Title: Just Pan Author: Briannakin Timeframe: 7ABY Characters: OC (Pan), and Established Characters (Bail/Breha, Winter/Tycho, Luke, Leia). Categorization: AU (Legends technically) Genre: Character-driven drama, Romance, Family Notes: This is a new OC and this story takes place in a completely “new” AU, so no prior knowledge of anything is needed (there may be references to my personal Bail/Breha canon, though reading that stuff is not needed). I’m not going to fully establish how this AU diverted from the movie-canon (though there will be some backstory), but this is a typical “Anakin Skywalker didn’t go Sith in EP III” (“Star Peace” as someone once coined this AU genre) universe. I have a vague idea of where this is going, but I’m also just kinda writing/posting this by the seat of my pants and trying to get back into writing SW fanfic. This is a half-marathon diary for the 2018 Dear Diary Challenge. Entry 1 So this is how I die. The doctors said this might help my family cope - you know, so they’ll know what happened, but don’t think this is going to help because that is seriously all I remember thinking. Maybe they think my recording what happened will help the Republic Navy figure out what is kriffing wrong with that new shield. Hopefully my data-pad will filter out all the breaks I have to take while recording this to breathe; I have to audio-record this because I can’t type. I keep thinking I should be spending my energy dictating a letter to my family, you know, telling them how much I love them… and miss them. Oh, kriffing stars, Pan, pull yourself together and stop crying. Okay. So this is how I die. The thought drifted across my mind. It was oddly calming. Like… it was all out of my control. I was at the wills of the universe. In many ways I still am. Because it was all out of my control. Because I was strapped in a starfighter and the controls weren’t responding to me. And my astromech wasn’t responding either. The ground approached so quickly. I plummeted towards the lifeless asteroid known only as MX-C23V5 and there was nothing I could do about it. “Dammit Delta Six! Pull UP!” I can still hear the voice of ground control crackling in my ear. “Oh, like I haven’t tried that!” I responded into the comm in my helmet. Will they lie and tell my mom I was brave in my final moments, or will they tell the truth and tell her I was sarcastic till the end? “I’m telling you, everything is dead!” Eight times (I think) I flipped the pilot controls over to the astromech setting, then back to manual. Every time, nothing happened to the black monitor just below my viewport. I jerked the yoke but nothing happened. The only thing that changed was the ever-nearing strip of asteroid. I remember thinking: this dammed pitted, grey plane will be my final sight. At least I won’t hit the base. At least there will be no other casualties. “Nothing is coming back online,” I stated what was painfully obvious for me. “Everything is dead! It got fried when I went though the field.” Will it be comfort for my mom when they tell her that her 25-year-old son died for a good cause? Will my dad be proud? I served the Republic. I’m going to die for the Republic. Kinda. Admirals, when they manage to get a communication through the asteroid field and into the actual inhabited part of the galaxy, will tell my family I died when I was the first to pilot a T-66 starfighter through an experimental planetary shield. It was designed to allow ships to flow freely but keep asteroids out. The Republic Navy knew there was issues, but needed a sentient being to tell them exactly what. So, as a talented mechanic and an experienced fighter-pilot, I was ordered by my superiors to go through the faulty shield. What’s the worst that could have happened? And this is how I die: crashing a kriffing X-Wing on an asteroid on the edge of the galaxy. Will my sister cry? Mom and Dad will and that kills me. Okay, okay, Pan, back on topic. I remember ground control. “Delta six, begin emergency landing procedures or eject!” I pressed the eject button once more, just encase I wasn’t pressing hard enough the first 67 times. I couldn’t believe my last few moments in existence was going to be spent arguing with ground control. It was every pilots’ nightmare. Not the crashing part, the ground control part. Take it from a dead-guy, or a guy about to be dead: GROUND CONTROL SUCKS. “Everything. Is. DEAD! The electronics are dead. The manual mechanics are dead. My astromech is dead. I. Am. Dead.” I didn’t have time to say final goodbyes or murmur one final prayer to the universe. The surface of the asteroid came too quickly. And now, I must rest. I am too tired for even one last try at some gallows humour. Maybe a communication can be sent in time…. Maybe Mom and Dad will come…. I want them. Entry ended.