Needless to say, the Muunilinst general traffic management was a bit perturbed by the unorthodox manner in which Cronus’ detachment had vectored into their space.

Four classically designed Imperial type destroyers activated their inertial energy dampeners, their bows veering towards the planet’s atmosphere. Accompanying the awesome Allegiance type destroyer, the <!--EZCODE BOLD START--> Blaze of Glory[/i], they did indeed prove to be a most unbecoming sight.

The planets security systems were impeccable, and unrivaled. Immediately hereafter exiting hyperspace, alarm beacons sounded, recalling security technicians to posts. Defense shield generators began powering up, as Relay technicians onboard the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Blaze<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> confirmed that targeting computers of defense cannons were locking target on the suspected opposition.

Cronus raised a finger from his position.

“Ah, Khurgee, you may want to send a friendly signal to our allies.”

Khurgee did so without hesitation, apparently he was a bit nervous.

The BAC hologram tactical grid displayed the ships and fighters surrounding his taskforce as friendly targets, though with a red dot creasing their hulls, marking them as pending. The Tactical Command Console rotated from the holograph, tilting forward on its access so it’s occupant was staring down at his commanding departments.

“Helm, bring the task force about to our port, ninety degrees.”

The ships began a slow turn from the system, until their right side was facing Bastion atmosphere. Their left flank was exposed to the combatants around them, though the ships did not offer any opposing fire, therefore Cronus assumed that Khurgee had confirmed their word. A report echoed to his ears from Relay.

“Sir, we’re receiving a transmission from Muunilinst system. Defense headquarters.”

“Excellent, patch it through to my console, audio and video frequency.”

The chair pivoted back to its original access facing the bow of the destroyer, as a side hologram dropped in from the console. A video image faded in, and Cronus immediately recognized the Braxant defense chairman, Remart Nickel. The commanding officer was an expert in squadron combat, and his experience in the field was well noted throughout the New Order. The young officer had earned him a reputable character in field combat.

“Officer Nickel.”

Cronus stroked his chin in amusement.

“Would you care to take a target lock off my task force?”

Nickel nodded, and his eyes swerved away, perhaps having an aid tend to the matter.

“Consider it done Cronus.”

“Thank you sir, you’re most kind, please forgive my unorthodox entrance, but these are unorthodox times. Now, I understand you haven’t been fully briefed on the sudden mobilization of the New Order’s armed forces.”

Hand dropping from his chin, his eyes turned cold.

“The New Republic is invading us.”

Nickel’s face went horrid in bitter understanding. He gritted his teeth.

“I see sir…”

He lowered his eyes.

“… how can I be of service to the Empire?”

Adalric smiled warmly.

“You get the chance to get away from the civilian life of that plush officer your sitting in…”

The smile dropped to a stern from.

“… and prep your department managers for the impending assault.”

Nickel seemed to consider the choice, though Cronus knew what his answer would be.

“You would have me in charge of Muunilinst defenses?”

Cronus nodded.

“I am willing to undertake such a responsibility, Moff Cronus, preparations shall begin immediately.”

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Moff?<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> He would have to bear the name for the time being anyways.

“Good, I’ll expect your shuttle in fifteen minutes to revise a strategy brought to me by Simon Kaine. Until then to say farewell to your loved ones.”

The hologram dissipated, and Cronus tapped the console for another slim cast frequency. Keying in an audio program only, he punched in the numerical frequency, gave the transmission coordinates, and recorded his message. CORE interjected confirmation of clear recording, and programmed the transmission for Relay.

Though the system was relatively secure of it’s coordinates, few members of the New Order hierarchy were dubbed with the information of Despyre’s location. The timetable was set for their response, and Moff Cronus could only wonder in grim expectation if these potential allies would live to their word, aiding the New Or<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->

*Han grinned. it had been 20 minutes, but he was up there. He looked back, but din't see mace*

"Echo eight reporting for duty, ma'am, sorry i'm late...you know how diplomats get and all..."

