Bespin's Open Orbit

Out of System Meeting Point. Ardent-class Fast Frigate "Baldrick I"

The civilian ship lands in the small capitol ships hangar. THe Twilek slave and the new captain step out to a formation of crewmen. Blocks of bodies standing in attention and a harsh yell of "COMMANDER ON DECK" as Road steps down. 24 shows him to a pedestal with a mic. There, 24 throws him into deep water. THe entire hangar is dead silent, with about a thousand souls standing in attention waiting for Road to speak...

-24-
"Yes. Lets."

The crew went back to their stations, and 24 showed Road around. His cabin where he would sleep, and the servants cabin where 24 would sleep right next to it. Then a quick tour of the ship and its command crew. Finally, they ended up on the bridge.

-24-
"Captain Road, the ship is yours."

{ Bridge, Loronar Medium Transport The Red Cred, exiting Hyperspace at Bespin }

Before we were even quite within range of the planetary defenses, there was a ping on the com, as the planetary control officer challenged our presence. I quickly fed him the ship's transponder, and waited anxiously until the confirmation came back all clear. Oz had done good work, I had no doubt about that. But the information was still fraudulent, and the last thing we needed was a boarding party digging around too deeply in the hold, or an incident report that was betray our presence to the Syndicate. So long as we could remain just another anonymous data point for the Imperials to collate, we were safe. By the time Dante's enemies found us among the millions of similar records, it would be too late.

After the initial confirmation set me at ease, the rest of the interactions with Imperial shipping and customs passed by in a bit of a blur, my responses and actions coming more from instinct and memory than from perfect attention. Instead, my mind wandered to the tasks ahead, and to all the implications of visiting Bespin. I had been out of direct contact with the League for over two years now, and I would have to be careful until I knew exactly what I was walking into. But it was worth the risk, if it helped us find Fel. Besides, I couldn't keep hiding, and there were two jobs to do. Find Fel, and find Dante's enemies. Three, if you counted rescuing Zawadi.

Guiding the ship into the Bespin atmosphere, I gazed out into the pink and blue nothingness of the Bespin cloudscape as a cloudcar floated toward us from the port side. I wasn't really paying much attention to what the Imperials were doing, and my responses probably sounded exactly as robotic and clipped as a long-time shipping pilot's should have sounded. I didn't need to fake absentmindedness when I had the real thing. There was a soft screech on the sensors as the scanning crew passed over us, and I hastily switched off the speaker. I wasn't particularly worried about what they would find. Yes, we had two smaller ships nestled aboard, as well as a small armory, but we were flagged as a third party contractor for a well-respected arms dealer, and I had reported the two smaller craft as scrap, so as to avoid paying the separate docking fees for their presence. It seemed unlikely that we would need to reveal their operational status until we were ready to leave, in which case the Imperials would have little recourse except to mark us down for heavy fines the next time we landed sat a port they controlled.

In my mind, I began to map out which order my various errands would have to happen. My first trip away from the safety and privacy of the ship would have to be the most cautious, and so it made sense for it to also be my visit to case the casino. I would need to dress up a bit for that one, if I were to play the part I had in mind. One had to be respectable to be taken seriously as a potential investor. The main purpose wasn't a disguise, but it would also serve that purpose, and allow me to double-check the situation on the ground before anyone recognized me. Or so I hoped. For all I knew, Fel's captors already had a bounty out on the rest of us, and I was walking right into a rancor's den. But there was no reason to worry about what I couldn't control, and so I shrugged off that potential problem. The crew had gotten this far, and our luck was still holding. It was time to get to work.

Later, maybe even tomorrow, after I got an initial read on the current balance of power, there would be plenty of time to visit Crusher at his restaurant, and make all of my additional inquiries. Yes, my questions for him were urgent, but it was better to wait than to make a fatal mistake by rushing. Now that I knew the full scale of Dante's enemies, I knew that we were playing a long and strategic game of dejarik, not some simple child's dice game. Already, I had noticed that the Imperial presence on Bespin was stronger than I remembered. I wondered if that confirmed our hunch about Syndicate activity in the area, or whether this was an unrelated strengthening of the Imperial remnants. 

My confidence growing as the familiar white circle of Cloud City loomed up on us from below, I eased in the repulsorlifts as the Loronar settled onto a landing pad with a soft, if slightly shaky, bump. Success. Or maybe not entirely. After a half-second, the ship shifted, and there was an audible groan from somewhere amidships. Wincing, I held my breath, listening intently for any other signs of trouble. But there was nothing else to hear except the thump-thump of my own heart. Nodding in satisfaction, I shut down the engines and repulsors, and unbuckled my safety harness. Not a perfect landing, but pretty fripping good for my first try.

