the mansion, no one had an appetite at this point.

The pot went over with a racket and Joe's complaint about the unnecessary noise died on his lips as the pot's content became apparent.

"To think, I was starting to feel sorry for those haraam jadas….", Ryan muttered finally as they stared at her sprawled steaming corpse, the room silent except for the sound of Nick on his knees puking.  Joe stood silent a moment trying to keep his stomach down.  Death, even the dismembered dead in the mansion, was one thing, but boiling alive?

"Ryan, you get your weapon charging there," Joe gestured to the kitchen power outlet, "Nick, you on guard, when Ryan's charges get your rifle up, I'll get the rest of the squad started in the front room."  And have them look in here, he thought grimly, we're going into the resort, and they better know what to expect.

The aliens revolted constantly it seemed, as Elaine worked to somehow summarize the innumerable revolts recorded in the Gold sector during this period.  "a lot" isn't a good summary she mused, but what effect did they have, aside from killing a lot of people and aliens?  Finally she gave a triumphant murmur, at last something aside from casualties.  A reference to the first cracks in the caste system brought about by promotions of some of the founding fathers from 'the ranks'.

"Found some medkits Corp", Nick waved a bundle of small white boxes with red crosses.

"Get one on Sarge and stow the rest, we'll need 'em at the resort," Joe ordered, hoping he didn't look too obviously relieved.   So far it was going OK, but he wanted Sarge back.  He checked the last batch of charging rifles.  They were close to max and everyone wanted to get on to the resort, any reluctance melted in their white hot fury at the atrocity sprawled on the kitchen floor.

Returning to the truck Joe was surprised to see Sarge still on his stretcher asleep.  "Did you give him the kit Nick?"

"It's a civilian kit for nobles, knocks them out for 12 hours or so but when he wakes up he'll feel great!"

Joe groaned inside, Nick was right about the kit, he had forgot the difference in kits in his eagerness to have Sarge in charge.  Probably better he rationalized, the military kits got you moving with patches and lots of drugs and you usually had a stint in the hospital after they wore off; Sarge would be better off.  Even if it did leave him still in command.

They were only a mile and a half or so from the resort as his feet left the floor again, Joe regretting giving Ryan the wheel, Bill had at least kept it on the road.  As they careened into the resort area, any hope of stealth already gone owing to the engine's roar, Joe's eyes widened as he realized Ryan's intent.  "Blast the doors Jeff, blast them!"  He was closer to panic than he wanted to admit as Ryan steered the truck directly toward the central tower of the resort.  Joe dove over Sarge as Nick and Vince cowered on the floor beside.  Jeff, whooping with delight, shattered the glass lobby doors moments ahead of the truck.  Skidding to a halt in a crystal shower of broken glass, Jeff swung the recharged Bridges in an arc ahead of the truck, annihilating the three stunned Trajans in front of them as Nick and Joe dispatched four more gawking from a balcony.

Recovering his composure Joe ordered Jeff to stay on the Bridges with Bill, (who wanted to complain that Ryan may have overstressed a cylinder head or something) and drive around outside the resort towers to keep Tajans from reinforcing as they cleared the building.  Jeff whooped as they drove back out the hole he created and Joe motioned to Nick, Vince and Ryan to resume their room clearing.  "Four men, thirty floors and how many Tajans?" Joe muttered.

There was a blast beside his ear as a Tajan popped out from a hallway.  "One less Corp," Ryan smugly assured him.

It was debatable as they passed through the halls and restaurants of the lower floors as to which was worse.  Here the bodies weren't as mutilated, and being able to recognize the remains as human made it better and worse.  Better inasmuch as less was left to the imagination, worse since the reality was numerous young women and their 'nans'  had been indiscriminately slaughtered.   The few Tajans they encountered suffered briefly but spectacularly from their rage as they obliterated them with an avalanche of fire on sight.

The first survivor they encountered had lain still beneath the corpse of her blood soaked nan and was too scared to do more than whimper as they came upon her.  Getting her to her feet, Joe looked at her glazed eyes and blood soaked clothing and turning to Ryan, commanded, "Secure her in." He paused and pushed open a door to a small cloakroom, "Here.  Vince, stay with Ryan, keep your eyes open and we'll bring anymore survivors back here.  If we hear shooting we'll come on the double."

