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Homeworld: Bakura Lightsaber: Green Snubfighter: A-Wing First Appearance: Sith Squadron "I've had it, Brink! This is the last time you disobey me! I told you to be home by 23 hundred last night, and you didn't come home until oh-three hundred! I told you I'd do it, and I will!" My dad, a Bakuran senator, easily upset, easily forgivable. "You've told me that more than once Dad, and I'm still here, safe and sound and free on Bakura," that was me, BrinkHacker, also called SevenUpperRoom. Since I was sixteen standard years, three years ago, my dad's been threatening to send me to the Imperial Academy. Every time he promises to do it, he forgives me. And people wonder why Bakura's Imperial government is falling apart. I don't believe him. And anyway, if he did send me, I'd jump ship and jet on over to the Corporate Sector. Then, I'd finally have some fun. Here on Bakura, it's dull, dull, dull. The Imperials control everything. No illegal activities anywhere. No fun at all. "Brink, this time I mean it. You're out of here on the next ship." "Fine Dad, I'll start packing." Actually, I've been ready to leave for a couple of weeks. Dad's just given me an excuse. As I walked to my room, I heard a loud sound. A ship landing. I looked out the transparisteel window and saw a huge, egg-like silvery ship. A large, blue-scaled reptile stepped out. I shuddered. This was trouble. Every so often I had these feelings. Of impending danger, of what cards to put down in sabacc, you know. I don't know what it means. I've never told anyone about it. All I know is that it also helps me when I fly. And when I fly, I fly. There's no one on Bakura that flies faster, better, or more able than I. I once took an Imperial escort shuttle, put in reverse just before a ravine, and let it drop to the bottom. I actually scraped a rock before I used my instincts to hit the engines and go vertical. Well, my dad's running down the hall to the comm room now. I try to ask him something, but he doesn't listen. He just bolts. "This is Gar Brink to Bakura Central. We have trouble. Ssi-Ruuk. ONE WEEK LATER My dad's worried. The Rebels have come. Yes, THE Rebels. The ones who blew up the Death Star. Now they've blown up the "second Death Star". The Governor's scared about this. They also say that Darth Vader and the Emperor died with the explosion. Most say it's horrible. I say good riddance. My dad's trying to get me on a ship without letting the Rebels see me. Two stormtroopers where in our wake. Too late! They've spotted us. A scrawny looking wuss with blonde hair came up to me. "Hello. You're a little young to be a prisoner." "That makes two of us." He looked at me with a dopey look on his face. I felt a little itch at the back of my mind. "Has anyone ever told you...." he started, as I felt that itch again. "GET OUT OF HERE!" I screamed, and he flew back. "Way to talk to that Rebel scum, son!" "You shut up! I'm sick and tired of you! I'm outta here!" I ran off. The scrawny man picked himself up, and muttered, "Could that be him?" My dad glared at the man. The stormtroopers looked at each other, "Skywalker." I found where the Rebels had parked their ships. There was a small collection of snubfighters. A, B, X, and Y-Wings. The only unguarded one was an A-Wing. Unfortunately, there was a sleeping pilot in the cockpit. I pulled out my blaster, shoved it in his back, and said, "Strip". 5 minutes later I was in Rebel green A-Wing pilot dress, and the former pilot was dead on the ground, with a gaping hole in his back. As I took off, I checked around to see what kind of weapons systems this thing had. Twin lasers. They rotated 360°. Not bad, not bad at all. It was definitely going to need an ion cannon, some upgraded shields and engines. Maybe once I got to the Corporate Sector I could find some other weapons. No sooner had I left Bakuran atmosphere and started to navigate a hyperspace jump a trio of TIE fighters had come up behind me. "Rebel pilot. Your orders were to not leave Bakuran space. Re-enter and land or I will be forced to vape you," said the monotonous voice of a TIE pilot. "Go ahead and try. I've got shields. You don't," I taunted them. I turned off my comm, made sure my shields were at full power, which they weren't. 30%. Either the Rebels took crappy care of their ships, or they weren't lying about that battle last week. Who cared, I only had 30% of my shields between death and me. I decided that the TIEs were going to go down before me. I turned around, aimed my cannons at them, and let the laser fly. One hit out of about forty. And that only grazed a solar panel. The green blasts of the TIEs' lasers splatted against my shields. 