The retirement package of a defeated Empire was simple, loot what was left of your unit's equipment or be really broke. Warlords were bound to break out and take some units, claim a planet or two, and maybe even try to create their own personal Empire. Eamon was in a position to take nothing like that, but he was more then happy to loot enough to make a tidy profit of his military service. Most of it was quickly sold to one buyer or another, and he found it better to simply not ask what they planned on doing with a few dozen pounds of explosives. Instead he invested in his own company, or rather a workshop he called a company, which was really, just him working on a contractual basis.
His best money at first was taking former Imperial ships and destroying their signatures so they could be used as commercial vessels or more likely piracy. There were only so many ship's and oh so many willing to sell that simple service out, leaving him with less lucrative jobs. Droids were his specialty so he stayed with that, custom droids and repairing other droids. Occasionally the odd job illegal job appeared such as weapon customization and the like but they were becoming rarer quickly. The money was enough to keep the workshop up and running, and pay what little bills he had beyond it's activities.
It was far from where he thought he'd have been ten years ago, but he was his own boss at least, and no one was shooting at him. The last part was especially pleasing, healing fast did not mean it didn't hurt like a mother to get shot. No one, and he was pretty sure no one liked seeing the sun shine through them. Besides, you never knew when the big break was gonna come.
Like any other day he found himself walking down into his workshop from his small apartment above with a yawn. The lights flickering on as the hum of heavy machinery started up, his eyelids blinking over his thick membrane as his eyes adjusted to the lights. Approaching the front room he punched the code into a wall panel opening up the security gate in front of the doors. With a grunt he noticed his coloring was somewhere between gold and silver, he was going to need some coffee.
With a grumble he heard the door open behind him as he made it around the counter, and with a nod he grumbled towards the coffee machine locking eyes with one of this droids. Throwing out a beep the droid simply spun towards the machine, it's mocking far worth the cup of coffee it have for him soon enough. Turning back finally towards the door he leaned against a wall rubbing his eye sleepily. "Morning, or evening depending which time of the day you're still running on. Not really open yet, but tell me what you need and I'll see if I can't get it started."
His best money at first was taking former Imperial ships and destroying their signatures so they could be used as commercial vessels or more likely piracy. There were only so many ship's and oh so many willing to sell that simple service out, leaving him with less lucrative jobs. Droids were his specialty so he stayed with that, custom droids and repairing other droids. Occasionally the odd job illegal job appeared such as weapon customization and the like but they were becoming rarer quickly. The money was enough to keep the workshop up and running, and pay what little bills he had beyond it's activities.
It was far from where he thought he'd have been ten years ago, but he was his own boss at least, and no one was shooting at him. The last part was especially pleasing, healing fast did not mean it didn't hurt like a mother to get shot. No one, and he was pretty sure no one liked seeing the sun shine through them. Besides, you never knew when the big break was gonna come.
Like any other day he found himself walking down into his workshop from his small apartment above with a yawn. The lights flickering on as the hum of heavy machinery started up, his eyelids blinking over his thick membrane as his eyes adjusted to the lights. Approaching the front room he punched the code into a wall panel opening up the security gate in front of the doors. With a grunt he noticed his coloring was somewhere between gold and silver, he was going to need some coffee.
With a grumble he heard the door open behind him as he made it around the counter, and with a nod he grumbled towards the coffee machine locking eyes with one of this droids. Throwing out a beep the droid simply spun towards the machine, it's mocking far worth the cup of coffee it have for him soon enough. Turning back finally towards the door he leaned against a wall rubbing his eye sleepily. "Morning, or evening depending which time of the day you're still running on. Not really open yet, but tell me what you need and I'll see if I can't get it started."