The Life of Aarin Smiter:
A Chronological Documentary of a Fascinating Man
Name: Aarin Smiter
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 148.3 lbs
Hair Color: Dark Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Reason for joining the Empire: My life was going nowhere fast, I needed
purpose, and it made me feel good about myself
Place of Birth: Lorn IV
Born in the middle of winter, Aarin Smiter's life began in a bleary way,
and continued down the same path for the next thirteen and a half years. He
grew up in the Lorn metropolis. His family was middle class, until being
killed and scattered. He attended a large, rundown public school, until he
dropped out after his parents were killed during 8th grade. At the time
taking care of himself and his brother was much more important than school.
His life was one of peace, until that fateful morning. He woke up, and his
parents weren't home. They had left a message saying that they had gone to
pick up groceries. It was nothing special, so he flicked on his datapad and
started checking the news from the night. He got kind of worried when his
parents weren't home by noon, but it was possible that they had seen someone
they knew or their speeder had broken down again.
Within a minute of dismissing his fears he came across an article that
interested him. The headline read "5 Dead in Dawn Shooting." He read through
the article and got to the part listing the names of the dead. Right at the
top of the list were Sherila Smiter and Danaque Smiter. Aarin broke down
then. His parents were dead! He wondered how this could happen to him.
He knew that he couldn't manage to pay the rent or the utilities on their
midsize apartment, so he decided to pawn off all the stuff in the house and
move onto the streets with his brother. That started the wandering and
depression. He lived with his brother for about 3 months during the summer
until his brother left with a band of spacers known as the Red Fist.
Aarin "G5" Smiter was wandering around Lorn IV after his parents died. Half a
week before, his brother Cognack "Snake" Smiter had left with a small band of
pirates and smugglers. He had been lonely and depressed the last three days
It was twilight on a Wednesday evening when G5 saw a flash out of the
corner of his eye. Over the last few months his perceptions and reflexes had
become so good that he could hear the scuff of a ruffians boots at 50 meters.
The crooks would never hear his knife spinning through the air.
The glint came off a highly polished officers pistol strapped to the hip
of a newly commissioned lieutenant. He was at the lowest point in his life
when he got the idea that would shape the rest of his existence.
The next morning he was at the door of the local Vast Empire offices
before dawn. He was the first person of the day to join the prestigous pilots
of the Vast Empire Navy. He strolled down the hall, happy as a nerf in a
pasture, toward the Quartermaster's office. There he was issued his gray
tunic and black pants.
He tucked these into his brand new black boots so cleanly that you could
hardly find the meeting of the two separate garments if you tried. He pinned
his shining Lance Corporal insignia to his left breast and double-checked to
make sure it was straight. For the first time in a long time he was actually
proud of himself.
The next day he reported to basic, his uniform in perfect shape. The
military turn confused him a bit but he prevailed. He passed his fitness test
and was given permission to use the sims. He celebrated his success by
downing a full bottle of lum in his first 10 minutes in the lounge, and that
was only the beginning. By midnight he was totally wasted. The next day he
would learn his first real lesson.
He reported to the sims at 0800 hours with the worst headache he had ever
had. He couldn't have out flown a pig that morning. He became the free kill
to everyone else flying within half an hour of launching. They flew for a
couple hours, not realizing that they were late for drills, and then hopped
out of the sims. Everybody was talking about their kills. Aarin didn't have
much to talk about; he had ended up -57. He knew it was the hangover but his
comrades wouldn't listen.
By the end of the week he had been sent up to the Saratoga to begin his
flight training. He had learned the basics in terms of TIE capabilities and
layout groundside, but up here he would learn advanced controls, tactics, and
strategy. He was determined to be at the top of his class. A month of hard
physical and mental training later he graduated number 1 in his class and was
assigned to Steel Squadron onboard the Devastator.