Keeping Count

Posted on Wed Jun 11th, 2025 @ 12:03am by Trooper Bul Kettstir & Major Babs Betany

1,623 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Some Like It Hoth
Location: Quartermaster's Office and Supply Depot, Frostpoint Outpost
Timeline: TBD

Bul harrumphed once, looked at the dataslate that Okleckt had just handed him and then grumbled under his breath.

“According to this, the outpost got resupplied right before we got here,” Bul mused aloud to Okleckt as her reviewed the information on the device. Okleckt blurted out a staccato response, pointing to the storage area behind Bul.

“Okay…but where’s the rest,” Bul asked, looking over his shoulder.

Okleckt’s voice rose an octave in pitch, which made it more difficult to follow what the little creature was explaining to Bul.

“Sorry, boyo, but it sounded like you said ‘That’s all there is’,” Bul asked politely.

Okleckt’s gray robes swept across the ice-packed deck of the Quartermaster’s Office and Supply Depot as he shrugged, nodded and then confirmed what he’d just told his friend.

Bul swiped a pair of hands down his face in tired resignation.

“Okay…okay…we’ll just have to…uhm…” he fumbled, grasping desperately for an answer. There was no way, though, that the outpost could survive on just a squad’s worth of supplies. Bul was about to say something when he raised the dataslate back up and looked over the manifest again.

“Maybe…” he said, furious swiping through the pages of the electronic document, desperate to disprove Okleckt. His fears were confirmed, though, when he reached the last page of the manifest. The Republic had only sent them enough supplies for a squad. Bul shook his massive head in disbelief.

A quick but noticeably softer comment from Okleckt grabbed Bul’s attention and he lowered the dataslate slowly.

“They’re not so incompetent that they would do that,” Bul argued with the Jawa.

Okleckt was about to rebuttal his friend’s statement but thought better of it. Instead, he made a grand, sweeping gesture, inviting Bul to check for himself, and moved to stand aside.

“Yeah…well, I will,” Bul said, full of confidence, recognizing the unspoken challenge.

Bul heaved his considerable frame off the stool he was perched on and made his way over to the storage area. In front of him on the utilitarian shelves sat three Republic storage crates. He nodded, and opened the first one. He reached in and dug through the contents. After a moment, he sighed and opened the next one. Again he repeated the digging exercise and then moved to the last one. Bul sensed Okleckt about to say something, but Bul held up one of his massive hands with a finger outstretched, forestalling Okleckt. Bul dug through the last crate and after a moment’s time, exhaled audibly. He turned to his friend and jammed his lower hands into the pockets on his vest.

“They are that incompetent,” he groaned in disbelief, gesturing with his upper hands.

There was a sharp clearing of a throat from behind Bul at that moment. There was storage depot was one of the larger areas on base, barring the hangars, and clearly meant to hold far more than the current meagre supplies. Because of that the sound of the guttural cough seemed to bounce around the space.

“Who is incompetent?” Babs stood at the entrance, her cold weather gear neat as a pin, pink hair flowed stark against the monotone white and greys of their surrounding. “What’s the status on the supplies?” She took a few steps forward, her long stride ate up the distance with a ruthless efficienc. Her heavy boots sounding like an ominous drum beat. She had not been happy to be lumbered with Bul on this mission, having heard some of the Quartermaster’s reputation, but so far she had been somewhat polite on the journey here.

As she reached them she came to a stop and dipped her head in greeting to both the big man and the little Jawa.

Bul turned to see Major Babs there, looking neat despite the savage conditions of the outpost. He threw a panicked salute with first his upper then his lower arms, before chuckling nonchalantly.

“Well, you see Major…” Bul began before a staccato burst from Okleckt cut him off.

“Yeah, well…we don’t know that was the case,” Bul answered.

Okleckt fired off a decidedly sassy sound burst of Jawa that Bul answered with a ‘whoa, there’ gesture with his upper hands.

“Now, hang on…,” Bul interjected, but Okleckt was on a roll. The diminutive creature threw his hands up in the air, while still going at full steam in Jawa. As if to punctuate his comments, Okleckt began gesturing at the barren supply area before ending with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah….yeah, I could see how you would think that, boyo, but it’s not as bad as all that,” Bul replied lamely.

