I’m an ex-trooper. Bred to fight in war.
I saw Death from up close. I saw too much.
My brothers died like flies on their first tour.
Our battalions were the Republic’s crutch
On which to survive. But I’d seen enough:
The blood, the corpses, innocents that die –
Collateral damage! When you’ve seen the stuff
That really happens – you start asking: why?
Perhaps defects in my genetic code
Muted my killer instincts. Seeking peace,
I deserted. In cargo-holds I stowed
Away. The database marked my decease.
Here in the Outer Rim I shall be free
Living and farming on Saleucami.