Consider time. What if the smallest actions could alter the past? What if
the tiniest changes could affect the course of history? Consider this as
you ponder today's tale of Alternate History.
One night of drunken revelry changes the fate of the galaxy.
The Night before Yavin.
The night before the battle of Yavin.
James Conklin sat brooding. He tried to recapture the feelings of ardor and enthusiasm he felt on the day he'd joined the Rebel Alliance, but couldn't. Personally, he couldn't see how the Rebels ragtag fleet could take down the Death Star. As a technician, he knew first hand what bad repair the Rebel "fleet", if you could call it that, was in. So that's why he was here, out on the fringe of the jungle, a bottle of Forvish Ale in his hand. For a brief moment, he considered putting the bottle down, and checking the ships on last time, but he put that thought aside. Taking a swig from the bottle, James raised the bottle and silently toasted the Rebels. And with this swig, he doomed the Rebellion.
The Battle of Yavin
James Conklin was hungover, and he knew it. He walked by, ship by ship, and gave each as good of a check as he could in his drunken state. And as he passed by the ship piloted by Red 5, he missed a small, but very crucial detail. The proton torpedo launcher was misaligned by the smallest margin. Of course, this was a problem. The results could range from a misaligned shot to explosion of the torpedo while in the tube. But he walked on, and in his ignorance, he doomed the Rebellion.
"Use the Force, Luke," Obi-Wan had told him. Vader was right on his tail, but so far, Luke had managed to instinctively dodge all the shots. Then, out of nowhere, blam! Han, whom he'd thought long gone, had blown Vader out of the sky. Luke closed his eyes and let the Force guide his shot. He depressed the button, and his last realization was that something was wrong. He had this realization just before his X-wing exploded in a shower of flame and explosion.
Grand Moff Tarkin smiled and arrogantly turned to Chief Bast. "As I said, you overestimate their chances." Turning again, he this time referred to his gunner. "You may fire when ready." Turning back to the viewport, he heard just audibly "Commence Primary ignition."
James Conklin looked up, and his last view was of the huge moon-like Death Star as he blew the Yavin and the Rebellion to the kingdom to come.
5 years later.
The Rebellion was long dead, and the Empire reigned supreme. And none save the Emperor himself had more power then Supreme Moff Tarkin, right-hand man to the Emperor. Vader was perhaps more physically powerful, but noone had the will and authority of Tarkin himself, the hero of the Massacre of Yavin.
A/N. Please R&R, I want to know if this is any good.
One night of drunken revelry changes the fate of the galaxy.
The Night before Yavin.
The night before the battle of Yavin.
James Conklin sat brooding. He tried to recapture the feelings of ardor and enthusiasm he felt on the day he'd joined the Rebel Alliance, but couldn't. Personally, he couldn't see how the Rebels ragtag fleet could take down the Death Star. As a technician, he knew first hand what bad repair the Rebel "fleet", if you could call it that, was in. So that's why he was here, out on the fringe of the jungle, a bottle of Forvish Ale in his hand. For a brief moment, he considered putting the bottle down, and checking the ships on last time, but he put that thought aside. Taking a swig from the bottle, James raised the bottle and silently toasted the Rebels. And with this swig, he doomed the Rebellion.
The Battle of Yavin
James Conklin was hungover, and he knew it. He walked by, ship by ship, and gave each as good of a check as he could in his drunken state. And as he passed by the ship piloted by Red 5, he missed a small, but very crucial detail. The proton torpedo launcher was misaligned by the smallest margin. Of course, this was a problem. The results could range from a misaligned shot to explosion of the torpedo while in the tube. But he walked on, and in his ignorance, he doomed the Rebellion.
"Use the Force, Luke," Obi-Wan had told him. Vader was right on his tail, but so far, Luke had managed to instinctively dodge all the shots. Then, out of nowhere, blam! Han, whom he'd thought long gone, had blown Vader out of the sky. Luke closed his eyes and let the Force guide his shot. He depressed the button, and his last realization was that something was wrong. He had this realization just before his X-wing exploded in a shower of flame and explosion.
Grand Moff Tarkin smiled and arrogantly turned to Chief Bast. "As I said, you overestimate their chances." Turning again, he this time referred to his gunner. "You may fire when ready." Turning back to the viewport, he heard just audibly "Commence Primary ignition."
James Conklin looked up, and his last view was of the huge moon-like Death Star as he blew the Yavin and the Rebellion to the kingdom to come.
5 years later.
The Rebellion was long dead, and the Empire reigned supreme. And none save the Emperor himself had more power then Supreme Moff Tarkin, right-hand man to the Emperor. Vader was perhaps more physically powerful, but noone had the will and authority of Tarkin himself, the hero of the Massacre of Yavin.
A/N. Please R&R, I want to know if this is any good.