Session 09: Battle of Bespin

Above the gleaming spires of Cloud City, the heroes launched into the upper reaches of Bespin’s atmosphere. Their Z-95 Headhunters flanked the Glorious Chariot and the Banshee, with Captain Okeefe guiding the freighter through the cloud-laced skies. They were barely clear of the platform before a squadron of Sky Guard patrol craft, now operating under Imperial authority, descended to intercept them. These were no disorganized thugs—these were trained pilots loyal to the Empire, and they had orders to halt the heroes at any cost.   The sky became a battlefield. Vapor trails crisscrossed the heavens, laser fire illuminating the clouds in bursts of red and green. The heroes fought tooth and nail, diving through stormbanks and rising in sharp counter-angles to break the enemy formation. The Z-95s darted like knives through the sky, working together with precise coordination—one pilot looping behind a Sky Guard craft to blast it from the sky just as another wingmate peeled off under pursuit. The Glorious Chariot bore the brunt of heavier fire, her shields flaring as she unleashed devastating volleys from her turrets. The Banshee, nimble for a freighter, weaved through the chaos under Okeefe’s steady hand, blasting enemy fighters apart in daring passes through cloud gaps.   Eventually, the Sky Guard were overwhelmed—some destroyed, others forced into retreat. The skies over Bespin were theirs, if only briefly. Without pause, the heroes pushed upward, breaching into the cold black of space, only to find another Imperial trap waiting for them.   A swarm of TIE wings closed in from multiple vectors, sleek and deadly. The heroes formed up quickly, trusting instinct and experience to guide them. In the void, the battle took on a more lethal rhythm. The stars flickered behind exploding fighters, and the heroes wove between the wreckage of shattered TIEs as they pressed forward. The Glorious Chariot and the Banshee provided a deadly crossfire, turning whole sections of the starfield into kill zones while the Z-95s picked off stragglers.   Ahead of them loomed their target: the Tibanna Hauler—Darga’s key shipment, no doubt filled with volatile gas meant to fund or empower the Empire’s interests. In coordinated strikes, the heroes battered through its escorts and struck the hauler’s critical systems. Fire engulfed the vessel as its reactor finally ruptured, erupting into a dazzling explosion that cast flickering shadows across the heroes' cockpits.   Yet victory came with a price. In the confusion, the Shackles of Nizen—a ship tangled in Darga’s schemes—managed to escape. Its captain sent one final transmission: a curt thanks, then silence as the vessel jumped to hyperspace, its secrets now lost to the stars.   Just as calm began to settle, a voice slithered through the comms—smooth, cold, unmistakably Imperial. Valin Draco, Inquisitor of the Empire, addressed the heroes from aboard the looming Star Destroyer Assidious. With biting praise, he commended their tenacity and effectiveness, promising that while they may flee for now, the Assidious would not always be out of reach. He ended with a vow of retribution, spoken with chilling certainty.