I was born in a small village on the planet of Tatooine, but I suppose you could say my story really began when I was but nine years old. Enticed by promises of becoming a hero and a freedom for my family I had just joined a local underground movement to overthrow our oppressive leaders and for the next few weeks they trained me in marksmanship and medicine , that is until the imperials were called in by our local government. They said we had weapons of mass destruction, but in sick twisted hell where even the so-called “Wealthy” are going hungry each night they weren’t fooling anyone! Yet here I found myself ill prepared facing the imperial dogs with nothing but a sand-filled-Bothan bola, a rusty scalpel, and some expired medicine... some of which I was pretty sure was little more then pebbles. So as I trembled with fear I prepared myself to help defend our once quite village in this soon-to-be massacre that they called a “Civilized Peace Patrol”, how could any sensible person define slaughtering a people with such brutality such disregard for life as even one of the words used to calm the ignorant masses of the galaxy. It fueled my anger as I fired down from the heaven. I imagined myself as an angle of righteousness firing down on the evil that was slithering across the scorching hell of Tatooine’s sands. As I continued to fire down upon them I began to feel like nothing could stop me.... yet just then a single voice sent me spiraling back to reality and my childish fear... it was the disheartened voice of our squad leader. He addressed us all with a look I'll never forget. It was a somewhat vacant look as if he had already died during the fight... the only thing that kept us from hauling him away in a body bag that very instant was the look of fear in his eyes. He turned to us and he told us the obvious. Our outlook was dark, we were to either sneak out the back onto a waiting shuttle and flee or to strap ourselves with explosives and go down in an inferno of glory at the imperials cost. But being the foolish scared child that I was I chose to flee leaving my rifle, my old name (Mustafa), and my honor behind. Looking back as I do every single day I wish I wasn’t so damn selfish and nearsighted to the difference I could have made. Perhaps if I wouldn't have been such an idiot my family would reside in a world of freedom and prosperity instead of this sick twisted imperial oppression that they call life. Perhaps one day, just one day, I might be able to redeem myself and restore hope into my families life, maybe then I won’t be just another coward roaming the galaxy.