Tue Jan 08, 2013 11:02 pm by Irrelevant
*His body burned and mutilated beyond all recognition, Ivers lay in a coma, blissfully unaware of how tenacious his hold on life was. Doctors searched for prosthetics and tissues samples that his body would not reject. Oddly enough, the less organic the prosthetic the better his body seemed to accept the replacement. Discussing the possibilities and wondering what the patient would have wanted, thoroughly frustrated by their inability to find out until the procedure was finished, they decided they had to act on their own medical code, to save what life they could, however they could, unless it went against the patients wishes. This was going to be a very risky operation, one on par with the operation that created General Grievous of the Clone Wars though none of the doctors here even knew about that operation.
They begin running tests, and eventually pulled in an YVH-1 droid frame, stripped of its weapons and put civilian grade armor in place of its original shell, to be the basis of the new Ivers. They began modifying the droid shell frame to accept the organic remains of Ivers, while preparing Ivers' severely damaged tissues to interact and control the new body. The procedure took the better part of three weeks, with the doctors and techs working in four six-hour shifts to complete the operation as quickly as possible. When they had finished, Ivers remained unconscious, until the team had rested enough to risk waking him. Security stood by, just in case Ivers could not cope with his new body psychologically, and needed to be put down quickly. They brought Ivers out of the coma slowly, and kept all unnecessary systems in the droid body turned off, which, theoretically, would reduce his shock upon exiting the coma.*
*Sleep begins to fall away, a blackness slowly shifting through endless shades of gray to a white. I realize that I am staring up at a white ceiling and wondered where I was. I try to stretch and yawn, but notice that I can't feel my arms, or much of anything below the neck for that matter, though I can hear my heart beat in my ears, so I know I'm not dead. Looking around, I find my neck is immobile but I see off to one side a tall thin man in white lab coat. He looked fresh enough, but there were hints of sleepless nights in his recent past displayed on his face. I blink once then croak a question, suddenly finding my throat very dry I swallow painfully before asking for water, in my native tongue. I watch as confusion flashes across his face as he brings a small disposable cup into view and I blink twice rapidly, unable to say anything else at the moment.
I drink the cool water, as the doctor carefully pours it into my mouth. After the third cup I can speak, with only minor discomfort, as the stiff muscles begin to work once more. I ask what happened, again in my native tongue and watch as a plate of food is offered and I, finding my neck still very immobile, glance quickly to either side of my head. The plate recedes, and I wrack my brain for some way to get the message across in a medium he would understand. An orderly comes and turns on a holo-projector, it show news headlines and clips of articles about the events of that fateful day, and the days preceding it. Then it ends with a current date and time stamp, by which I figure that I have been unconscious for several weeks, though my still foggy brain couldn't find the exact amount of time. After this, I stare at the ceiling or a time, eventually eating the food the orderly feeds me, while the doctor waits nearby, anxiously awaiting some sign of... either acceptance or denial perhaps? I do not know, but I begin trying to see what I can of my body, which is nothing but the backs of my eyelids. Noticing my efforts, the orderly reaches over to what I can only assume is my chest and a few seconds later I can feel my arms and legs though I still can't move either. I can however move my head around now and sit up too, which I do a little to quickly.
As the world stops spinning and my nausea fades, I see that most of my body has been replaced by an angular droid body, of a model I am unfamiliar with. I think back trying to remember who had set off the explosion in the military base, but I find only a hatred of the Sith lord who caused me to leave Korriban. I assume that I had been followed and that I was supposed to be dead. In fact, as far as the public was concerned I was dead, according to the HNN reports. This was an unexpected gift. Yes, my body is now mostly metal, but my enemies think I'm dead. The new body would take getting used to, as would the new language and culture I would have to learn here, but I was at last invisible to my enemy, and perhaps, that and a little training would be enough to bring him down, to avenge my family's death. I smile, grimly, and lie back as these and similar thoughts run through my head. I resolve to rest, recuperate, and do everything in my power to help those who had given me this chance.*