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Bespin: (Black Sun's) Cloud City


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Here he was again: the deck of a ship, the fiery smell of rounds upon rounds of explosive material, or whatever it was that came out of those things, barreling through space and smashing into things. He wondered if this was going to be his new life as an Imperial Moff. He hadn’t the foggiest idea really. But, on the bright side, he didn’t have to command a ship this time. He had the luxury of watching Beck return to the scene of one of his greatest blunders and get revenge on the mercenaries of Cloud City. Dordjooba had spent a great deal of time between the gala and this assault consolidating his assets on Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa and filtering them through Imperial channels. But that work was long behind him now. His subordinates had their marching orders and he was here on the front lines.


The Hutt, deciding not to slink into the shadows and avoid all interaction, stuck to the rear of the bridge and let Beck have the floor. It was an odd thing for a Hutt to be in the background. But that was where Dordjooba preferred to operate. Businessmen can get away with legal monetary gambles when all eyes aren’t trained on their every transaction.

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The black sun agents on ground, or in this case cloud city itself, were shocked at the approach, and Provisional Governor Cathryne Atali began to make provisions for the station to pierce the shield. Additional spin-sealed Tibanna gas was pumped into the power generator in an effort to prepare for the increased load from the crashing station. The defending starfighters lined up an approach on the shield, preparing to burst forth and sortie until the shield could be restored in the slight chance it would be taken down by such a thing as a falling space station.



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Imperial Fleet vs. Black Sun planetary shield


As a rather horrifying method of dealing with the planetary shield surrounding Bespin and Cloud City, the Imperial fleet has elected to drag the disabled Golan I out of orbit and into Bespin’s atmosphere with tractor beams. The approach is simple and nasty and well within the capabilities of a pair of Impstar Deuces: knock the station out of its orbit and let gravity do the rest.


A Golan I is 1.2 kilometers along its longest axis. This may not be as long as a Star Destroyer, or a similarly-sized vessel, but with the assistance of gravity, we are talking about a heck of a lot of mass and kinetic energy striking the planetary shield. With the assistance of the fleet's bombers, this would be an enormous strain on any shielding system, even if Black Sun is taking steps to pump more power into the shields.


Killshot on Golan I and Planetary Shield successful


It goes without saying that the Golan I is dead and broken up into pieces, with the loss of any crew that don’t manage to make it to an escape pod. The planetary shield is overloaded and knocked out, opening the planet up to invasion or bombardment. In addition, anything that’s directly under the debris of the Golan is going to have its day ruined in short order. Fortunately, Bespin is a gas giant.


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Beck watched with a grin from ear to ear as the planetary shield fell. Turning around to address his crew, he was very gleeful.


"Let no one ever question the might of the Imperial Navy after today. Have all bomber and TIE squadrons on standby. Prep and warm up the cannons and open a channel to the surface."


Beck gave a slightly wink in the direction of the Hutt who choose to remain in the background of his Star Destroyer. After the wink, he moved closer to the edge of the viewport ad snapped his finger at one of the deck officers. Once the channel was opened, he kept his calm, despite the fact that all he truly wanted to do was blast the damn city into oblivion.


"This is Admiral Beck Pilon of the Imperial Navy. Your city is lost. I am giving you to rare opportunity to surrender now. If you surrender, all Black Sun personnel will be taken before the Imperial Courts to have their fate decided and the city of Cloud City will fall under Imperial leadership-where all civilian citizens will endure the prosperity of life. If you do not surrender, the bombardment of your city will commence. You have two minutes to decide your fate."


Upon him finishing, the channel was cut from the Fiat Lux until the city was ready to decide their own fate. He then had the officer whom he snapped at bring a chair and a cup of caf to him as he sat down and awaited the decision of Black Sun. He then motioned for Dordjooba to move up towards the front of the bridge. After his wave to the Hutt, he took a massive sip from his caf and just awaited for everything to fall into place.


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There was not much else to do for the Black Sun agents onboard the cloud city but die and die meaninglessly. Even the diehard agent Cathryne, the provisional governor would rather not do that. Plus they were not part of the slavery wing of the Black Sun and the most they could be convicted of was running casinos illegally. So they surrendered.


The wings of fighters landed, and waited for eventual captivity. The stories of the empire killing innocents were not too scary to the men and women of the city, for they trusted their governor.