He stood on the command deck of the Imperial-Class Star Destroyer Reknown, waiting for the arrive at the battle area. He had just been informed that he was going to be going to Helska to aid one of the allies. It would definately be interesting to say the least... he needed to make sure things turned out well... he did have Avenger Fleet to back him up...

The ties were all waiting in their bays, ready to leave in but a moment's call. He looked at the clock... a mere 10 minutes before arriving

<!--EZCODE BOLD START--> Corran entered the breifing room.<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->
"Echo 6 here wassup?"

Gash Jiren's face looked, to put it mildly, grave. As always seemed the case when he was in a foul mood, officers naturally avoided him- speaking only when necessary, averting eye contact. Which was fine with Gash.

As he stared out one of the viewpanels of the Vlyx ship, Adamant, which he commanded from, Gash murmured to himself. The Jedi Outcast decided on a general note that, overall, things could be worse. He honestly did feel better to be out there, and not on Corellia or Naboo. Gash hated the inherent false-ness of democratic encounters; the times he'd been approached to represent Asthentia in various galactic conferences or councils, he'd turned it down.

And given the situation-- yes, here was the place to be. From the moment he'd awoken in a fit of paranoia, Gash had contacted Xylon Hexyra. Minutes later, he had been aboard a shuttle, then on his command ship, and heading for the training centre where his Division resided.

Though right then, Gash wasn't anywhere, really. The stars were white lines, streaking, swirling and blurring in the galactic ballet known as hyperspace.

But that was only momentarily true. As the stars reverted to their normal, pin-point forms, an officer approached him wearily.

'Sir... we've arrived.'

"Remind me, Captain... Why did I order my forces to MA431P1? It seems a tad warm."

Gash wasn't wholly wrong. MA431P1 was an isolated dessert world, similar to Tatooine. The star itself, MA431, was a B-SZ5, a blue supergiant. The second largest, and hottest sort of star, with the shortest lifespan, MA431 was not the sort of star normally thought capable of supporting life. The amount of solar wind and stellar radiation a B-SZ5 gave off normally annihilated all forms of life on orbitting worls- to say nothing of the heat.

But MA431P1 had been blessed with a guard-dog atmosphere, which had formed out of the strange nebula in which it's parent star was born. While most nebulas were compose of hydrogen and small amounts of helium, the one which gave birth to MA431 was compose of hydrogen and dilinithilium- a highly unusual element composed of 150 atoms.

Elements with over 99 atoms were generally thought unstable; dilinithilium was not. It shielded MA431P1 from the harmful rays of it's star, and allowed for life to begin on the world- which, thought shielded, was still extremely hot.

But habitable.

Among those in the military, it was simply called The Hidden World.

'Because the radiation and ionized atoms MA431 gives off negates all forms of detection. Our forces cannot be found here.'

"Ah, yes. Now I remember. I should name this planet. But I digress... contact General Nellin. Tell him not to move; tell him to be on the ready. His forces must be ready to act on a moment's notice, understood?"

'Yes, sir.'

All was ready... and ready to move sooner than Gash had thought. His personal arm comlink signalled his attention.

"Searthen."

The voice on the other end spoke gravely, and quietly, so that none of the officers on the deck could hear. A small amount of the color drained from Gash's space as he nodded.

"Yes, I understand. Captain, contact Nellin. I want all forces boarded upon their designated transports within ten minutes. We are returning to Corellia."

Within those ten minutes allotted, the ground forces and support craft were safely aboard the capital ships, and Division Two of the NR Navy had departed for the capital of the Republic.

DF was running alittle late

"Echo 4 hear"

Luke Skywalker's X-wing jolted mildly as he bounced off thick, Corellian atmosphere, towards the Mon Calamari craft ahead. Although most pilots grimaced at the sensation of hitting atmosphere, Luke could only smile; it was a throwback to simpler days, when he wasn't a Jedi Master. When he wasn't expected to represent an entire order of Jedi everywhere he went; before his wife had died, before he'd even had a wife.

