Do You Remember Old Earth
Story by A Smiling Face on SoFurry
Test
This is not /HMOFA/ But ties into the world of HSR and OEaM.
"Do you remember Old Earth?
Of course you do
Were once not every man resolved himself to war, where women chose to have children.
It was good, wasn't it?
Because every day that passes I seem to forget the purge, and those who died in it.
That year, do remember it too?
When the Legion came.
When the Legion recruited us."
The man before me shakes
"I remember you Legionnaire;
when you held the whip,
when you drew your blade
when you cut them down.
Because I did too"
I stare back into the face of man nothing to lose
Much like myself to an extent.
I remember Old Earth, not the same way though, I recall the squalor firstly, then the shrieking of a billion people begging for more. I was there when we marched the already dead into the stadiums, because held the whip. I slaughtered those decreed to died without a second thought. The dead were the lucky ones to be fair, the least fortunate were lobotomized and had their being melded into a machine to hold back the "diseased tide" on the literal edge of the galaxy.
That, was long ago, for better of for worse you left Sol never to return. Your service during the war against the Ancie was uninterrupted, where heroes arose from the other series yours and the 30 Series had none. No feats of honor to be recognized, no fantastic acts of bravery commended because that was what was demanded. Since my service my once dark hair has grown speckled with white, the wife who was once an icon of beauty has since become the very essence of home, her hips widened from the children she bore, her features mellowing with age. Life has been kind to me though, and most other humans that survived both the purge of Earth and the wars. Some took wives of other species like that 30 Series fellow and his raven bride, most, like myself, took wives of the human race. For whatever reason it was rather easy after staring death in the face for years to get a date.
The worst thing about living to this age is how empty the house feels. Where the marble villa once held twelve children it now holds none. The courtyard where I used to spar with my sons with sword and shield have since grown home to the birds. The armory where my silver plated death mask hangs does not have an awe struck child begging you to tell a story of heroism and duty, not it just stares back reminding you of what will be.
However, all this pales in comparison to what happened earlier this year. My oldest son, bless his soul, finally told me his war story. A rebellion on some planet in the Cygnus arm, Reason Cult extremists, elements of both 70 and 30 were deployed. What he described, laughing and screaming 30 Series soldiers using makeshift maces and axes. The sickly thuds they made on virtually unarmored flesh, and the death cries of the men and women partaking in the rebellion.
Soon after he was sent north with the rest of his army group. They were supposed to crush the northern archipelago and bring them back into the fold. He found no such peace, the two religious minorities on the planet, Christians and Dracons, had led a counter-revolt, crossing the frozen sea at night on foot and laying waste to entire islands in viscous guerrilla campaigns, these Night Demons as they were called would string the families they killed on crosses topped with the God-Serpent of Dracon. Even his Captain-Centurion was sickened at the sight. The first real battle was clearing a bunker system.