The city in the clouds surrendered to the Empire without another shot fired and the remaining high level agents went to ground as the mass wealth of the casinos was transferred through datalink to the Black Sun coffers outside the Imperial jurisdiction. But the population wondered, would the Empire treat the city fairly?


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Beck offered up a grin to no one as he heard from the communication officer that Black Sun had laid down their arms. There wasn’t too much of a choice for them really. Death would have come to the whole city had they chosen to keep fighting back as the Imperials had them completely outgunned. They only had one-real choice-so it was no surprise to Beck upon their surrender coming through the comm systems. Standing up from his chair, he put his drink down and began to walk off the bridge. His voice only giving out orders upon making it halfway through the walkway of the bridge.


“Have all landing crafts move for the surface from both Fiat Lux and Misericordia. They are to take all Black Sun personnel into custody and transfer them to our fleet.”


Beck gave a slight military salute to Dordjooba before he left the bridge. He would make sure that everything was settled for what they Imperial Remnant would need to house so many. Historically, Star-Destroyers rarely would bring on groups so large. They were more of the shoot first and ask questions and take prisoners later type of crafts. Not so much under the new regime. Because of it, they would follow a different procedure – NPL. New Planet Liberation protocols, which stated that upon liberating a new-found planet, to ensure security the majority of stormtroopers would stay behind to uphold marshal law until a Moff or something that was equivalent status could be put into place over the planet. Because of the damage dealt to the fleet, there was a need to refuel and recharge.


Beck in the meantime also began to attempt to get in touch with Admiral Adripov to see if it was still operational to maneuver back to Kuat, or if it needed a tow from one or both Star-Destroyers. He also wanted to get word to Empress Raven on what their marching orders should be next. Until everything was lined up, he would await within his quarters.


***Cloud City***


On the surface of the city that floated amongst the clouds, the landing transports of both the Fiat Lux and Misericordia had their total number of 8000 troops land to begin to escort all Black Sun agents back to the transports to be taken up to their accompanying Star-Destroyers for the voyage to Kuat and eventually on to Carida to stand trial. Of some of those troops were 4 full squads of Beck’s personal commandos to help maintain order and law. The troops would stay behind, along with some smaller fleet vessels to provide support until better suited Imperial leadership could be established on the city.


There were also instructions given to let the citizen's maintain their normal activities, but no one outside of Imperial personnel were allowed within the City's mainframe and general daily operations that could allow for a surge of rebellion take over.


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For his part, following Beck's gesture, Dordjooba listed quietly to the front as the mighty Black Sun Golan platform crashed into Bespin's planetary shield. It was a chaotic site to behold. Massive chunks of durasteel debris ripped against the bubble and pushed the energy output until the entire bubble popped. It would be rather amusing if Dordjooba cared one way or the other. He dealt with money. The cacophony of browbeating and chest gesticulations, no matter how physical or metaphysical they were, did not capture his interest. His tastes extended past the mundane day-to-day and lent themselves to more articulated diplomatic affairs. Most people considered these affairs trivial and boring, while Dordjooba marveled in the nuanced complexity of conversation; the verbal weaving it took to spin things in whatever direction he willed. Still, the Imperial Remnant victory had a nice air to it. And 'not dying' in the vacuum of space was certainly better than the alternative. The smell of victory playing in the air was palpable as the release of anxiety lingered throughout the bridge. And, considering Dordjooba's perusal of Beck's previous assault on Bespin, a victory was sorely needed.


The Hutt carefully slithered toward the Imperial Officer and returned his official salute. A small smile stretched his lips and he 'bowed' a little to show his respect.

"Congratulations are in order Admiral. When all is said and done, and the time is more appropriate, would you like to join me for a toast to your victory?"


Careful to show a modicum of respect, the Hutt maintained a good distance from the Officer. His girth and presence was enough to account for at least two beings worth of personal space, so he tried to accomodate when he could.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Beck cleaned himself up within his own quarters before he returned to the bridge of the Fiat Lux. As he re-entered the walkway bridge, reports were slowly coming in of the all of the personnel of Black Sun being officially done with the majority of the transfers back up to the cruisers to be taken back to the Imperial courts. As those reports came in, the Admiral moved to stand next to the Hutt.


