My name is Brad Corletti. Some know me as Drake Defel. I'm a member of Terra Group, the secret organisation dedicated to keeping Earth free of destabilising galactic influences. I have tapped into an aspect of the Force which gives me perfect human agility and causes blaster bolts to arc away from me when I'm shot at.
At the moment I'm manacled hand and foot, with a blaster held at my temple making all that a moot point.
Perhaps you're wondering how I got here. Perhaps you're wondering why you should care. This is why.
If we fail this mission, World War III breaks out. And this time around the bad guys will have the edge.
Some time ago - I'm not sure when - I was asleep in a fighter-bomber travelling across France. A concussion missile blasted out of nowhere and brought down the shields. Before I'd had time to react I was on a collision course with a very solid planet. The planet won.
I jumped out before the B-wing hit the ground. Using that power I mentioned earlier I managed to avoid killing myself when I landed, bleeding off that excess momentum directly. That, and the cliffhanging act would have caused me to think some more about what exactly my powers were if I'd had time to think. As it was, I wasn't conscious to see where my final resting place was.
And I'll never know. When I came to I was stuffed in a prison transport. Again. Except this time it wasn't the local constabulary who'd detained me. White-armoured, mean, well-equipped - Imperial stormtroopers, maybe you've heard of them?
They eventually dumped me in front of this man. A man I recognised from my time undercover. Davin Porsek.
The guy who manhandled Dorset Konnair.
Despite the many hours I'd spent in Porsek's company onboard the Admonitor, that was the one thing that stuck in my memory.[1]
Although I was sprawled on the ground where I'd been thrown, I found enough leverage to, using my power, flip up to a standing position. I hoped it rattled him.
Porsek didn't seem too impressed. Flanked by a pair of immense SpecNav troopers, he seemed short, but still very dangerous. A world apart from the Davin Porsek I had known.
That blaster I mentioned earlier appeared, held firmly against my jawbone. Presumably the wielder was more concerned that I'd slip away than that my steaming flesh would clog the barrel.
And so I stood there while Porsek smiled smugly, waiting for him to say something.
Eventually he couldn't resist. "That was easier than I'd expected."
I'd won. A small point I knew, but it was something. "Whatever."
"Oh, you're not going to play that stupid game are you? You think you can just be quiet and I'll spill the beans? You don't know who you're dealing with. Perhaps you'd better look again."
Not finding much of interest in the spartan metallic decor of this secret Imperial base, I couldn't think of a reason not to. And I noticed it.
His pupils were red. This was most definately *not* the Davin Porsek I had remembered.
"Yeah. That's right, idiot. I'm not human." Porsek said, his voice becoming brutal.
"You're a Chiss," I said, knowing a little about the facial characteristics of that species, having recently shot one in the head.
"Son of," he corrected. "Finally, the physical inheritance is beginning to come through, to match the mental. My father was a genius, and so am I."
"A pity about the human ego."
"It's justified, you little maggot. Who but the son of a legendary Chiss could not only escape a military prison camp, but do so off-screen?"
"You're the son of ...." The truth finally dawned on me.
"None other. So you can see why I don't just kill you out of hand. It's only right that you suffer for the rest of my life."
[1] Although Brad wasn't actually present, the BLR that stunned Porsek sent me a zipscreech of the vid.