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...
When the lights went out in the storage room, Leia said, "Something's wrong, Luke. Can't you feel the fear?" Through the blastdoors, the muffled abandon ship alarm was barely perceptible. "We've got to get to an escape pod." Leia pushed past her brother and banged on the blastdoor controller.
"Power's out, Leia. It's not going to open." Luke joined her at the door. He squeezed his tiny fingers between the seams of the door. However, the solid metal did not budge.
"We're going to die here, Luke." Tears streamed down her face.
"Shh." Luke put his ear to the door. "Do you hear that? There's people out there. Let's bang on the door. Maybe they'll hear us."
Luke and Leia pounded on the door, screaming for the crew to get them out.
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With the glowlamp between his teeth shining down the maintenance ladder, Captain Piett led Admiral Ozzel through the bridge causeway.
As they climbed out of the access tube, Ozzel shined his glowlamp around the area. "There are no escape pods on this deck, Piett. We've gone too far." Ozzel returned to the tube. "Where are you going? I command that you return at once."
Piett looked at the admiral, concealing his contempt for the man with much effort. "The children are down here. I don't want to face Lord Vader without them."
Ozzel looked back at the man, considering his words. "You have a point."
The two headed down the passageway toward the primary flight deck.
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On the darkened primary flight deck on the Executor, two beams of light pierced the thick smoke as a sleek, rectangular ship landed on the disabled star destroyer. After the ramp lowered, a tall, blue Duros with a wide-brimmed hat and two breather tubes strolled to the center of the flight deck with his awkward gait.
Coughing and gagging, three more figures followed the man in the hat into the smoke-filled landing bay.
One said in a tenor voice, "I don't like this. This ship is on self-destruct."
