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Perhaps it was because she grew up on the edges of survival upon a rocky wasteland knowing only death and famine that Phasma's emotional maturity was stunted. One day, as a young teen, Phasma suddenly realized she had never known fear.
On Parnassos, she was the leader to a group of warriors. Being the Alpha fighter, she was one most likely to be engaged in battle. There were times she was ambushed by predators and barely survived by the skin of her teeth. But she always won.
“Aren’t you ever scared?” Siv asked as she applied salve to Phasma’s wounds.
Phasma didn’t understand what Siv was asking. Her entire life she had witnessed every clan member describe, react and succumb to their fears. They talked about hearts pounding and cold sweat on the back of their necks. She saw them hesitate towards battle. It all seemed made up to her. Phasma knew the pain of being scalded by fire, nearly drowned in the ocean, stabbed through the leg with a spear, back lashed with a whip, and all the gashes and bruises that came with living as a warrior, but it was just pain. It happened everyday since her birth and she found nothing to fear about it.
“Of what?”
“Of dying.”
“I am not afraid to die,” Phasma replied. Despite her unethical commitment to life, she spoke the truth.
It wasn’t that Phasma had no emotions, she certainly knew what it was like to be angry when Keldo defied sense, or happy that she killed enough food to feed the clan for several days, or disappointed that she was the only brave one around to make the amoral decisions, but the thought that she might be missing a vital part of her emotional abilities confused her. Everybody talked about it like it was a member of the clan. She knew she was one of the smarter members in the Scyre, so to be lacking something everyone else already possessed left her troubled. She was determined to find out what fear was.
Phasma found her chance to seek out fear the day she allied with Brendol Hux. His proposal to cross lands she had never been to, encountering new creatures and foes, and journeying with a man she had no trust in seemed ideal in learning the sense of terror. Weeks of fighting towards the ship and escorting Brendol to his salvation had stymied many emotions out of her, including pride, rage, and for the first time the misery of defeat, but never at any point did she feel anything pertaining to fear. Slightly disappointed by her lack of success, she was at least immediately given another opportunity after leaving Parnassos.
It was clear that battle didn’t give Phasma a sense of fear, so she looked for other ways to draw it to the surface. She had never left the Scyre, but now she found herself among the stars, on giant ships sailing through endless space. She had traded a cave for a star destroyer, and they could not be more different.
She searched herself, wondering if this relocation and her new found duties, heavy in responsibility, would provoke fear, however all she discovered was that she couldn’t possibly fear those she looked down on. Phasma was mentally and physically superior to everyone on board. If anyone bothered to threaten her position, rank or life, she inevitably managed to reverse the threats with stronger conviction. She was the one to incite fear. Never the other way around.
Without understanding the effects of fear, Phasma was impatient with her soldiers. They hesitated in battle. They didn’t enjoy the physicality of it. They didn’t revel in pride after a win. They talked about PTSD like it was not a figment of a collective imagination. Without being able to relate to their distress, she pushed them too hard until intervention was warranted.
The Sith Lord was an intimidating presence, but Phasma only bristled in her disgust for being chastised.
“Perhaps your hubris simply needs some humility,” Kylo Ren said as his lightsaber lit up with a piercing hum. Phasma gripped her baton and parried his sudden attack.
They went toe-to-toe, fighting in the training facility for all to see. Phasma was particularly pleased when she noticed he had to change his tactics to accommodate her quick speed. It seemed he had not anticipated she would be so formidable an opponent. They fought to subdue, but neither had a clear advantage. It wasn’t until the clash had gone on far too long for any humiliation to stem from it that the Sith Lord utilized the Force to finally bring her down. She felt an invisible wind sweep her off her feet and then Kylo Ren was over her with his lightsaber pointed down at her throat.
For several seconds he stared at her behind his dark mask.
“You’re not afraid,” he said in a calm surprise. He retracted the lightsaber and kicked her staff back to her with a nudge of his foot. While she stood up, he turned his back to her, headed towards the door. “It would be wiser to assume the soldiers are not as courageous as you are.” He spoke his last words more respectfully this time. “Make sure they die in war, not by your hand.”
