1st place: Star Wars Fanfiction Awards
Luke Skywalker is turning 8 in just a few days on Empire Day. Unfortunately, the Empire has ordered a galaxy-wide census on Empire Day. Instead of heading to the pod races, like his Uncle Owen had promised him...
Beneath his mask, Vader smiled at his son's infectious joy. The Sith Lord's body relaxed for the first time in years, enjoying the presence of his healthy son. He could almost forget that he was Vader.
Luke eyes widened, and his heart thumped with excitement as he fidgeted in the command seat across the aisle from his father on the Lambda-class shuttle. Two Imperial officers piloted the craft headed to the other side of Tatooine—Mos Espa.
With his blond curls bobbing, the boy peered out the large cockpit screen as the shuttle approached the landing pad. He pretended to pull the control to lower the stabilizers and to turn the wheel to level out the ship on approach while the pilots mirrored his motions to land the craft.
Vader dreamed of the day he would take Luke up on his first training spaceflight. It won't be a shuttle, though. His first spaceflight will be in a fighter. It is his destiny.
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The craft landed outside the Grand Arena of Mos Espa. The arena bracketed the pod race track across the desert canyons and monoliths. The repulsor lifts pumped out excess steam while the ramp lowered.
After landing behind the shuttle, two troop transports deployed stormtroopers to the site. The troops covered all entrances, guarded each section of the stands, and took up positions in the pit.
Lord Vader exited the craft with Luke at his side. The populace crowding the avenue pulled back in fear. The Sith Lord ignored the populace's fear, leading his apprentice and attaché toward the pits.
Luke ducked as a pod sped over his head. "Did it start already? Did we miss it?"
"No, Luke. These are the practice laps. Each driver has the course for two laps without interference." The dark lord watched the pod speed away with longing.
The boy twisted his neck, scanning the area around him as they entered the canyon that formed the pit stops. Pods of all shapes and sizes were parked along the red-rock canyon. Pilots and pit crews inspected the crafts and made tiny adjustments.
The boy stopped at one that had four engines hooked together with crossed cables. He ran his hand on the fuselage of one of the engines, but the pilot cursed him in Huttese.
"Luke." Vader pulled the boy's hand away from the pod. "Sabotage is one of the primary strategies in pod racing. Always wait for an invitation before touching someone else's pod."
"Sorry—oh, wow! What are those?" He pointed to a string of flags that festooned the pit area.
"Those are the pod racing flags of the winners of the Boonta Eve Classic."
Vader breathed a few cycles before turning to Piett. The Sith Lord pointed to a flag with a white background and a sky-blue, diagonal cross on the hoist edge. A golden monogram adorned the upper corner. "Lieutenant, I want that one brought to me immediately."
