[2 BBY]
[Medical Clearing Zone, Salvage & Logistics Vessel SLV-S/A342, Free Worlds Confederate Navy, in orbit Salamis Station, Nerun-Fondor System, near Fondor System, Tapani Sector, Colonies Region, Free Worlds Confederacy]

Memah Roothes stood, or rather was held standing, in a medical frame…thing…her wrists and ankles secured with metal, another noose around her neck. Despite that fact, and the secondary fact she that was completely naked, and in a cold room, she was feeling surprisingly good in herself for the first time in many months. It wasn't ideal of course, but the twi'lek woman had endured months of misery and suffering since her cantina had been taken from her, and then, months after, ended up being forced into the misery and torture that was service to the New Republic as an unwilling recruit.

For one….her bomb collar, which was also a regularly used shock collar, was now gone, and bacta used to treat the wounds so she was no healed, and not looking a wreck after an unknown time in that tank. That meant a great deal to her, and the three droids in the room since she'd been removed from the bacta tank, and woken up, weren't being overly hostile to her. Not that she was enamoured of being put through a medical inspection, but Memah was, at the back of her mind, sort of glad of it as her eyes flicked to the medical screen, again confirming she was bomb, and secondary internal shocker free. Poison and chem free too….Memah had heard some kriffers had done to that other slaves as experiments, or just to be krifing monsters, from her fellow slave-soldiers.

The questions were a bit tiring, and clearly a long checklist, though she answered them as best, and honestly, as she could. They'd probably know as they scanned her, along with a blood check, and sticking a probe into her mouth to check teeth and such as Memah told them what she could. Her medical records were, maybe, back on Coruscant, if you assumed the New Republic hadn't simply destroyed her doctor's, or were with the kriffing slavers that pretended they weren't slavers of the New Republic Navy. Well…maybe they were, everyone had heard that the droids of Fondor kept organic slaves, though part of Memah assumed that droids were unlikely to be as dreadful as her fellow organics had been to her and the others of the Penal Legion. The fact that the restraints were opened, and she was helped out of them by the lead medical droid as she wobbled trying to stand straight.

"Testing of muscle healing and progress of nerve healing: In Progress" the droid said, hand over Memah's and guiding her to stand on a line "Please Walk line to end. Stop. Then walk back to this point"

"Okay" was her almost dumb response, and the twi'lek woman did as she was told, awkwardly at first, then straightening up and repeating the process, once, then twice, then thrice. It was the first of several such simple tests, and where Memah began to find her voice, asking questions of her own.

"Um…what is to happen now?"

"Your medical status is being ascertained" the medical droid answered, the lead one anyway, as the other two led her to sit at a comp with what might be a gal-mind test on it "Please sit and mark answers to questions"

"Okay…but, I mean. What, ugh, happens to me?" Memah asked, trying to be polite, as well…the three droids could easily overpower her even one-on-one, and she was hoping the answer wasn't going to another fate worse than death "Am I, ugh, your slave now?"

"Your unit-model is currently the property of the Droid Army of the Confederacy, as is this unit, and all units present in this room" the droid replied in the polite, friendly, tone it had used so far, oddly putting Memah at ease despite…well, she wasn't sure if that was a good answer "Please complete assigned task"

"Fine, you're…the boss, master, Sir" she answered more formally, and focused on the, turning out to be rather easy task. Mental wellness check apparently, followed by another simple series of tests that seemed to satisfy the droids. Sufficient for Memah to be given an orange-red coloured drink in a disposable cup, that the now thirsty twi'lek woman drank down before she was asked to walk out of the room. Following a line illuminated on the floor, though the door closing behind her did make her nervous as she hugged herself, eyes on the arrow line, waking down an otherwise dark ship corridor. Pitch black in fact, beyond the arrows, till she came to another door, that opened, revealing two more droids, and closed once she'd stepped through.

"Um…"

"Undesignated Unit" the droid on the left, a B-1 Commando, heavily modified it looked to her, based on what little training she'd been given, tone shifting to a drill sergeants "Stand at Attention!"

…and without think, fear of shocks and pain and other terrors causing her to do just that, arms at her sides, "Sir, YES SIR!"

"Confirmation: Residua NRN Programming in place" the right droid said. Followed by the one on the left speaking.

