FLYING SOLO ➳ luke skywalker

ONE! THE PATH OF NO RETURN

SOMEWHERE along the way, Analia had found herself stuck with a narcissistic smuggler and an oversized sentient carpet, but really, she wouldn't have had it any other way. However, it was times like these, when the jerk of a smuggler's work led them to forlorn planets like Tatooine, that seriously made Analia question her life choices.

An old man, bent over with age (who Analia thought looked suspiciously familiar, but she chose to ignore it) and a young boy who appeared to be Analia's age had approached Chewbacca and asked if he knew of any way they could get transport off planet. That was how Analia Solo met Luke Skywalker.

"Han Solo. I'm captain of the Millennium Flacon, and—"

"And I'm Analia," the girl cut in, a haughty smirk painted on her face. "I'm sort of, like, the brains of the group."

Analia gestured between herself, Han and Chewbacca. In response, Han merely gave her a disgruntled look, choosing to continue on without scolding her.

"Chewie here tells me you're looking for passage to the Alderaan system."

"Yes, indeed," the old man responded. "If it's a fast ship."

Analia almost choked on her drink, which, as a side note, tasted terrible.

"A fast ship?" Han repeated, sounding almost offended. "You've never heard of the Millennium Flacon?"

"Should I have?" the man asked.

"It's the—"

"It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs," Analia stole Han's line, smiling smugly as she did so. The old man looked mildly impressed, while the blond boy was still wearing the same confused facial expression that had been plastered on his face when he first waddled over and sat down at the table. Analia had never seen someone look quite so out of place.

"Why do you always have to steal my thunder?" Han grumbled under his breath.

Analia shrugged. "It's not my fault that I'm cooler than you."

"Whatever," Han grunted, then he turned back to the man and the boy. "I've outrun Imperial Starships, and not the local bolt cruisers, mind you. I'm talking about the big Corellian ships, now. She's fast enough for you, old man."

As Han spoke, Analia sipped her strange red drink and she studied the old man that was seated across from her. She knew it was impossible, but ever since he crossed the Mos Eisley Cantina and sat down opposite her, she couldn't seem to shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. She tried to tell herself that they had just crossed paths during one of her many trips to Tatooine, but she really didn't think that was it.

"What's the cargo?" Han asked.

"Only passengers. Myself, the boy, two droids, and no questions asked," the man answered, placing added emphasis on his sentence's close to highlight his point. He must have noticed that Analia's intense gaze was trained on him, because he briefly glanced her way. Blinking and gently clearing her throat, she shifted her focus to Han.

Han chuckled lightly. "What is it, some kind of local trouble?"

"Let's just say, we'd like to avoid any . . . Imperial entanglements."

A shiver ran down Analia's spine. If there was one thing that aggravated her more than Han's inflamed ego and terrible jokes, it was the Empire. They never directly bothered her—the Empire had no time for common smugglers and petty criminals, but she had heard stories about their treatment of people in general; genocides and whatnot. The Empire didn't sound like the friendliest bunch, and it was because of their wicked rule over the galaxy that Analia's mother had found herself unable to financially support her child. But that was quite the depressing story that Analia did not like to dwell on often, if at all. She shook her head, ridding it of the intruding thoughts of her mother.