In the years Phasma resided within the First Order, she never found her fear. She tried everything including desk work, taking written tests, giving a speech in front of a crowd, trying Gungan cuisine, and addressing one of the officers as ‘Major Asshole’ to his face. She was resigned to the fact that she might never have this ability everyone else in the galaxy had an inherent capacity for. Sometimes in the heat of battle she was glad she didn’t have something like fear holding her back. Most of the time she felt left out of some natural tendency that she thought she deserved to understand.
She watched her TN squad drown in fear as they were shot down by invading Resistance members upon a planet of white sand and black trees. Phasma stepped out of the transport with cape waving and blaster pointed. Before even having fired a bolt, the Resistance fighters all went running.
Phasma had always been the best and this time was no exception. She stalked through the trees, stepping past dead Resistance with her plasma bolts smoldering in their backs. Stray gun fire alerted her to enemy positions. It was unfortunate that they missed since she never did.
She opened up an avenue for the TN squad to rush ahead and secure the downed First Order shuttle. The Resistance was after the data aboard the ship. Phasma held off the enemy forces, single-handedly taking out every adversary, caught in the momentum of her kills, until she noticed a strange trend.
Bodies of the Resistance members were strewn around the area, but upon approaching the shuttle Phasma discovered the bodies were made up of a rising number of storm troopers instead. Someone had taken out her battalion, and by the looks of the charred lines sliced through the bodies it was someone with a lightsaber.
Phasma quietly approached the shuttle and crouched out of sight with her blaster trained at the gaping plank. Within a moment, someone appeared from within.
It was a woman. A very young woman, thin and lithe, and dressed unlike any Resistance member Phasma had ever seen. She aimed at her head and fired.
The sound caused the woman to flinch, her hand swiping across the air like she was haphazardly brushing away an unseen spider web. The bolt ricocheted against thin air and embedded itself into the shuttle with a pinpoint hole of smoke exhaling out of it.
Phasma stood up and fired off five successive shots at the Resistance woman. With a snap of her wrist, the Resistance woman suddenly bore a green lightsaber and deflected all five shots. Tossing her blaster to the side, Phasma stalked towards the woman in a light run, shooting her pistol in one hand and extending her silverstaff in the other.
The Jedi struggled to deflect the shots while backing away from Phasma, who was close enough to see the fear rising in her expression. As soon as she was upon the Jedi, the Captain used her momentum to strike her baton into the woman.
The Jedi evaded the strike quick enough to avoid a puncture into her abdomen, however the baton still caught her on the thigh and left a gash across her skin. Blood seeped out of the wound indicating it was deep.
With a scream from the Jedi and a thrust of her flattened palm, Phasma felt an invisible wall crash into her, sending her flying and landing on her back in the white sand. When she looked up, the Jedi had her hand gripped over the slice, gritting her teeth as she healed it with her mystical powers.
Not wanting to lose the upper hand of facing a wounded prey, Phasma bolted upright and ran towards the Jedi, knocking her off her feet with a hard tackle.
The sand managed to soften the blow, but the fear flashed across the Jedi’s face again. This time there was anger there as well. Phasma held her down but the Jedi fought, even as Phasma made a fist and brought it up behind her for an intended jab to the head. With her arm stretched out, the Jedi summoned her lightsaber, which immediately came to her call.
Phasma nearly punched the energy blade before flinching back and dodging the counterattack. She scrambled off the Jedi just as she was nearly sliced through.
The Jedi yelled out with each swing of her sword. The slow windups and high position of her arms indicated she was not well trained with it. She was blatant with her tells and Phasma easily dodged the strikes. With an ill-placed attack, the Jedi took a wide swing and Phasma found her chance. She dived past the woman and onto the ground, grabbing her silverstaff and rolling onto her back just as the Jedi struck down on her. Phasma locked her elbows out in front, crossing the baton with the lightsaber, and parried the weight of the strike.
Despite being on her back, Phasma was strong enough to push the Jedi away, causing her to stumble. The Captain jumped to her feet and took the offense. The Jedi had no recourse but to deflect the attacks with her limited knowledge of lightsaber techniques.
Phasma was a far superior warrior and she used it against the Jedi. She had never bested a Force-wielder before and looked forward to adding that to her long list of achievements. She relentlessly beat at the Jedi, wearing her down as her deflections became weaker. Phasma whipped her staff across the Jedi’s knuckles and sent the lightsaber flying out of her hands.