20% and falling. As I realize d that in 5 minutes I could die, those instincts kicked in. I closed my eyes and fired three times. I opened them and three fading balls of fire were all that was left. "YES!" I cried. I finished plotting a course that would take me to the Corporate Sector, or close enough to it, pulled the lever, watched the stars turn into lines, disappear, laid my head back, and slept. I woke up as the starlines appeared and turned into stars and my inertial compensators kicked in. Good, I'd done my job and hadn't flown through a nova or anything. A blinking red light told me that my comm was being signaled. "-orate Sector. I repeat: Rebel pilot, you are not welcome here. Your presence in the Corporate Sector may bring unwelcome Imperial activity. Please leave the Corporate Sector." "Corporate Sector, I am not a Rebel pilot. I'm a Bakuran refugee wanting to start a new life free from the oppression of either faction in the war," that sounded good. "If you say so. Please land in hangar 12 of the Whyren's Quest," the voice told me as a Star Destroyer loomed into view. Uh-oh, a hangar bay opened and three small fighters came out. Not again! As their silhouettes were comprehendible, I saw what I had only heard of. Uglies. Ships assembled from the depths of junkyards. There was an X-Wing with TIE solar panels welded on. A TIE with three solar panels at intervals. An Y-Wing with two S-foils welded onto the wings. They came up behind me and escorted me to the hangar bay. I landed, got out and realized I didn't have much money on me. I avoided all the tourist traps on the Star Destroyer, which I soon learned was the property of Booster Terrik, a smuggler and entrepreneur. When I saw a bar I realized how thirsty I was. I sat down with a Trandoshan on one side and a Bothan on the other. "What'll it be?" the humanoid bartender asked me. "I don't know, I've never drank before." He slid a beaker of a brown liquid across to me. I picked it up, drank some, and tasted the greatest drink ever made. "What is this?" I asked the bartender. "Whyren's Reserve. Everybody loves it." "Add me to the list. How much do I owe you after two more of these?" 20 minutes and three Whyren's later, I could hardly walk straight. I stumbled into an empty seat. I heard someone mumble something. "Huh?" "I said: ante's 20 credits," a burly Devaronian told me.br> My mind cleared as money was mentioned. I pulled 20 credits out of the pocket of the flightsuit. The robotic dealer slid me some cards. There were three other players in this hand. A Twi'lek, a Wookiee with a translator droid perched on his shoulder, and the Devaronian. The robotic dealer slid me some cards. They were the Queen of Air and Darkness, with a value of -2, the 4 of Flasks, and the Commander of Flasks, with a value of 12. All in all, I had a hand totaling 14. Nine away from a pure sabacc. The Devaronian threw 100 credits into the pot. The Twi'lek and Wookiee followed suit. I did, too, and the dealer asked me if I would like any more ards. "Umm, sure. Hit me." He slid one more card towards me. I picked it up. It was the Nine of Flasks. Pure sabacc. Only one hand could beat me, the Idiot's Array, consisting of the Idiot, a 2, and a 3, literally 23. I could call now and risk the Idiot, or wait and risk a randomizer ripple. I noticed the Twi'lek was smug and was the only player not to take any more cards. When he was asked to bet, he threw in 150 credits. I only had 200 left. I threw in my bet, willing the randomizer no to change card patterns. The Wookiee took a card, growled, ripped his five cards, threw the remains on the table and left. His translator reprimanded him, and was consequently thrown against the wall. My turn to bet. "I call," I weakly said. The Devaronian turned up a card. Endurance, -3. Another, the Star, -13. The two of Flasks. One left, with a total so far of -14. The Ace of Flasks, 15. He had a total of 1. The Twi'lek laughed at him. It was the Twi'lek's turn. The 5 of Sabers. The Ace of Coins. The 11 of Sabers. 