Five things that never happened to Wes Janson. Posted on TF.N on 7 Aug 05.

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Wes Janson had been retired seven years when he was approached by the Tanaab National Guard about reactivating the Tierfon Yellow Aces. He was…intrigued. He wasn't blind, after all – he could see that his 'talents' had some use in this war. And to be relatively free of the bureaucracy that had plagued him through the years in Starfighter Command… it could be cool. It could be very cool.

And he opened his mouth to say 'yes' when he thought about it again. Being the commander of the Tierfon Yellow Aces could be cool, yes, but he was getting old. Fifty-two, and not getting any younger. And the experience he had could be put to so much better use than commanding eleven pilots.

So he turned to the National Guard Representative and instead suggested that his talents could be put to better use in organization. The woman's eyes glinted calculatingly, and she offered him a generalship immediately. Wes knew this was what they had wanted, but if it served his purpose, who cared?

He spent the next three years commanding the third fleet.

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"So, Wes…"

"Yeah?"

"I'd always thought you were this slick guy, able to charm the ladies from a hundred feet away. It's kind of a surprise that you aren't. Tell me, what's your secret?"

"What do you mean, I'm not charming? I thought I was wonderful…"

"Nuh-uh, honey."

"Alright, why don't you tell me why you accepted."

"I've always been a sucker for a cute rear end…"

"Gee, thanks, Shalla."

"No problem, baby."

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Jek "Piggy" Porkins had Hesken Fever. The doctors told him he would experience chills, vomiting, a fever, and rashes. Piggy translated that into 'you're going to feel like the crud on your shoes. Suck it up.' He wasn't sure he wanted to suck it up.

"Hey, Piggy!"

Piggy winced. "Wes, if it's not life-threatening, I don't care."

Wes snickers. "Poor Piggy… still sick as a dog. Guess what?"

Piggy sighs. "What?"

"What?"

What?"

"What?"

"Wes, so help me-"

"Fine, fine, you're no fun at all. I got transferred to Yavin! The front-lines baby, where all the action is!"

Piggy looks at him oddly, then shrugs. "I didn't know you were so enamored of dying, Wes."

Wes waved his hand disparagingly. "Me, die? Bah, you know nothing of what you speak."

Piggy rolled his eyes, then retched.

"Uh, yeah. That's gross, Piggy. Anyway, I gotta go. See you when you get better!"

Piggy just sighed and tried to think happy thoughts.

A week later, his commanding officer would tell him solemnly that Wes Janson had died in the attack on the Death Star.

It should have been me.

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Dorik was having some kind of panic attack. Wes knew it, and in any other time, he would sympathize, but not when there were iquite/i so many ships out there.

"Kissek, calm down, okay. Please man, you need to get down or our cover is blown-"

Too late. As the fighters opened fire, Wes saw Dorik's fighter blown up. Then it was his turn.

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He was seventeen when he was approached by recruiters for the Yellow Aces. His family was well-known for their Rebel sympathies, and he was a decently good pilot – and they had desperate need of pilots. Desperate need… And as he listened to their words, he found himself nodding along.

Part of him wanted to fight, wanted to avenge his father's execution and the hundred-thousand different injustices done on his planet. Another part, the part of him he listened to the most often, told him how cool it would be if he could fight against evil; he could be a good guy and save the galaxy like the heroes do in his favorite show.

But another part of him whispers what about mom? Because even though his mom's a tough old bird and she'd be fine without him, it's only a matter of time until the next roundups – and next time, she might be one of those executed. And if she was gone, who would take care of his sisters? They were all younger than him; sweeter, too. In the end, he listens to the whisper in his head talking of his responsibilities.

At the end of the recruiting spiel the Aces' representative gives, he just shakes his head and refuses.

"I'm sorry, but I have responsibilities."