The sun that was creeping over Hoth’s northern horizon was relatively dim, but its light was enough to shed some warmth on the planet’s icy surface. The light crawled across the rolling hills of snow, fought to reach the darker recesses of the icy gorges, then finally came to rest on what must have been the only perfect white mound on the entire world.
So perfect was the snow-covered mound that it must have owed its existence to some power other than Nature. Then, as the sky grew steadily brighter, this mound began to hum. Anyone observing the mound now would have been startled as the snow dome seemed to erupt, sending its snowy outer covering skyward in a great burst of white particles. A droning machine began pulling back its retractable sensor arms, and its awesome bulks slowly rose from its frozen white bed.
The probe robot paused briefly in the windy air, then continued on its morning mission across the snow-covered plains.
Something else had invaded the morning air of the ice world—a relatively small, snub-nosed craft, with dark cockpit windows and laser guns mounted on each side.
The Rebel snowspeeder was heavily armored and designed for warfare near the planet’s surface. But this morning the small craft was on a reconnaissance mission, racing above the expansive white landscape and arcing over the contours of the snowdrifts.
Although the snowspeeder was designed for a two-man crew, Zev was the ship’s only occupant. His eyes took in a panoramic scan of the desolate stretches below, and he prayed that he would find the objects of his search before he went snow-blind.
Presently he heard a low beeping signal.
"Echo Base," he shouted jubilantly into his cockpit comlink, "I’ve got something! Not much, but it could be a sign of life. Sector four-six-one-four by eight-eight0two.
I’m closing in." Frantically working the controls of his ship, Zev reduced its speed slightly and banked the craft over a snowdrift. He welcomed the sudden G-force pressing him against his seat and headed the snowspeeder in the direction of the faint signal.
As the white infinity of Hoth’s terrain streaked under him, the Rebel pilot switched his comlink to a new frequency. "Echo Three, this is Rogue Two. Do you copy? Commander Skywalker, this is Rogue Two." The only reply that came through his comlink receiver was static.
But then he heard a voice, a very distant-sounding voice, fighting its way through the crackling noise. "Nice of you guys to drop by. Hope we didn’t get you up too early." Zev welcomed the characteristic cynicism in Han Solo’s voice. He switched his transmitter back to the hidden Rebel base. "Echo Base, this is Rogue Two," he reported, his voice suddenly rising in pitch. "I found them. Repeat…" As he spoke, the pilot pulled in a fine-tune fix on the signals winking on his cockpit monitor screens. Then he further reduced the speed of his craft, bringing it down close enough to the planet’s surface so that he could better see a small object standing out against the fleecy plains.
The object, a portable Rebel-issue shelter, sat atop a snowdrift. On the shelter’s windward side was a hard-packed layer of white. And resting gingerly against the upper part of the snowdrift was a makeshift radio antenna.
But a more welcome sight than any of this was the familiar human figure standing in front of the snow shelter, frantically waving his arms at the snowspeeder.
As Zev dipped his craft for a landing, he felt overwhelmingly grateful that at least one of the warriors he had been sent out to find was still alive.
