I wrote this for the 600 Word writing contest posted on Reddit. This is my first attempt fiction writing ( I usually write in a screenplay format for video projects ). Please tell me what you think. I'm likely to make a short video based on this writing.
The Legend of John Backer
I was born into bondage; a slave, a number, an insignificant cog in the Federal machine. I lived a meaningless life in the remote system of Difu as a Federation Extraction Contractor (FEC). The passage of time was meaningless, to a miner. Every day was exactly the same: loading hoppers, filling hulls with minerals, ores, metals. Day after day. Always the same. It was the memories of my family that kept me sane during that time. Thoughts of my wife and my son, Toku. I yearned to see them as I worked my contract closer and closer to that final consignment that would fulfill my obligation, eager to reunite with them once more. However, they were taken from me when “The Purge” came.
The shadow government of the Federation sent their covert military to dissolve all FEC assets in the outer colonies. I was returning to my T9 Heavy Hauler, when I witnessed the slaughter. Ships exploding from dumb-fire missiles, beam lasers eviscerating hulls. When I was spotted, I fled. I was chased through the extraction site only to have my shield generator destroyed and my hull left at critical levels. My pursuer fired a single homing missile, that’s when I knew my life was over. Arrogantly, and overconfident in his ordinance, he turned away. The impact of the missile knocked me out. I awoke amidst sparking controls, only to find that the missile had not detonated. I could see it through my canopy - lodged in my hull, but inert. Upon reboot of my systems, I was able to limp back to a deserted outpost with life support slowly dwindling. Everyone I worked with…everyone I’ve ever known was murdered before my eyes that day. As I flew by breached canopies, searching for survivors, my eyes only encountered corpses, frozen with looks of fear still left on their faces.
Alone and unable to be rescued by the Federation who tried to murder me, I chose to be dormant in my Cryopod. It was a decade later that a group of scavengers and pirates found me and I was awakened. It was their leader, Archon Delany, who told me the truth.
The Federation denied the existence of FECs publicly after Felicia Winters, the Liberal power of the Federation, deemed that use of FECs was an unethical practice for extraction. The truth is, I was not a contractor. I was a Federal Extraction Clone: manufactured by Zachary Hudson’s arm of the political party, in order to keep the Federal war machine financed. The “Backer” program was shut down in order to keep it from the public’s eye and to maintain the Federation’s facade of a moral organization. Cloning was deemed a greater crime than slavery and abolished. The “Purge” was a way to hide the Federation’s amoral history.
Now, under the tutelage of pirates and murderers, I have become what the Federation fears most: a symbol of rebellion against the Federation. My singular objective is humiliation of the Federation, by entering their Close Quarter Combat games. I play for recognition of my fallen clones and to blacken the eye of Zachary Hudson’s Federation. The bigger my victories, the more recognition I receive and the greater the disgrace to the Federal Navy. They say history is written by the victor. I will win their games and expose their secrets. I will have my vengeance.
I was fabricated at Backer’s Pledge High in Difu as Commander Backer #-12871. I am no longer a slave to my fabricated memories. I am no longer a number. My name is John Backer. You will remember my name.
The Legend of John Backer
I was born into bondage; a slave, a number, an insignificant cog in the Federal machine. I lived a meaningless life in the remote system of Difu as a Federation Extraction Contractor (FEC). The passage of time was meaningless, to a miner. Every day was exactly the same: loading hoppers, filling hulls with minerals, ores, metals. Day after day. Always the same. It was the memories of my family that kept me sane during that time. Thoughts of my wife and my son, Toku. I yearned to see them as I worked my contract closer and closer to that final consignment that would fulfill my obligation, eager to reunite with them once more. However, they were taken from me when “The Purge” came.
The shadow government of the Federation sent their covert military to dissolve all FEC assets in the outer colonies. I was returning to my T9 Heavy Hauler, when I witnessed the slaughter. Ships exploding from dumb-fire missiles, beam lasers eviscerating hulls. When I was spotted, I fled. I was chased through the extraction site only to have my shield generator destroyed and my hull left at critical levels. My pursuer fired a single homing missile, that’s when I knew my life was over. Arrogantly, and overconfident in his ordinance, he turned away. The impact of the missile knocked me out. I awoke amidst sparking controls, only to find that the missile had not detonated. I could see it through my canopy - lodged in my hull, but inert. Upon reboot of my systems, I was able to limp back to a deserted outpost with life support slowly dwindling. Everyone I worked with…everyone I’ve ever known was murdered before my eyes that day. As I flew by breached canopies, searching for survivors, my eyes only encountered corpses, frozen with looks of fear still left on their faces.
Alone and unable to be rescued by the Federation who tried to murder me, I chose to be dormant in my Cryopod. It was a decade later that a group of scavengers and pirates found me and I was awakened. It was their leader, Archon Delany, who told me the truth.
The Federation denied the existence of FECs publicly after Felicia Winters, the Liberal power of the Federation, deemed that use of FECs was an unethical practice for extraction. The truth is, I was not a contractor. I was a Federal Extraction Clone: manufactured by Zachary Hudson’s arm of the political party, in order to keep the Federal war machine financed. The “Backer” program was shut down in order to keep it from the public’s eye and to maintain the Federation’s facade of a moral organization. Cloning was deemed a greater crime than slavery and abolished. The “Purge” was a way to hide the Federation’s amoral history.
Now, under the tutelage of pirates and murderers, I have become what the Federation fears most: a symbol of rebellion against the Federation. My singular objective is humiliation of the Federation, by entering their Close Quarter Combat games. I play for recognition of my fallen clones and to blacken the eye of Zachary Hudson’s Federation. The bigger my victories, the more recognition I receive and the greater the disgrace to the Federal Navy. They say history is written by the victor. I will win their games and expose their secrets. I will have my vengeance.
I was fabricated at Backer’s Pledge High in Difu as Commander Backer #-12871. I am no longer a slave to my fabricated memories. I am no longer a number. My name is John Backer. You will remember my name.