Entry 1.
05.10.52 ABY
The sun hadn't even risen when the eighteen year-old Allie Solo joined the rest of the racing pilots in procession to hangar in the center of the Space Angel Speedway on Helios II. The youngest in the procession, Allie's skin glowed with the enthusiasm of youth as she entered her pit station.
Several technicians in the Solo Shipping branded jumpsuits scrambled about, making last-minute repairs and fueling her speeder for the opening race. Shouts of last-minute panic rang throughout the hangar, with gaggles of pilots standing about, trash-talking and gossiping.
Allie loved it.
"Sweetheart!"
Allie whirled around to see her parents, the legendary Ben Solo and Kira Rey, the former two racers for the Solo Shipping Brand.
"Mum! Dad!" Allie grinned and embraced them.
"You're going to do great," Rey said.
"Fly fast," Ben said, his deep brown eyes serious. "Be quick."
"I will." Allie sobered as well.
"We'll see you on the other side," Ben said.
"Good luck," Rey added.
The two strolled away, and Allie could sense the presence of someone who had attempted to sneak up behind her in the Force. She whirled around, surprising an older woman with long blonde hair in two buns and a round face like a moon.
"Sorry," the pilot said. "Thought I'd finally check out the rookie some of the boys have been talking about."
"It's all good," Allie said, grinning. "You're Tallissan Lintra, aren't you?"
"Call me Tallie," the pilot replied, smiling herself. "I remember when I was the new blood in the cockpit, the feeling of my first professional race. I'm a little bit jealous of the rookies, to be completely honest."
"Why?"
"I wish I could experience it all over again." Tallie closed her eyes. "I wish I could feel that way again. The excitement, the nerves, and the pure exhilaration when I soared across the finish line for the first time. Never mind that I was in fourth place."
"I'll try to enjoy it, then," Allie said.
"Fly straight, Solo," Tallie said, giving a salute. "I see the boys are getting a little too cozy without me. Might as well start some trouble."
"Bye," Allie said.
She then approached her speeder. She could feel the engine thrum, and closed her eyes to hear the electrical hum, distinct from the Force.
"That's my baby girl," Allie murmured.
"Ma'am?"
Allie looked to see one of her technicians. "Sorry."
"You'd better get in the cockpit," the technician said. "It's nearly time."
"Already?" Allie blinked. "Alright then."
She got in the cockpit of the speeder, and sighed. She turned the ignition and flipped switches, bringing the metal beast to life. Carefully, she thrust forward the joystick and hit the acceleration pedal.
The speeder glided out onto the long, circular track, falling into formation with others as they warmed up, waiting for that light to go green.
Then it did.
Allie's heartbeat picked up. She knew what to do. Have faith in the Force and yourself. That's all you ever needed.
Her grip tightened around the steering yoke and joystick, and she started drafting, moving forward in the ever-shifting ranks. She gritted her teeth as she turned her first corner, and number 21 nearly drove her into the wall.
"Mother-kriffer!" she shouted.
"Hey, kid, calm down."
Her grandfather's voice cut through the chaos via her headset. Han personally managed his racers that took on the shipping brand, with advice from his own racing days. With Allie onboard, he insisted on being in the pit crew.
"Sorry," she said. "Forgot about the kids in the audience."
"Relax, someone in the editing room chose to bleep you out," Han said. "But try to lay off the language."
"Will do," Allie promised.
One lap came, then the next, then the next. She paced herself— too many young pilots got cocky, thinking they could maintain an infinite lead, despite knowing all too well that they couldn't.
After the pit stop, she managed to break a lead, soaring past numbers 12 and 87. One lap was left.
"Don't let your guard down, kid," Han grunted. "Don't get cocky. You still got one lap."
"Got it," Allie said.
Her concentration was so intense, she couldn't hear anything. All she knew was speed. She didn't hear the whirring of an engine behind her, and she didn't hear Han yelling through her headset.
Right as she was about to cross through the finish line, number 21 soared through first.
"What?"
"And number 77, Allana Solo, has come in second place!"
This couldn't be happening.
Numb with disappointment, she parked in the pits and climbed out, ignoring the cheers.
"Good job, kid." Han gave her a light punch in the shoulder. "Second place on your first race ain't nothing to sneeze at."
"Who was the pilot who beat me?" Allie asked.
"That's the damnedest thing," Han admitted. He pointed to where a serious, bronze-skinned boy with pretty black curls climbed out of number 21. "That's Kyp Stormbreaker."
"That can't be," Allie said, replaying the footage from her mother's final season as the Solo Shipping pilot. "Not after that crash last year. They'd have to put Paige Tico in instead. There's no way he got better in four months."
"Starkiller Industries has a lot of money," Han said. "They can throw it anywhere they damn please, especially when it comes to racing."
Yet he was there. No trace of scars from burns or surgeries for prosthetics to replace mangled limbs marred his body, from what Allie could see with the flightsuit.
The nephew of one of the greatest pilots to ever race for Starkiller Industries had debuted the previous season. One of the most successful rookies in history, Kyp Stormbreaker had won race after race. Until the finale, when he crashed so terribly, everyone thought he would die.
But he didn't.
And now he was back, with the same winning streak.
"Really, don't worry about it," Han said. "There's still an entire season to go. And second is nothing to sneeze at."
So Allie was drawn into celebratory festivities, with only a lingering glance at the mysterious pilot.