Enlisted Man

A 5-post collection

Challenge #03004-H081: Guilt of the Survivor

I was a trained soldier, I taught others how to fight.

I was a trained soldier, I taught others how to escape.

I was a trained soldier, I taught others how to kill.

I was a trained .....soldier..... I taught them... how to die well.

A flower was placed upon the stone, tears sliding down their face. Two dozen stones, each one with the same, white and red, flower, upon it. The old man's head bowed. His caretaker, a gentle havenworlder, placed a hand on his shoulder. The human looked to them, bent, broken, the voice metallic from an artificial voice box, the prosthetic hand upon a cane. "Alright, we can go back home now. I just wanted to see my friends again." -- Fighting Fit

Humans have a saying for everything. If not a saying, then a quote. As storytellers, they are a species that have a way with words. The one that came to mind now was, There are old soldiers, and there are bold soldiers. There are no old and bold soldiers. Walking now through the serried ranks of Humanity's dead, in a monument the size of a small city, Companion Thruk could understand why.

Human Sam marched past the monuments. Columns in the style of a past age, all cut short. Some were much shorter than others. This, the unspoken words said, is where the bold ones went. Human Sam was one of the rare ones who had grown old. They were lined up as they had been lined up in battle. Each troop. Each sergeant. Here and there, amidst the rows and columns, were gaps. Other old soldiers had yet to join the army of the dead.

Human Sam sometimes joked that ze was halfway there already. Two and a half legs, one arm, one eye, and a few internal organs had been replaced with artificial substitutes. Age had indeed wearied him. If the years condemned, he gave no sign. Companion Thruk had to trot to keep up with hir as ze marched through the troops of the dead. So many of these columns had had time to age. So few were complete, indicating that the deceased had lived a full life before they assembled for the hereafter.

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Challenge #02782-G225: Under Starry Skies

This is a prompt that's actually a mix of 3 stories, the one of the super-soldiers, the one of the dream berries, and the one of the seed collector. Here are the prompts for reference.




The person had collected more seeds than any human ever had before. It was their hobby, it was their obsession, and with it they had saved many lives from

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Challenge #02679-G122: Wonder No More

Have you ever walk past someone and wonder what is going on inside their head -- Anon Guest

[AN: Link to a Rickroll has been expunged. Thanks Nonny. Be proud. You got me.]

Every now and again, some species, somewhere, thinks it would be cool to be telepathic. The Melil, natural telepaths, do attempt to stop others from doing this to themselves because it really, really isn't a good idea.

Those without natural telepathy have no reason to filter their random thoughts.

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Challenge #02677-G120: A Mind of Their Own

The war rages, bodies fell left and right, were they man or monster? They do not know, for the the line that separated them blurred centuries ago. -- Anon Guest

Someone, somewhere, is re-inventing the Enlisted Man again. When will they learn, huh? -- Elsyn Flaard comedy routine.

Some creatures, the unethical gengineers argue, are made for battle. With the right tweaks, they could become the most formidable fighting force in Alliance space. Then, they could make the majority decisions, and on

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Challenge #02671-G114: The Mighty Paragon

What kind of man was Steve Rogers, to fight for America with his background?

In the original comics, he was Irish from the Lower East Side. This means he was probably Irish Catholic from the tenements, which meant he was considered by most Americans with power (maybe) one step above dirt.

On the other hand, he was a tall, blond, blue-eyed man, the Nazi ideal. The Catholic church coexisted with the Nazis without severe discrimination. Many Irish were allied with the Nazis.

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