31. Unless his last card was worth -8, I would win. He deliberately turned his card slowly, so slow I felt that if he didn't hurry up, I would jump across the table and pull one of his twitching head tails off. He turned it all the way over. The 2 of Coins. He had bombed out. He left, cursing under his breath. The Devaronian looked at me with a miserable look on his face. I wasted no time showing my perfect sabacc to the dealer. I walked away with 1080 credits, a pride, and a craving for some Whyren's. 6 MONTHS LATER In the Corporate Sector, the name 'BrinkHacker' was now synonymous with 'Sabacc King', 'Ace Pilot', 'Great Kisser', 'Bottomless Bladder', among other things. My exploits at the bar, the sabacc table, and in space were legendary. Doc, the famous mechanic, had helped me spruce up the A-Wing. When I first arrived in the Corporate Sector, I had planned on getting a small freighter. But I had since grown to love that old A-Wing. It now carried a proton torpedo launcher in the belly, an ion cannon under the left wing, a low-power tractor beam under the right, and shields that Han Solo's Millenium Falcon would envy. My sublight engines were faster than most high-speed spacecraft in overdrive. My hyperdrive was an experimental Imperial type. I attributed my wealth to luck, but it was my instincts. They were what helped me in every sabacc game, in every race, in every drinking contest. I knew I couldn't win without them. Along with my money, I had acquired two droids. I had their memories wiped and named them Short and Circuit. Short, who was taller than me, was an 8D8 droid who used to work in a welding factory. I used him to help me work on my blink, and bring me Whyren's. Circuit was an ASP-7 droid, who was great at cleaning up around the house. They usually accompanied me wherever I went. Except on dates. Which was where I was going tonight. I met her at a sabacc game two months ago. I asked, "How would you like to go out tomorrow night?" She said, "Tomorrow's not good." I asked, "How about the day after?" She said, "That's not good either." It went on like that for a while, until we decided on tonight. Then I asked, "Can I pick you up at seven?" She said, "Seven's not good." You get the idea. We decided upon 9:30. So at 9:40, I was 5 minutes from her apartment, fashionably late as usual. I turned, tripped over someone's foot, and looked up to see a man about ten to fifteen years older than me. "Hello. You're going to be a Sith." HUH? THREE WEEKS LATER Katarn. His name is Katarn. He used to be a Rebel. Then he got involved with some Sith. What's a Sith? An anti-Jedi. Darth Vader, the Emperor, they're dead Sith. Luke Skywalker, he's the exact opposite. Anyway, Katarn found out he had Force potential. The ability to be a Jedi, a Sith, or an extremely good pilot, sabacc player, and all around lucky guy. According to Katarn I've got the last. Katarn had no formal training. When faced with the choice of his friend being killed, or killing his friend, he, out of anger, chose the latter. That started his path down the Dark Side. He will train me, he says, in the ways of the Sith. He's already taught me to move stuff around with my mind. It's pretty cool. Now Short doesn't have to bring me Whyren's. I just think, and it floats to me. I constructed my own lightsaber. The lightsaber is an awesome weapon. It can cut through any material, except for quantam armor and another lightsaber blade. I won a dark jade Corusca gem in a sabacc game, which I've used for the focusing crystal. Katarn suggested the possibility of an adjustable blade length. I accepted his suggestion. I've also found a way to make the circumference alterable. The smallest, longest setting is the most accurate. The handle is a 75% quantum armor alloy. It takes 3 hours to make a 1 centimeter incision. "Congratulations, Brink. Your lightsaber is most excellent. You are quickly progressing in the ways of the Sith. Soon, you will not need a Master," Katarn said to me with that annoying voice of his. I looked him in the eye. "I do not need a Master now, Katarn." I swiftly unhooked my lightsaber from my belt, ignited it, and brought myself into fighting stance. "So you think you are ready to be on your own?" he asked me. "Yes, I'm ready," I told him as I swung for his throat. In less than a second his lightsaber was blocking mine stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust. It looked as if my attempts to attack Katarn would prove futile. Until he tried a trick. He swung at an angle, aiming for my lightsaber, in an attempt to shatter it, and some of my hand. I used the lightsaber as a small shield, throwing him off of me. Then I swung for his neck, which didn't block as well as my lightsaber's hilt. As I left, I took with me a training droid I had grown accustomed to. I named him Spaz. I also radied the room of all valuables. Katarn had a very nice nest egg set aside. 