Who'd have thought I could survive? after being chased across the universe, killed in my pod, cornered in the station in wich I was being cloned, and officially nuked out of orbit and life.
Well, I'm proof that miracles exist. A miracle performed by some dumb mercenaries, that while collecting trash to refit their ships, inadvertently saved my burned ass. One hundred and twenty-two years floating in space, with the rests of my life in it, just a little chip, that incredibly still contained fragments of the image of a clone. My clone.
They had connected it to a modern machine, with the intention of reviving his "unknown fella", but the interface was primitive and was badly damaged. I've lost a lot of memories and an eye in the process, but I'm back from the dead, so I'm grateful.