They were four hours into hyperspace when her operations officer commed her, requesting that she return to the bridge. Captain Sloane scowled. She had just settled into her quarters for the evening, and couldn’t imagine any crisis that would demand her attention in hyperspace – and not cause them to also drop out. Sighing and reminding herself that the Empire’s work was never done, she slid out of bed and threw on her uniform.
“Report, Lieutenant,” she called out as the bridge crew snapped to attention at her arrival. The bridge seemed to be a buzz of productive activity, despite the boring transit. Good.
“Well, ma’am, it seems…” A pause. A nervous pause. Sloane frowned again. “Remember that freighter from Formos? The one we passed over to the local garrison? Well, THEY bounced back the personnel scan to us, and I’ve just completed it.”
Sloane was getting less and less amused by his hesitations. “… and?” she asked.
“Well…” he began, and then showed her the datapad. Sloane’s eyes widened.