Darkness in the Light
Author's Notes:
Hello, and thanks for your interest! This is the continuation of my serial story The Best Laid Plans, which is set one year after the Battle of Yavin. It's been a long time coming, but I wanted to have at least most of this story written ahead of time as I'm not good at writing on the fly in order to have a chapter or two done every week. So once I finished The Best Laid Plans, I started on this one.
While this is more-or-less a standalone story, it really helps to be at least somewhat familiar with the characters and events of The Best Laid Plans, which begins one year before the Battle of Yavin. That story is an episodic set of six shorter stories, inspired by the way George Lucas presented the films (but only moving forward in time, no prequel business). For ease of reference, here are the URLs to each of those stories (minus the periods since FFN drops the entire first section of the address from the text otherwise):
Episode I: www fanfiction net/s/8366512/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans-Episode-I
Episode II: www fanfiction net/s/8479640/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans-Episode-II
Episode III: www fanfiction net/s/8647198/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans-Episode-III
Episode IV: www fanfiction net/s/8771880/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans-Episode-IV
Episode V: www fanfiction net/s/8904872/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans-Episode-V
Episode VI: www fanfiction net/s/9098177/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans-Episode-VI
Of course it'd be really cool if you started from the very beginning if you wanted to familiarize yourself with the characters and situations I've created. :-) But if you don't want to go back that far, at least start with Episode III. Any later than that and you'll miss too many key points.
Lastly, I want to acknowledge that while I created the characters and situations in this story, they reside within the Star Wars universe which was created by George Lucas, and is owned by Lucasfilm/Disney.
Now, without further ado...
== Chapter One ==
The swoop slid side-to-side as the rider attempted to pass the opponent right in front of her near the end of the final lap. Traveling at just over 500 kilometers per hour, it took only the slightest nudge of the handlebars to clear a few meters of lateral distance.
While the track's horizontal width varied wildly throughout the rocky outdoor course, the race rules imposed a hard altitude limit of five meters, enforced by ceiling limiters installed on the swoops. This was, after all, supposed to be a ground-based sport no matter the actual maximum flight ceiling the machines were capable of achieving. In spite of the rider's superb reflexes, her opponent managed to hold his position and keep her from darting past in either axis.
It was at times like this when the rider would shift her approach and feel out the other racer's intentions. This made it much easier for her to anticipate their actions and choose hers accordingly. Some would say that this extra-sensory skill gave her an unfair advantage, but the rider didn't see it that way. After all, it was simply another skill she could use, and no one else needed to know that she even had that skill as long as she used it in moderation.
Her opponent glanced back and noticed her just off of his tail. He opened his swoop's throttle even more in an effort to leave her behind. Inside her fully-enclosed helmet, she simply smiled. She knew he couldn't keep up the wild bob-and-weave routine forever and was getting desperate as he hoped to finish in first place.
All too easy…
The rider enjoyed the myriad of challenges swoop racing posed to her piloting skills, and in this instance she wanted to give herself a little more of a challenge, given that many of the local racers were not all that good. She let her opponent gain some more distance before gunning her own machine's turbo-thruster.
The whine of the swoop's engine was near-deafening, but the rider's fully-enclosed helmet protected her ears from the noise and allowed her to focus more easily on the race itself. She never understood why so many racers, especially males, never bothered to wear any more protective gear than goggles and gloves when riding. Granted, at these speeds a helmet of any quality would do little more than ensure that at least her head would be reasonably intact for burial after a fatal wreck. But she appreciated having a face shield to protect her from dirt, engine exhaust and other small debris she'd have to fly through. Not to mention that it would be most unpleasant to have her teeth knocked out by a large wayward insect crossing her path.
Everything about the rider and her machine was about minimizing drag. Along with her sleek helmet, she wore a body glove that sheathed her petite frame like a second skin. While most swoops were designed so that the rider sat in more of an upright position, her custom racer was designed such that she actually leaned forward, almost horizontally, so that her body hugged the contoured top of the machine's fuselage.
Some would argue that the design was more akin to a speeder bike, but her ride still fit the general description attributed to swoops of being little more than 'an engine with a seat'. Except, rather than merely sitting atop the engine she embraced it with her entire body. Both the rider's suit and the swoop were black with accents of bright yellow lines which blurred the border where the rider ended and the machine began.
The rider contracted her thigh muscles, tightening her hold on the sides of the swoop as she gained on her opponent. When he realized she was coming right up on him again, he began to swerve in all directions in an attempt to close any openings she could exploit. However, his maneuvers were haphazard and random, which placed him at an increased risk of wrecking. While swoop racing tended to not be as dangerous as podracing, it didn't preclude the potential for lethal mistakes.
Stretching her feelings out again, the rider could sense panic in her opponent and could see his manic maneuvers before he even performed them. As he weaved to the left and down, she pulled up and right on the handlebars, causing the front steering foils to shift orientation and guide her swoop to the desired angle. She held her breath as she jetted past her opponent.
Then a warning fired through her mind. The other rider was about to swing back up towards her, though the clumsy fool didn't really know what he was doing at that point. She kicked the throttle harder to coax more speed from her machine before he could smash into her and take them both out of the race, and possibly out of existence.
The rider nearly cleared her opponent as he swerved her way, but his forward foils tagged the rear left quarter of her swoop, nearly hitting her foot. The impact nudged her angle to the left and she veered over the edge of the established track to fly over the rough ground that bordered it, which slowed her down a little bit. Carefully, she coaxed her swoop to straighten out and glided back onto the track. Her opponent wasn't so lucky. Trying to recover from the collision, he overcompensated and spun out of control. His swoop hit the ground and flipped numerous times. He was thrown clear of the tumbling wreckage before it exploded.
