This was the first page of a novel I attempted to write back in 2012. I have no intention of ever revising it or finishing it, but only time will decide what to do with it. After reading through what I have of the novel, the plot is actually very good. So, here it is, just as it was written years before, scrawled out in a notebook that was buried in my closet. It isn’t good, but it does show just how much my writing has improved over the past three years.
Commonwealth of Worlds controlled space,
CoW capital cruiser, The Last Approach, 2568
I was kicked. I was beaten. I saw the deaths of thousands of humans and thousands of aliens. I was lost, I was found. I floated in space for many long years with no human contact. Lost, but never forgotten. When the Commonwealth of Worlds found me, I was not the same person. They brought me here to be questioned, to discover what went down many years ago.
So here I sit in an uncomfortable metal chair, awaiting the one who controls all, the commander of the CoW, the successor of my father. Time passed before someone entered the dark room to sit upon the opposite chair.
“Speak,” the voice commanded.
I knew where to begin, I had been thinking of my story while floating in space. “What if I told you everything. From the very minute I entered combat in New Mexico, the dust sticking to my dry mouth, to the time humanity discovered that it was weak. The time we nearly lost…it seems like only yesterday the bodies of my fellow citizens littered the cities of the galaxy. Humans are determined to get whatever they so desire, but when do we stop? When do we know that enough is enough? Humans traveled too far and soured the beauty of the world. My story does not begin at the first strike of my enemy…our enemy…it starts a great while later, the day humanity struck back.”
I paused to recollected my thoughts, pictures of the past haunting me.
“If you are the person you claim to be, you were alive when they first attacked. Would not it be wise to start from there?” The voice asked from across the table in the dark, musty room.
My eyes lifted to meet his, Commander John Fremont Usglass.
“Moridon?” He asked, awaiting a reply.
“With all respect, Sir, I would like to tell it was I want to. This is my story. I believe that you will learn everything you need to know in the end.”
He leaned back and removed his white cap. “Very well.”
Images of blood and death still ran through my mind. “It started the day humanity struck back…forty years ago…”