Hoth: Blood and Ice

[Tethys Carrack]

Sitting at the makeshift crate/desk/table in her small barracks room, Tethys taps the recording button on her datapad with one long finger. A cone of flickering blue light illuminates the visual recording zone for a moment, then subsides to a steady blink-blink-blink red indicator on the screen.

"Hello, Glade." In the projection, Master Tethys folds her hands on whatever surface she's sitting at and smiles warmly. She looks a little tired, but otherwise the same as always. "I trust this message finds you well on Alderaan. I don't know, at the moment, when it will reach you there. Our comms situation is somewhat... complicated. It's my hope that once our situation on Hoth resolves, this disk will find its way into a diplomatic courier pouch for Senator Organa, in which case you might have it very soon."

Master Tethys opens a hand toward the holorecorder--a gesture Glade knows well already. "You may have heard some alarming things about the fate of the Hoth expedition, but as you see, we made it to the planet after all, and the mission continues. We are in an interesting position here, sharing an old military base structure with what's left of an Imperial expedition who arrived at the same time we did. Nature on Hoth doesn't respect the political divisions or individual ambitions of sentient beings, and so far the Sith seem to recognize that, at least enough to keep their more destructive impulses in check. It is a harsh planet, Glade." Master Tethys smiles ruefully. "Not to my taste at all. Perhaps if you and I visit here together some day, though, you'll see more beauty in its ecosystems than I can right now."

Master Tethys leans in a bit toward the recorder. "I suspect you have more questions than I can answer in this message, especially since I don't know if it will be sent securely or in the clear. For now, know that even though we're apart, you and I are both in the right place at this moment. Trust the Force and trust your instincts, apprentice."

She straightens and smiles, her voice lightening a little. "I hope you are eating enough on Alderaan. If you're not getting enough of those grubs you like, ask Master Cortess or someone else from Senator Organa's household for directions to the Quarren grocery market near the spaceport. Their sea slugs are the best I've had in the core worlds--I am sure you'll enjoy them.

"Carrack out."

[Tethys Carrack]

Tethys sighs to herself and takes a sip from her cooling mug of kelp tea, then inputs a few new commands into the datapad and activates the recording function again.

"Hello there, Byron." Tethys sets her mug aside; it disappears from the projection field, and her hand comes back into view empty.

"I can only guess when and where you will be when you receive this message. I trust you're keeping as well as you can, and not getting in to too much trouble out there." One corner of her lips quirks wryly, then she sobers somewhat. "If our messages to the Council and the Republic got out, then you already know reports of all our deaths on the Hoth mission have been somewhat exaggerated. But we're not out of the deep water yet. None of us are, out there or down here." She shakes her head a little, sighing. "I will say no more in detail on this recording, because I don't know what hands it may pass through on its way to you. We've done all we can so far to get word to the Council of the threat. Perhaps, by the time you hear this, you'll already know all about it."

She shrugs one shoulder. "It is an odd situation down here on Hoth. We have dug in together with the survivors of an Imperial battle group, of all things. They arrived to the same pirate ambush as we did. The Force--or some other power--certainly has a purpose there."

Then she simply has to laugh--it starts, as her old apprentice would know well, at the corners of her eyes, then twitches the edges of her mouth, before at last emerging as a low chuckle. "You'd be a perfect fit, with your Sith diplomacy skills. A pity it's me instead, though I hope I am doing the best I can. You'll understand if I don't completely adopt all of your methods, I know." She bites her lip briefly to keep from laughing again at that.

"In truth, though, I am relieved you're not here. I would worry about your safety, although no doubt that would only irritate you." Tethys's small smile is a bit wry, but fond. "It has been a trying time for some of the Jedi. Check on your young friend Daz, when you can. There's been an incident with his relative, Layne Hoshin, and he's been hurt. He is recovering, and he'll heal fully," she adds quickly, with a reassuring gesture, "but I suspect it will be easier for him to talk about this with his friends, and with people who have more distance from Layne. Master Hoshin is... probably not a Master any longer after this. It's complicated. And possibly classified." She rubs the bridge of her nose for a moment. "When we meet again, perhaps I'll tell you the full story. For now, imagine a trial even more odd than the one you got involved in on Entari VII. Yes, that one. I promise I am not exaggerating."

Tethys folds her hands on the table and straightens, her expression becoming graver. "We are not out of danger here, and I must do something dangerous again today. I trust myself to the Force, but I don't know where that will lead me. So..." Tethys takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "If something should happen to me, find Glade on Alderaan. My new apprentice. You already know her, I remember, from before your Trials. She remembers you, of course." Her face softens with something not quite all the way to a smile. "You can take her to Tython, they'll reassign her there. Although, if you're willing..." She lifts one hand, opens it palm-up. "You are ready. And Glade would be a good match for you, I think. A good balance."

She looks into the recorder for a long, quiet moment. "If the Force wills it. Otherwise, I'll see you again when I see you, Byron. Good luck, and may the Force be with you.

"Carrack out."

Tethys switches off the recorder, exhales, and leans back in her camp chair. She's not quite slouching--a slouch isn't really in her physical vocabulary--but she does look a bit like her strings have been cut, for a minute or two.

Eventually, she sighs, extracts the data discs on which she had recorded the two messages, and puts each one into the neatly labeled wrapper already waiting to receive it.

((Scene open to visitors, I suppose! ))