"Captain, we'll be exiting hyperspace in a few minutes," an ensign from the navigation section on the bridge of the Unity said. Captain Wash Moklam acknowledged the notification with a nod and moved to the window of the bridge and looked out. The mottled blue of hyperspace was surreal and even after years of seeing it, it made him feel a bit like the young ensign on his first hyperspace jump that he had been so many years ago at the Academy.
"Keep sharp, folks," Moklam called to his bridge crew. "This is a brief stop. We'll reorient ourselves and make the next leg of the jump." This far outside the disc of the Galaxy, he really didn't expect any problems. No one in the Galaxy outside the four ships in the small task force and Republic Navy High Command knew their route and current location, and the chances of running into someone accidentally in extra-galactic space was astronomical.
The mottled blue melded into elongated starlines which coalesced into pinpoints of light. "-Day! May Day! We are under under attack!" The transmission on the emergency frequency filled the bridge and caused almost everyone to jump.
"Sensors: What's going on out there?" Moklam yelled as he ran for his command chair. He hit the comm button on his control panel still standing up. "Hangar Control: Launch all fighters NOW!" the captain ordered.
Moklam swung around the control panel and slid into his command chair, watching as the the data began streaming across the screens. This is impossible! he thought to himself. "Shields up! Fire Control: Identify targets and fire at will!"
He looked at the sensors readouts, one Corellian corvette, gun ships, light frieghters and ten, maybe a dozen fighters. They were in formation and already on the attack. This was too organized to be an accident, but it was also a fairly puny attack force for an ambush.
He noted the fighters were just beginning to launch from both the Unity and the other hammer-head, the Arcus Fire, while the attack frigate Bogan Charge began speeding toward the shuttle carrying the precious aurodium shipment.
Suddenly the lights on the bridge flickered, as did all the monitor screens. When they came back up, Moklam noted his was blank. "What just happened? Someone give me a report."
Everyone on the bridge was scrambling, but no one was speaking. Moklam stood to his feet. "WHAT JUST HAPPENED?" he demanded as technical jibberish began rolling down his screen.
"Sir," his first officer began then paused for a long moment. "Sir, it appears to be some sort of sytem reboot and diagnostic test."
Moklam was furious. His gaze drifted to the view port and he went white at what he say there. From what he could see, it appeared that his beloved ship had begun a lazy roll. To make matters worse, every gun on his ship was firing. Both the Arcus Fire and the Bogan Charge had broken off their attacks to take evasive maneuvers.
"Comm: Get me direct communication with the other ships in our fleet," the captain yelled. His mind was numb. Never in his experience had something like this ever happened to anyone in the Fleet. "And someone tell me what in Sith's name is happening!"
Suddenly his personal communicator on his belt began beeping. Moklam looked at who dared call him in the middle of this disaster, and after seeing who was on the other end, he had the urge to throw the piece of equipment at the bulkhead. Instead, he clicked it on. "Mr. Spickolly. Now is not the best time," Moklam said tersely, putting heavy emphasis on the 'not.'
"Heh, heh, heh," the civilian programmer laughed. "I can totally tell, your sir-ness, but if you'll just bear with me a millisec."
"I don't have time for nonsense," the captain spat. "What is it that you want?"
"We just got hit by a vibro-jack, Admiral," Geoffry Spickolly said, as if that should mean something to Moklam.
The starship captain was so furious with the slicer that the civilian's incorrect use of rank didn't even register. Moklam's words came out cold and slow. "What in the name of all that is holy is a 'vibro-jack?'"
"Huh, huh, huh, oh man," Spickolly said. "That's a little term I invented. There's choppers out there that will tell you they came up with it, but that's a straight up lie, dude. I'll tell you what..."
Moklam couldn't stand it anymore. Pirates were out there attacking his charge, his ship was going into total system reboot and diagnostics, and here was this idiot, rambling on about words he made up. "Damn you Spickolly! I don't give a frack about your technical linguistics! Can you fix it?" He screamed into the comm. A few of the officers looked up. They knew their commanding officer was fiery, but that was beyond anything they had seen from him.
Spickolly however, was un-phased. "Oh totally, bro. I need your password. Gimme that and I can get you manual control back in a few moments. It's gonna talk a bit longer to get things back to shiny and stuff, but with your password-"
Moklam interrupted the slicer once again, gave the man his password and clicked the comm off. When this is over, Moklam thought to himself, I'm going to stuff him in an airlock myself.
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