Private Council Assignment — Hoth Trouble

[Rakaan Horne]

CORUSCANT, EN-ROUTE TO HOTH - Joland Graves

​

In the early morning glow of Coruscant, the rising sun shined into the hangar bay of the Jedi Temple staring across the vast cityscape. His own refuge becoming increasingly crowded with the growth of their ranks in the Jedi Order's newfound era of... relatively unprecedented peace. Rakaan tinkered with the exposed electronics on the wing of the assigned shuttle, the shocking sparks and whirs enough to remind him of his own mortality. A grimace lined his features with the sound of a sigh, taking in the rest of the poorly thrown together flying deathtrap.

It would do, he mused while wiping the sweat from his brow.

On the lowered ramp, Rakaan stood leaning on the wall of the ship with an ankle crossed over the other and a datapad in hand. He read over the details one last time, a mission to scout Hothand investigate rumoured Sith presence. His brow furrowed, "Arfour, did we pack the cold-weather gear?"

A series of affirmative chirps flew out from the inside.

"And what about the cold-cold-weather gear?" He asked again, his eyes never rising from the datapad.

More beeping chirps answered.

His lips pursed, a faint smile. "Thanks, bud."

Far as Rakaan had read in the archives, Hoth was more frozen wasteland than cold, winter resort. Of what did live on that rock, it only did so through millions of years of evolution to become perfectly honed to survive in such a place. While Rakaan may well have liked to think himself a capable survivor, those temperatures seemed out of his depth. The frost may kill him well before Sith could ever be sighted, if they ever dared step on the rock. He didn't seem to think so, for why would they? Why would anyone? Somewhere more... hospitable, appeared more fitting.

Nevertheless, it was their mission.

The astromech whirred, beeped, chirped and rocked back and forth all of a sudden. His crimson top spinning, round and round. Loud, too loud. The other Jedi, learner and teacher alike, started to stare. "What, what?" Rakaan chided him, only then for his gaze to rise up towards the approaching Padawan - a familiar face, though only seen on a file.

"So, you're my Padawan for this one?" He asked smilingly, though he could not help but think he looked a touch too old to be a Padawan. "Late admission, eh?"

He tossed the datapad, detailing the mission to Hoth. "Heads up," Rakaan said while throwing, "I assume you're all read up?"

​

 

[Joland Graves]

Coruscant
Jedi Temple hangar bay
Rakaan Horne ​

Hoth: Cold.

That was really all Joland needed to know. Of course, the planet could also be described as frigid, inhospitable, and a man's worst nightmare. But "cold" was enough. The prospect that they would intercept Sith scouts was just the icing on the ice cream cake that was Hoth. It was enough to make him nervous about his first mission; his first time ever being outside the inner planets.

Joland had half a mind to request reassignment. He wouldn't do such a thing, probably, but the idea shadowed him. The thought felt corporeal, stalking him through the long corridors as he made his way to the hangar bay. But this was the life of a Jedi, and he had to cut his teeth one way or another. Besides, he was looking forward to learning from an experienced Jedi Knight.

Joel wasn't sure what Sith would want on Hoth, anyway. It was a place you retreated to when beyond desparate, like the fractured Rebellion of old. It wasn't a place you actively sought out. Though the Second Great Hyperspace War had ended, the Sith still held some domain over the Outer Rim and had recently invaded Ossus; their backs weren't against the wall. Perhaps there was some old technology or information left behind after the battles that were fought there. He wondered if the ruins of the bases were still there, could still be seen, or if Hoth had swallowed them up and reclaimed its sovereignty...

With backpack slung over his shoulder, Joland entered the hangar bay. The early morning light shone bright. Rays reflected off the metallic ships and sparkled when the angle was just right. His plaguing shadow disappeared. He held a hand up to block the sun from his eyes and locate his fellow Jedi.

Joland sauntered his way forward, the smell of fuel in his nose, and the sudden excited chirping of an astromech ringing in his ears.

"Master Thorne," Joland dipped his head. The meeting had started out more casually than he expected, but he went with it.

"Yeah, guess you're stuck with me," Joel sheepishly grinned. "Well, I'm not too old to die of hypothermia, at least."

Joland caught the datapad and scanned the familiar mission report. "Yes, I'm all read up. I wonder what we're getting ourselves into," he replied. His eyes rose from the screen and examined the rust bucket that called itself a shuttle. "Can you fly this thing?"