The Jedi, in an adrenaline fueled response, thrust out both hands and the Force blew Phasma clear across the expanse of sand they fought upon. She came down with a crash, and for the first time in a while Phasma felt pain ripple through her body. She stood up and cast an angry glare at the Jedi, who stared back in uncertain procedure.
Still on the offense, Phasma picked up her silverstaff and came at the Jedi again. This time the Jedi waited for her to make the first thrust before engaging into the fight. Phasma managed to knock down the Jedi or her lightsaber three more times. Each time the move was countered with a Force push that had Phasma dusting herself off and trying again.
It was evident the energy was draining from both of them as they continued this battle without a clear victor eminent. By all accounts, Phasma was indefatigable, never having stalled out of a fight due to lack of stamina until that day.
Tired of beating the Jedi into submission, Phasma surreptitiously picked up her pistol and fired off a few shots while the Jedi seemed to be collecting her breath. It was the wrong move.
The Jedi flicked on her lightsaber and deflected the shots right back at Phasma. Although she was in bulletproof armor, one of the plasma bolts sheared into a sliver of exposed knee causing Phasma to fall to the ground in a sharp burst of pain. Immediately she was up again but with less vigor for the battle.
The Jedi advanced towards the Captain with her lightsaber drawn. With tables turned, Phasma blocked every lunge despite having to hop on one leg, but was unable to return a successful counterattack. Her energy depleted and her wound worse than the one she had earlier given the Jedi, Phasma was on the defense. Her staff was knocked from her hands and the lightsaber hummed at her helmet. Without the Force at her disposal, Phasma was out of options. She grimaced at the turn of events and prepared herself for a brave death.
The Jedi stared down at the Captain who still showed no fear and asked for no mercy. Phasma could see minute expressions rapidly cross the woman’s features and for the first time she noticed the Jedi was beautiful.
Suddenly the buzz of the lightsaber fizzled out and only the wind whispering across the sands fractured the silence. The Jedi stepped away, keeping her eyes trained on Phasma until she turned and fled.
Captain Phasma sat in confusion. She stayed that way until her comm informed her a transport was coming to collect her.
It was a mistake for the Jedi to have left Phasma alive. The thought pervaded the Captain’s mind at all hours of every day. The last time Phasma had been defeated, she recouped the next day and took revenge on the hulking man-beast in the Arratu arena. The Jedi had the Force, but Phasma would be ready next time.
Despite the loss, the thought of facing the person who had bested her never culminated in fear. Her heart didn’t shrink in on the idea of a rematch. Her hands didn’t shake when she held her baton. She felt nothing but hurt pride and an intense need to prevail.
When she was not training her soldiers, Phasma was training herself. Force-wielders were a different type of enemy and required different techniques to kill them. She studied the power of the Force and disciplined herself against it’s attacks.
Phasma constantly checked the First Order espionage chatter looking for information about the Jedi. Six months later she had all that she needed.
It was rumored the Jedi was on Crait. She was speculated to be General Organa’s greatest weapon. Her name was Rey.
Captain Phasma took a squadron and headed towards Crait to storm the Resistance base.
On an icy wasteland of red salt, Phasma found Rey after the squadron had fallen by her lightsaber. To be fair, there were no more Resistance members to come to the Jedi’s rescue after Phasma had cut them all down. They were facing off alone again, just as the Captain had intended.
Phasma was more than ready and she showed it by approaching with blaster in one hand and an energy shield in the other. Rey deflected every plasma bolt back at her, but the shield caught them all. The result was that Phasma had used up less stamina than Rey who was already looking strained by the onslaught.
As soon as Phasma was within arm’s reach, she thrust the shield into Rey and knocked her down to the ground. Rey pulsed out a Force blast but Phasma had learned how to evade the tactic. She crouched down against the blast and dug her feet into the dirt, never letting the push lift her off the ground.
Rey grunted out in frustration, just managing to flick on her lightsaber and parry the silverstaff attack against her. She rolled out from under Phasma’s feet and quickly stood up in a ready stance. Phasma approached her, keeping a slight distance as she circled the Jedi in an attempt to intimidate and pull her off guard.
