Han Solo
My father is dead, as far as I know—I don't remember him. The man who raised me was a con man, a thief: Garris Shrike.
Small wonder that I became a smuggler myself, then. But not like Shrike. I had some morals. I was never a spineless Hutt. I didn't want to be a smuggler, but a member of the Imperial forces.
The Imperials were worse than Shrike. I should have known—did know—that I wouldn't last. But I couldn't have known where my old idealism would lead me.
Han Solo, a rebel? What would my father say?
That one was fun. Nobody ever thinks about Han's father... I doubt that even Han does very often. But every once in a while, I'm sure he wonders. Especially after he finds out who Leia's father was.
I'm toying with the idea of posting a second drabble today, since I will be gone tomorrow andI won't be able to post. So keep your eyes peeled.
As usual, giant piles of thanks to LuvinLivnReadn, The dancing Cavalier, and skywalker05 for encouraging me to keep writing with their wonderful reviews!