If Only We Could Have-A Rogue One Fanfiction

Nothing

I, of course, don't go anywhere I'm supposed to.

Nope, I go to this place where, in my short stay in this base, I found an abandoned hangar full of unused ships and craft.

As I'm walking there, I run into R5, whistling and beeping and wheeling around in circles.

"Hey, R5," I whisper softly.

He bleeps at me.

"I'm going on an adventure."

He wheels back and forth, then whistles again.

I smile. "Of course you can come. But hurry. Follow me."

/./././././././././././././././././

The entrance is on the other side of the base. I push a button on the side of the door. It raises up into the ceiling. I cough as dust goes up my nose.

"Come on, R5."

We walk- well, I walk, R5 wheels into the long-untouched hangar. 

I look around, kicking up dust. There are all sorts of weird ships from long ago, with strange shapes, sizes and parts. I spy on that has some sort of grabbing mechanism. That'll work.

I open the large side of the wall that allows ships to fly through, then climb into the ancient craft. The floors are rickety and the machine that hauls R5 into the astromech position stops and starts jerkily, but when I switch on the ship, it purrs under my touch like it had waited years to be used again, waiting for this moment-which, I suppose, it has.

I hear someone saying something over the loudspeaker. i turn my left ear towards it to hear it better.

Maybe I should get that artificial implant. "All squadrons scramble!" is all I catch before the roar of engines cuts through the air atop the canopy of trees. I wait until every last X-Wing, Y-Wing, A-Wing, Whatever-Wings leave. This is when the commanders will go inside to look at the readouts instead of looking outside.

This is when I take off. 

The engines shudder but then ignite in a spurt of power. the ship leaps from the hangar into the open air.

I'm not a very good pilot. But this is a damn good ship.

We fly up and out of the atmosphere, soaring until the Death Star comes in sight.

I'd almost forgotten how huge it was, how it utterly blocked out everything else, until there was only this object of terror in the windshield. My father built this machine of death.

And though I will not stop the rebels from destroying it, I will keep a piece of it for myself.

I fly straight to the trench.

I know the rebels don't know who I am. I know the TIE fighters will probably shoot me into itty bitty smithereens. But this is my father's last creation.

R5 tells me there's a TIE fighter behind me. I'm an average pilot. I don't do fancy maneuvers. Instead, I do a simple trick that is remarkably effective.

I spin my ship one-eighty degrees until I'm facing the offending TIE. Then I shoot it out of the skies.

Turning back, I head back to that trench.

This old piece of junk, surprisingly enough, is still armed to the teeth. Dodging blaster bolts, I prepare some proton torpedoes like we were told. Some shots hit my ship, and I curse. no lasting damage; it appears the shields are still strong.

I dive in for the trench run but four TIEs sweep in after me. There are too many, I can't pull the same maneuver, again. I'm forced out of the trench to escape them.

Adrenaline courses through me like silver, gushing through my blood vessels, prompting me to act before I think. I dive, twist, turn, roll as best as I can, recalling lessons I didn't pay much attention to, something I deeply regret now. I shake off the TIEs, some rebels shooting them, killing them off for me.

One of the X-Wings explode.

Then it hits me. 

Cassian is in one of those ships.

Cassian could have been in one of those ships that were hit.

Cassian could be dead too.

Reality hit me like a tidal wave, but I push it away. No. Cassian is a very good pilot. He can take care of himself. I should be focusing on my mission.

I go in for the trench run again, forcing any thoughts of Cassian out of my mind. this time, only one TIE comes after me, and I pull up, do a loop-the-loop, then swoop down behind it. I shoot immediately, flying over it.

R5 asks me what I'm doing.

I tell him I'm taking a souvenir.

I guess that's one way to put it.

I extend the sort of claw-shaped grabbing mechanism built into the ship and open the claw. The target comes into sight. I shoot, then immediately dip down and drag a side of the claw along the surface of the battle station, picking up bits of metal and scrap from around the exhaust port my father died for.

Then I swoop up, closing the claw, and retract it into the ship.

I look back. My shot went wide, maybe three, five meters from the target. But right now, that doesn't matter. I need to get away.

I go full speed back to the base, to the abandoned hangar. Behind me, the Death Star explodes in a ball of amber flames. I don't care.

I land in the hangar, the ship skidding a little at the rough descent. I push the buttons that extend the claw, then the ones that will open it.

I hear the crash of scrap metal falling onto hard concrete. I run off this ship, to the pile of junk that has creates storm clouds of dust. I fall on my knees before it.

This is all that's left of my father, my desperate mission to salvage his broken creation. I feel hot tears stinging in my eyes.

There are voices at the door, voices looking for me, asking why I'm here. I just look at the pile of metal, looking for anything, anything of my father's.

There is nothing.

/./././././././././././././././././

A/N: have to go to bed now, I'll make it quick.

Troye Sivan, my favourite singer, YouTuber and actual person who's ever walked this earth, announced today that he's releasing a music video fr his song Heaven in three days and singlehandedly making America gay again, even though he's not American.

My angel, I love him so much.

Anyway, enough with how much of a Troye fangirl I am. This is a Star Wars fanfic.

Kind of a sad chapter. I don't know how long I'll drag out the Jassian fight...

But I gotta go now. This is unedited (sorry, no time!) so, like, correct my typos.

Ily!

Vote, Comment, Follow :)

<3