Location: Deep Space, Aboard First Imperial Star Destroyer Vindicator
"Sir, sir, it's on!" Lieutenant Margs called from the Officers Lounge, Carlyle immediately sprung from his desk, and ran down from his office to the lounge. Surrounding a large holoprojector, two dozen or so off duty naval personnel surrounded it.
"Am I late lieutenant?!" Carlyle asked, leaning up against one of couches, looking at the screen intently.
"No sir, it's about to come on," Margs replied, "You know what it's time for, it's time for-"
"Nocturnal Navy!" The officers cried out in unison, letting out a chuckle. Yes, it was that time of evening, for the First Order morale raising comedy, Nocturnal Navy. The show detailed the misfortunate life of Ensign Waltz, a bumbling night watch technician and his inebriated BB unit Godfrey. It was a favourite among officers for its good sense humour and the fact it gave the crews of star destroyers something to bond about over the water purifier.
The theme song began to play, and Carlyle watched it, eyes wide as he waited to hear about Waltz's latest misadventure. The whole lounge stilled in silence as they watched the title sequence. But then, it happened. The broadcast cut out, replaced with nothing but an emergency broadcast system symbol. Boos rang out across the lounge.
"What the kark is this Margs?!" Carlyle snarled, "Get me to comms, if this is another prank, I'm gonna-!" But Carlyle's rant was caught through by a logo being displayed.
"Hello, and welcome citizens of the Galaxy, this is underground radio. And I am your host @RadioWhisper." The holoprojector said plainly.
"What in Sith's name is this?!" The chief petty officer called.
"Yeah, where's our Nocturnal Navy?!" The junior gunnery officer chimed.
Carlyle watched, eyes angrily smouldering at the broadcast, the lounges atmosphere changed from eager anticipation to anger. Shouts and cries ran out from the officers now enraged. None more than Commodore Carlyle who threw his whiskey flask at the console. That was followed by a barrage of glasses and ashtrays which flew to the console. Some of which ended up shattering the projector, splitting the image across the room. When the broadcast finally ended, with the crew of Underground Radio finally being shut down, a cheer rang out.
Carlyle turned to his lieutenant, "Margs, I want you to know this now, I swear to all karking gods, I will find this slimy, greasy slicing scum, and you know what I'll do?"
"W-what sir?" The lieutenant asked.
"I will split his skin, tear out his stomach and hang him from the tallest roof on Avalonia!" He roared.
"Wha-what do you want me to do?"
"I want the comms tracking that transmission, and I want this man found, hung and executed!" Carlyle snarled.
"What if he's dead? We did hear blaster-" the lieutenant replied.
"I will clone him, just to shatter his skull myself!"