“This planet has become more then a pain in my ass Moff Dordjooba. But I will not likely let it stand alone to be taken so easily. I will leave the current 6,000 troops on the city to maintain some order and law until we can return.”


Beck then turned towards the communications officer and flagged her down.


“Inform the Eventuality of Justice and Saeculorum that they are to remain behind to watch over the planet. They may defend her as they see fit. The rest of Battle Group Thunder needs to prepare to return to Kuat. Our ships are in massive need of repair. We jump within the hour.”


Beck then waited for the rest of the fleet to be ready to return to the shipyards of Kuat and the two ships he was leaving behind to remain in position to defend the newly acquired planet. He also left very special instructions for lieutenant Corduan that were highly encrypted so that no one could other than the two of them could read. After the hour passed, all ships designated to return to Kuat had jumped into hyperspace, leaving the gas planet behind. Only two ships remained to defend the new Imperial planet.



Imperial Defending Fleet

AP: 5


Eventuality of Justice

Ship Class: Cruiser

Type: Assault Frigate Mark II

Crew: 5000

Starfighter/Troop Complement:

4 Squadron TIE Defenders

2 J-983 Javelin squadrons

3000 Assault troops


15 Turbolaser Cannons

15 Laser Cannons

15 Quad Turbolasers

AP: 3




Ship Class: Frigate

Type: Lancer Frigate

Crew: 900

Starfighter/Troop Complement:

2 TIE Defender Squadron

2 Skipray Blastboat Squadron

2000 Assault troops


20 AG-2G2 quad laser cannons

AP: 2



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  • 4 years later...

“Thats far enough,” the glistening Devaronian customs enforcer growled as he leveled his heavy blaster pistol at the pair of Bothan smugglers as they skidded to a halt. With a flick of his finger the weapon was switched off of stun. Stun was the Wing Guard protocol designated preferred usage of any weapon used by Customs Enforcement; only if that failed or was likely to were Home Guard agents authorized to engage in deadly force.


”A dead end! I told you Zinny this was a bad idea!” The female Bothan babbled to her counterpart, her fur rippling in fear. 

“Hush woman! I’m thinking” her compatriot growled as his hand fell to his own holstered weapon, a cheap underworld ‘Mos Eisley Special’, as his eyes shot upwards into the exposed rafters looking for a way of escape and contemplating his chances.


”By order of the people of Bespin, you are under arrest.” The devilish man smiled, his pointed teeth only adding to the visage he played into all too easily. “But by all means,” he flicked the gun from side to side, gesturing to the wall of durasteel behind them and the steep drop offs on either side, “try to run.”


”Its a dead end you idjit!” The woman shouted.

It was only met by a cold devilish laugh. “Exactly.”


A single blaster bolt erupted from the black leather clad Home Guard hunter burying itself into a thick overhead beam of the maze-like construct they had fled into. Both Bothans flinched and the male’s blaster was half-way out of his holster before he regained control of his senses. Drawing on their chaser was a fool’s task and he knew it. The realization dawned across his face.


”Gooooood.” The Devaronian crooned. “Now just toss that thing to the ground and we won’t have any trouble.”


The Bothans exchanged worried looks before the one slowly withdrew his blaster and sent it skittering onto the walkway  between them and their pursuer. stepping forward, Aldar F’toong planted a foot on the weapon, his own trained on the duo. He canted his head slightly as the comm unit in his ear crackled to life. ‘Spice sir. A lot of it’


”Understood.” The enforcement officer growled into the cuff of his jacket and the mic contained therein before looking the smugglers up and down. “Spice is it?” He asked with a smile. “Don’t you know that Bespin has been under the control of the Imperium for several years now?” His finger tapped the trigger of his blaster menacingly. “That stuff destroys lives.”


The Bothans’ eyes grew big. Both knew there was little use in denying it. They had ditched their ship outside the industrial platform deep in the fog when the cloud cars had first given chase. Raising his hands to the back of his head the larger more muscled man responded, “Thats not ours. We had no idea what was in the crates. We just got hired to deliver the boxes. Don’t open them. No questions asked.”


Aldar nodded along his voice light and cheery. “Riiiiiight. And these aren’t my pants either. In fact, I don’t even know whose pants I am wearing today. Some guy just paid me 50 creds to walk around in them today.” The sarcasm grew as he spoke, his smile vanishing, replaced with an aura of serious disbelief. “Do I look like I was born yesterday?!” He snarled gesturing at them with his gun.


