As written by Ramon Stonefish
Right up until very recently, I had no idea what planet I had been born on, the knowledge blocked from me by the instructors on Carida many years ago, I can now finally add this knowledge to my memoirs as you see here. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
My name, originally, was Jarrod Stonefish, and I was born on Tattooine between thirty and forty years ago. My earliest memories still do not take me much further back than Carida, but what I have is more than I had before. Memories of racing swoops and raising hell in a small trading town full of backward folk who were so caught up in their own small world they would never think of leaving it. The youths such as myself spent the whole time dreaming up ways to get away from the endless heat and toil, but when our mothers called us back for supper, we always went because we didn't have the ability to alter time, space or anything. That was until the recruiters came offering adventures out among the stars with the Old Republic Army. I was one of the first to sign up, camping all night outside the makeshift office that the Jabba let them have for a few days. I passed the medical with flying colours, after all that the times I spent lugging machine parts around town were good for something after all.
A few days later, and a raging row with my parents, I was off to see the stars owning nothing more than the clothes on my back. The shuttle lifted off and the town which had been my entire world got smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely, then I saw the edges of the planet shrink in and become nothing more than a dusty ball in the vastness of space. The shuttle captain told us that this would be a long flight to the planet Varrus where our basic training would take place, and that we were advised to get some sleep.
I looked out of the viewport and for the first time I watched the stars stretch out into lines as the shuttle entered hyperspace. After that, I watched the strange blue-white light of hyperspace for a while until the thrum of the engines lulled me to sleep.
When I awoke, we had left hyperspace and were dropping in through the atmosphere of a blue and green world. The sight of that much water shocked me. I could never have known that oceans could exist until that moment, as all of Tattooine is an endless desert, and the only water comes in barrels from the moisture farms scattered around.
Then shuttle landed and we were guided out and into a large compound with people all around, exercising and training in all alike t-shirt and shorts. We were lead across and into a building where our equipment was issued, and later that day training began.
Basic training was hard for me, as I found the Drill Sergeant incredibly funny. I know he was trying to use fear of him to get us to follow orders to start with, but I just couldn't help laughing. I forget the number of times I had to run around the armoury with a corporal keeping pace behind me. Usually with a large stick which he would use to 'encourage' me if I started to lag at any point. Eventually, though, I got though and was stationed to a duty post on the planet Tetrus III. Barracks life tends to breed laxness in any group, and we were there for some months with no action, just walking patrols of the compound now and then, and endless time sitting drinking in the local bar and watching the holonet reports of the slow break up of the Old Republic.
About a week after Senator Palpatine became Supreme Chancellor, my unit was ordered to Carida, a planet I hadn't heard much about at the time, for routine medical and further training. It is on Carida that I had my memories blocked, and I became F107, or Fisk as I was more commonly known. The 'medical and retraining' was turning us into stormtroopers to serve as a basis for the clones he was to produce. It turns out that my unit was one of about seven randomly picked out from the forces of the Old Republic.
I won't go into too much detail of my services in the Clone Wars, for the simple reason that I don't remember much of it, and that which I do remember is pretty distasteful stuff. After the Clone Wars died down, and the clones were pretty much insane and being hunted or dead already, the Empire was in place with Palpatine at its head, and me in the Army still, and still a grunt.
We were serving what we called 'presence duty'. We travelled around a lot, since there weren't that many of us at the time, though the number grew by the day. We set down on a planet and set up shop for a while. Walking the streets and accosting the populace for random reasons, and generally to scare the hell out of them, keeping them in line by fear alone.
On about my fourth tour of this, I went back to Tattooine, not that I knew I had ever been there at the time. We were doing the usual routine up until the third day, when the local populace decided to stage a protest against our actions and behaviour. The Lieutenant called us up from our varying locations around the town of Anchorhead, and we lined up in front of the protesters. I can still remember this vividly.
"This is an illegal gathering," said the Lieutenant, "You will disperse immediately."
Rude gestures were shown to me and my unit, and the Lieutenant signalled that we give a warning. Someone over to my left shot the placard out of a protester's hand, and realigned his rifle on the man.
"You will cease and desist immediately," repeated the Lieutenant, "Return to your homes."
Someone had the bright idea of throwing a rock at us, which hit one of the troopers in the chest. He returned with deadly force, and shot the poor man in the head with his blaster carbine.
"Sir!" I spoke up, "These people are protesting peacefully, there was no need to kill them."
"You're out of line, 107," was the reply.
