InsaneJournal

There was a small, blinking yellow light in the corner of Phasma’s field of vision. One of the sensors in her helmet was trying to frantically warn her that she’d been disconnected from the internal Finalizer and Starkiller networks. That all her communication were out of range. She was alone here. And that meant that she, like the setting in her helmet, needed to recalibrate.

Phasma knew that she was at a disadvantage here, she understood that. It did not worry her in the slightest, however, because this place seemed civilized. She’d been without allies or options on a dying planet and managed to use all her cunning and all her strength to elevate herself to the position and prestige that she had known she’d always deserved. A place like this, with some sense of order, meant that she could rely on at least a minimal standard of safety.

But she also had much to learn and more to process. This place was so familiar, but so different at the same time. Everything was slick and clean in the same ways that she demanded her Star Destroyer be kept, but the tech was off just enough to unsettle her. But she would not use the word lost to describe her current state. It was a word that barely fit into her vocabulary. Lost was a word for those who had given up. Those who needed help. She was merely in a state of deciding what to do next.

Leia strode down a corridor with purpose, headed for the traveler liaison office to talk with Peggy Carter about something that had been on her mind for a while, in particular about how to best use her own talents here with her fellow travelers. Maybe it just took this long for Leia to finally decide that she couldn't sit around and wait any longer. That was fine. It had been a nice break so far.

When she turned into the sitting area outside the liaison office, where new arrivals tended to wait before exploring the ship, trying to get a handle on everything that was going on with them, Leia stopped short. A figure all too familiar stood in the room. Leia tensed immediately, her hand going to her side as though her blaster was there (it wasn't and hadn't been for months), and she found herself clenching her fist at its absence.

"What are you doing here?" she said sharply, her senses on high alert.

If the Captain was surprised, or if she’d reacted in any way to Leia’s sudden presence, the sheen of Phasma’s metal helmet revealed nothing. Quickly, Phasma’s posture straightened and she focused on Leia. She still wasn’t comfortable in her surroundings, and the corridors on this ship help narrower than what she was used to. Something that, with her height and broad shoulders, meant that she would have to adjust her strategies significantly if General Organa was in any position to attack or order an attack on her.

Phasma let a few beats of silence pass between them. Now, with Leia’s presence, she wasn’t entirely convinced that the Resistance wasn’t somehow behind all this. Although, if that was the case she imagined the General would know more about why she was here than she certainly appeared to. The stormtrooper tilted her head to the left, a softer, more human gesture of curiosity.

“I don’t know, but you are not the first person I expected to see.”

Leia almost rolled her eyes. "In this place, that's unsurprising." She stood her ground, unsure what to do. She wasn't in charge here on the Enterprise, but she held sway as needed when it came to some of this ship's officers. Admiral Pike, in particular. And if Leia were to tell him that Phasma ought to be locked up in the brig, well, there was a pretty good chance he'd do it for her.

"I assume," Leia began a moment later, her tone tight, "that someone explained to you the situation we're in."

Phasma nodded in response to what Leia was saying, her weight shifting from one leg to the other as her legs tensed in the armor. “I don’t tend to believe everything I hear. But, yes. It was explained.”

Her words were clipped, revealing her impatience and a touch of annoyance. She didn’t particularly dislike Leia or disrespect her. For Phasma, Leia was simply a politician who had fallen out of favour and refused to give up her post. Her time spent displacing the Empire meant that there were still those who were loyal to her even against the will of the majority. To the Captain, the fact that Kylo Ren had fallen on the opposite side of the conflict to Leia made it all seem very small and intimate even though control of the better part of the galaxy hung in the balance. That tribal aspect, however, felt all too familiar.

“Are you saying that it is true?”

"I've been here for six months," she said, "and my circumstances haven't changed except for the coming and going of other travelers." Leia crossed her arms in a slightly defensive stance but still didn't move, either forward or backward. She may not be very tall at all, but that had never stopped her in all her years from putting forth a certain presence, even if someone like Phasma might not consider her intimidating.

“You must find that tedious.” It wasn’t a compliment, though it didn’t sound quite like an insult. In Phasma’s opinion, Leia caused trouble for trouble’s sake. The strategies of the Resistance were poorly operated upon and needlessly destructive. They claimed far more lives than the liberated. She remembered the number of each and every stormtrooper that the Resistance had turned to dust, their energies and essence released to nourish the universe. She did not mourn them, but she would never forget them.

She sighed, loud enough that the helmet picked up on, and amplified the sound through the mask so Leia could hear. If Organa had been here for several months that meant she’d built up alliances and connections that put her in a much better position than Phasma’s. The Captain knew it would be suicide to make an attempt on her life, and Phasma had no interest in self-sacrifice, no matter how noble the cause might be.

“It would benefit neither of us to bring the quarrel of the First Order and your Resistance to this place.”

Did she find it tedious? Leia may have thought so at the beginning, after her arrival, but since then she'd made a life here, as odd as that still sounded to her. Like Phasma, Leia knew the name and family and homeworld of every man, woman, or other being that she'd lost as part of the Resistance, and as part of the Rebellion decades before. And unlike Phasma, she did mourn them. If they ever discussed that, maybe they'd determine they had more in common than they ever anticipated.

"Neither the First Order or the Resistance, not even the New Republic exists here," Leia said dryly. "So there's not reason to suggest that any of that matters." What mattered, she thought, was the principles behind those quarrels.

“It matters.” It was sometimes had to tell if her words were clipped because of the speech mechanism, or because her words were always just so harsh and short. She’d got to great lengths to bury her own accent deep beneath the sharp, clean commands of the First Order’s tonality. For the most part, it had been a success, but it helped that most of what she said were either commands or instructions. Most of the stormtroopers she directed were too busy trying to carry through with what she said to wonder about how she’s said it. “But what would either of us accomplish?”

Phasma didn’t think in principles, she weighed decisions on a scale of input and return. It might seem cold or uncaring, but it was the only way to survive on the planet Parnassos. No one had the luxury of ethics when it was rare anyone lived past the age of thirty, food was scarce and only those with a will to kill if necessary weren’t killed themselves. Being an agent of the First Order was no different to her. She served them so long as the benefits outweighed the cost. They didn’t when she was faced with death or dropping the shields. They certainly didn’t while she was here, far from the First Order’s power and influence.

"There's nothing to accomplish here when it comes to what we were doing back home," Leia said. She crossed her arms over her chest and squared her shoulders. "So I think it would probably be in our best interests, yours, mine, and this ship and crew's, if we choose to set aside our - differences. In fact, it's a big ship," Leia continued. "We don't have to see each other any more than necessary."

Phasma didn’t believe Leia for a moment. It wasn’t personal. She’d just learned that the word of a politician only extended as far as their own self-interest. Leia would put aside their differences, or they might find ways to avoid each other, only so long as it served Leia to do so. Just as the senator had once put her faith in the will of the people, before they had voted her down.

“You’d get no trouble from me which you don’t invite.” Phasma didn’t step away, but she let her weight shift to her back foot, giving Leia a bit more space. “And we’ll leave it at that.”