A flash of white light in the empty black of space, and the YT-1000 light freighter dropped out of hyperspace.
The Freelancer had made it out of Mygeeto.
Everyone exhaled at once.
Daemon could barely move.
He crawled out of the turret and collapsed onto the deck.
Trent unbuckled from the pilot’s seat and rushed over to help him up.
“We owe you our lives,” Trent said, smiling.
“We made it?
We actually made it?!” Quinto stared at his own hands from the co-pilot seat, unable to believe it.
He unbuckled and jumped to his feet.
“We did it!
We broke through Mygeeto’s defenses!
Ha!
No one has ever pulled a job on Mygeeto and escaped!”
Daemon didn’t have the strength to speak.
He sat on the floor and pointed weakly toward the cargo hold.
Trent nodded.
He told Spade to run a full inspection of the ship and recycle the shields.
No one knew what might be waiting for them ahead.
“We should find a place to rest,” Quinto said.
“Resupply.
Refuel.”
“I’d advise against it,” Trent said, shaking his head.
“Semid is a hot potato.
The sooner we hand him off, the better.
If we set down on a planet, we’re inviting trouble.”
A moment later, the T-850 walked in carrying the Muun like a sack of grain.
This was their pickup.
A timid, cowering figure with a monocle, looking more like a nervous clerk than a hardened criminal.
Nothing like what they had expected.
“By the rules, we don’t ask about his business,” Trent said.
“Contact Hego first.”
He pulled out the communicator Hego had given them.
The device was clearly temporary.
Once the deal was done, they’d toss it and the connection would be severed for good.
The transmission connected.
Hego Damask II’s tall form appeared in the hologram.
“You retrieved Semid.
Good.”
The Muun shrank at the sight of him.
For a species that stood nearly two meters tall, Semid managed to compress himself into a pitiful ball.
“Lord…
Lord Hego.
I have it.
The Tonis family’s transaction records.” He held up a data storage device.
“Excellent.
You will be generously compensated.”
Hego’s words carried a double meaning.
But as he spoke, his eyes stayed fixed on Trent.
“Then…
per the agreement, may I…”
“Kill him.”
The word came cold as vacuum through Hego’s metal mask.
He was looking at Trent.
“Lord Hego!
Mercy!
I fulfilled my part of the agreement!” Semid dropped to his knees, begging.
Trent’s brow furrowed.
He hesitated.
Killing an unarmed man who had done nothing to them was not his way.
“We should do it now,” Quinto murmured.
“Those are the rules.”
Hego Damask II said nothing.
He simply watched.
Trent raised his pistol.
He couldn’t pull the trigger.
A gunshot rang out.
Semid crumpled.
Trent spun around.
Daemon stood there, a revolver in his hand, a curl of smoke rising from the barrel.
“Hmph.” Daemon let out a tired grunt.
“Well.
That’s that.”
Trent gave a bitter smile.
He turned back to the hologram.
“Done.
He’s dead.”
Hego’s laughter crackled through the comm, ugly and pleased.
“Not bad.
Not bad at all!
Ha ha ha!
Now, as agreed, go to Roon and collect your payment.”
Trent snorted.
He pointed at Semid’s body on the floor.
“He was following your agreement too, wasn’t he?
Did he get paid?”
“Simple.
He knew too much.
You…
know nothing.
Come to Roon.
Otherwise, you will find that this vast galaxy has no corner that will have you.
Heh heh heh…”
The transmission cut.
Trent walked over to Daemon and let out a long sigh.
“Administrator.
You made the right call.
I’m sorry. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
My hesitation nearly cost us everything.”
He looked genuinely shaken.
“He can still be saved,” Daemon said, barely able to keep his eyes open.
“Get him patched up.”
The continuous use of the Force had nearly drained him dry.
Trent’s eyes lit up.
He rushed back and checked.
Semid was still breathing.
He grabbed a medkit and started emergency treatment.
“Real ammo,” Daemon said, his voice fading.
“I used the Force to aim for a non-lethal spot.
At this range, the bullet goes clean through.
If we treat him fast, he’ll make it.”
“Bleeding’s stopped.” Trent straightened up.
“He’ll live for now, but he needs proper medical care.”
“We don’t have time to take him to a planet.
Figure something out.”
“The carbonite freezing chamber!” Quinto said.
“We have carbonite equipment on this ship.”
They moved fast.
The T-850 carried Semid’s body while Quinto led them to a small storage room.
He hit the switch.
Freezing spray filled the compartment, coating the Muun in a gray slab of semi-metallic stone.
They wedged the carbonite block among the cargo.
No one would find it.
Carbonite technology worked like suspended animation, but more thorough.
It had originally been developed for ultra-long-distance travel.
After the invention of the hyperdrive, it had fallen out of mainstream use.
Now it was mostly used for transporting prisoners.
Trent came back to Daemon and took his hand.
“I’m sorry I misjudged you, Administrator.
I never thought you would…”
If this were a game, Daemon would have seen Trent’s loyalty meter climbing.
“Don’t think too highly of me.” Daemon patted his shoulder.
“I just kept a card for ourselves.
Now let me sleep.”
He lay down on a nearby cot and was unconscious before his head hit the pillow.
“We should move,” Quinto said to Trent.
“Roon is a long way off.
We’ll need to take the Hydian Way, then transfer to the Corellian Run.
And I’ll tell you this now.
By the time we reach Roon, we won’t have much fuel left.
Hego knew exactly what he was doing when he sent us all the way out there.”
“No choice.” Trent nodded.
“We go.”
He climbed back into the pilot’s seat and buckled up.
The carbonite freezing technique is the same technology used in The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 1, where the protagonist freezes a troublesome captive for transport.