450,000 credits that he wouldn't need any more. Also, the book on building lightsabers. If I ever lost mine I would need it. I shut Short, Circuit, and Spaz down, packed them in the under-fuselage compartment, along with three sets of spare flightsuits 3 million credtis, a third of my life savings. My blaster, my lightsaber, and 43 gallons of Whyren's I kept in the cockpit, cramped due to the 43 gallons of Whyren's. ONE MONTH LATER I finally arrived at my destination, Tatooine. Famed for its cantinas, smuggling activity, and horribly enough, the birthplace of Luke Skywalker. I landed outside of Mos Eisley, the largest city there was on Tatooine. I took Short out of storage, gave him a blaster, and told him to guard the ship. Short is one dangerous droid when you give him a blaster. I walked into the famed Chalmun's Cantina. I felt an intense Dark Side presence inside. Shaking it off, I stepped up to the bar, ordered three Whyren's, and slipped some credits across the counter. "You going to drink all those?" a large, orange Togarian with balck stripes asked me. "And then some," I answered. The feline-like alien growled deep in his throat. An extremely beautiful human female with dark brown hair walked up to me. The Dark Side radiated throughout her. She had two sidelocks on either side of her head that were died purple. They shimmered in the barlight. She walked up beside me, put one hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eyes(THIS is why I came to Tatooine!), and said, "When it comes to drinking, don't challenge Felidae, " and walked away.(CRAP!) Don't challenge him, those sounded like challenging words to me. "Felidae? Is that your name?" he growled an affirmative, "I bet you I could drink more Whyren's than you," as I said this I noticed he too was full of the Dark Side. "Young human is foolish. FelidaeTNC is mighty! Will drink him under the table!" he told me. A man in a dark cloak signaled the bartender, who promptly brought us Whyren's. And more Whyren's. And even more Whyren's. 1 hour and 47 minutes and the equivalent of 17 cases of Whyren's later, I was getting a bit tipsy, and Felidae TNC was already there. He clutched his side in mid drink, and fell off the bar stool. The girl ran to him, "Liver failure! He's dead!" That man in the dark cloak walked up to me with the air of a predatory cat. He removed his cloak. Black hari in a ponytail, dark, piercing eyes. A Sith. "I'm Baron Reno. That was FelidaeTNC you just killed. One of my best pilots," he reaced inside his billowing sleeves and removed a lightsaber. Yup, a Sith, "and a fellow Sith," he said, igniting it. The cherry-red blade illuminated the room. He swung for my midriff. Quick as lightning my lightsaber was in my hand, blocking it. The two colors battled, red and green, back and forth. I had him in a corner. I brought my knee up to meet his stomach. He dropped his lightsaber. I grabbed it in the moment he caught his breath. I had trained with two lightsabers for just a situation. Out of nowhere he had another. Red again. I with two lightsabers, he with one, we battled for at least half an hour. I used my lightsaber's hilt to smack his second lightsaber out of his hand. I kicked him to the ground. "You...,"he huffed, "you...are a good fighter, in tune with the Dark Side. Can.... Can you fly as well as you fight?" I stood with the two lightsabers like a scissor at his neck, "Better." He flicked his wrist. His lightsabers came to him, and mine deacitvated. "I let you do that," he said, as I felt a rushing wind slam me to the ground. "If you want to, there's an open spot in my Squadron. Only Dark Siders, and you are very much a Dark Sider." As I picked myself up, I muttered "Sure" He motioned to the others at the bar, "These are your fellow Sith and wingmen." There were 10 of them: ThunderingSilence, Artoo86, Jace Sidrona, RS Schoone, Sir SL Mck, PalinKD, Sharpedges, LifeFlame, JeniViolet(the hot one), and EternalFlames. Baron Reno, excuse me, Master Lead Baron Reno, extended his hand, "Welcome to Sith Squadron."