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...
The blastdoor opened to reveal an expanse of darkness. Black walls illuminated by dark blue lights cast the cavernous Imperial Throne Room into shadows. The Coruscant twilight shone purple through the large sunlike window behind the throne. A shriveled man in a dark robe whose eyes glowed yellow hunched over the obsidian throne.
Vader led the contingent across the long, glossy-black floor. Yoda and Ahsoka stood to his right. Obi-Wan to his left. They held their sabers at the ready.
Anakin spoke through his vocalizer, "Prepare to meet your destiny."
"Oh, I'm afraid you are mistaken, my apprentice." The Emperor's voice trembled.
Vader's black-gloved hand tossed his helmet across the chamber. It clattered against a vacant command pod. "No, you are mistaken, Sidious. I am no longer your apprentice."
"So be it, Jedi."
He squeezed a claw, and four doors on each side of the hall sprung back. Eight masked figures cloaked in black stepped forward, red lightsabers humming from their identical circular hilts. As one, the guards leaped from the catwalks to surround the quartet.
"It was all too easy." Palpatine spat on the shiny floor. "Fools."
Following the Emperor's cue, the Inquisitors pushed forward, pushing the Jedi foursome together.
The Jedi stood with their backs together, sabers raised and blazing. As one, the Jedi stepped forward and slashed at their foes. Quick slashes pushed the Inquisitors back, opening the combat circle.
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Padmé pushed herself to a seated position while Bail covered them both with his blaster. They heard the footsteps of stormtroopers tapping down the other end of the corridor. Padmé pulled her blaster and waited.
Bail looked at Padmé as blaster fire erupted from the same direction. She winced as she moved her shoulder. Her wound may have cauterized, but like all blaster wounds, the flesh burned and swelled. "This is it," he said.
Both Rebel leaders aimed their blasters at the approaching white armor retreating their way. First one, then two, then three hit the floor. The column of stormtroopers advanced toward their foes on the other side. The mass of white armor flowed first one direction then the other.
Bail stayed by Padmé's side, protecting his injured friend. Every once in a while, they would score a lucky shot. The smell of ozone filled the corridor, as the sounds of blaster fire muffled all other noise. At times, the bright light and smoke from the blaster shots obscured their view.
"Freeze!" a filtered voice commanded.
Bail and Padmé turned to their right, where a stormtrooper captain aimed his blaster at him.
"Drop your weapons."
The pair tossed their blasters, skating them across the floor to the new squad of white armor.