In response, Okleckt gave a ‘really’ gesture, threw his hands up in surrender and wandered away, grumbling under his breath in Huttese.

Bul winced slightly at the Jawa’s masterful use of obscenities before turning back to Babs.

He chuckled nervously and rocked on his heels for a moment. He cleared his throat and got down to business.

“It seems your last Quartermaster…uhm…underestimated…the outpost’s needs. This was made worse when the Republic only shipped us enough supplies for a squad,” Bul confessed.

Babs let out a low hiss of a sigh through her teeth. She put her hands on her hips and looked around the cavernous and alarmingly empty space. “Right… and we still have heard from FP-01 about re supply. They were supposed to meet us here with additional supplies but have… been delayed… for an unknown reason.” While Babs’ tone was steady, the odd pair in charge of supply might sense an undercurrent of irritation.

“The Jedi… I mean Master Damiysha brought some additional supplies with her. Can you see these are incorporated into the bases rations? Hopefully it will help stretch what little we have. How long do we have until we need to be worried about where our next meal is coming from?”

Bul tried his best to hide his unease at the question, but he failed miserably. From the other room, Okleckt let loose with another scathing burst of Jawa. Bul couldn’t help but nod along with the indecipherable gibberish.

“For now, we can hold on for about a week…if I get real creative with the rationing,” he explained.

“But,” he started, holding up his hands placatingly, “we can stretch that, depending on what Master Damiysha could contribute to the larder.”

Okleckt’s robbed head popped around the corner and he fired off an even-toned single sentence.

Bul nodded thoughtfully and stroked his beard with his upper hands.

“The lad’s got a fair point,” he mused.

When Babs didn’t respond, Bul smacked his upper right hand against his forehead.

“Sorry - forgot to translate. My partner mentioned that he’d seen some wildlife in the area. Mayhap we could make the rationing stretch further with a…ahem…hunting party,” Bul explained.

“Babs nodded and then gave the Jawa a small approving smile. “We can certainly try. By all accounts tauntauns fast as bad as they smell, but if we can catch a few to ride it will help us preserve fuel, and there are other species according to the Republic Databanks, which may prove edible. If a little trickier to hunt.”

She gave them both a curious look. “You hunters? If so you can speak to Lieutenant Samuel about grabbing some laser rifles and heading out. See if you can find at least another person to accompany you… I want us to be overly cautious while we work out how much Imperial activity is in the area.”

Bul hesitated, glancing at Okleckt. The diminutive figure shrugged and muttered something. Bul thoughtfully scratched his chin with an upper hand. He knew Babs was waiting for a response. Though neither he nor Okleckt were hunters by trade, starvation wasn't an option either.

"Ma'am—all due respect, but Okleckt can't handle the temperatures out there," Bul explained, hooking a lower thumb toward the nearest cavern wall.

"I, however, can manage the cold just fine. I wouldn't normally volunteer for something—well, anything really—just a quirk of mine, I suppose. But I don't fancy the idea of an empty stomach either," he went on as a lopsided grin spread across his massive face.

“I would ask one thing, though: can this party serve a dual purpose? I’d love a chance to scavenge some of the wrecks for… ahem …bits and bobbins?” Bul offered.

Babs eyed them for a moment then shrugged. “Yeah you can do a salvage run too. Hell you find some of those rations the imps use that taste like cardboard but last forever, even better. But I don’t want you getting distracted by the… bits and bobbins. Our first priority is finding what we need for the base. I also want to see everything you salvage. And I mean everything.” She gave Bul and Okleckt a meaningful look.

“I find you’ve held back from me and I will be far less reasonable. Anything you find which is dangerous or otherwise of benefit to the Republic I need you to hand it over without a fuss.”

Okleckt was the first to react. He simply pointed a finger at his own chest, as if to say “Who? Me?” to Babs’s comment.

“Of course, Cap’n,” Bul offered with a smile and a chuckle. “Wouldn’t have it any other way!”

Babs turned and walked away, hoping she wouldn't have to watch Bul and Okleckt any closer.

Trooper Bul Kettstir
Quartermaster/ Supply Officer

And

Major Babs Bettany
Commanding Officer

 

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