First Reply "I WANT HOURLY PATROLS!"

[Kallan Derk]

The howling winds of Hoth cut through the frozen landscape like a serrated blade, whipping up loose snow into swirling eddies that reduced visibility to nearly nothing. Kallan Derk moved steadily through the icy wasteland, his white Cold-Assault Sith Legionnaire armor blending seamlessly with the environment. Though the thermal regulators in his suit kept the worst of the chill at bay, he could still feel the oppressive cold seeping in through the gaps in his armor, a reminder of why few survived long in this place without proper gear.

His boots crunched against the ice-crusted snow as he advanced through the patrol route assigned to his unit. The sound was barely audible over the wind, but to him, it was reassuring—a sign that he was still in control, still moving forward. Hoth had been deemed a low-risk posting, a frozen wasteland too barren to be of interest to most factions. But Derk knew better. Every warzone started with someone underestimating it.

He tapped the side of his helmet, activating his visor's augmented reality display. A map of the surrounding area flickered to life, revealing the outlines of jagged ice cliffs, buried wreckage from forgotten battles, and the faint thermal signatures of his squadmates, spread out in a loose formation. The patrol was routine, a necessary but monotonous task meant to maintain Sith control over the region.

"Anything on your end?" a voice crackled over the comm. It was Legionnaire Torrik, his patrol partner.

"Negative," Kallan replied, his voice measured. "Just ice and more ice. No movement, no heat signatures beyond our own. You?"

"Same. This place is a damn graveyard." Torrik exhaled sharply over the channel, the sound slightly distorted by his helmet's speakers. "Still, wouldn't mind a little action to keep the blood flowing. These patrols are getting dull."

Kallan didn't respond immediately. He knew better than to wish for trouble. Boredom was preferable to an enemy ambush, especially in a place as unforgiving as Hoth. But something gnawed at the back of his mind, a subtle unease he couldn't quite place.

His HUD flickered—just for a second. A faint blip on his motion scanner, gone before he could pinpoint it.

He halted, raising a clenched fist in signal. "Hold position," he ordered.

Torrik's voice sharpened. "You see something?"

"Not sure. My scanner picked up something—could be a glitch, could be movement." Kallan crouched low, angling his blaster rifle toward the direction of the disturbance. "Let's proceed with caution. Close formation."

As Torrik closed in, Kallan's visor display recalibrated, scanning the environment with an active ping. A second later, the blip returned—this time stronger. And it wasn't alone.

Something was out there. And it was moving toward them.

 

[Luke Montann]

⠀

Locations⠀ Hoth.
Objectives⠀ Gather material, avoid Sith patrols.
Tags⠀ Kallan Derk

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀LUKE MONTANN.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Engineer.
"In credits we trust."
Thoughts.

═⠀I am but a poor, wayfaring stranger.⠀═

Luke knew the risks inherent with scrapping on a place he wasn't supposed to be. It was, after all, beyond insane to go after ancient tech from old battle sites. But there was a job, a task he had been asked. It was risky, it was beyond scary to even think about being caught. But maybe on the far reaches of the Sith space, there wasn't much desire to torture people who just were poking around.

After all, there wasn't much the Sith were interested in, buried under decades and years of ice and snow. The planet had reclaimed many of the dead, the soldiers buried therein. But Luke was here to do a job, to do a task. So he set to it.

And so far, he had been working well- managed to punch through the ice unnoticed, dig into an old First Order bunker as his hidey-hole. Got a generator working, heat, power. Food stores he brought with him and found. He had been on the planet for a few days now- and not ran into a single Sith patrol. However, his luck, undoubtedly, changed.

The hatch that he had repaired flung open with a strong gust of wind, and he immediately went up to close it. A gust of warm air went out, the freezing cold occupying the space. He wasn't dressed for the weather as he normally was, and being in a wool sweater and pants didn't really take the bite of Hoth away at an instant. He reached up, sticking his head to pull the hatch down with both hands, when he saw it. Stormtroopers. Even worse, the Snowtrooper kind. He slammed the hatch shut, the wind too fierce for the sound to matter. But they all had scanners in their suits, they had motion trackers. He locked the hatch, breathing rapidly.

"Shit."

 

[Kallan Derk]

Kallan's visor display flashed as his HUD detected movement beneath the ice. The source was erratic—small, humanoid, and moving fast. His instincts kicked in immediately. Someone was down there.

"Got something," he muttered over the comm, signaling for Torrik to hold position. He stepped forward, crunching through the snow as he activated his helmet's infrared scanner. A faint heat signature pulsed beneath the frozen surface, barely noticeable against the planet's numbing cold. But it was there.

His grip tightened on his rifle as he eyed the ground beneath him. His boots stopped near a barely concealed hatch, the metal edges half-buried under frost and ice. Someone had been using this as an entry point. The weak thermal signature meant they were alive—but only just.

"Buried entrance," Kallan reported, keeping his voice low. "Somebody's down there."

"Another scav?" Torrik asked, his voice laced with skepticism. "What kind of idiot digs around out here?"

"The desperate kind," Kallan replied flatly. He knew the type. Either some poor bastard looking to make a fortune off old tech, or someone running from something worse than the cold. Either way, it didn't matter. Unauthorized personnel meant a breach. And breaches meant elimination.

He exhaled slowly, lifting his rifle and aiming down at the hatch. A thin layer of ice cracked under his boot as he tested the strength of the entrance. Then, without hesitation, he raised his foot and slammed it down.

The reinforced boot connected with the hatch, sending vibrations through the metal. The lock mechanism rattled from the impact. Kallan knew it wouldn't hold.

Inside, he heard a frantic scuffle—the sound of someone backing away, their breathing ragged. He knew fear when he heard it.

"Come out now," Kallan commanded, his voice edged with authority. "You've got five seconds before I open this door myself."

Silence.

His patience was thin. He adjusted his grip on his blaster and prepared for another kick, his voice turning colder.

"Four."

A muffled curse from inside.

"Three."

Something scraped against the floor, hurried and panicked.

"Two."

 

[Luke Montann]

⠀

Locations⠀ Hoth.
Objectives⠀ Gather material, avoid Sith patrols.
Tags⠀ Kallan Derk

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀LUKE MONTANN.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Engineer.
"In credits we trust."
Bad, to worse, to way worse..

═⠀I am but a poor, wayfaring stranger.⠀═

Luke thought for a moment, coming up with a thousand different replies. But in reality, he knew that the hatch was graded to stop anti-tank rounds. The First Order was meticulous at least enough for that, and they didn't skimp on armoring their bunkers.

Then again, it had been a long time, and the weather here was cruel. Best not to test whether or not they could get the hatch open. Luke looked around the room. He had several hundred thousand credits worth of scrap, tech, and gear in here. Losing it all to a patrol- seemed silly. Luke sighed. He had to take his chances. They'd get in, eventually.

"I'm opening up the hatch- jump down so you don't freeze to death!"

He walked over to the hatch, popping it open, standing with his hands up, in plain view of them all. Snowtroopers. Perfect. He backed off slowly, still visible from the hatch. He shivered, the bitter cold of Hoth sweeping into his once-warm shelter.

"I'm unarmed, too. Just a scrapper."