"Roger, Roger. Confirmed" before motioning at Memah, then at a holographic display that activated at the gesturing, showing a wall of text, along with various images of what looked like her body "Undesignated Unit will read the provided documentation. Queries given will be answered by these two assigned units. Undesignated Unit will provide requested documentation and answers, then confirm status"

"Yes…Sir" she hesitated, unsure of what was going on….then stepped forward nervously, before coming to the body length screen and starting to read. Memah focused on it, guessing she was getting the same treatment as the others rescued from the NRN's grasp during the assault on Fondor. Because the thing she was reading looked like something written by droids, or by someone's corporate Sentient Resources departments in what was offered to her. All of which boiled down to three, not too bad, but not great, options:

1) Walk out of here, get a tracking chip, a set of clothes, and then get ID restricted to Fondor and a debt to pay back. Not a high debt, but still a few months' worth of credits to pay back for her rescue over a few years, and being restricted to Fondor till then.
2) Walk out of here into a work camp for three months, and then leave with clothes on her back essentially, along with official ID's, but nothing much else.
3) Sign up for the Military, as a Droid…an Organic one?...for a period of Five Years, with extension to Ten upon request. All neatly listing out the less-than-ideal situation in markings and 'uniform', but also the fact she'd have her meals and living conditions met.

'As if I'd take the risk of being taken back by the New Republic' she thought filling in her name, former details, and other information requested 'And go where? With nothing to my name?'

She hesitated a moment…then pressed accept, the screen flashing and shifting, showing her like a mirror, then a series of indicators showing words and arrows as the twin pillars on the either side of the holo-display opened up in a soft hissing clack {Designate: Unit 2324/S, O-Model Series, Status: Training/Programming in Progress, Evaluation: In Progress}

"Unit 2324/S will step forward for identification marking application"

"Stupid kriffin…." She murmured under breath, but the documents were quite clear, though Memah didn't think they'd do it here as the two commando droids flanked her as she stepped between the pillars, into the hologram, raising her arms as directed. Allowing the wrist and ankle shackles to attach, and then resisted squirming as a series of tattoos were applied to her neck, belly, and lower back, followed by paint trails in yellow that went down her arms and legs before wrists and ankles were freed again.

"Uhh, so…" she stood at attention "Welcome to the Army of the Confederacy, right?"

"Correct 2324/S" the droid on the left answered, hands reaching out, but gentler than she'd expected gripped her arms, guiding them behind her back, hands together "Stance, Incorrect. Training in Progress. Correcting"

Legs together. Arms just behind back. Stand straight, Slightly different to the NRN. No bomb or shock collar, so Memah was completely on board for this, though asking the next question "Will I get to fight the kriffers who ruined my life in the NRN?"

"When training is completed 2324/S" the droid replied, though the next words were clearly addressed to the other droid that stood behind her "Noted aggression in 2324/S towards NRN. Matched behaviour to other such O-Models salvaged"

"Roger, Roger" the other answered "Advise running combat training programme"

"Roger, Roger"

…and Memah found herself being led to another room, and a practice blaster rifle shoved into her hands. Followed by images of New Republic soldiers to shoot at…


[TO: New Republic Office of Rehabilitation and Restoration]
[FROM: New Republic Navy Fleet Command]

Difficulties have been encountered by the NRN in relation to the traitorous droid pockets, primarily at Fondor, but secondary at Mygeeto, in relation to Penal Battalions. These engagements have resulted in abduction of numerous Rehabilitation Class soldiery by these droids, and while the immediate problem has been dealt with, it is considered a priority of Fleet Command that losses be replaced as soon as possible. It is also deemed vital that Rehabilitation Class soldier assigned for orbital assaults by ensured to have non-slice secure control management systems in place.

This problem was encountered at Fondor, but also at several sites owing to poor production quality of the control management systems in these incidents. While some acceptance of this risk was granted in relation to in-combat units, the fact that the Rehabilitation Class assigned to Staff Entertainment and Soldier Welfare and Morale have also been abducted under similar circumstances in unacceptable in the extreme. Over twenty thousand Rehabilitation Class naval soldiery have been lost due to this situation, followed by over sixty-thousand between Fleet Penal Units, Welfare Units, and Experimental classes from operations in Mygeeto mimicking Fondor.

Heads must roll for this oversight.