Ryan nodded and took the girl's arm.  As he led her toward the room she stopped, "I can't leave Nan in the hall like…."  The men exchanged glances.  The floors were running with blood and bodies were piled everywhere….  She whimpered and looked at Ryan imploringly.  Giving Joe a resigned shrug, Ryan walked to the Nan and lifted her corpse as Vince hovered protectively beside the girl.

Nick went down on their third rescue- another young noble lady had been successfully shielded by her Nan and Nick forgot to watch the hall ahead.  In the instant they were distracted, the Tajan lunged from the shadows impaling Nick with his spear as Joe pumped rounds into him.  The girl, already stunned and left wide eyed at this sudden violence meekly allowed Joe to led her back to Ryan and Vince.  Briefly telling them to take the girls to the truck and head for the main base if he didn't return in half an hour, declining Vince's offer to replace Nick, Joe trotted back down the hall, briefly considering the elevator instead of the slog up eight flights of stairs then dismissing it from an elemental fear of being cornered in a box.

Arriving at the top of the flight he hesitated, Nick's body lay where he had fallen and Joe reasoned that since he was nearly to the top, odds were that there were no more survivors or Tajans around.  He sighed, and went on; if there were no Tajans, no problem.  Survivors would be simple enough he thought as he passed Nick's corpse, throwing himself into the wall and swinging his rifle as he heard the distinctive crack of a powered rifle ahead.  "If you can hear the shot, it wasn't at you," he comforted himself as he moved toward the corner.  The sound of Tajans clicking frantically was now echoing down the hall.

Deciding how best to round the corner without being mistakenly shot by the gunman is an art, an art appreciated and practiced by any veteran with a desire to survive.  Joe heard another shot and a woman scream as the clickings rose to a crescendo.  Shouting "Friend!" repeatedly and ducking low he rounded the corner to see a pile of brown shells at the end of the hall with several very live Tajans scrambling over a pile of broken crustacean corpses.   Firing from the hip as he rushed them, he heard another single shot from within the room as a female's cry cut through the clicking.  Diving over the smoldering corpses of the Tajans at the door Joe plunged into the room, rolling from his fall through a clear puddle of Tajan blood.  He saw an elderly man with a sporting rifle behind a young woman who was desperately clubbing a Tajan away from a motionless nan on the floor.  As he rose he decided against a shot from this angle; even if he killed the Tajan, his shot could easily finish off the girl as well.  Stumbling forward on the slick floor he had an innocuous memory from his childhood of a game played with his brother and without hesitation he dove to the floor tucking his shoulder and rolling to his back as he hit to slide head first beneath the Tajan and fire up into his exposed belly.

It was an inspired plan, brilliantly executed and successful, except he had not considered the impact of a lifeless seven foot tall crustacean landing on his chest.

At one level he appreciated the gorgeous young lady's frantic efforts to move the Tajan,  Each shift in its weight caused new waves of intense pain to sweep over him.  Finally, with the assistance of the elderly gentlemen, they freed him.  Rising slowly he concluded he was OK, so long as he didn't breathe, move his upper body, or try to walk.  This realization came a moment before the elderly gentleman gave him a hearty slap on the back.

"Capitol job my boy. Capitol. Now fetch your commanding officer; we need to recover Lady Spindler, room 2719, Lady Knobby, 2804, and… Alicia dear, do you remember where Lady Bowles was staying?"

Alicia put an arm around Joe and very gently helped him back up from his knees.  "No father, I don't keep track of your," here she looked at Joe and considered a moment before continuing, "your 'friends', you do that well enough without me."

"Rather" he chuckled, "I'm just a bit rattled with all this native excitement, why even your nan fainted," as he pointed to the now stirring woman on the floor.

"Mistress Alicia, I'm sorry, when I saw that beastie come at you…Why DO YOU HAVE your arm around HIM?!?" the nan did a commendable job of switching from faint to fury.

"He saved my life, and yours, and was hurt doing it," Alicia was firm, Joe would give her that.  "And until the rest of the troops get here he's our defense"

Joe walked slowly, and leaning as much as he dared on Alicia, to the door.  "This the only exit?" he asked, dubiously eyeing the pile of Tajan corpses.

