Title: Who's Going To Deal With The Paperwork?
Author: djcati
Fandom: Star Wars NJO (AU)
Characters: Wes Janson, Hobbie Klivian, Lea Ryze (OC from a post-NJO RPG)
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for the first challenge in the pilots fic index on the JCF which means I refrained from writing anything more than slight subtext for the Wes/Hobs. And, OMFG, 'tis quite possibly the worst (or best?) challenge to give someone like me. To write Wes Janson's death...
Words: 1038
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Someone once asked me what I'd do if the world were to end tomorrow. They didn't expect a real answer; it was one of those rhetorical questions. Supposed to make you think, or some such nonsense. But I told them anyway - I'd have fun.
I guess that's the kind of answer you'd expect from me, right? I've tried never to leave anything off 'til the next day, unless it's paperwork. Nope: I say what I want to say, when I want to say it; do what I want to do, when I want to do it. I've always lived life as though the world was going to end tomorrow, so there's nothing I'd really do differently if that were the case - except finally throwing out all that paperwork. Squadron leaders get a rough deal there.
Don't have to worry about that anymore, though. Because for me, the world is about to end. I guess someone else'll have to take care of that paperwork...
Yeah - I'm out here, right in the middle of a space battle, nothing but my flightsuit and helmet between me and vacuum. Wouldn't normally worry me too much, right? Been in worse states than this before, especially that time at Distna. Except that this time, I've got a couple more problems...
For a start, my enemies aren't Imps; they're Yuuzhan Vong. And I've seen these scarheads shoot more than one EV pilot out of the sky.
Secondly, even if someone gets to me in the, say, ten minutes I have left, I'm pretty certain no amount of bacta's going to help me - even if they take Hobbie's share. This shrapnel in my stomach's damn painful, and I think I'm using all my luck up on it keeping my suit sealed. Can't do anything about it in space like this - can't even move much without it shifting and just about blinding me with pain. Probably accelerating my death, too - I'm guessing that getting your insides twisted about by a piece of metal isn't good for you.
OK, Janson, so you're going to die. No need to be morbid about it.
What's that light in my helmet? Stang, am I hallucinating already? Oh, wait - it's the inbuilt comm. I forgot about that. Maybe I should switch it on...My wrist's broken, but I think I can get the button anyway...
"Vapin' hell, Janson, you Sithspawn, about damn time you got your comm up so we know you're vapin' alive and can start yelling at you again!"
Lea Ryze. Maybe I should switch it back off.
"Technically alive, Ryze. Pretty much dead, though."
"No vapin' way, Janson. Let me just-" A comm click as she changes frequencies. "-tell - hey, all you damn pilots, Ace Three here."
Glad to see her attitude hasn't suffered because of my own situation.
"Watch out for that idiot of a squadron leader floating over here. Told you we wouldn't be rid of him that easy, Blade One."
Damn it, Lea, you're making this harder now. I should've left the comm off, made them think I was already dead. Just about eight minutes - ah, stang, that hurt. Damn shrapnel. I think that was a lung and no slight tear. Make it four minutes.
"Don't be wasting time looking out for me, Ryze." Ugh, it hurts to speak. Need to switch to general frequency, though...no, can't. Can't see the control unit. "Lea, route me through to Hobbie, would you? Then forget about me - I'm already dead."
"Bit of static, didn't catch the end of that, Wes. Blade One, I've got a lizard monkey on the line for you."
"Hobs? You there?"
"Gods, Wes, you gave me a heart attack. I thought I was the one who's supposed to wreck a fighter five minutes into battle."
"Nah - nothing round here for you to crash into, 'sides skips."
"So you figure it's up to you to get vaped."
"Right. Listen, Hobs, do me a favour - make sure Lea here takes care of my ship."
"Vape that, Janson - damn fine ship, but you're not giving it to me cause it'll still be yours when we get you out of this mess."
How long now? Maybe about two minutes? Never mind seeing the comm controls; I can't see anything. Might as well close my eyes. Sithing cold out here, too. Got to laugh, though - that girl's vaping stubborn. "Hold any parties on it, don't be inviting the Rogues - damn mess they make."
Pain's kind of fading now. I'd like to think that's cause I'm getting better, it's healing, I'll be OK...but it's not.
"Not many skips left now, Wes. We can get you in a second - I'll even let you have Blade Squadron's bacta supply."
"Generous there, Hobs." Laughing still hurts, though. Guess the pain's not faded totally. Voice is kind of strained, too, I can hear it myself. "Stow it. Bacta don't heal the dead."
Whoa, what was that? Kind of a jolt. It's all dark and cold, can't feel anything, can't even taste the blood in my mouth. Can still hear the comm, though. Lea's swearing at me - good for morale, she is, as always - and Anndi's telling her to shut up. He knows I'm dead...doesn't like it, but knows it. Good kid. He'll take care of the Aces - don't have to worry about them. Even Lea.
Hobbie, though... "Blade One, still there?"
Ugh, is that my voice? Can't even recognise myself.
"Not going anywhere. Shuttle's picking you up now, Wes."
Is that what that tugging feeling is? Can't really tell.
"Wes? Janson, y'there? Is something blocking your signal? Something better be blocking your signal or I swear I'll-"
"Shut the kriff up, Hobs." That really hurt. Gotta keep talking, though. "Listen. Gotta remember - look stupid."
"What? Wes, you're almost-"
"No, listen. Stupid. 'Kay? Have fun."
"Wes..."
I think I'm done. I think...ugh, yeah. I guess I'm on the shuttle now, not that I can really tell. I'm done. So much for a big explosive death.
"Wes!"
Still enough for last words? Yeah, I reckon so. And I can't think of anything more appropriate.
"Yub yub..."