Phasma again attacked, keeping herself on the offense as Rey dodged and counterattacked. Over and over again she would back away, wait for the strike, dodge, attack, then back away. Her motions were tighter and left less room for an open strike. In the months since the last fight, it was clear that Rey had been training too.
Knowing the Jedi had probably trained herself to become stronger with the Force, Phasma kept her on the defense so that she couldn’t use her power against her. It was the only advantage Rey had.
Blow after blow, Phasma struck at Rey, making her use every lightsaber technique she knew. Moments of timed attacks had Rey shooting out trails of lightning from her fingertips, but Phasma’s armor defused the energy and kept her unharmed.
Rey was forced back and back and back. Their footprints told the story of a warrior stalking another down the landscape of red ice, away from the Resistance base.
At long last, Phasma’s downward strike sent the lightsaber flying out of Rey’s hands. She pulled back for the final blow when a smile from the Jedi stopped her short. Aside from Rey having a strange reaction to her last seconds of life, Phasma was flustered by the attractiveness of her smile.
A whining noise behind her caused Phasma to glance behind and note the X-wing headed fast in her position. She dodged out of the way just as a laser bolt kicked up the ground where she had been a second earlier.
Rey leapt into the air further than imaginably possible and landed on the X-wing’s canopy. She gave Phasma a two-fingered salute before climbing into the cockpit where a dark haired man raced the X-wing into the sky. Phasma could only watch as her opponent fled off after having led the Captain away from the base.
The Jedi had been pulling her punches. Phasma was furious that she had been toyed with while engaged in battle. She walked back to the base knowing that any information she had been officially tasked to find was irretrievably destroyed.
Two failures in a row. Two times the Jedi could have killed her and didn’t. Phasma looked to the sky where the Jedi disappeared and promised herself another day.
If she couldn’t defeat the Jedi with weapons, Phasma felt it was time to use her mind. She was already of strategical brilliance, but she felt she had been too heavy on her assault and not enough on her planning. It was becoming a game to her.
“Aren’t you afraid of her?” General Hux stood to her right, surveying the schematics of a moon Phasma was studying.
The Captain glanced at him in offense. “No. Why should I be?”
“Because of-” he said, stopping short when he felt her stare bore into him with ire. “No reason. I’m sure you’ll be victorious next time.”
Yavin IV was a mix of jungle and rocky hills. It was where Phasma found the Jedi alone.
She doubted Rey had been waiting for her but it had almost seemed that way when she crossed her path just as the Force-wielder had emerged from a temple bearing an ancient Jedi relic. Phasma had expected fear or surprise from Rey but was instead met with an amused smile. The Jedi placed the relic in her pocket and flicked on her lightsaber, waiting for Phasma to attack.
In a move to cause confusion down the line, Phasma did as Rey expected. She pulled out her silverstaff and approached the young woman in a ready stance. She struck at the Jedi, who parried the blow, and struck again, establishing that Phasma intended to fight this battle in the same manner as the previous two.
Twice Rey tried to use the Force to push Phasma away but was only met with a seconds worth of time to gain the upper hand before the Captain was ready to continue the melee. As soon as Phasma was on the attack again, Rey was placed on the defense.
Phasma backed her into a broken temple where the schematics she had been looking at with Hux informed her of the ancient building’s weak points.
Rey’s lightsaber techniques were different. She was confident and no longer afraid. It was like a dance now, as Rey moved to the rhythm Phasma set. Phasma slowed her attacks and Rey slowed with her. When she sped up, Rey followed suit. When she circled the woman looking for meaning, Rey circled too, keeping her eyes focused on her with a taunting tease. It seemed the Jedi considered this a game too.
What was odd was how this break in the fight where Phasma used the least of her energy was the moment her heart began to pound it’s hardest. The beat pulsed up her neck and into her head where a strangely dizzying effect occurred. Phasma considered it was a trick the Jedi employed somehow, like charming a snake not to bite.
Not wanting to be slayed down by the power of this woman’s allure, Phasma stuck to her plan, lashing out with her silverstaff and clashing it again and again into Rey’s raised lightsaber.
