Allegiance | Kylo Ren

XIII

I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't. My brain wouldn't rest, and my body hated me for it.

When the troopers returned from the mission, I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn't have to face more questioning or judgment. They seemed to be in a good mood when they returned, stripping off their armor and headed to the showers in their underlayers. There was a steady buzz of conversation as they left, and I didn't dare open my eyes until it had quieted.

The bed next to mine was untouched. Unlike the other beds, there was no armor strewn across it, no helmet tossed carefully on its covers. That could only mean one thing. The trooper hadn't returned.

I frowned slightly as I searched for a memory of the trooper. What did they look like? Was it a man or a woman? What was their code? I could recall nothing, and it left a sour feeling in my stomach as I stared at the empty bed.

Checking to make sure there was no one else in the room, I crawled from underneath my bed covers and snuck around to their bedside dresser. I pulled the top drawer open quietly. Inside, there was a scrap of paper and a neatly-folded set of base clothing. My fingers scratched against the bottom of the drawer as I picked up the piece of paper. It was an irregular shape, with raw edges—clearly it had been torn from a bigger piece of paper. On it was a simple drawing of a Stormtrooper helmet. A small smile made its way across my face as I examined the sketch, wondering what the context behind its creation was. I tucked it into my pants pocket, then pulled out the base layer shirt.

It was identical to my own, with the exception of the code embroidered across the top right chest.

PM-8862.

My fingers grazed over the code softly, the letters and numbers doing nothing to help me remember the person who had slept in the bed next to mine. I frowned, desperately trying to recall something—anything—of my former neighbor. There was nothing.

The sound of footsteps returning down the hall made me jump. I shoved the shirt unceremoniously back into the drawer and scrambled back into my bed, pulling the covers over myself just in time to hear the door slide open.

The returning troopers ignored me completely as they prepared for bed. Fatigue had seemed to set in, overpowering the lingering effects of adrenaline from earlier, and they were quieter now. The hum of conversation died away, leaving behind only the muted rustlings of bedsheets being pulled over tired bodies.

I reveled in the sudden quiet. The late-night mood of the barracks was achingly familiar. If I closed my eyes tight enough, it almost felt like things were back to the way they were before the mission. They almost seemed normal. Almost.

It seemed to be only moments later that I heard the morning alarms sounding off, alerting us that it was time to get up and start our daily schedules. I sat up slowly, rubbing my tired eyes with the palms of my hands. Around me, troopers were quickly pulling on their base layers and armor. I scrambled out of bed and quickly followed suit, pulling on my base layers easily. I folded Mason's clothes in a neat pile, pulling out the scrap of paper that I had pocketed the night before and tucking it into my base layer shirt.

I quickly redid my hair, refreshing my three braids that I had become so used to. My fingers felt agile and nimble as I twisted the strands of hair—much better than they had two days ago in the hospital wing. Things were starting to feel normal again.

The one change that caught me off guard was the armor. I had grown accustomed to not having to wear it; the white pieces felt heavy and bulky on my frame as I pulled them on, and the helmet felt tight and constricting. Nevertheless, I grabbed Mason's clothes and followed the other troopers out the door and down the hall, breaking with formation to make my way to the hospital wing rather than the morning meeting center. Nobody seemed to notice my absence; if they did, they didn't acknowledge it.

Mason was standing patiently in the hall outside the hospital wing. His eyes lingered on me as I approached, and he seemed confused as I handed him the pile of folded clothing.

"Mason, it's me." I chuckled, realizing he didn't recognize me beneath the helmet.

His mouth formed a soundless "oh", and he looked me up and down. "I guess I forgot you were a trooper!" He laughed. "You know, you don't need to wear your armor for this."

I frowned. "I don't think I'm allowed to wander the halls without it."

He gestured for me to follow him as he started walking down one of the hallways. "Well, you won't be 'wandering the halls,' as you put it. You'll be doing exercises to help you regain strength."

I shrugged, following him into a room at the end of the hall. He flipped on the lights, revealing a mostly-empty room with a bench standing in the middle of it.

"In fact," he glanced at me over his shoulder. "As your doctor, I'm instructing you to take off the armor. You can wear your base layers for this. The extra weight of the armor might put an extra strain on your body, and we don't want that."

I chewed my lip for a moment, considering protesting. But I decided against it and complied, pulling off the helmet first and then quickly shedding the other pieces. I placed them neatly on the floor by the bench, careful not to leave any scuffs or scratches on my new armor.

"There you are." Mason smiled when I had finished. "Now—you're going to love this—we're going to start with a walk around the hallways."

I gave him an incredulous look. "Walking? Around the hallways?"

He laughed softly. "Yes. Walking—not wandering."

"So I just walk?" I couldn't keep the disbelief out of my voice.

"Yes, you walk. For fifteen minutes. You can go wherever you want, just keep moving. And go at a decent pace—we need to get your heart pumping a little bit. Then you'll come back here and we'll do some basic exercises."

"I'm going to look like an idiot."

Mason laughed again, motioning for me to leave. I gave a small huff and made my way to the door.

Walking around the hallways wasn't that bad. It was time for me to be alone, time for me to clear my head and think about things. The hallways were long, winding, and identical, but I knew them well enough to where I couldn't get lost.

I felt my cheeks burn whenever I walked past other troopers, who didn't try to hide their stares, but once I was alone again I was fine. I tried to ignore their indignant mutterings. Word traveled fast among troopers—I was certain every active trooper knew about me and my circumstances.

Ten minutes had passed. I turned a corner and almost ran head-first into a familiar metallic suit of armor. My heart sunk as I recognized who it was.