DISCLAIMER: This is a fan fiction, any and all references to any characters created by George Lucas or Star Wars itself remains the property of Lucas Arts.
She lay before him, a slight trail of saliva running from the side of her mouth, and running down her cheek as her eyes stared off into nothingness. The barrel of the blaster was pressed against the side of her head, as the stormtrooper sighted down the length of the weapon, his finger on the trigger.
I joined the Empire to keep people safe, to protect civilisation from all threats, both internal and external. This girl, this woman, is not a threat to the Empire.
His thumb clicked the safety of the weapon from safe, to fire.
She’s harmless! She can’t even remember how to walk, let alone her own name, or whatever it is that they wanted her to forget.
The trooper’s sigh was audible through the com-link in his helmet, right before he caressed the trigger of the blaster, sending the searing bolt of coherent light burning into the ground behind the prostrate figure. HK-117 keyed his comm to active. “Objective complete. HK-117 signing off.” He deactivated his comm, and slung his blaster behind him, not wasting any time now. He knew they would be expecting him back on base within a few minutes after completing his task.
Removing his helmet for a moment, to look at the girl with his own eyes, the trooper smiled at her, his blue eyes meeting hers for just a few moments. His voice was soft, and tinged with regret as he whispered to her. “I’m sorry, Imeica, but I won’t be protecting you any longer.” He kissed her cheek softly, saying his goodbye, before thrusting his helmet back on, a few strands of hair caught in the locking clamp of the helmet and protruding slightly.
Foraging through his pack, his found his most recent trophy from his “unofficial training exercises,” a large Kamurah hide taken from a buck that had escaped from the nearby research laboratory. Wrapping the girl in the hide, not only to conceal her appearance, but to keep her warm, he slung her over his armoured shoulders, and double-timed it away from the execution field.
Peering out from inside her cocoon of hide, the girl caught sight of the strands of hair protruding from his helmet, and fixed her gaze on the jet black locks. A smile flickered across her face, but it soon faded as her eyes lost focus a few steps later. Then her eyes closed as the rhythmic beat of he bootsteps of the trooper carrying her, lulled her numb body into sleep.
“Dr Kane, your authorisation to enter medical facility GA-799B3 has been revoked by order if the Imperial authorities.” the trooper barked his required mandate, while he set down the large bundle of hide on the floor of the doctor’s home. “I also regret to report that Imeica Darkstrider suffered complications shortly after you departed, and has expired.”
The young doctor gasped, his eyes going wide for a moment in confusion, words barely forcing their way out of his mouth “but … how?”
HK-117 remained silent as he unwrapped the hides, revealing the comatose figure of the young girl, still alive and breathing, before simply nodding to the doctor, and leaving his home.
“Imeica Darkstrider, say it with me now little one, Imeica”
She could hear the man’s voice, but it all seemed so distant, as if he existed in some other plane and was shouting over the distance for her to hear him.
Imeica squinted at the dark-skinned man that stood before her. She opened and closed her mouth mimicking the motion of his, but nothing came out. He sighed, exasperated at the fact he’d done this 1000 times over the last few months and she just couldn’t seem to grasp the verbal abilities to communicate with him.
Imeica knew what he was saying. She knew he was speaking her name, but that was all she knew. Wait, there was something else there, deep in the recesses of her mind, a noose and pulleys. She could see them with the clearest of vision, like they were just within her reach. Eyes glassy with the tears of her effort to strain to vocally express herself, she let out a small gasp, almost a grunt.
He smiled at her, this was the first time she had been able to make a sound since … that day. She was progressing, no matter how small the advances. It had taken her nearly a month to open her eyes, not that she was asleep, but she had forgotten how to use every muscle and joint within her body. An effect from the programming experimentation, she was left to die.
She had no memory outside of this tiny house that she was kept in, her first waking memory being the haggard looking dark skinned man who sat beside the place she lay. She saw his face light up as she opened her eyes, and all she could do was look at him with confusion she could not express physically. Daily the man had come to her and made sure she was given nutrient injections, at least that’s what he had said to her as he put his hand to her arm and she felt the p*i*k. He did this a few times a day, each time attempting to get her to at least take a morsel of some type of mush off his finger, but she wasn’t even capable of opening her mouth for another few weeks.
One day, as he held his finger to her mouth, she was able to make her tongue peek out from between her lips. She saw him smile broadly over the next few days as the frequency of the nutrient injections decreased and the mush on his finger increased. Imeica had actually recently started to be able to take some food by spoon, but nothing solid yet. She was like a small bird being fed by its mother, only her mother appeared to be a bit more masculine than most.
The dark skinned man was by her side daily, he cared for her and worked with her arms and legs to keep her muscle mass intact and strong. With every bit of progress she made, the worrisome look on his face would fade a bit but Imeica could see something there behind his eyes that haunted him, made him look hollow.
A year later Imeica had gained her strength and was walking freely about the grounds of the small dwelling. She had learned her caretaker’s name was Mayfield….Dr. Kane. He had told her many stories of his youth to keep her mind entertained during her convalescent state. Her only memories were his memories, happy ones, but she knew they were not hers. It made her sorrowful for not being able to pull even a morsel of her own from the recesses of her mind.
Imeica was in the small garden one afternoon when she came to fixate on a small tool she had found. Methodically, she went about gathering small bits of twine and rope that she fastened together in long lengths and suspended them from a nearby tree. The tool, a sharp object about the size of her forearm she had managed to plant into the ground beneath the ropes as she began to shape what seemed to be a harness out of the dangling end above the point of the apparatus in the ground. Mayfield came upon her as she had just finished her last knot and he looked at her glassy stare with what could only be called fear. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him. “May … where am I?” He held her out at arms length and looked into her eyes as they came back into focus and kissed her lightly on the forehead and whispered, “I’m sorry, little one.”