A.N: This is a story I wrote in 8th grade. Its based on the one stormtrooper Han manages to kill when he runs into a large crowd of them in A New Hope. I thought it was pretty great then, so I hope you like it!


Gary Ferguson, lowly trooper of the Imperial Army, was elated that today was his last day as a mistreated underling serving aboard the Death Star. Before he

enlisted, back on his rural home planet, Gary thought that joining the galactic military meant blasting treacherous rebels and riding cool ships off into deep

space. He soon learned he was wrong.

Gary first figured out that there was no hope of career advancement because of paranoid and greedy officials, who desperately wanted to keep their jobs and

refused to promote anyone who didn't pay an enormous amount of credits. Then he realized that his real work was tedious, unsatisfying, and boring. Since the

Death Star was a secure military fortress, the only jobs for poor Gary were endless marching and cleaning out the trash compactor. That's not to say his job

was safe. Last week one of his squad-mates was thrown down a reactor shaft by a black-masked, asthmatic superior just because he spoke up about the

military food. Since he failed to read the fine print, Gary Ferguson had slaved away at his meaningless job alongside thousands of other faceless goons for 5

years. This day was different, though.

It was his final day aboard the monotonous station. Gary had heard that a motley crew of rebel scum and riffraff had somehow snuck on board the mighty

Death Star. "Why should I care?", he thought to himself, "It's the last day before I call it quits." Then heard that his superiors were offering a huge sum of

money for the deaths of just one of the several infiltrators on the moon-sized ship. "This'll set me up for life", Gary greedily thought to himself. He planned to

buy a small island somewhere in deep space and retire young. Little did he know that the only way he was leaving the Death Star was in a pine box.

Gary Ferguson loaded his unused blaster rifle and shuffled into his platoon's square formation of about 40 men. They had been pointlessly marching in place in

the center docking bay for about 10 minutes when he first heard the first sounds of a scuffle. He turned his head and saw about 5 or 6 men come running

through a pair of blast doors. They quickly disappeared into the seething crowd of troops who had just begun to draw their weapons. Gary saw his chance at

fortune and pushed his way past several rows of men to the front. The instant he reached the very front of the mob, a greasy lowlife with a cheap black vest

followed by some sort of hairy man-dog emerged from behind the blast doors. Gary was the quickest on the draw, honed by years of practice of raising

weapons in a salute. But Gary had never even fired his gun, and so the rusty and never-used weapon jammed. A half-second later, the scoundrel fired his own

weapon, and the laser bolt burned itself into the center of his chest. Gary Ferguson was dead before he hit the ground.


Thanks for reading! I am trying to figure out how posting on this website works... R&R would be appreciated!