Back when he was just a lucky Tatooine farmboy playing space cowboy.

It felt good to be back. He realized he was running late, but he had the excuse ready in hand; it wasn't easy or fast to get from Naboo to Corellia, and his X-wing wasn't as fast as it used to be.

"Artoo? Open up a channel to the, ah... Commander of Echo Squadron. Taser, Lara Taser, right?

Artoo hooted. Luke couldn't help but smile as he spoke the title he once held. Times had changed, alright; now the big-name squadron in the NR wasn't even Rogue, it was Echo.

"Oh, hello, Ma'am. Commander Luke Skywalker, reporting for duty as ordered!" Said Luke as Lara's face appeared on the flat-panel, with a military-style mock-discipline. "So Echo's got some new orders, eh? I'll dock in a moment, hold on."

Lara was ready to begin her briefing, they were already running late.

The members of Echo Squad now were powering up their newly delivered B-Wings for the transit flight to the <!--EZCODE BOLD START--> Jenova<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->.

"Nice of you to join us, 3 and 4. Luke, I'll just patch the briefing into your comm, we can't wait much longer before we're expected to be aboard the Jenova. Just pick up your B-Wing when you land and follow after us"

Lara flashed a quick smile before turning away from the comm pickup to address the rest of the squadron over the open channel. Meanwhile she goosed her throttles and the b-wing rose into the air and glided smoothly out of the hangar into open space. She opened up the throttle and the sublight engines roared, the B-Wing thrummed with power and shot away from the Mon Cal cruiser. The rest of the Echos followed close behind.

"Okay Echos, as you may or may not know, it seems TNO has shown a recent interest in the New Republic again, and credit for a recent terrorist bomb attack on a diplomatic meeting in which our own fleet Commander was a participant in has been given to them. After connecting that act with other recent incidents, the Republic has decided to mobilize their militaries. If action comes, we will be in one of the first, if not the first, groups to meet the enemy in battle.

Fleet command has also seen fit to refit the entire squadron with B-Wings for this cruise, since the battles will be space oriented with little interplanetary contact. For us, anyways. So take a good long look around at your cockpit, it's your new home.

We don't have any specific assignment yet except to get over to the Jenova with all due speed with these B-Wings, and we're already on our way.

Any questions so far?"

<font color="#F09300">Nilo sat in the snug cockpit of his new B-Wing. That smell of fresh vinyl still lingered. He listened to Lara's briefing, while his mind ran with the impending battle would bring. He could feel himself tense his grip on the yoke.

"Calm yourself Nilo...", he told himself, "You'll make it out alive..."

The self-reassurance helped, somewhat. He began talking deep inhalations and exhalations, to slow down his racing heart. If he was this nervous now, how would he fair during battle? Nilo shook his head, disposing of all doubt. He just sit back and played follow the leader with the rest of the squadron.</font>

War is a terrible thing...

:: Before he became one of the Jedi Order, Douglas had always held the ideal that war was the worse possible solution to a conflict. However, no matter how gruesome the war was, it was often the only and most effective solution. Douglas could remember the peace times, like they were only yesterday. Essentially, they were only yesterday. The day the bomb ripped through the banquet hall, the peace was ripped along with it. ::

:: The Cetus, along with the reset of the third battle division sat in empty space. They were preparing to depart of Corellia, where he, with the rest of the commanding officers would be briefed for the assault. There was this unusually hum about the ship. Douglas probed deeper into it using the Force. He could feel the currents of emotion running through the durasteel corridors. He pushed a heavy exhale through his nostrils, having a renewed confidence that his crew would perform at peak levels. ::

“Helmsman, are we ready for departure?”

“Aye sir, out heading is set in the navcomputer.”

:: His eyes twinkled as he scanned the bridge. They were ready too. ::

“Take us out helmsman.”

:: The third battle division leapt into hyperspace towards Corellia. From there, they would go to parts unknown. ::