This is the eighth time I've tried to write this story.
Let's see how it goes.
Quirin watched as the two Rebels planted their mines. He'd wait for them to finish incriminating themselves, and then he'd blast them. After all, it wasn't legal to just shoot citizens of the empire, even if they were quite suspicious in their behavior.
As the Rebels put their finishing touches on the explosives, Quirin raised his A280 rifle and pointed it at them, then raised his voice.
"Hands where I can see them. No sudden moves."
The Rebels obeyed, surprisingly. Quirin grabbed his comlink and quickly made a report, keeping his eyes on the rebels and his rifle tucked under his arm, his finger resting on the trigger.
"On your knees," he said. Again, they obeyed. Quirin was rather surprised at this. The simulations never ended this way
A speeder quickly showed up, and an officer and two other enlisted men got out, with twi pairs of binders. Soon both Rebels had resigned themselves to their fates, silently seated in the speeder, while the officer marked down the details of Quirin's report, and then ordered him to cordon off the area, as a bomb squad was going to be deployed to deal with the detonators.
"Well done, trooper," the officer said after a short moment. "You caught them in the act. This case should be open and shut."
That's how things usually went on this backwater planet of Zorn. The people lived simple lives, and every now and again they were paid their taxes and tributes, but usually, they were quiet. The Imperial garrison was mostly to protect against piracy and raiding, both of which the planet suffered from immensely due to its main output, food. What sentients lived in the cities on the planet usually were quite peaceful, and slavers, pirates, and thieves had taken advantage of this for decades. Now, finally, the Empire would put an end to it.
By nightfall, the bombs had been defused and removed safely, and Quirin was excused from his duties. Heading to the bar, his fellow squadmates toasted him with drinks and food, but he did not partake. Again and again, all he thought of "what would drive a man to such an extent that he would hurt others for his own selfish gain?" He had no answer, no explanation for this behavior. Instead, he turned to Alcohol, his best friend in all things. Soon, he lost track of his drinks, sitting alone, downing one after the other and racking up his tab again.
He must have drunk two much, because when he awoke, he was covered in his own filth and sweat, laying on the floor outside a bar.
Oh dear. If an officer saw him like this, he'd be punished. Quirin struggled to get to his feet, and his head swam. He could hear blaster fire coming from nearby, large volumes of fire, and screams and shouts and explosions, but he could not see them. Cursing, he pulled his goggles over his face and rushed towards the fray.
He could not see straight and could barely stand or walk from all the pounding in his skull and the liquid feeling in his legs, but he continued on. Someone would need save his comrades, or civilians in the area, or something else.
Finally, he got a view of the commotion, and he wanted to vomit again. The two rebels that he had caught earlier had broken free of their holding cells, and now stood, fortified, atop a building, where they rained blaster fire and grenades down on all around them. Dozens of troopers were dead or wounded, their bodies strewn about the area. Quirin, despite his drunken state, unslung his rifle and took aim, and fired. Unsurprisingly, he missed. A moment later, a blaster bolt hit him in the chest, and he collapsed to the floor, the air knocked from his lungs and a hole burned right through his breastplate. He couldn't move at all either, he was barely conscious enough to watch the rest of the slaughter around him.
Within moments, the last of the Imperial Troopers was downed. The Rebels began to descend their makeshift fortress, and began executing the wounded soldiers, one by one, with a single bolt to the throat. They checked the bodies by stepping on their hands - the living twitched, the dead stayed still. Quirin tried to move but he was still far too weak. Slowly the Rebels walked to where he lay, checking every single body. When the Rebels approached him, he shut his eyes and waited for the Terrorist to crush his fingers.
The sound of a blaster firing that did not result in his immediate demise caused him to open his eyes. The Rebel who was moving towards him was kneeling, his hands over his chest, clutching at his chest, in silent agony. Slowly, he fell from his kneeling position to the ground, where he lay still. He did not move further, and the blaster did not fire again. The other rebel who yet lived now stood at attention, roving about with his rifle against his chest, his eye on the sights, seeking out his target. He switched on his weapon light and looked around, only to catch a blaster bolt to the back of his head. Without another sound, the second Rebel collapsed to the ground as well, instantly dead.
Within a moment, half a dozen stormtroopers were on the scene, and a naval officer, and they immediately got to work, assembling a secure perimeter. Imperial medical droids rushed to the wounded infantrymen, gathering them and placing them on stretchers to be brought to a medical center where they would receive more intense treatment. For the moment, however, a bit of gauze and bacta was all that was forthcoming, as the droids drove the stretchers, under the watch of two KX droids, through the maze of streets to a waiting medical shuttle. A Star Destroyer, waiting in orbit, would transport them to an established medical facility where they would be treated for broken bones, plasma burns, embolized flesh, and other symptoms that commonly occurred when surviving a direct blaster hit.
Shortly after the door to the shuttle closed, Quiring felt his eyes growing heavy. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep, to dream dreams that were fraught with confusion, death, and woe. He had borne a close brush with death, and it would no doubt leave a mark on him, one that would not easily come away.