Frozen Wasteland

Tyro had long since given up staring at the blindingly white snow outside. Though the storm had somewhat eased up, snow still poured from the grey-white sky, through the grey-white mist, to land on the grey-white ground below. The only relief from the sameness was the occasional view of one of the dark rocky mountains, too sheer for the stuff to stick to, only visible when too close for comfort, and their navscreen. Tyro was thankful they didn't have to rely on a visual. Anywhere Ace and Champ had landed would be long since buried in snow.

"That's a smart program Commander," complimented Tracks as he studied the screen. Now that they had reached their approximate search area they were able to see it in action. It traced the ground they had covered so far, to ensure nothing was doubled up on needlessly, or missed. Really it was just a visual. "Not that I would entirely replace the traditional way with it, but a tool's a tool, and it's foolish to waste a resource."

"If you want I can program your route into it," Tyro suggested.

"Not a bad plan, sir. Can't see anything in this damned snow."

Tyro nodded in agreement before turning to his datapad to enter the necessary coordinates. Track's plan made a lot of sense, even if it didn't seem the most immediately thorough. They would search the areas where Ace and Champ had most likely landed first. It would mean some backtracking and re-traversal as the search area widened, but it was better to trust calculations and statistics than just luck.

"Did we ever get data on why they went down?" Tyro asked the group, thinking out loud.

"Nothing official, sir, but Ace and Champ knew what they were doing. Let's just say they sent me with the group for a reason," Tyro heard Tar growl from behind him. Tyro was grateful to have his friend there, but he hoped they would not be needing the heavy guns Tar was specifically trained to use.

"Hm," Tyro agreed thoughtfully. He stared at the navscreen a bit longer before the feeling that he should be doing something else began to bother him.

So far this wasn't too bad. Aside from agreeing with some basics on what needed to be done and how between Tracks and the medics, Tyro hadn't had to do anything too commander-ey yet. That said the rank, along with the seriousness of their mission made small talk even more awkward than it usually was.

How did Gavyn handle it? The old guy was a natural at this sort of stuff. He seemed to thrive off it. The more he thought about it though, from the short time he had known him, Tyro got the sense that Gavyn wouldn't be talking or leading right now, he was a Jedi, he would be meditating. Looking for Ace and Champ through the living force.

Tyro was nowhere near as strong with the living force as his Master, but he knew, from the way he could feel through, with, and about other beings, it was something he was naturally attuned to. He looked around, wondering if he should announce to the others what he was going to be doing...like, if they needed to know or not, or if they were used to seeing Gavyn doing it. Deciding that he would rather not start an awkward conversation or say something stupid he went ahead and closed his eyes, trying to feel if there was any life out there at all. Despite his effort, he could not see beyond the movement of the ship, the others here with him, and the never ending snow.

Waking with a start, Ace checked his HUD clock. Forty minutes had passed. Ace had been slipping in and out of sleep for some time now. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was in the dark speeder wreckage. The only difference Ace noticed was that he was feeling a low growling in his stomach. It had been well over twelve hours since his last meal. If anything, Ace knew that he should eat. Running low on energy in the cold could literally drain the life from you.

Ace moved stiffly to Champ. He hadn't changed since the clone had fallen asleep either. A quick scan revealed his vitals on the decline. Ace frowned. The mere fact that Champ hadn't come to yet was a bad sign. He probably had a severe brain injury. Ace put a gloved hand against Champ's helmet, tracing the mandalorian-style visor. He wished that he had Gavyn's way with healing, then he might be able to help his comrade. As it stood, Ace couldn't do a thing to care for him. They were as imprisoned in their armor against the cold as they were inside the speeder.

Clumsily searching his belt with thick gloves, Ace found his stash of dry rations. The hard, cubic meal substitutes were hardly what Ace would usually call food, but it was standard diet in the field. He fumbled with the small morsels, and dropped one on the ground. Fierfek. There was no room to waste in a survival situation like this. Ace picked it up from the ground, and with his free hand, unlatched his helmet.

The rush of air felt like a bucket of ice water thrown against his face, and and Ace gasped in surprise. He had seen the readout of outside temperature on his HUD, but it meant nothing compared to the sensation. Ace had never experienced such extreme cold.

Hastily, Ace shoved the ration into his mouth. It was frozen, and the shock of it in his mouth sent shudders across his body. Ace re-latched his helmet as fast as he could, but the damage had already been done. He was shaking uncontrollably, the ice in his mouth sucking the heat from his very bones.

Ace hated the cold. Why couldn't they have been assigned to some beautiful tropical planet, and crashed on a sunny, sandy island? He hated how the cold seeped into you, and wrenched control of your own skin away and made you shiver. He hated how it relentlessly sucked your power to fight it away. He hated how alone it made you feel.

Swallowing the last of the ration shot, a stabbing pain shot through Ace's forehead. He clenched his teeth, and the feeling passed. This ration better keep him alive for a while, if it was going to be worth it. Right now he hardly felt any less hungry, but he did feel a hell of a lot more cold.