text: From what we can gather, the Flax are some interstellar empire. They don't tell us much. Why would they? Does a man explain to his dog why he needs to file his taxes? They came seven years ago. They arrived in our system, destroying most of the satellites. Destroyed the ISS and what meager spacecraft we had constructed to carry us to the stars. They slapped us down like bugs. Of course, there was resistance when they landed in our major cities. Soldiers across the world fought them, but they were unorganized and ineffectual with a lack of global communication. It took them a year to clamp down on the last remnants of organized military resistance. I was 13 when they finally got around to dealing with the civilians. Unlike our neighbors, we had a food supply and clean water to drink. My mother always said my father's near manic need to have at least a year's worth of food was a drain on family funds. She was happy to know it was all worth it. Millions died in the food riots; the Flax just fucking watched humanity tear itself apart. When they finally stepped in, it wasn't as saviors. It was as masters. They rounded our family up during late august. We lived in Alabama, and the heat and humidity were unbearable as they made us wait in long lines to be processed into the labor camps. Human collaborators ushered us forward to receive our ID tattoos. They smiled when they told us it wouldn't hurt. Can you believe that? Fucking sold us out with a smile. Mom and dad were shunted into the "waste" line. I never saw them again. They put me to work in the fields. I spent four years of my life working those damn fields. If someone was to sick to work, they just shot them and used them as fertilizer for the crops. 2 years ago, I saw a chance for freedom. The Collaborator guards got drunk on duty. Someone set up a still in their barracks, and they wanted to try the first batch. I slipped out that night. I just picked a direction and went. It had to be at least three weeks before I met the people that would bring me to this moment. They found me dehydrated and starving under a large oak tree. A man I now know as Sgt. Thomas approached me and offered me water from his canteen. I drank greedily, then vomited all over his shoes. He just smiled and patted me on the back. They took me to their bunker. I told me that I would be safe there, and as long as I worked to further human freedom, I would have a place there. From what we can gather, the rest of the galaxy doesn't possess the fighting instinct that the Flax and we do. Of course, they had military, but once they were beaten, the people just rolled over and accepted their fate. However, even though all organized resistance was snuffed out. The fight carried on with isolated military personnel and civilian militias. Humanity had been fighting itself for a long time. It was finally time we focused that energy into something nobler. I was not fighting for land, religion, or idealogy. But for freedom, for our people and race. That brings me to my task as I ride this large semi loaded with explosive toward the Flax regional HQ. All I can think is what it would be like to have children without ID tattoos, in a world where I can fall in love and have a family. That isn't for me, but maybe, one day, people will breathe free again. &#x200B; Edit: This is my first attempt at writing. I am a long time lover of Science fiction. I have had the urge to write some of my own for a long time now and figured now is a good time. Please be gentle in feedback. I know it isn't great.