The rabble was beginning to get annoyed and several people had found clubs from somewhere. The lieutenant ordered us to break up the protest, which we began doing. The others started shooting people, and I saw a woman go down. I now know, that it was my sister, Eldereth. Something snapped inside me, and I turned my blaster on my comrades. The lieutenant I saved until last. I shot his legs out, and when he was lying on the floor, looking up at me, I kicked his helmet off and looked him in the eye.
"It's time someone did something about people like you," I said to him, "And if no one else is already, I'm about to start."
After that, I shot him in the head. I can still remember the popping sound as his eyes boiled and burst. I gathered up the blaster rifles, and I traded them for some clothes and supplies, keeping one back for me with some spare power packs. I kept the breastplate of the armour and re-coloured it. Then I went to the bar and someone hired me on as a mercenary guard.
I went through several employers over the next few years, picking up the basics of turret gunnery and some bartering skills along the way where I was called upon to cut deals for the boss and work the turrets of various freighters to get out of some tight spots.
That life kept me going for a while, but eventually I got bored of it and began looking for something new. That arrived on the day that I learned to fly - the hard way. We were in a tussle with some TIE Fighters and a short in one of the control panels killed my employer of the moment, and since he was stingy when it came to hiring guards and the like, his only other employee - which left me to fly the battered old freighter. Fortunately the short was caused when the last of the TIEs flew out of control into the ship after I shot a new hole in one of his vector control thrusters, but it was worrying all the same. We were carrying a load of arms bought on the black market for some raider group or another and we'd got accosted by an Imperial patrol a few lightyears short of the rendezvous. The coordinates were still loaded into the navicomputer, so I triggered the hyperdrive and hoped. Seconds later, a buzzer warned me that we were close, so I watched the timer for the cue I had seen many times watching over an employer's shoulder. When it lit, I pulled the levers back and the freighter dropped from light speed.
The people we were delivering to turned out to be the Rebel Alliance, who were so impressed with me being able to dock a freighter when I'd never been behind a stick before that they asked me to join up. I was certainly bored enough and I had the right stance on the Empire, so I said yes.
I was placed in a squadron flying the new X-Wing fighters the rebels had just snagged from Incom, and boy were they fun. Much nippier that the freighters I was used to flying, and better armed too.
The Alliance became my home slowly over the next few years, as the rebellion had its victory at Yavin (I was flying a convoy guard at the time), and its defeat at Hoth (when I had the joy of running escort for a supply shipment going there, and the fun of dodging Star Destroyers when we did get there to find the Alliance had just left). Soon though, it came apart for me as I tried to advance in the pilot corps and found myself blocked at every turn from politicians doubtful about my loyalty because of my imperial and mercenary background, even though there were many imperial defectors in the Alliance, and even though I proved myself as a pilot time and again. Eventually, it came down to one thing: betrayal.
The remnants of the Empire still had agents in the Alliance, as it rapidly became the New Republic, agents they used time and again. The politicians told the admiralty that they needed a scapegoat, a patsy to take the fall and restore confidence in Republic Intelligence. Because of my doubtful past, I was chosen to take that fall.
The mission I had been assigned to was to intercept a convoy shipping supplies to an Imperial faction on the Outer Rim, we were not told the name of the faction, and I didn't care. The Empire had screwed me over, and I was getting some payback for it. In the middle of the mission, I ceased to have any control over my fighter, and it turned on the rest of my squadron, before I could do anything, I had killed three of my comrades. It was at that point I sealed up my flight suit and ejected, hoping that I would be able to do something to get out of this. As I floated in the void of space, I watched as my fighter was destroyed. I watched the cargo ships go into hyperspace, and I watched the remainder of my squadron do the same. I watched the counter tick down towards zero on the oxygen supply for my suit and I wondered what to do. I felt a twinge of something in the back of my mind as I waited for the inevitable. I didn't think I was going to get out of this. Everything went black, and I thought I was dead.
When I came to, it was to see the inside of a bacta tank, and unfamiliar faces outside. As soon as they saw I was awake, they pulled me out and put me in some coveralls. A thin man in an inky black robe escorted me to a cell, and told me to get some sleep, and that I would need it.
When next I saw him, I was strapped into a chair and being asked a lot of questions. Mainly about the Republic, and what the disposition of their forces was, though eventually it turned and I was questioned on my history. I recounted it differently than you see it here, as I did not have as many years to look back through and think about, though in the end I was placed back in my cell unharmed while they wondered what to do with me.
Weeks later, I was taken from the cell and into an office with a man wearing the insignia of an Imperial Admiral, Dogger by the nameplate. He asked me yet more questions, and this time I got to ask some in return. I discovered that a Dark Jedi by the name of Darklord had been sent to rendezvous with the convoy and reroute it to a new location, and that the slightest of chances had lead him to find me. Because of my answers under interrogation, and because of what this Darklord had found in my mind, I was offered a place in the Navy of a new Imperial faction known as the Intruder Wing.
