StarWars: Chronicles of a Mercenary
Prologue
It was about six years since the Battle of Endor. I clearly remember that day. I was a TIE pilot leading squadron 158 of the star destroyer Executor. It was the worst blow the rebels ever gave us. I shouldn't really say "us" any more, because after that battle was lost, I dropped out of the Imperial Navy, knowing that someday the rebels were going to win this war.
I decided to become a mercenary, siding with the highest bidder. Since then I have acquired over 60,000 credits, more than enough money to buy the very expensive new model T- 168 Starfighter, which I named SabreTooth. I've made a few improvements on it myself, adding a rear laser cannon, a hyperdrive unit off the black market, and the equivalent of four X-Wings worth of shields. I don't know how anybody could bring that baby down.
Now, sipping back on a bottle of whiskey in a bar on Corellia, I waited for a job offer. People knew who I was, so it wouldn't be long. With two hundred eighty five kills, I was famous at any mercenary/smugglers joint.{This only including ground kills with my blaster, no space kills.}
I finished my drink, and the bartender asked if I'd like another one. I said no, but he leaned in and whispered, "This is from the gentleman from the booth in the corner."
I glanced to the corner of the large room, but the lights were too dim and I couldn't make out who it was. I took the beer, and on the label it was written in black ink, "Meet me out back, 5:00 standard time. I had three hours to prepare, in case this was going to be an attack on me.
I finished the beer, tipped the bartender, and headed back to my hotel to prepare.
P.S. I'll have chapter 1 up later. Please Review
It was about six years since the Battle of Endor. I clearly remember that day. I was a TIE pilot leading squadron 158 of the star destroyer Executor. It was the worst blow the rebels ever gave us. I shouldn't really say "us" any more, because after that battle was lost, I dropped out of the Imperial Navy, knowing that someday the rebels were going to win this war.
I decided to become a mercenary, siding with the highest bidder. Since then I have acquired over 60,000 credits, more than enough money to buy the very expensive new model T- 168 Starfighter, which I named SabreTooth. I've made a few improvements on it myself, adding a rear laser cannon, a hyperdrive unit off the black market, and the equivalent of four X-Wings worth of shields. I don't know how anybody could bring that baby down.
Now, sipping back on a bottle of whiskey in a bar on Corellia, I waited for a job offer. People knew who I was, so it wouldn't be long. With two hundred eighty five kills, I was famous at any mercenary/smugglers joint.{This only including ground kills with my blaster, no space kills.}
I finished my drink, and the bartender asked if I'd like another one. I said no, but he leaned in and whispered, "This is from the gentleman from the booth in the corner."
I glanced to the corner of the large room, but the lights were too dim and I couldn't make out who it was. I took the beer, and on the label it was written in black ink, "Meet me out back, 5:00 standard time. I had three hours to prepare, in case this was going to be an attack on me.
I finished the beer, tipped the bartender, and headed back to my hotel to prepare.
P.S. I'll have chapter 1 up later. Please Review
