Admiral Blackkon’s office, Almania-----
        “Another moving day,” Arthorn thought to himself. This type of thing happened too far often. His entire career had been one job after another. Not that he worked for bad people or didn’t do his job well, but one way or another it just never seemed to work out. He’d started out at CorSec, but left after a few years, having tired of law enforcement. Most of his work since then were of shorter duration. Blackkon had hoped this position would last longer, he actually had enjoyed it. His men here were like no others, fiercely loyal to him. He had only been in a command position here for a short time before his pilots were declaring themselves “Blackkon’s Blades” and instituting new “unofficial” uniforms, as well as having an insignia one of them designed painted onto their Skipray Blastboats. While he couldn’t publicly condone the behavior, it had a very positive effect on the pilot’s performances, and it wore off on the ships crews as well, therefore it had been quietly supported. Now here he was, packing up already. Regent Logan had left several days before for Corellia and the merger negotiations. Blackkon had stayed behind to keep things in order, pack up, and do some thinking as to what he would do now. He hadn’t answered that question yet. One of the Republic’s High Command had gotten in contact with him offering a command similar to what the Regent would probably end up doing. Arthorn didn’t know though. It had been a long time since he’d actively dealt with what had become of the Rebellion, even being a native-born Corellian and multiple recipient of the Corellian Bloodstripes. He told them he’d think about it, and asked them to get back to him with more details. So far he’d heard nothing.
        The Admiral didn’t keep much around his office, most of his things he kept on the “Blackk Night” and his command ship. Because of this, packing didn’t take very long. In fact, he’d cleared his quarters on his command ship, the Menace-class Star Destroyer “Reliant” before sending it and the rest of his command to Onyx, where they were to wait for the merger’s completion. Packing was also made easier because Aryln, his secretary, had already neatly folded his clothes and laid them to be packed into his satchel. Likewise, all his personnel, ship, and mission hardcopy files were stacked on his desk. It was amazing how well the young woman had gotten to know him and his habits, despite the fact he was rarely around the office. The main side effect of her having done most of his work here was that he found himself drifting off in thought often. He thought of his days after CorSec, where his jobs included stints with the Corporate Sector Authority, numerous planetary defense forces, and a short stint with the Hapes Consortium as well.
----------Flashback, Hapan Space, Military Administration Center---------
        “Lt. Blackkon, you were out of line,” the General screamed, inches from the Lieutenant’s face. “What were you thinking, you disobeyed a direct order from Commander Atylyk!”
        Arthorn stood straight, staying silent. He knew for now that the General didn’t want an answer. Soon enough he’d begin to calm down, and hopefully allow Blackkon to speak. Until then he would have to just take his abuse. The General, some noble with no idea of what battle and combat actually was, continued on for several more minutes, then finally gave the younger officer a chance to explain himself.
        “Sir, Commander Atylyk sent my flight to recon the moon and keep weapons powered down. While we were on the far side of the moon when the rest of the squadron was attacked. The Commander ordered a full retreat, but it was only our interference that saved the others. The timing of our return assault deflected the capital ship that had carried the uglies attacking the rest of the squad and would have wiped them out. Yes, our original objective was not completed, but when comparing that to the loss of our squadron members, it’s more than worth it sir.”
        Indeed, that’s exactly what had happened. Blackkon’s third flight had been slotted to reconnoiter a large asteroid while on a scouting mission at the edges of Hapan space. While on the far side of the huge ball of rock, their My’til’s sensors had detected a swarm of fighters headed away from a Marauder Corvette. The four fighters had caught the much larger ship with it’s shields still down from launching fighters and were able to disable it’s engines. This done, they kicked up their throttles and dove down into the furball below to try and save their comrades. Three of the others were killed in the battle, and two other My’tils damaged before the pirates were defeated. From his damaged fighter, Atylyk had ordered them to wait there while reinforcements arrived, but Arthorn had led the remainders of their squadron against the Marauder, which was already nearly up and running again.
        In most militaries, the actions of Blackkon’s flight would have gotten them all medals, but amongst the Hapans, it was just short of treason. Everyone was expected to obey their officers, typically nobles of some sort, under all circumstances. The young Lieutenant was cited for insubordination, and was unable to advance any further in the aristocratically run military, certainly with the charges on his record. He stayed a while longer, the resigned his commission and left, having developed a fierce distaste for arrogant people. His career continued on the same general path he was on, as he gained more and more experience in a variety of positions and locations across the galaxy before he’d settled with the New Alliance, hoping he’d finally found a home there.
