Chapter 8: Toytrooper (The Tale of TK-279 aka “Stray”)
Writer / Co-Creator: Elly Hazel
Art / Co-Creator: Marietta Ivanova
The story of Stray is part of the stormtrooper stories "The Shadow that hides us from Death" and a prequel to the illustrated story "Bishop’s Hand".
There were two ways a rookie stormtrooper could end up on a dangerous mission with Darth Vader on their second day.
The first was doing something heroic on their first day.
The second was doing something to anger a superior officer.
Stray had never been the heroic type.
“All I said,” Stray muttered as he stumbled through the abandoned factory, “was the Force sounded like a buncha krayt spit. How was I supposed to know Admiral Piett was standing right behind me?”
No one responded because Stray was alone.
Alone in a creepy old factory with a rogue Jedi on the loose.
“Is there no end to my punishment?” Stray grumbled.
Glass shattering in the distance gave him an unwelcome answer.
Stray whirled around.
“Hello?!” He called out.
His voice didn’t echo, but rather floated in the stale air before being absorbed by vine-strangled walls and heavy machines shrouded in tattered sheets.
Good thinking, rookie, Stray thought to himself. Announce to the crazy wizard that you’re here. Why not add that you’re all alone, too? That you got the short straw and had to check out the spookiest building in the whole district by yourself?
The factory looked empty. The factory should be empty. And maybe, just maybe, Stray would get lucky on his second mission and not find anything at all.
Stray checked his scanner. Darth Vader had told the troopers not to rely on their scanners; the rogue Jedi wouldn’t show up on them.
Stray checked it anyway.
If you have a heartbeat, you show up on the scanner, Stray reasoned. That’s how these scanners worked!
The radar swirled around and around, silently searching.
“That’s...odd.” Stray mumbled, shaking the device. “Not even a rat?”
He tapped the screen, ignoring the chill sliding down his spine.
“...Not even me?”
A hollow thump drew Stray’s attention to the machine closest to him.
A tinny clatter threw Stray’s attention behind him.
A high-pitched screech forced Stray’s attention above him.
“Show yourself!” Stray shouted, his voice coming out staticky through his vocoder.
For several rapid heartbeats nothing happened.
Then the machines began to hum.
All of them.
It started with a series of rattles, then a low whine rising to evolve into ear-piercing shrieks of metal against metal. The entire factory was coming to life like a great beast waking from a deep slumber.
Stray walked backwards, pointing his blaster at each machine, every machine.
What is this? What’s happening?
Something spewed out of one of the machines at Stray. With a shriek that could rival a panicked mynock, Stray fired at the object, promptly obliterating it.
Cotton and white fabric sizzled all around him.
A second object flew out of the machine, plopping harmlessly onto the conveyor belt.
With a shaky laugh, Stray picked up a floppy-limbed stormtrooper toy.
Each machine expelled a toy of similar design: Sand troopers, Scout and Shock troopers, there were even TIE pilots.
“None of ‘em as handsome as you though,” Stray chuckled weakly.
“Curious,” a voice hissed in the darkness. “My people find them rather hideous.”
Stray dropped the toy and aimed his rifle towards the voice. “Come out with your hands up, Jedi.”
Laughter erupted all around Stray. “I would rather not. Perhaps you should lower your weapon first?”
Stray’s rifle flew out of his hands, skidding across the ground and disappearing under a nearby machine.
Stray dove after it, but something very solid and very invisible slammed against his chest, hurling him back towards the conveyor belt.
“I sensed your doubt when you came into this factory, young trooper.” The voice cooed. “Do you still not believe in the Force?”
“I’m not that young,” Stray said, his voice cracking at just the wrong moment. “And it’ll take more than a strong breeze to impress m-”
The word caught in his throat, as if an invisible noose had snaked its way around his throat and chest, constricting him, lifting him off the ground. His gloved fingers clawed at his chest plate and neck, but there was nothing there.
“C-come out and fight me!” Stray wheezed.
“I admire your bravery, youngling.”
Emerging from behind a machine overflowing with Death trooper toys was a rodian draped in brown robes. Half-hidden beneath her cowl, Stray could see a pair of round, purple eyes flecked with white like stardust. She glided across the ground as if her feet did not need to touch the ground. Her movements were fluid and slow; her voice, soft and eerily calm.
“I sense a darkness on this planet, stormtrooper,” she hummed. She swept her hand slowly in front of Stray’s vision, and a pleasant warmth filled his mind, easing his fears. “You will tell me where Darth Vader is.”
Well that seems reasonable, Stray thought, almost smiling. I don’t know where he is exactly, but I can tell her...
Stray jolted.
“Wait...no. No! I’m not telling you anything!”
The rodian tilted her head, her long snout curving into a slight smile. “So you are not as weak-minded as others of your kind. A shame. I am sorry, youngling, but time is very short and the fate of the galaxy depends on me, now.”
She extended both hands and Stray’s last sane thought was: Hey look at that! Rodians have little suckers on the ends of their fingers.
Whatever energy kept Stray floating in air was now gone. Pain shot through his knees and wrists as he crashed to the floor.
The sound that tore through Stray’s brain was worse than any electrical feedback he had ever experienced. It was as if the sound itself had taken shape of needle-sharp pokers, red hot and relentless behind his eyes. They hooked into his brain, ripping out pieces of nonsensical memories.
“Where’s the mess hall?”
Stray isn’t ready to catch the E11 and it falls out of his hands. “Oops.”
Admiral Piett’s expression is nothing but utter disappointment.
“The commander is so angry. Why is he always so angry?”
