The Dominai stood on a catwalk that circumscribed the entire octagonal practice room.  The catwalk easily stood 3 to 4 times the height of an average human.  The Dominai signaled the ship’s computer to issue the “Assemble for Training” signal.  It was a mournful howl that filled the huge empty void of the training room.

     The humans fell into standard European infantry ranks, while the Qwan formed their battle circle.  Tradition died hard with the Qwan.  They were used to lining up their old, sick, and dying in the front ranks.  In Qwan military culture it was considered an honor, if you fit one of the three above categories, to charge into battle first.  The theory was that the enemy would waste valuable energy and ammunition on you and if you could take out or injure even one healthy warrior then you served an invaluable service to your people.  In Qwan mentality, the worse that could happen is that you would act as part of the battlefield feast afterwards.  Here, in the simulated battlefields, the Qwan almost seemed lost.  Since all the practices were held against simulated holographic enemies, the older and sick Qwan could never really die and so could not achieve battlefield glory.  At the same time, the survivors always seemed to be cheated out of a meal.

     The air began to thicken.  It was cool and misty.  The simulation had begun.  The General barked out a butchered Universal Galactic command to break formation, pick up your weapons, and start advancing slowly.  Not to be outdone, the Qwan issued similar Galactic commands.  Their voices were very guttural and Rick always had difficulty understanding them.  The General argued in vain with the Dominai that there should only be one supreme battlefield commander and that should in typical human arrogance be him.  The Qwan were deeply insulted and would have nothing to do with taking orders from humans.