The Freezing Point
Posted on Sun Jan 26th, 2025 @ 2:16pm by Major Babs Betany & Damiysha Ghuma-sar
1,707 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission:
Some Like It Hoth
Location: Frostpoint Outpost (FP-02)
Timeline: Day 01 of deployment
Babs sat down with a heavy sigh, her head was already swimming with all the requisition requests they would need urgently if they were to hold this position. Her troopers had been… well they had been troopers about the whole thing. She was proud of her squadron. Just a small handful, but they were well trained. However they were also tired from the journey here, and had been promised a well equipped outpost with warm beds. Instead they got a generator which had been stripped by scavengers and radio silence from FP-01. Already the more superstitious ones were giving each other looks, and Babs knew she had a small time to turn this around if she wanted to keep their morale up.
She flicked on the communications array which had been hooked up in the storage cupboard office she had claimed, one pink eyebrow raising high when she sees she had already received a message. It was a matter of parsecs later when she was storming through the base and cussing under her breath.
A Jedi. Her bloody superiors were sending a bloody Jedi to babysit them. Her own personal feelings aside she did not like surprises and this one came with an additional mouth to feed when their supplies were already stretched. How was she supposed to be able to last until the next supply drop?
Before she burst out of the narrow corridor, and into the main hangar, she paused. She took a deep breath, settling her feelings like she had been taught by her father. Last thing she wanted was pheromones catching and rubbing the wrong way on already frayed nerves. Once she was calm she stepped out into the busiest part of the base. The civilian hangar was abuzz. Soldiers and pilots alike were gathering what scrap and salvage they could to assist with the urgent repairs needed on the generator. If they didn’t get it fixed before nightfall they would be burning valuable ship fuel to have somewhere warm to sleep.
The moment the first soldier spotted her a signal is given and they snap to attention. The Pilots typically less eager to do so, but a few at least straighten up. “At ease. We need to get eyes on the sky above the hangar entrance. We are expecting a guest already.” As white uniforms rushed off to fulfil her orders she called after them. “And keep those bloody doors closed until her ship is ready to land. Last thing we need is to let out what little warmth we have!”
Even with her considerable training in piloting the Jedi Defender, Damiysha still had a difficult time navigating through the whipping winds inside the Hoth atmosphere. It also took her a moment to adjust her systems to point her in the right direction of the outpost she had been assigned to. Even through the thick outer layer of the vessel she could almost feel the blistering cold outside. She was born on a warm planet, or at least a warm part of a planet. And for most of her training she had been in all sorts of extreme environments, but nothing could really hold a candle to Hoth. When she had first heard of her assignment she had wondered if there was something she had done wrong. That was before she realised it came with a promotion to full fledged Knight. It wasn't a punishment, it was an amazing opportunity for her to earn the trust that her Master had clearly put in her.
That's why she felt so stupid when her first pass had taken her over a featureless snow- and ice-field. It had made her wonder if something had interfered with her sensors, then she double checked the coordinates making sure they were directing her to FP-02, and re-calibrated her navigation for good measure. It promptly sent her in a very different direction, she looked out the side window as she passed the stretched out white patch she had initially be sent to.
After another stretch of turbulent atmospheric flight she was happy to see the outline of an outpost appear on the horizon. She sent out a call to the radar control station of the outpost, sharing her credentials and requesting permission to bring her vessel in to land in the main hangar. It was quickly approved and before she knew it she had set the craft down in what in most core world territories would be considered a cramped flight deck.
Babs straightened up as the doors opened to the base, the Jedi Defender coming in with a rush of cold air and snow. She was grateful for the thermal blacks she wore under her body armour, although even prepared for the cold, you could never quite brace against it. The moment the Jedi defender was through she was already snapping out orders.
“Get those doors closed, I don’t ever want them open longer than absolutely necessary.” Her tone was sharp, and no doubt the newer recruits to the squad would find it almost harsh. Over time, as they established a rhythm she was sure she would be able to soften, but until people knew what was expected of them, she would not allow her lack of clarity be an excuse.
She then watched the ship, taking in the details of the model, gauging what she could about its pilot. Her eyes finally landing on the gang plank and ship entrance. She waited for the Jedi to Grace them with their presence. Her face carefully, respectfully blank, her stance an easy parade rest.
The seals around the gang plank released and as the doors slowly opened the plank to the floor extended in sync. Only once it was fully opened did Damiysha step out into view. Her right hand was on the handle of a cargo lift, pulling along a rather large crate marked with the Republic's logo. In her other hand she held a large dufflebag. She steadily and confidently made her way down.
The Jedi robes had been uncomfortable at first, but she had taken the time to strut around in them while in hyperspace so that she could look natural as she descended the gangplank, knowing that appearances and first impressions mattered in times of diplomacy. Which was exactly why she was bringing down the first of three crates herself. The long brown robes settled their fluttering as she reached solid ground. She turned, revealing the two blades on her belt, one clearly larger than the other, both kept on the same side.
"General Barbra Betany?" Damiysha said by way of starting the conversation, "I am Damiysha Ghuma-sar." She extended a hand in greeting.
There was a moment of silence so profound it could almost be felt. Somewhere at the back of the hanger someone tried to muffle a laugh. Babs’ eyes slid over to where the noise came from. Finally she stepped forward and offered her own hand. A polite smile in lace. “General Betany, please. Only my mother ever refers to me as Barbra.”
She couldn’t help but be surprised at the Jedi’s height. It was rare that she was dwarfed by anyone. Mentally she reassessed the Jedi in that moment. She seemed young, but physically capable. Perhaps this would not be an additional burden on the base after-all.
She signalled two troopers forward then nodded to Ghuma-sar’s things. “My men can help you with you personal affects and show you to your quarters. I would like to brief you to our current status in my office when you are have had a moment to settle in. You must be tired from your journey.” Her own troops had no such luxury and had begun work the moment they arrived. However it was not an expectation she could reasonably extend outside of her squad.
"My apologies, General, I can assure you it won't happen again." Once the handshake let up there was a moment from the Jedi to do some assessing herself. "I must admit, when I first read your file I hadn't expected the Zeltron heritage. You're a long way from home." She looked back over to the crate, which two men were already flanking, "These are for general use. There's one more of them in the cargo hold, you might want to keep them refrigerated, I assume that won't be an issue." A modest smile as she put the duffle on top of it "This can go to my quarters, along with the third, unmarked, crate."
With that sorted she turned back to Betany and folded her arms into her long sleeves, "My vessel allows for some luxuries during the flight, I am well rested enough to go over whatever you deem necessary." She then motioned in the general direction of the far end of the hangar, trying to recall the general layout of the outpost from the floor-plans that had been shared with her.
“Home is Alderaan, but yes, we are all far from home here on the outer rim.” Babs responded dryly, her gaze wary. “I trust my heritage will not be a problem? I assure you despite what you might of heard of my people, I am a servant of the Republic first and foremost and perfectly capable of the control needed to maintain my position.” Babs had heard it all, from comments about her unusual colouring to jokes about pheromones. It had hardened her, but in a brittle way. She was quick to rebuff any slight on her species, whether or not they were real or imagined.
The pink haired Base commander felt her lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “Cold storage is not in short supply. And thank you. We are in sore need of whatever spare supplies. The reasons why we are in such dire straights I will explain as part of my briefing.” She nodded to the troopers and they seamlessly moved to carry off the Twi’lek’s possessions.
“If you would follow me?”
Damishya gave a silent nod in agreement before falling in lockstep with Babs. Giving one last glance back to the troopers attending to her possessions. Wondering if she had brought enough thermal underwear.
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