You can't move. You can't see. You can't feel. You can't breath. While in the deathless stillness of cryogenic freeze you can't even think. But it isn't as if you're removed from time entirely. No, certainly there is still something going on in there, in that deep, dark chasm. Some dim spark of life tethered for so long by dubious machinations and the ill will to use them. Alone it stood, transfixed in essence for all eternity. The only perceivable sign of life came from a small panel on the lower side of the metal frame. One red light blinking ever so softly and a green line that crawled across the screen, occasionally raising for the slightest moment, only to return to its baseline. Negligible.
It would be easy to forget there was anyone in there, really, if it wasn't for the striking pose the young girl took just before the super cooled tibanna gas filled the chamber. Eyes fierce and full spite, mouth in a sort of shout baring elongated canines, it was clear why Imperial soldiers saw her as a prime candidate for freezing.
Time moves on, even for this poor removed girl, and over such the great slab finds itself in the galaxy again in the hands of scavengers picking the bones of the dead. Fates are weighed against profits, and aesthetics beat out slavery by a margin. Once all is verified and authenticated the statuesque girl turns heroine in the eyes of eclectic collectors. Truly a stirring piece. Rich men die, and possessions are auctioned off. Value is lost in a new generation's eyes, meaning is lost from tradition, and what was once beautiful becomes just another slab of something or another.
"Melt her."