"It's the only exit, Corporal?...."  Alicia queried.

"Corporal 0405 at your service, ma'am, and sir' he nodded politely to both of them, speaking quietly and sure that at least half of his ribs were broken.

"Thank you Corporal 04.."

""0405" Alicia added with some annoyance, "he saved our lives, at least you should remember his, umm, name."

"He's only part of the troops sent to rescue us…now be a good fellow and call in some men to clean up this mess and I want to speak to your commanding officer…who is he again?"

Something about Alicia calling him a number hit a nerve, maybe the fatigue, the fighting, but whatever it was; it was an end, "My commanding officer is Lieutenant McPenn, and you're going to have to talk very loudly, for that drunken boga is probably 50 miles from here.  Now we need to move these Tajans and get out of here.  We don't have troops to spare on cleaning details at the moment."

At a nod from Alicia, she and the nan gamely began tugging on the top corpse, Joe offering some help with one arm while watching for any live Tajans.  The man was silent a moment, startled at this outburst from a lower caste.  The warning look from Alicia detoured him from commenting on this breach.  He reluctantly came forward to help.

"You had best use a med kit, that fall must have cut your back somehow, it is bleeding rather heavily," the gentleman mentioned as he took Joe's place removing corpses.

"We don't have med-kits and the fall didn't cut my back, I was lashed today."

Alicia gave an appropriately horrified little gasp as her nan clucked, "with your mouth I shouldn't wonder….." stifling the rest of her observation at Alicia's glare.

"I'll speak to the officer in charge about getting you treatment, but for now can we get my friends, and find a quiet spot until this mess is cleaned up?" Joe had to give the elderly gentleman credit for keeping his composure.

"I suspect your friends are dead, we can check their rooms on our way down.  We only found three other survivors in this building," here all three of them gasped.  "As for quiet spots, I'm afraid you'll have to wait in the truck while we clear the other two buildings and it's anything but quiet."

"How could the aliens kill everyone? I thought it was an assignation attempt on me because I'm a senator, and with an army base nearby…." The gentleman, Senator gentleman, showed his first break of composure as Alicia covered her mouth stifling a gasp of dismay.

"Lieutenant McPenn didn't post a guard at our camp, so the Tajans caught us unprepared and wiped out the battalion" he explained tersely and somewhat breathlessly.  "My squad and I survived because McPenn had us locked up for my suggestion his suda-sudi holograph got one of my men killed."

"If you suggested it, why did the squad get locked up?" Alicia blurted out.

"Military discipline dear, punish the group and they in turn will keep offenders like our Corporal here in line," the Senator explained placidly, but with a creeping horror.

Joe nodded, "Works real good too.  Now if you will follow me please."

Stepping around the remaining Tajan corpses Joe led them out into the hall.  They stopped at Nick's corpse as Joe retrieved his Mac-236 and handed it to Alicia.  "If they try to rush us, just point and pull the trigger," Joe let his eyes linger a moment on her hands, they were the most beautiful and delicate hands he had ever seen.  They continued quietly, Alicia and her nan stifling an occasional sob as they passed some particularly gruesome or pathetic corpse.  They only checked the first room of the Senator's friends, after finding an expensively clad corpse and odd silk garments scattered though one of the better rooms, the Senator expressed his agreement with Joe that they concentrate on returning to the other survivors.

Vince greeted them as they entered the hall, "Found three? It was just about thirty minutes and Ryan was going to have me take the girls while he came looking for you."

"That wasn't what I ordered," Joe muttered.

"Ryan said if you were dead, he was in charge and those was his orders," Vince grinned, "though that one lady was pretty bent on him not running no risks," and here his grin broadened.

Joe, despite his aching ribs, had to smile back as they joined the other survivors.  The young lady in question, the first girl they had rescued, never seemed to take her worshipful gaze off Ryan.

The Senator eyed the three of them, "A Private First class is in charge if a Corporal dies?  Who is in overall command of this rescue?"

Ryan and Vince looked at Joe, and he looked at Alicia, her eyes, so clear and sweet.  Ignoring his aching ribs and back he straightened to attention and looking firmly at the Senator answered, "Corporal 0405, commanding squad A, 2nd Platoon, Company C of the Royal Fusileers at your service sir." For his effort he nearly fainted.