At last, she had Rey where she wanted. The Captain pulled out her pistol and shot at Rey, forcing her to deflect with her sword. With her other hand she grabbed a proton grenade from her ammo belt and hurled it at the corner closest to the Jedi.
The grenade exploded and the wall came toppling over Rey. She held out her hands to stop the falling wall and this moment gave Phasma time to fling another grenade at the opposite wall. With both walls collapsing onto her, Rey bubbled an energy field around herself but was not strong enough to hold onto the power before the rubble had penetrated it. Rey went down with the last remnants of the building knocking her unconscious.
Phasma carefully went to the body shallowly buried beneath the stone. She could see red streaks of blood cross some of the brick, evidence that Phasma had wounded her. Rey’s eyes were closed but she was still breathing once Phasma had pulled her out with a gentleness she rarely bothered with. She laid the Jedi in her arms and across her lap, getting a good look at the woman she had fought hard to finally best. Phasma touched her gloved fingers to Rey’s face, stroking her across her lips and down her lovely cheek, until noting the fluttering of Rey's eyelids.
Young and talented, it was a pity the Jedi warrior had to die. Rey had earned her respect and admiration. Phasma felt no pleasure that she had to be the one to kill her.
Taking a silver knife from the sheath on her belt, Phasma placed it to Rey’s throat.
For the first time in her life she hesitated. She lowered the knife and sat in thought. The Jedi deserved to die in the throes of a valiant fight. Not to have her throat slit while she lay unconscious…
A nudge inside her head, like someone gripping her mind with a firm hand, made Phasma drop the knife and clutch her helmet in an attempt to wrench herself from the invasion into her brain. Her current thoughts were extracted and read over by a spiritual thief. She struggled against it, kicking out her legs and knocking her fist into her helmet but this was not an attack she knew how to defend herself from.
The Captain was vaguely aware of Rey climbing off her lap and standing above her while she knelt on the ground, urging the invasion to subside.
The grip around her mind slowly receded until Phasma couldn’t feel a trace of it anymore. She looked around but Rey was gone.
It was not anger or frustration Phasma felt; it was relief. The Jedi had escaped. The game could continue.
Regardless that Phasma was glad Rey had managed to evade death, she was still determined to one day win. She needed a method to combat mind intrusion.
“Close off your mind,” Kylo Ren said as he opened the vaults of her subconscious. “You feel the invasion, don’t you? Fight it. Close off your mind.”
Phasma gripped the armrests of the chair and expelled the Force out as hard as she could. She felt his control waver as she became more practiced.
“Good. You’re stronger. Push me out of your mind.”
With a grunt, Phasma dislodged his power and he released the grip he had on her.
“That took only seconds. You’re much faster than before.”
“I believe we have practiced enough today,” Phasma said as she rose from the chair.
“Yes. Though you haven’t told me why you’re exercising this aspect of combat. It’s impractical. There are few Force-wielders known in the galaxy to defend against.”
“As leader of the First Order troops, I wish to be prepared for any encounter.”
Kylo Ren let her clasp her cape back around her shoulders before speaking. “I know you secretly fought the Jedi on Yavin last month. Why didn’t you tell your superiors you knew of her whereabouts?”
Phasma tensed her jaw, wishing she had covered her tracks more thoroughly. “There was no reason to start a witch hunt. I will be the one to defeat her. Alone.”
“Still searching for your fear, I see.” Kylo Ren gently reached into her mind but she brushed it away like a slap.
“Do you think I’ve found it yet?” she dared.
He shook his head. “I have never sensed fear from you. Never.”
Phasma recalled her heart racing the last time she encountered the Jedi. She could see Rey in her mind, the tantalizing beauty of such a warrior. It had apparently not been fear.
“Then I am still searching for it,” she said as she turned to leave.
Phasma received news that the Jedi was last seen heading to Belgaroth alone in a single X-wing. The Captain hurried to her specialized TIE fighter and followed pursuit.
Rey’s location was hardly a secret. She had left her X-wing exposed and her comm signal on, though the Jedi was nowhere to be seen. Phasma searched the surrounding area with her quadnocs and spotted the Jedi heading up the rocky summit in the light of the two suns. Preparing for the long walk, Phasma slung her water pack over her shoulder and took to the path.