”Ok, ok, ok. We’ll tell the truth!” The woman cried, her comrade shooting her a dirty look before rolling his eyes as she spoke. “We needed the money, for our family. Otherwise the kids will starve. We just,”


The male Bothan cut her off. “Look boss, what’ll it take for you to look the other way. I know how you types are. What kind of cut are you wanting?”


”Ha!” The Devaronian laughed. “You two really are behind the times aren’t you? The Bespin Wing Guard does not take bribes to look the other way. Not anymore. We just disappear those who disrupt our way of life . . .” The words hung in the air as the realization of the implication dawned on the duo.


At that time, a half dozen uniformed Wing Guards rounded the corner, weapons drawn. “Glad you caught them corporal, we’ll take them from here,” a stocky mustachioed man said. Angar slowly lowered his gun, disappointment shining in his eyes as he gazed at the pair of smugglers unblinkingly. Both Bothans seemed to visibly relax.


 “They both admitted to the spice.”


”Good. Get back to their ship and impound it. Log ALL the evidence.”


”Aye sir,” he holstered his weapon and offered a half-hearted salute before turning and making his way back through the maze of rafters and walkways towards the hastily stashed Corellian freighter.


”Now as for you,” the Captain of the Wing Guard growled, “You’re coming with us.” 

Soon enough the pair of smugglers were cuffed and being escorted down a completely different pathway to a waiting cloud speeder. Buckled in, they took off into the clouds. Their destination: Cloud City Customs Lock Up. Looking down, the monstrous form of a unidentified warship blurred against the fog of the clouds below them. Another of Bespin’s many secrets.




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  • 2 months later...

At the edge of Cloud City, there sat a small cafe. It’s seating was all outside and they specialized in Dianogian Tea and Robto Wrap. The proprietor, a tall and elderly Duro, along with his daughter ran the place. It had been a busy lunch hour. The two worked in tandem clearing dishes and washing tables as the billowing pink clouds of Bespin rolled fluidly mete yards away. As many came for the relaxing view and smell of electric power in the air as they did for tea and sandwiches. There were not many left. The last stragglers mopped their plates to lap up any dropped liquid and cradled their warm purple drinks in their hands as they stared out into the seemingly endless clouds.


In the distance a peal of thunder rolled across the clouds, a sign of a storm perhaps? The storms on Bespin were not something to ignore. This high in the atmosphere, floating on repulsorlifts in the sky, the people of Cloud City knew how to ride out such storms. It was not sitting on the edge sipping tea.


With a somewhat confused look at her father and a knowing nod, the two Duro began gathering up chairs and tables. They’d have to be stowed inside and quickly. The few remaining customers quickly bussed their own and helped stow their own chairs and tables before scurrying off mumbling about the strangeness of an afternoon storm at such a time of year.


Once everything was stowed, the elder Duro stood looking out at the clouds. They just did not look like a storm was brewing. The man scratched his bald blue cranium as flashes of lightning illuminated distant clouds and thunder continued to roll across the vast open skies. It rolled until it became almost a constant.


The proprietor’s daughter joined him. She looked from her father out to the sky “Weirdest storm I’ve ever seen.” She mumbled.


”Yes . . . “ the elder responded hesitantly. “We better get indoors. No telling when something like this might hit.”


And then, it happened. In the distance, the  bridge of a ship broke the clouds followed quickly by the angular body of an Imperial Super Star Destroyer. The clouds seemed to roll off of it’s new glistening hull as it shimmered in the afternoon sun.


The Duros’ jaws dropped. It was no storm, not a natural one at least.




Aboard THE BESPIN STORM, Commander Vincent Blane stood at the helm. All about him, Imperial navymen and Wing Guards worked tirelessly. The ship hummed flawlessly as the nearly two and a half mile craft lifted from her moorings and slowly began to ascend to her celestial home.  “Notify the Alliance,” the Commander spoke, instructing his comms officer, “The storm of Bespin is ready to serve.”


The ship continued to rise, her thunderous engines drawing the attention of half of Cloud City. Pedestrains and shopkeeps, executives and gamblers alike turned their eyes to see the surprising sight. It was a testament to the will of the people of Bespin, the dedication of their protectors to ensure peace and prosperity across the Anoat sector.




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