--------------Back in Blackkon’s Office-------------------
        He’d finished packing, everything fit into a single duffle, and anything extra was in boxes already aboard the shuttle. Standing upright, Blackkon took a deep thoughtful breath, turned and went to work on his empty desk now. Aryln had downloaded all of his information that pertained to him, his missions, his men, and his ships onto his Datapad and out of the TNA database. The Rogue Empire was going to be claiming this planet after the merger, and the Admiral didn’t need any more info than they’re already compiled on him falling into their hands. They had been a strong enemy, and a fair ally, but he was a cautious man. So, slipping the Datapad away, Blackkon hefted the two satchels onto his shoulder and walked out of the office, stone faced as always despite the turmoil underneath. Aryln followed him; she was coming with him, out of loyalty.
        They reached the “Blackk Night” a few moments later to meet with a dozen other men, half of them former TNA soldier, the rest a compilation that he’d work with before. Like Aryln, they were going with the former Admiral, to serve with a man they trusted, and who trusted them. Thinking about it, Blackkon had to shake his head. He had never understood what it was about him that drew people to him. Personally he thought there was a lot to desire about his leadership, but he was just oddly charismatic, and those that served with him served with a passion. He’d probably never understand it.
        “The ‘Night’ is ready to roll boss,” one of the men said after introductions had been made.
        “Thanks Gaelar. Let’s get moving,” the career officer replied with a loose salute.
        The small group boarded the shuttle and from the pilots chair Arthorn obtained clearance from Almania control. The controller sounded a bit harried, no doubt busy making changes in preparation for the merger. Swiftly the Lambda rose off the duracrete and the wings unfolded beside it. Minutes later they cleared the planetary shields, and for just a moment everyone could look down at the uninterrupted beauty of the planet. Then the shields came back online and it blurred slightly. With a frown, Blackkon indicated to Gaelar, currently serving as co-pilot, to lock in the hyperspace route. Then he activated the ships PA system and called out. “Thirty seconds to our hyperspace jump. Please strap in now.” Once clear of the planet’s hyperspace shadow the shuttle jumped, disappearing into the colorful hues of hyperspace.
------Onyx, Current Meeting point for the New Alliance Fleet.------
        Hours later, the “Blackk Night” shot out of hyperspace in the Onyx system. Blackkon smiled a bit, seeing the massive amount of blips on the sensor screen. The entire fleet was here right now, prepared for their addition to the New Republic forces. Directing his shuttle near the Fourth Fleet, his former command, the Admiral sent out a message to all ships. “Attention all New Alliance personnel. This is Admiral Arthorn Blackkon, Commander of the Fourth Fleet. I must say it was an honor to serve with each of you. I’ll remember my experiences here for the rest of my life, and treasure the skill and respect everyone showed not only to me, but to yourselves. I wish you all the best of luck with the New Republic. Who knows, perhaps we’ll find ourselves working together again. That’s yet to be seen, but you never know. I trust you’ll do great things in the future with or without me though. Now to the Fourth. You men and women above all I’m grateful for. My entire life I’ve found myself as an officer, but never before have I found such true loyalty as you displayed for me and the New Alliance. I thank you, and I’ll miss you.”
        Blackkon had always been a man whose features were locked behind a mask of seriousness, despite the situation. Now though, he found himself saddened, in fact a lone tear made itself down the side of his face. He sighed and requested clearance from the shipyards. That had been another responsibility of his while serving the Alliance. The Admiral had run the shipyards here, though usually by extension from wherever the fleet was currently stationed. Now he had to do the same job he had on Almania. Clear his records from the systems here.
        This didn’t take long, most of them had been taken out by eliminating them from the databases back on Almania. In less than an hour he was back aboard the Lambda and off the shipyards. Ten minutes later they were all unboarding again, now aboard the Xylx-class Battlecruiser ‘Eclipse’. The ship was his gift from Regent Logan for his service. In his time here he’d developed a number of tactics for these type of craft. In fact, he’d orchestrated the entire takeover of Serndipal from one of it’s sisters in the Fourth Fleet. He’d had no trouble staffing it, in fact choosing who of the volunteers would come along was the difficult part. Bringing along the Blades and their fighters had proved to be a lesson in creative packing, a couple of the secondary hangers were filled with their Blastboats.
        Arriving at the bridge, Blackkon was finally feeling normal again. The only oddity was everyone wearing the black uniforms similar to the ones he’d worn when he joined the Alliance, except theirs still held rank insignia. He unconsciously shrugged, he’d get used to it soon enough. “Captain, get us out of here.”
        With one last look at Onyx, the Xyxl was gone…