The mountainous terrain might have provided enough hiding spots to stealthily follow, but the Captain didn’t think that was honorable nor necessary. Before she had reached the peak, she could see the Jedi watching her from her seating position perched upon a large rock.
Phasma finally came to a leveled plateau about 30 meters in diameter. The Jedi did not get up from her resting spot though her eyes never left the figure of the Captain.
Taking advantage of the Jedi's good sportsmanship, Phasma sat down and rested against the rock Rey was on top of and took in the view of the mountains. When she felt her energy return, she stood up and stretched her arms, cricking her neck before bringing out her silverstaff and extending it out to it’s limit.
Rey hopped off the rock, flicked on her lightsaber and held it glowing by her side. They both readied their stances at the same time.
It was Rey who attacked first, coming in for a strike that Phasma had not seen her use before. It was an easy enough strike to parry but Phasma could tell Rey had put enough strength into it for a kill. The Captain countered and Rey deflected, hopping back to readjust her grip on her weapon.
Somewhere, somehow the Jedi had been training hard for their rematch. She was no longer the novice sword fighter she had been the first time they had sparred. Phasma found that she was now as formidable as Kylo Ren, though Rey’s movements were more fluid and graceful than the brutal lunges of the Sith Lord.
In their fight, with every strike and parry and deflection, they melded into a dance, as deadly as it was bewitching.
The suns floated through the sky and the two warriors never relented. Phasma hit her hardest, countered in top speed, and shot to kill. By the sweat of Rey’s brow and the force of her attacks, Phasma noticed Rey was giving it her all.
Locked in what seemed like eternal combat, neither one could get the upper hand. Phasma had learned to block mental attacks and Force pushes. Rey had dramatically improved her lightsaber tactics and quick use of her power. As soon as Phasma gained the upper hand, Rey would counter with a tactic to regain it. On and on the control shifted from one to the other.
Phasma’s stamina was still greater and Rey's was slowing. Finally seeing her opening, Phasma swept her staff across Rey's legs. The Jedi fell to the ground but immediately recovered with her hands reaching out for the Force. She lifted the surrounding rocks and began to pummel Phasma with them. Phasma managed to swat the first few away, however her staff was not built for this threat and the thin baton could not break up the incoming rocks hurled at her. Pieces of stone battered at her, stumbling her backwards until she was knocked to the ground.
Before the Captain could get back on her feet, the rocks flew at her and buried her arms and legs until she felt herself pinned to the ground in an upright seated position. Already out of breath and exhausted by the intensity of the fight, Phasma didn’t have the strength to pull herself out of the rubble. The Jedi approached her with her lightsaber buzzing in menace.
Rey stared silently down at Phasma for a long moment. There was no guessing what was going through her mind, but the Captain suspected she was contemplating how to best kill her. To her surprise, the lightsaber retracted back into the grip and the Jedi got down on her knees, leaning towards her for a closer look.
Through her visor, Phasma watched curiously while Rey slowly reached out with her fingers and touched the side of the Captain’s chrome helmet at the temple. Phasma swallowed hard, feeling the give like the Jedi had somehow touched her flesh.
Suddenly Phasma felt Rey’s hands slide down the helmet and curl under the jawline. With slow movements, Rey began to lift the chrome helm off Phasma’s head.
The Captain blinked in the light of the twin suns and saw the surprise in Rey’s eyes as she set them upon Phasma for the first time. She heard the gasp of inhalation the moment Rey took in what she was seeing.
At first the Jedi's hand lingered in the air before she was brave enough to make physical contact. Rey’s fingers skirted up Phasma’s jaw towards her ear and finally at her blonde hair hanging near her temple. The touch caused Phasma’s skin to break out into goosebumps. The Jedi’s eyes searched all over Phasma’s features with close inspection until finally connecting with the blue ones of the Captain. Phasma felt Rey’s hands cup her jaw and her knees suddenly on either side of her thighs. It took her a moment to understand that the Jedi's body was hovering over hers, gently closing the distance between them.
Phasma wasn’t sure at what point she realized what the Jedi had in mind, she only knew that her heart responded in a wild drumming. A warmth swelled through her veins. She closed her eyes and savored the gentle touch of lips to her own.