Sol Canto woke up from his short nap refreshed, though somewhat surprised that he had yet to be hailed from the docking authorities from Bespin. Though the ship was still in the outer orbit of the gas giant, it would have been well within sensor range.

Perhaps we're being trusted, Sol thought to himself.

As if to answer his inquiry, the comm channel opened and Atheloe's voice came through with a bit of static.


Well if it isn't Sol Canto. I assume you're not here to settle down, buy a house, and start a family. Or have you gone soft on me?

Sol grinned and responded.

Sharp as always, Atheloe. No, I'm here for the lucrative business opportunities. Exex clear me for landing?

Needlessly articulate as always. You're clear for landing on Bay 553 on Level 118. I'll meet you right outside my office. I don't want the Catch 23 to get scratched or stolen before I beat you on the Sabacc table. And the first thing I'm going to do is change that transponder code. What kind of name is Catch 23 anyway?

It suits me. I'll be right over.

Sol cut the comm channel, pushed the sublight engines, and headed into the atmosphere of the planet.

Another sleek Sith Infiltator that seemed to bleed together with the blackness of space dropped out of hyperspace in high orbit over Bespin. The ship lulled for a moment and lurched as the engines cut, leaving only the life support systems online. Alkor set about calculating the trajectory toward one of the floating platforms that made up the sole population of Bespin, a gas giant with no proper surface.

It would take several minutes to pin down where exactly along the stretch of spinning Tibannasphere his destination waited. He continued to punch in the presumed coordinates until the algorithms began to bleat back their responses. He felt something subtle in the force as it rippled nearby, and the old signal of a Dark Jedi ship blipped on his radar.

It was not a coincidence.

Alkor thummbed a few commands into the console and beamed a message across the dead zone. It came encrypted at first, but Hevn's ship had the same codes as his own. It would read across the screen, "Incoming transmission."

"It would seem prudent," Alkor stated calmly, "that we at least tried to mask our identities, at least until we can integrate ourselves. Do you have a plan of attack?"

It was a better plan than Alkor had, which he admitted silently to himself as he considered the option. The man, Thursby, seemed an honest man of sound integrity. Few men in position to fire a Mass Driver at two of the most dangerous men in the galaxy neglect to seize the opportunity, after all. There was conflict in that man that Alkor sensed, a deep seated and unyielding turmoil that arose from something close to his heart. While trained as an Imperial Knight and thus unwavering in his convictions, it was clear that time had eroded those convictions into mere shadows of their former selves. Thursby was a man in the autumn of his life, desperately seeking a renewed spring.

The darkness offered a tempting, fast path to power that many sought out for the sake of simplicity. Often, those who strode the dark path lost their way, or found themselves consumed by the very forces they sought to take control of. In this time of greatest need for their rebuilding efforts, Hevn considered trusting an outsider in flux with the secrets of the Jen'jidai? It would take a great deal of time before Alkor would accept the man as more than a business associate, but that position would prove adequate to serve their needs for the time being.

"Bespin has ever been a numbers game," Alkor conceded finally. "Since the time of the Old Republic. Long Corellian heritage." He mentioned the latter with no hint of emotion. "Like most things that come from that cespool of the core, it should be easily corrupted."

He spoke with such casual dismissal that one listening might consider him cruel. Perhaps he was, at that. While the people of Bespin stood to prosper under their careful supervision, there was always the chance that they might deteriorate as a society and civilization as well. The Muuns had thrived, sucking the souls out of one another and feeding on the vast wealth and power that the Dark Jedi machine had spawned on their planet. They had risen to heights of decadence previously thought impossible, and their world had become paramount among those in the Eastern Outer Rim.

And now, Muunilinst was all but a dead world. A grim reminder of what happens when you cross the Dark Jedi, and sadistic statement about the fickle nature of the dark side of the force. Alkor disliked the comparison drawn that the Jen'jidai ever took an active role in the advancement of the will of the force, but others had begun to whisper it across the galaxy. "This is the taint of the darkness," they said. Somehow, it lingered nearby. All his deeds, credited to mysticism. Alkor could only smirk.

"Alright, tell your man Thursby we should meet him in Tibannopolis tomorrow evening, local time." The Corellian Exile ran a few tests of the landing cycle, just to be certain their coordinates were squared. "For now, we can find a place to dig in for the night and plan out the thrilling political details."

The low whine of his engine screamed violently as he angled his ship toward Bespin and fed the throttle.