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remember this: try

Summary:

Karis Nemik’s manifesto writes itself, really. All it took was pain, fear, death. And hope. Hope, most of all.

Or: Five things in Karis' past that inspired his manifesto, and one thing in Karis' future that was inspired by it.

Chapter 1: one

Summary:

Karis is 11 when the Clone Wars ends. When the Empire arrives, promising peace, delivering death.

Notes:

“There will be times when the struggle seems impossible. I know this already. Alone, unsure, dwarfed by the scale of the enemy.”
- Karis Nemik’s manifesto

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The first time Karis met a stormtrooper, he had only been eleven, mulish, quiet, the target of schoolyard bullies, and to him the white-armoured soldiers were the very definition of power. 

Of fear.

He stood, fidgeting beside his father, as the Empire’s soldiers walked in perfect lockstep through the streets of Kavan. Smoke still rose in the air from the direction of the governor’s fort.

The instinct to glance at the dark trails rising from the spire of the fort was overwhelming.  

“Calm yourself, Karis,” his father said, quietly, under his breath. “Remember, we are not kneeling. We stand. We accept this new authority with dignity.” 

Karis felt his father’s steady palm on his shoulder, and looked up into his father’s face. His father’s jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with anger. But his father remained still as the troopers marched past. 

As the new governor came past, sneering down his thin nose at the assembled men and women that made up the administrative council of Desix. 

The roar of Imperial shuttles deafened Karis as they swooped overhead, the menacing thump of boots rattling in the soles of his shoes. 

“I trust we have come to a consensus,” the governor said, his voice thin and arrogant. “Haven’t we?”

There were several who flinched, looking back towards the town square. Karis didn’t know why--his mother had forbade him from looking--but the fear in their eyes chilled him. He made eye contact with Jeyne, who stood beside her father on the opposite side of the building that served as Desix’s Parliament. 

All the children were there, the sons and daughters of the administrative council, as the troopers stopped, taking up positions on the steps of the Parliament, flanking the new governor. 

“Yes, we have,” Jeyne’s father said, from his position in the middle of the street, the new head of the council. “Desix is Imperial jurisdiction, governor. We apologise for the…misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” The governor raised an eyebrow. “No, no, that is not a misunderstanding. This is a misunderstanding.”

He raised a hand and pointed at Jeyne’s father. Immediately, a bristling line of blasters were raised by the stormtroopers, black muzzles aligned with Jeyne’s family. 

Karis instinctively moved forwards, only for his father’s grip to tighten, halting him in place. 

Jeyne’s father swallowed. “Governor, I understand that the…previous governor took drastic, unforgivable steps to remain in power. But I ask humbly that--”

“Just the shoulder will do, trooper,” The governor said conversationally. 

The sound of the blaster was a spine-tingling shriek of energy, and Jeyne’s father dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach, biting back a scream of pain. 

The entire square took in a sharp breath. Karis felt a deep chill run down his spine, and meet a sudden, raging fire deep inside him.

“Father!” Jeyne’s voice rang out, and Karis could not restrain himself any longer, breaking free of his father’s grasp, he raced across the street. 

“Karis, no!” His father stretched out and clawed at empty air. 

Karis made it three steps before an iron grip descended upon his shoulder. 

“Not worth it, kid,” a quiet voice hissed from above him. 

“Karis, do as he says,” His father’s voice was controlled, but barely. Fear crackling in every word. And Karis did stop. 

His father had never sounded like that. 

Not when the Clone Wars had first ended, not when his mother had gotten sick with the Epsilon Flu. 

The black-armoured figure gripping his shoulder tugged him gently back to his parents, and seemed to hesitate. 

“Never start a fight you can’t win, kid,” the black-armoured soldier said. “Scale matters. And you’re too small. For now.”

The soldier let go, and as quickly as he came, vanished behind the line of white-armoured stormtroopers that surrounded the streets. 

Karis’ mouth was open, a rebuttal forming, the inevitable product of the child of two lawmakers, but as his mother gathered him into a tight grip, he could only think it to himself as the governor begun to speak again, to drown out the thin, cruel voice. 

Yes, he was outnumbered. Alone, no one wanting to join him out in the street, not even Jeyne, or Jeyne’s mother, who had flinched but not stepped forwards. 

That, Karis thought, was unacceptable. That the governor would get away with ordering the shooting of Jeyne’s father.

The fight might be unfair, Karis said in his head, declared as he straightened his back and stood upright beside his father, but the scale of the enemy only made the fight harder. 

Not impossible. 

Never impossible. 

And like the soldier had said. Karis was too small now. But soon he’d grow up. And then? Then the Empire wouldn’t be able to ignore him anymore. 

Notes:

I have always loved Karis' manifesto, and here I'd like to give some context to it by filling in the gaps in his life! And yes, that is Crosshair intervening (Desix is the setting of The Solitary Clone) to stop little Karis. I've worked this out to give us a few flashes of Karis' life through his short life, which I have decided unilaterally should be around 25 during the events of Andor. Enjoy!