What Rey had intended was a mystery, but Phasma doubted even the Jedi had expected anything to come of the kiss. At first it was a soft caress, too timid to be much of anything else until Phasma leaned forward slight enough to draw Rey further into it. The Jedi spread her lips wider and suddenly they were in a heated union of mouths, kissing without abandon in this secluded area of a mountainous planet.
Still pinned beneath the rocks, there wasn’t much movement Phasma could make, but Rey seemed to have forgotten all about that as her hands grazed through the Captain’s hair then along her face, holding her still to lean her forehead against Phasma’s and gasp in satisfaction before claiming her mouth once more.
It was like nothing Phasma had ever experienced in her life. More intense than any battle she had fought. Insatiable to the point she dreaded ever having to part from this woman. She floated out of her thoughts till there was only Rey and nothing else.
Not knowing how this would end, Phasma allowed herself to be consumed for as long as she could before she would either be left alone to continue the game, or be killed as foes were meant to do. The fervor Rey exercised indicated she wasn’t ready to let go of the Captain, if ever.
Their lips met in strong, desperate kisses. There was no end. No thought to it. Nothing else mattered in that moment.
“Captain.”
The comm was clear as though the stormtrooper was standing to the side, snapping Phasma and Rey to the present.
“Come in, Captain.”
Phasma prodded her head to her belt. Rey quickly looked for the source of the voice, finding the comm and holding it up to Phasma so she could reply.
“What is your location, Sergeant?”
“The General is asking the same of you. We’ve located your TIE fighter alongside the Jedi’s X-wing.”
Phasma grimaced and looked out to the horizon where her troopers would be. “I’m atop a summit. I’ll be down shortly. Hold your position.”
She nodded to Rey and the Jedi slipped the comm back in her belt. With a hard swallow, Rey stood up and walked away from the Captain. One last glance back at her was all of Rey that Phasma saw before the Jedi disappeared down the path. A moment later, the rocks on her right arm felt lighter and Phasma tossed them aside, freeing her other hand and her legs shortly after.
From then on, every moment Phasma had was spent in training. It wasn’t any different than in the preceding months except that this time there was an ever-expanding, compulsive feeling in the pit of her belly that fueled her motivation.
“Exactly how did the Jedi escape?” General Hux asked her with his face scrunched up in confusion. “Isn’t this the third time?”
“She is powerful with the Force.” Phasma had not offered up any other excuses. The foreign emotion swelling up her chest grew with every mention of the Jedi.
“Sounds like she is too powerful at this point.” The General looked over his Captain in regret. “I can’t have you racing off to be killed. No more one-on-one battles with her.”
Through her black tinted visor, Phasma stared at the floor, feeling a phantom punch to her gut from the news.
“No more battles, sir.”
The next day Phasma received a cryptic transmission with only a coordinate attached. Naboo. The Valley of Flowers. It was said that after the Clone Wars the Valley of Flowers was much too romantic a place to ever fight there again. Even the late Darth Vader would probably agree.
She would have to defy her orders to go to the location. She didn’t think twice about leaving to meet with the Jedi. She hadn’t known she was obsessed until now.
Phasma looked at the transmission and noticed her hand shaking. A cold sweat broke out across her neck. Finally, her heart was gripped in fear.
Phasma landed her TIE near the waiting X-wing. Rey was leaned up against the bulkhead with her arms crossing her chest and a surreptitious smile perched on her lips.
The Captain climbed out and walked towards the Jedi in full armor except for her helmet which she left in the cockpit. Rey flicked on her lightsaber as she approached.
Phasma gripped her silverstaff and glanced at it in promise. This was the last time.
Fear came at the cost of love. Two shortcomings that had plagued soldiers since the dawn of time. Today she must kill both flaws or risk destroying what made her the greatest warrior on Parnassos. She must kill the Jedi.
Phasma looked over at Rey who stood patiently to allow the Captain her thoughts. The Jedi had a soft way of looking back at her. Phasma felt her heart flare.
She glanced again at her silverstaff.
But, she thought, if she failed, if she were to be captured this time… Well, perhaps it would be worth surrendering to her fear of sharing her heart.
Readying their stances, Phasma and Rey faced each other and charged.