"Everybody knows that if you're from Pamarthe, you good at flying, fighting, or—"

It's strange that we all have these beliefs about people from different planets. Millions, billions of people, and they're all supposed to be the same in some way based on where they're from. Like there's something in the air that changes you. Still, maybe there's more truth to it that not. My brother and I both became pilots. I became a solider, and Pell? Well, he had three kids by the time he was 22, so he must've been doing something right.

The flying thing is easy enough to understand. Da had us in skimmers from as far back as I can remember anyways. Little island skippers headed back and forth and every which way. Before too long, we were driving them. Da saw us half as sons, half as free labor.

Da was a staunch imperialist, and I so was I, at the time. Plenty of us were on Pamarthe, I suppose. Something about the lifestyle appealed. Anyways, Da was always regaling us with tales of the political quagmire that had been the Galactic Republic, how a strong central power was better for actually getting stuff done. Sure, there were rumblings and stories from malcontents, dissidents, separatists and the like. "Oppression" this and "war crimes" that. But they were always so far away and easily waved off with mundane explanations.

Before too long, we were men full grown. Pell, he was a little older. He hopped off-world with a little trader ship. Within a couple of years he was half running the organization with this woman. He flew the ship and his wife did the wheeling and dealing.

I cast around Pamarthe for a little longer, not really sure what to do with my life. I knew I didn't want to spend the rest of my life skipping across this same planet though. It was about that time that Da passed away. Brain aneurysm took him pretty young. I didn't want to take on the business, so we sold it and Ma was happy enough to retire off the proceeds. And I? I found the nearest enlistment office and signed myself up. Seemed like a better plan than sitting around there and waiting for the universe to sneak up on me.

Plenty of Pamarthens in the imperial navy in those days. There'd been a big push in the early days, men and women eager to prove they were the equal (or better) of any clone. But there'd been a steady stream since, too. Something in the lifestyle appealed, like I said. Either way, I had no lack of fellows at the Academy.

And so life might have gone on, if the universe hadn't gone on and snuck up on me after all. Pell and his wife and their kids, they sent me a holo from this rock they were visiting. No different than a hundred other rocks they'd seen. Except the same day I received the holo was the same day the news came through. The Empire had destroyed Alderaan.

This was exactly the kind of thing the conspiracy crazies would have you believe the Empire was covering up all the time. Except there was no cover up. They wanted people to know, to fall into line, to be afraid. Oh, there was the official line spouted off on all the videos feeds and official sources. Insurrection, treason, rebel sympathizers. Really? The whole planet? Even a little nobody of a trader, his wife and three kids who lived on the ship with them?

I spent the next few days trying to get some news. Surely they had been given warning, surely there had been some kind of evacuation. Eventually I gave up looking. There was no word from them, and there never would be. I came to realize that in one specific respect it didn't matter if they had survived or not. That Imperial lifestyle that had so appealed before? It didn't anymore. There was a difference between being a fighter and being a murderer. I was standing on the wrong side of that line.

By the time I'd come to that realization, more news had started to filter through, for all they wanted to suppress this one. Someone had gone and blown up that super weapon. While I'd been conducting a search for those I knew were already dead, the rebellion had taken action. There was a force to be reckoned with. And if they'd have me, I'd be fighting along side them as soon as possible. But no matter what, I wasn't staying at the Academy a single moment longer.

Belief: Honor

Battles are by nature bloodthirsty, brutal ventures. But even among that destruction, there is a right way and a wrong way to wage war. In Vo's opinion the Empire has placed itself firmly on the wrong side.

Connection: The Empire

Vo was raised imperial. He believed in the Empire and what it stood for. Then circumstances opened his eyes. He understands all too well the appeal of having your answers provided for you. The citizens of the Empire aren't his enemy.

Sabotage (10) - Vo is all too aware of how close he came to being an imperial soldier. He understands that they are at war, but he lacks enthusiasm for the wholesale slaughter of imperial troops. He would much prefer to dismantle the military-industrial complex that drives the creation of the Empire's worst weaponry.

Tall, clean-cut, athletic and reasonably well- featured, Vo looks like he belongs on an Imperial recruitment poster. He has dark blonde hair, grey eyes and a sharply hooked nose. Since he has joined the rebellion, he has experimented slightly, letting his regimental haircut grow out a little, and he's even considering a beard, but so far he has only achieved a pale stubble.