Scrappers

I took note of the scrapper ships flying overhead, that touched down for a landing just a few meters away. I thought about going to them, but given the treacherous terrain and my state of injury, I thought it best to let them come to me. Sure enough, a diverse group of aliens soon made their way towards the Star Destroyer, undoubtedly having seen me by this point. I held up my good arm and shouted out.

"Hello!" I yelled. "I am Captain Phasma, of the First Order. I require a ship to return to the Supremacy, and I need to commandeer yours." There was no reply. I could see them more clearly now, a group of five. A rodian, a fat cathar, an abedano, and two modified humans made up their group, only unified by their black and orange ponchos. Surely they heard me. Perhaps I would have to impress upon them the brevity of the situation. "Gentlemen! This planet is under First Order control. As a superior officer, I demand that you take me to your ship!"

Still nothing. How odd. Surely they feared the First Order. They were only a few feet away now, and I started to hear mumblings among the group. I do wish I had put two and two together sooner, but it wasn't until one pulled out a blaster that I understood what I had gotten myself into.

I intended to leap to the side, but my injuries left me simply flopping to the ground. Still, it was enough to dodge the blue stun ray. Stun? So they weren't trying to kill me, I reasoned. I rebuked myself for being so stupid, placing my trust in strangers. Had I chosen a more tactful approach, they'd all be dead, and I would have been heading straight for Coruscant. Nonetheless, I took my hood arm and pulled myself across the wet platform, dipping myself into a puddle of rain and mud. I had never felt so pathetic. I looked up once more, and it fully set in how futile my efforts were. I locked eyes with the rodian scrapper, and saw a flash of blue before everything faded to black.

Drearily, I peeked through my heavy eyelids to try to take in my surroundings. My brain was slow, and senses hadn't quite fully restored. I could just barely make out a room, but it was blurry, as though obscured by water. My lips suddenly tightened around the tube that had been placed in my mouth, and things began to make sense. I was in a bacta tank. I could tell the thing had done its magic by the fact that my bones were no longer screaming at me.

Still, they stunned me then healed me? I couldn't understand it. With a buzz of the alarm, the water began draining, and the sight of the scrapper gang watching me became much clearer. I figured I'd get answers soon enough.