CHAPTER 1
I stood at the end of my room against a glass wall looking out into space. Loneliness surrounded me. Two months to the day has passed since my mother's death. My father wasted no time in shifting all his attention to work. He accepted the position as Chief Engineer aboard the Death Star. It is a position of prestige on a ship this size. At first it was exciting but quickly my days became mundane. My father wouldn't allow me to attend school with the rest of the kids. I was sick most of my childhood and that's how my father remembers me, a child who needs his mother. Being a pilot was out of the question. I was privately tutored during the day and at night would sneak in to my fathers office and spend hours reading his files on the rebel forces and secret battle plans. Needed x amount of ships ready for deployment at x hour and enough fuel for a complete survey of x planet, all in search for rebels. It was exciting stuff.
I would lay in bed, whisked away in dreams. I was combing the grounds in my TIE Fighter. I had just reported in, "Nothing but dirt and rock down here." Then I would swing around the face of a mountain and I would be upon the entire rebel force. Me alone. Sirens would sound; blast shields would go up, the rebels would rush inside. I would try to call up "We've got action down here, send the boys!" Too late the rebels had scrambled my signal. I was alone. A bay door slid open and a squad of X-Wings flew out gunning for me. Turrets lit up. My cockpit rang with sounds, warnings. I pitched the nose up and rolled through endless blasts. I had a temper. I knew cool heads prevailed but not with me. I would feed my anger. I would lie in bed yelling as images of blowing X-Wings out of the air blazed through my head. Heaps of metal lay beneath me burning, as new X-Wings would join the fight. I knew I had to bring down the blast shields if I was going to penetrate their base. There was just no way. I was cruel and they had pushed me too far. I used my atomics on the mountain they had dug into, burying them alive. Then I took down the rest of the X-Wings and headed back to my ship. I fooled my base and told them "the planet was barren." The second I was back on the ship I asked for an audience with Lord Vader. Granted. I approached humbly, and knelt. I had heard stories about people growing so nervous by the sound of his breathing they would tremble and sometimes pee themselves. Not me. He took note in my steadfast demeanor. I told him how, for him, I mercilessly laid waste to those rebel scum and left some buried in the mountain to do as he wished. He stepped forward "You have made me proud. I'm surrounded by incompetence. I could use someone like you. Join me." With my head bowed I swore allegiance. "Rise and come forth." I stood a new man. He put his hand on my shoulder "You will be like a son to me." But alas I would never even get to fly.
My room was unnecessarily large; the bed was positioned in the center facing the window, an entire wall of glass. The window had the ability to tint or be completely opaque. The only time I used the tint function is when passing close to stars. I loved falling asleep to the coming and going of traffic. It reminded me I wasn't stuck here. The view was usually the same when I woke. Dark space. On Arkanis, my home planet, you slept when the sun went down and woke when it returned. Here there was no rhythm. Your body and mind had nothing to align its self with. You always felt a little mad.
"Salvé! Daniel Avernus." Every morning, just as I sat down for breakfast my tutor, Mrs. Alma would arrive. She was a stately young woman. Her face was round, framed perfectly by dangling blonde hair that resembled a Grecian goddess. Deep wet blue eyes showed profound sentiment. Each word was spoken through soft pink lips. Her air was a paradox; she moved and spoke with authority yet remained gentle. She always wore the same field boots, usually with a casual dress or pants. The boots reminder her of home, we had that in common. At first I thought my father had chose her because of her beauty, and I was offended. But her beauty was quickly out shined by her grace. And she never failed to compliment my mom when passing a photo.
She was aware of how I felt towards my current place. She would catch me lost in thought "What is it you're thinking about?" Her soft voice would release me of my dreary spell. I could never tell her what I was thinking, but she knew. "Come here and lay down next to me." I would lay on the couch with my head in her lap as she read to me. The books she read were suppose to open my mind to the "human condition." I didn't know what it meant but I knew I liked listening to her. She would pet my hair and like clockwork I would fall asleep. Slowly I would be pulled from my nap by a series of events. The clock would sound; the smells of dinner would begin to permeate the room, and then a 'swish' sound as the door opened and in would stride my father "Evening." This would begin the routine pleasantries before Alma kissed me goodnight. But tonight, my father never came home.