Captain Wash Moklam, commander of the Republic Hammerhead Unity, sat at the head of the table in his War Room and looked around at each of his officers, making sure that he had eye contact with every single one of them to ensure they knew his words were for each of them. His gaze swept past that of the two Jedi sitting at the other end of the table for more than one reason. First, the Jedi with the eyewraps always made him uneasy, and two, he knew they wanted those damn Sith as bad as he did, and as of yet, he had seen nothing in their actions to indicate they weren't trying their best. The rest of his staff however...
Finally, Moklam stood up and placed his closed fists on the table, leaning forward and putting his weight on them. "Are we a bunch of clowns?" he asked. His staff looked around confusedly at each other, not sure whether they were supposed to answer or not.
"I said, 'Are we a bunch of clowns?' Dammit!!" he yelled, slamming his right fist down. The metal table sounded with a boom.
"No, sir, we're not," offered one of his senior staff.
"Then why in the name of the Galaxy do we look like clowns?" Moklam yelled as he started walking around the table and behind each person at the table, so they had to twist in their chairs or crane their necks to follow him. "You people are letting one damn light freighter elude us. One small vessel that clearly wants us to find them or they wouldn't be broadcasting themselves to every planetary authority from Tatooine to the Inner Core!" He yelled.
"These fugitives... these hell-spawned mass murderers know we're coming every single time. I want to know how!" Moklam demanded.
"Sir, maybe they're just getting lucky," offered one of the lower ranking officers in the room.
"Lucky? Every damn time we come out of hyperspace, they are running full throttle in the opposite direction from us. Every damn time!" The last sentence stressed on each word. "Once? Luck. Twice? Pretty damn lucky. Ten times? No Ensign, it's not luck." He assured the younger man.
"No, according to the reports... the reports you people are giving me, we come out of hyperspace and start scanning. By the time we locate and identify their ship, they're heading the opposite direction. That in and of itself isn't a dead giveaway," Mokalm informed them.
"Here's the thing: When we come out of hyperspace, the sensors immediately pick up any blips out there, but it takes time for the computer to identify those blips. The same thing happens to their sensors when we jump in. They know we're coming out of hyperspace, but it should take them some time to identify us, except the Rancor takes no time whatsoever. It instantly knows who we are and according to the sensor logs, they are running before they could have possibly identified us.
"Like I said, once or twice? Okay they're lucky, but this isn't luck. This is something they know for a fact. Some bit of intelligence they are counting on. Something they are using so we can see them just long enough to make a positive identification on them.
"So, armed with that knowledge, what does that tell you?" Moklam asked, and sat down in his chair again.
For a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Jedi Nal Talla spoke up. "Cahptain, if I may ahnswer your question."
Moklam nodded for her to go ahead.
"Dis infahmation tells us dat dey either 'ave some bit of technology which allows dem to identify us more quickly dan we cahn identify dem, or more likely, dey 'ave someone on board working for dem," she stated. "It also begs da question: Why do dey want us to know where dey are?"
"Personally, Jedi Talla, I don't care why, as long as we can catch them and stop them," Moklam said. "I also don't like the insinuation that one of my crew is a spy."
Before Talla could reply, the chief Communications officer spoke up, "Sir, what if it's not a spy, but something else?"
"What do you mean, Lieutenant?"
"Well sir, ever since we left dry dock after making repairs, we've been experiencing a strange phenomena every time we come out of hyperspace," the woman explained.
"What kind of 'phenomena' are you talking about?" Moklam said suspiciously.
"Sir, to be frank, it's some sort of short transmission burst. We aren't sending anything out, and when we try to access the communication, it seems like nothing but static. We've put in repair orders several times with the Maintenance section, but but every time they tell us nothing is wrong," the woman said.
"And that's where you left it?" Moklam asked.
"Well as it stands, it was put on the list to check when we hit our next scheduled dry dock as it appeared not to have any adverse effects."
"I want every available tech working on that. Jayk, get your people on it too," Moklam said to the head of the Information Technologies section. "And get that civillian contractor to work on it.
"Sir, do you mean Geoff Spickolly?" Lieutentant Jayk asked.
"Do we have any other civillian slicers aboard this ship I don't know about?" Moklam asked.
Jayk shook his head no.
"He's got to be the most annoying person I've ever met, but he's the best at what he does. That's why he's here," Moklam commented.
The Captain stood up and rested his hands on the table. "We won't be moving a single parsec until we know exactly what is being transmitted. That takes top priority. Dismissed," Moklam said, and noise of shuffling flimsiplast and data pads mixed with scuffling feet filled the room as the officers left the room.
The two Jedi waited until everyon had left the room.
"I'm positive that transmission is how they are doing it," the Miralukan Jedi Caecilius said after the room was empty.
"I am positive as well. Da only question is, how do we use dis knowledge to our advantage?" Talla asked. Both fell silent, looking for the answer.
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