Chapter 30: First Contact16Contact

*29. First Contact*

“Freeze! Hands up!” a B-1 battle droid barked.

More B-1s swarmed in, surrounding their ships like a metal tide. Over a hundred E-5 blaster rifles were aimed at their heads.

Ventus and his crew threw their hands up, no hint of resistance.

But then, something unexpected happened. B-1 droids rolled in fuel carts and engineering vehicles, refueling their two ships, patching up the hulls, even hauling away the mercenaries’ bodies from the Aurore-class freighter. They scrubbed the blood and brains off the control console until it gleamed.

A figure in a black cloak approached, flanked by two guard droids. A Muun, his face half-hidden by a mechanical mask, with tubes pulsing rhythmically at his mouth, leaned on a cane.

To Ventus, the guy looked like he’d stepped out of a Dungeons & Dragons campaign—a dark wizard vibe. But now wasn’t the time for quips. He kept his head down, trying to blend into the background.

This was their employer: Hego Damask II.

“Mr. Hego, here’s what you wanted,” Munte said, bowing low and offering the storage device with both hands.

“Well done. You’ve exceeded my expectations. I thought the Falleen, Rosas-Leon, would come out on top,” Hego said, his voice smooth as he waved a hand. A guard droid stepped forward, took the device, and handed it to him.

Hego didn’t check it. He just slipped it into his cloak and waved again. A B-1 droid shuffled up, carrying a heavy credits bag.

“Your payment: 100,000 Republic credits,” Hego said casually, dropping a number that made their jaws drop.

In the black market, Republic credits traded at about 1:0.6 against wupiupi. That much money could buy a decent starship!

“Uh… we only agreed on wupiupi,” Munte said, unfazed by the windfall. He knew better—take too much, and you owe too much.

“That was your deal with Rosas, not me,” Hego replied coolly. “Take it. You earned it. You broke through Makem Te’s defenses and proved you’re better than Rosas. This is your reward. I don’t skimp on those who serve me well.”

“So, that Falleen, Rosas—she was just a pawn you tossed aside,” Munte said, nodding toward the side.

Over there, two B-1s were dragging Rosas’s body, ready to jettison it into space.

“I like to have backups,” Hego said. “And I prefer dealing with clever people. I hope you’re one of them. Don’t refuse.”

Munte nodded and took the heavy bag.

“Good. Now we’re friends. Take your reward, go enjoy yourselves. I’ll call on you again,” Hego said, turning to leave.

Then he froze, whipping around, his gaze locking onto Ventus, who’d been lingering at the back.

Ventus felt it—a jolt, like he’d been caught. He looked up, and for a split second, their eyes met. It was as if a bottomless void swallowed him whole.

No hiding.

No escape.

The sensation vanished as quickly as it came, like it never happened. Hego’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

He studied Ventus, then burst into laughter. “Hahahaha! Interesting. Oh, you lot are very interesting… Hahahaha!”

Still chuckling, Hego strode off, his laughter echoing in the hangar.

“You may leave. No, you must leave immediately,” a B-1 droid said in its flat, almost goofy tone.

Munte glanced at Ventus, who was sweating buckets. “Let’s go.”

Quinto and Spade headed to the YV-865 Aurore-class freighter, while Munte, Ventus, and the others returned to the YT-1000.

They piloted the ships out of the Munificent-class frigate’s hangar. Moments later, the frigate’s engines hummed, and it vanished into hyperspace. Ventus let out a long breath, slumping in his seat.

No question about it—Hego Damask II, one of the galaxy’s darkest shadows, had zeroed in on him.

From any angle, that was bad news.

Munte checked the cargo hold and found Jarmed, still sealed in carbonite, hidden under the goods. The B-1s hadn’t noticed him during their cleanup.

Quinto’s voice crackled over the comms. “Hey, boss. Where to now?”

“You’re free,” Ventus said abruptly. “Head back to the Endor system, pick up your crew, then go wherever you want.”

“Wait, boss, you mean…” Quinto trailed off, confused.

“Exactly what I said. You’re free,” Ventus repeated. “You only got caught because you trespassed on Dawn. I’m letting you go.”

Quinto went quiet. After a long pause, he spoke. “You were right before. I only take easy jobs—hauling cargo, small-time stuff. Barely scrape by. This ship? Wasn’t mine. Belonged to my old boss. He got killed by pirates during a smuggling run, so it passed to me…”

He paused again, then continued. “You and Munte, you’re the real deal. I’ve never seen a pilot like Munte or someone like you, with… whatever that power is. This job’s 100,000 credits? That’s three years of my usual grind. So… I want to stick with you, boss.”

“You keep running safe smuggling gigs, you might live to 60,” Munte cut in. “Join us, you could be dead by tomorrow.”

“But I’d make credits I never dreamed of, right, boss?” Quinto said.

Ventus’s lips curved into a grin. “Damn right. More than you ever imagined.”

“That’s all I need. What’s the next move, boss?”

“Back to Dawn.”

“Copy that!”

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