PHASMA X REY

On Jakku

             Phasma walks the streets of the market observing around her the several shopkeepers and keeping her eye's and ear's open for any sign of Fin. Her attention fully on the mission and on the time she has spent so far searching for him.

The heat starts to get to her in this unforgiving environment. She never expected to have to be on this desert planet looking around for a deserter. Traitor more than anything.

Her attention begins to waver as her vision turns a bit blurry and her head a fit spins with dizziness. She places her rifle on her back and her right-hand touches her chrome helmet wanting to wipe the sweat underneath from her brow. The beats of perspiration glide down her cheeks as her eyes sting from the salt in the sweat itself.

"How on earth am I going to get this mission finished in my current condition? I need water."

She walks over to a counter and leans against it trying to catch her breath. If she's doing this bad right now. She can only imagine how the other troopers are handling the situation.

"Wait..."

Pondering on that fact just then. Her troopers went off to the crashed field of ships. They have more than enough shade inside those things. And not only that, they have blueprints of those ships. They know where the airtight medical and emergency supplies are.

"Those guys have access to water. And food."

             She slumps over in an utter realization of her current predicament and situation.

Her suit is shiny and reflects light. But her cape covers half her body. On top of that, it's black so it's taking in heat. She didn't grab her emergency pack for this mission so she has no water. Or food. And even worse, she didn't even grab any of her money. And this place doesn't accept First Order promissory notes. They need something of actual value. Cash.

Well, either cash or something for trade. And all she has to offer for trade is what's actually on her person. Her utility belt containing an emergency comlink, emergency rations, a compact toolkit to repair her weapon and parts of her armor and helmet, macro binoculars, and of course the trusted grappling hook. Other than that it's just extra ammunition for her rifle and side weapon. 

"I'm thirsty."

            She takes her time with punching in the buttons to check the time. The information pops up on her visor and she sighs looking at it. It's already been about 7 hours. Just seven hours out of twenty-four hours.

"Seventeen more hours on this dustball of a planet. Going at this rate with this heat beating down on me I'll pass out before even another five hours is to pass. I need to get fluids into me. I'm going to have to trade something. I hate to admit that but... I'm going to have to find someone who will trade with me."

Captain Phasma feels someone tug on her cape. Normally she would spin around and smack whoever would dare to do so, but in her current condition, she would much rather preserve her energy. But also, who on earth would tug on a troopers cape? Let alone a chrome trooper. Isn't it obvious that she looks more important than the average stormtrooper?

"Are you buying something?"

An elderly looking alien looks directly at her as they lean in looking directly at her helmet. They already can tell that she's not doing so good underneath that suit of hers. Yeah, those suits look really good and protect them from extreme temperature conditions. But that's meant for only brief periods of time.

Not prolonged exposure. 

"No. I'm-"

She catches herself before dismissing the shopkeeper. Water, yes. Maybe this shopkeeper has some. Or maybe they know where to get some.