As she continued on, the rider could sense that her unfortunate rival miraculously survived the crash, but just barely. If he ended up pulling through, he was going to need a long stay in a med center, which would give him plenty of time to reconsider his racing career. Her relieved exhale broke against the inside of the tinted face shield of her helmet, nearly fogging it up.
With her opponent's demise, the racer ended up crossing the finish line in the distant first position, unable to hear the raucous cheering from the half-filled stands as she zipped past. While she was proud of her achievement, which added to an already-impressive racing record, her earnings were still disappointing. Since this was an insignificant race on an insignificant planet in the Corporate Sector, the purse was only two-thousand credits. But it was better than nothing, and a much better pay rate than she ever earned tending bar at Norrel's Haven back home far across the galaxy.
She pulled her swoop into the pit area and parked it in her assigned stall. The other stalls were still vacant as their riders had yet to make it back after finishing. After powering down the engine, she dismounted the swoop. While she was petite, she had well-defined athletic curves in her figure. The bright yellow lines on her black skintight racing suit further accented her attractive feminine form and gave the impression of speed even if she were standing perfectly still. An orange-trimmed R2 astromech droid rolled up to her.
"An excellent performance as always, Ja'Ina," the translation screen mounted on the astromech read as he emitted a stream of electronic toots and whistles.
Ja'Ina Anour unfastened the chinstrap of her helmet and pulled it off of her head. She shook her head to loosen her shoulder-length raven hair.
"Thanks, Fitty," she replied with a smile that filled her honey brown-complexioned face.
"Still, I cannot ignore my concern for your safety every time you race."
The young woman placed her hand on the top of the droid's domed head. "Don't worry too much or you might blow a fuse or two. Besides, I enjoy the rush. It really helps me feel alive."
Fitty slightly jerked his head from side-to-side. "I will never understand the thought processes of organics. The concept of putting your life at risk in order to feel alive defies my logic circuits."
"Then don't engage your logic circuits when dealing with us 'organics'," Ja'Ina said with a laugh. "And quit sounding like you're my father."
The astromech jerked back a bit with a squawk. "If I were your father, then that would make you a cyborg."
After reading the droid's reply, the young woman laughed out loud. "That's a good one, Fitty!"
"My statement was not meant to be jocular."
"Whatever," she dismissed the droid with a slight wave of her hand as she turned to inspect the collision damage on her swoop. She gave a sigh of relief. "Luckily, it isn't much worse than cosmetic. With some minor repair to the exhaust cowling and a little paint it'll be good as new."
"Hey Ina!" called a voice from behind.
Ja'Ina didn't bother to turn from her swoop to face the newcomer. "Hi Ku. Did you enjoy the race?"
"The holoterminal on my chair was glitchy so I missed some of the action," the Togruta replied as she walked up. "I did see that nerf herder nearly take your foot off though. The fool got what he deserved as far as I'm concerned."
Even though she didn't pilot the swoop, Kurloh wore a skintight racing suit that matched Ja'Ina's except that she also sported a belt around her waist, on which hung a holstered blaster pistol. The two women plus astromech made up 'Team Anour', though Kurloh didn't really do much other than offer moral support and give Ja'Ina any needed peripheral assistance. Kurloh watched every race from the stands with the rest of the crowd.
Fitty was the only real pit crew of the team since he had substantial data and on-board gadgetry he could utilize for repair and maintenance of the swoop. The astromech was glad to be able to help Ja'Ina with the racer. He found it more interesting to work on that than the Queen Valkyrie's systems, especially since the custom CR-90 corvette hadn't moved since they landed on Yuulin several months ago. Plus he wanted to keep his photoreceptor on Ja'Ina, since she was risking her safety every time she raced. If anything were to happen to her, his systems would probably overload.
The translation device Fitty now sported on his cylindrical body was a welcome addition installed not too long after they arrived on the planet. It was very frustrating for the droid every time he had tried to communicate with those around him when they could not understand any of his electronic utterances. If protocol droids, especially the 3PO series, didn't annoy Fitty so much he would have wanted one around. Still, he found the translation screen a much better alternative, especially since it could be retracted neatly into a compartment in his cylindrical body when he didn't need it. No extra space was required for another droid.
As the other racers began to arrive, the trio left their pit stall and went over to the track owner's office to collect Ja'Ina's winnings. The office was small and unkempt, as was the track owner himself, a middle-aged human named Kath Ulundo. He was a man who was nothing as he seemed. While he was sloppy right down to his long messy mop of grey hair, he kept complete and accurate records and documentation for administering his races.
"Come in, come in," Kath greeted his visitors with a partially-toothed smile. "Ja'Ina my dear, congratulations on another win! You're almost always a sure thing for first place." He handed the young woman her earnings, minus his percentage.
Ja'Ina chuckled, "Yeah well, nobody's perfect, Kath."
Truth was that she occasionally held back since even her limited abilities with the Force were more than enough to beat the local competition every time. She didn't want to call too much attention to her unique skills, or at least come off as some kind of cheat. The last thing she wanted was to attract unfriendly attention, even if the Empire was nowhere nearby.
"Still," Kath continued with a smile, "you're my favorite jet jockey, the best in all the CorpSec! I've made a pretty credit ever since you came along; you've drawn the biggest crowds I've seen in many a year. I don't think I could thank you enough."
The overall operation really didn't pull in a lot of profit in the grand scheme of the galaxy, but it was enough for Kath to support his simple needs. Most importantly, he had the distinction of operating the only swoop races on Yuulin, and that honor was worth more to him than all the credits in Emperor Palpatine's vaults.
"Well, I'll have to think of something, won't I?" Ja'Ina quipped. "See you next time."
"Bye, Kath!" Kurloh added.
Kath waved back at them as they left his office, smiling as he watched them walk out the door.