Darth Vader is pointing a gloved finger at him.
“If you will not tell me where they are,” the Jedi soothed. “Then perhaps you will show them where they need to go…”
Stray clawed at his helmet, howling in pain as the Jedi’s words burrowed deeper.
“You are mine.” Her voice constricted around his free will, forcing him to unlearn all that he had learned as a stormtrooper, reshaping him to become an entity with a very simple purpose. “You will bring Darth Vader and his stormtroopers to the edge of town.”
Such a small task. Such an easy task.
Stray felt the blood trickle from his nose.
“I will bring…”
The pain began to ease.
“...them…”
The pain all but vanished.
I’ll just bring them to the edge of town. Then my mission will be complete.
Dimly he was aware that the stormtrooper toys had started floating all around him. It was...nice.
She will take care of everything else.
“Everything…” reassured the voice within his head.
Images flickered across Stray’s hazy vision, bright and sharp and painfully vivid.
The sizzling sound of a lightblade. Stormtroopers falling at his feet. Darth Vader overwhelmed beneath an electrical net. Stray standing among those he betrayed.
“N-no…”
The agony seared through his brain once again.
“No!” He cried, slamming his fists against his own helmet.
Resist! His mind screamed. Fight her! Focus on something. Anything, but her!
A stormtrooper toy lazily floated towards him, bumping gently against his lens before drifting away.
With maddening desperation, Stray stared wide-eyed at the toy.
Look at you! You’re so small. Your limbs are so flimsy! Are you filled with cotton? The stitching around your helmet looks a little crooked. Did you know that?
Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes.
And...and...those hands! You don’t...even have…fingers….
His brain felt as if it was melting. And maybe it was. Maybe this was how it all ended. Stray’s brain melting out of his ears on his second mission.
“Jedi…” A deep voice boomed like thunder.
The pain vanished. The toys fell all around him. A shadow blanketed Stray, offering relief from the searing light.
Through eyes blurred with tears, Stray could only see the dark shape of a hulking apparition approach the tall, willowy Jedi.
A flash of green light met a burst of red.
Stray staggered to his feet, his sluggish brain determined to lend a hand to the Dark Lord. He leaned heavily against the conveyor belt, only to slide right off and back into the pile of toys.
The hair-raising clash of laser sword against laser sword lit up the factory as the Jedi and Sith Lord fought in a way Stray had only heard about in history books about the Clone Wars.
This was a battle beyond blasters and explosives. Something ancient and elegant and something utterly beyond his understanding.
Vader’s hand shot out and the Jedi skidded backwards, unable to recover her balance before Vader’s laser sword sliced across her abdomen, sending the jedi spinning.
Stray drew his knees to his chest as the Jedi collapsed in front of him.
Slowly, the Jedi lifted her head still half-concealed by the hood. Her snout curved into a haunting smile.
“In death I grow ever more powerful.” She coughed up green blood, but her smile only widened. “I will be seeing you soon, stormtrooper.”
The scarlet blade struck a final time and the jedi went still.
Darth Vader stood over the stormtrooper, towering over him like a skyscraper over an ant.
Stray could feel the blood caked against his ears and nose, tears cold his cheeks. He was real glad Darth Vader could see none of it.
“I...I t-told her nothing, sir...er...my lord,” Stray managed.
Something prodded his mind. Not a steel poker, not a burrowing worm, but it still slithered around his head uncomfortably.
“No. You did not,” Vader seemed to confirm.
A quiet stampede of boots hustled their way through the factory: the reassuring sound of stormtroopers. Stray’s new boss lead the squad, though his rank was actually lower than the commander that followed behind.
Maybe it was the scarred helmet that gave him more authority? Everyone just called him Bishop.
Vader approached the scarred trooper, and the two spoke in hushed tones while the rest of the squad stared at Stray and the Jedi silently.
What’s Lord Vader saying? Stray wondered, slowly getting to his feet. Are they sending me back to the academy? I just got here!
“Yes, sir,” Bishop affirmed, then to Stray: “Rookie, with me.”
Stray wanted to say something to Darth Vader. A thank you? An apology? Nothing seemed adequate and the Sith Lord was already heading out of the factory.
Stray started towards his squad when something hit his boot: a long cylindrical device similar to what Vader wore on his belt.
Is this the Jedi’s...laser...knife...thingy?
“Rookie. Don’t touch that.”
Did someone say something? Everything feels so...still...peaceful...clear…
He stooped to reach for the device.
“Rookie!”
As if existing outside of himself, Stray watched his hand pick up the hilt. He turned it over in his hand, his finger knowing precisely where to push. He needed to release its power.
I need...to...
Green light burst from the hilt. Stray clutched the saber instinctively with both hands. It felt...oddly comfortable. The weight of it. The strength of it.
Someone was whispering to him. Someone far away, but deep within his mind.
“I will be seeing you soon, stormtrooper.”
“Stray!” Bishop barked, and his hand shot out towards Stray.
The lightsaber trembled, then flew from the rookie’s hand. It sailed past Bishop, across the factory where it was caught by Darth Vader’s heavy gauntlet. Without a word, the dark lord clipped the saber to his belt and left the factory.
Stray stared at his shaking hands.
What was that? Was that her? The jedi? Is she still inside my head?
His hands were his own, but...were those suckers on his fingertips?
Suddenly a stormtrooper toy fell into his palms.
“Stick to the toys, kid,” Bishop grunted, though his voice was not unkind. “But good job, today. Welcome to the 501st.”
Stray clutched the toy, and for the first time since he entered the factory, he felt a sense of relief.