Barton IV was a hell of a planet. Cold, mountainous and frozen all the way to the equator, with only a brief "summer" where it rose to above zero. Alps was trained for planets just like it. But the avalanche that killed so many of his men and cost him his left arm was beyond anything he had imagined. He mourned the men he lost when he finally escaped the rocks, and then tried to find a way to survive long enough to be found.
But throughout the war, he wasn't found. It was too remote where he and his team had landed. He wouldn't say he was exactly upset about it, the freedom and thrill of survival for survival's sake kept him busy. And contact with the natives was hit or miss for the most part, unless he had something useful to provide.
Alps mourned that he was lost to the war, but embraced the freedom. He loaded up his sled with slabs of meat from a recent successful hunt for a snow worm, along with some extra pelts for trade with the small cave settlement. He kicked on the hover sled engine and carefully mounted the modified speeder.
(closed starter w/ @nulluse )