I was placed in Wasp squadron under Commander Baktru, flying A-Wings - something I never thought I'd see in an Imperial faction. Apparently the command strategy was to fly the Republic's own ships against them, mainly because of the few people in the Intruder Wing, they had adopted a lot of rebel strategies, meaning they usually won even against the odds they encountered. Another job assigned to me was maintaining the squadron information holonet site. A job which required me to learn some computer skills, which I gladly did - always eager to learn new things. My performance was noted within the squadron, and I rose to the rank of Lieutenant Commander within a few short months. It was then that Darklord approached me again.
It appeared the reason he had found me is that I am Force sensitive, and hanging in space I was projecting out a beacon which drew him straight to me. He was intent on creating some Dark Jedi fighter wing, and asked me to train under him to become a squadron commander. I spoke about it with Baktru and he told me to go for it. So I did.
The squadron I commanded was known as Shadow Squadron. I group of highly specialised black-ops pilots flying the latest fighters they could get us - TIE Defenders. My squadron and the other Dark Jedi squadron - Lightning squadron - were placed on the Mandalorian Dungeon ship Lord Keto where we were frequently out of touch with Intruder Wing command flying secret and dangerous missions into Republic space. Around a month after we were commissioned, the Lord Keto's Commodore, Percy, was reassigned back to the Flag Staff of the Intruder Wing as Executive Officer, leaving the post open. I was put in there, and got my first experience of commanding a capital ship.
Meanwhile, Darklord was busily searching out all the Force Sensitive pilots in the Intruder Wing with the intention of training every single one of them. He set up something known as the Society of Shadows, a Dark Jedi group of which I was a part by default.
Soon after, I was brought before a trio of black-robed figures, their faces hidden by deep cowls. I assumed one of them was Darklord and that I was in trouble somehow. But no, I was being sent on a quest to find some Sith object left behind by Exar Kun on Yavin IV. After making sure that leave was arranged with everyone, I took my duffel and boarded a shuttle and left for Yavin IV.
The jungle moon was vibrant as I approached it on the opposite side to the former rebel base. The pyramid marking Exar Kun's temple was like a beacon to me, pulsating with Dark Side energy. Inside, I quickly found a way down to the lower levels where the object would be found, but when I got down there, I found an empty niche. I heard a voice behind me.
"I knew someone would come seeking this eventually."
Then, someone hit me hard, and I fell unconscious.
The next few weeks were spent in the company of Luke Skywalker with him incessantly trying to convert me to the Light side, trying to convince me that rage was not the only way to use the Force. Eventually I won free, but not before having a seed of doubt planted in my mind.
When I returned to the Intruder Wing and the Society of Shadows, I found much had changed. The marine corps that I had witnessed form up had been slaughtered in combat, and the Wing was falling into disarray. The Society had broken away from the Intruder Wing and had also gone through a metamorphosis. I was promoted to the rank of Sith Knight and placed as Dean in their Academy of Darkness for a while, training the new apprentices and assisting the other members in their studies.
In the Intruder Wing, I was without a job for a short time, since there was no longer a Lord Keto to be Commodore of - the Society of Shadows had taken that with them. Soon, though, the position of Holonet administrator became vacant, and I took up the post willingly.
Life became routine for a while, activity in the IW picked up as they recovered from their losses, and things began to get back to normal. However, I was not happy in the Society any more. They became more and more secular, and when they started forming Houses, I saw no choice for myself but to depart their ranks and make my own way. The nagging doubts that Skywalker had placed in my mind were intruding on my concentration when I tried exercising, and I couldn't bring my rage to the fore as I once could. So it was that I left the Society of Shadows.
The Intruder Wing soon became lax also, and in the time of peace brought on by the formation of the New Imperium, of which we were a founding member, I took the opportunity to take an extended leave of absence to look into my missing past. I resigned my post and was placed on the reserves list for the next year while I booked out the fighter I had built for myself - the TIE Forsaken.
A frustrating and long year later, I returned to the Intruder Wing to see the marine corps reinstated under Daishi, and the Naval wing more lax and inactive than ever. I was immediately placed as commander of the Warfare Bureau, developing simulations and new tactics for the navy to use. Soon after that, I was given another job on top, that of Holonet administrator once more. Three months later, the Intruder Wing disbanded and the remnants - a group known as the Fallen Angels, which included myself - were taken into the Vast Empire, and the rest, well I'm soldiering still, and back with some descendant of what was the Society of Shadows, so we'll see where we go from there. Some guy named Bear wants to turn me into a reporter, and Argon's still pranking. He's found some good guys for it now.