This is an automatically translated description

The universe is, of course, infinite, but the number of planets suitable for human life is surprisingly small, and it just so happens that space is teeming with other intelligent races that also claim those worlds. Only a few races share the concept of coexistence, and humanity is not one of them. We fight over them, and planets suitable for habitation pass from hand to hand until someone gets a grip that can't be broken. Over the course of two centuries, humanity has managed to gain a foothold on several dozen worlds in this way, but we have been hit over the head much more often. Neither the first nor the second outcome made us any friends.

I spent six years in this world. I fought and almost died, more than once. I had friends, most of whom I lost, but some I managed to save. I met a woman who was eerily similar to the one I shared my life with on Earth, but who was nonetheless a person of her own. I was defending the Union of the Colonies and believed that I was helping humanity to survive in this universe . I am eighty-eight years old. I have lived on this planet for almost eight years. This is my home, which I share with my wife and adopted daughter. Welcome to Huckleberry. In this story, it will be another world I have left behind. But it will not be the last.