The Friend
It turns out Greez is actually a pretty decent yacht pilot when he isn't blasting down sketchy hyperlanes.
Steep, sparsely-wooded hills swoop by beyond the cockpit glass as the Latero captain guides the Mantis down along a winding valley river. Anna's eyes are open as wide as they can go as she tries to drink in every last detail of the vistas before her, from the soft golden clouds in the sky above to the glimmering crystal waters racing past below. The picturesque scenery is a stark contrast to what was promised by the reddish-tan globe of desert and dust that Cantonica appeared to be from orbit.
The view is largely lost upon the rest of the crew, however.
"I don't like this one bit," Cere mutters from her usual position at the comms station. "This is the opposite of laying low."
"Relax, would ya?" Greez says over his shoulder, gesturing around him with an open hand. "This is the best place to lay low! Everyone knows what happens in Canto Bight stays in Canto Bight. Besides, these all-star luxury hotels certainly don't-"
"We're not here on vacation, Greez," Cere interjects sharply.
In the copilot's seat, Cal punches a couple of buttons on the overhead dash before Greez swats his hand away. The Jedi folds his arms over his chest, turning his seat to face the captain.
"You sure we can trust this guy of yours? There's a lot of credits on our heads."
"I'd trust this guy about as far as I trust my blaster aim," Greez replies with a chuckle, "but ain't nobody else got their fingers stuck deeper in the Empire's messy business than Hans. If anyone knows anything about your friend's flower, it'll be him."
"Won't do us much good if he just sells us out to the Inquisitors."
"Oh, he wouldn't do that." The Latero's wide sideburns wobble as he shakes his head. "Him and the Empire weren't exactly close, last I checked. Besides, he owes me a favour."
"Just promise me I won't end up as another crime lord's 'champion' by the end of all this," Cal grumbles, slumping down in his seat.
Ahead of them, the river valley opens up into a wide aquamarine bay. Large buildings with flat, domed roofs rise from the opposite shore like stacks of metallic mushrooms, gleaming silver and gold under the slanted rays of the afternoon sun. Greez guides the Mantis in low over the calm waters. As they draw nearer to the spaceport, the sky grows thick with a myriad of sleek spacecraft plated in matte and chrome. Anna frowns as she watches them pass, each seeming more extravagant than the last.
There can't be anywhere she belongs less than in this city.
"They're requesting identification," Cere says with a hand pressed to her headset. "Don't do anything stupid now, captain."
"What do you take me for?" Greez scoffs. "I know the skylane regulations like the back of my hand."
"Just fly straight. These credentials won't hold up if we get ticketed."
The towering form of the spaceport building looms ahead, blotting out the orb of the sun. Anna swallows nervously as a squadron of agile police airspeeders buzz past below them.
Greez pulls a lever on the dash and the hull shudders around them, motors whining as the ship reconfigures itself into landing mode. A long, rectangular opening appears in the wall of the previously seamless cream monolith before them.
"Clear for landing," Cere says with a sigh of relief.
The lights of the hangar interior bathe the cockpit in muted white as the Mantis comes to a rest on the brushed-steel hangar floor. The engines spin down in unison with the hiss of the extending exit ramp.
"Keep your eyes sharp out there," Cere orders sternly. "I'll hold the fort until you get back."
"Stealth mode, boys 'n girls," Greez calls, hopping down from the pilot's seat and pulling a heavy hooded jacket over his stout figure.
Cal slips a respirator of dull orange metal over his face with a soft click before raising the hood on his poncho. BD-1 clambers onto his back, nestling in like a small rectangular knapsack.
Anna ties a bandanna of black cloth over her own mouth and nose. She pulls the tattered edge of her cloak's hood down in front of her eyes, tucking her pigtails out of sight as she draws the cloak tightly over her shoulders. A bummer she lost her helmet—this is probably the one place where the rose gold would have fit right in.
Greez leads them down the ramp and onto the hangar floor. Two skeletal droids with gold-plated bodies and round heads approach the ship, their hands politely folded before them.
"Sam Prydell, rest assured your Latero Spaceworks S-161 is in good hands during your stay with us." The droid's voice is deep and melodious.
"Hey, keep your lasers off my ship, you hear?" Greez barks with a raised finger. "Don't you touch her."
The droids halt in their tracks immediately with sweeping, mechanical bows.
"As you wish, Mister Prydell. Enjoy your stay in splendiferous Canto Bight."
"Yeah, yeah…"
Greez brushes past the service droids and strides toward the elevator on the opposite end of the hangar. Anna eyes the droids warily as she hurries to follow. Just how much is the bounty on their heads? Droids need credits too, right? Her fingers twitch toward the pistol holstered under her shawl as she backs into the elevator. Only when the doors close over the droids' emotionless eyes does she allow herself to relax.
"Never liked those things," Greez mutters under his breath as they begin their descent.
BD-1 chirps indignantly from Cal's back.
The elevator slows smoothly to a halt and the doors open with a soft ding. Anna gasps at the sight awaiting her.
Spotless streets of polished stone meet the elegantly flowing walls of the buildings framing them, each seeming taller than the last. The streets themselves vy for space against each other, twisting and turning in countless climbing stairways and bridges. The city rises in the distance like the layers of a giant cake, topped by a plaza bathed in brilliant yellow lights in front of a massive stadium.
"Take it all in, kid. Welcome to the filthiest place in the galaxy," Greez says out of the corner of his mouth. He claps Anna on the shoulder. "Come on, Hans lives this way."
Anna feels her apprehensions melt away as they dive into the throng of vacationers outside the spaceport. She can't help but get caught up in the crowd's excitement as exotic music drifts through the air and foreign languages buzz in her ears. She finds herself giggling at the flamboyant displays of fashion on the people milling around her. What are their stories? Where did they come from? She can almost pretend she's one of them, with some mysterious, fantastical history of her own.
An urgent tug on her hand pulls her back to reality.
"Stay close, Anna," Cal says in a voice muffled through his respirator.
Just like that, she's an orphan girl again.
They slip into a narrow alley, and suddenly the encroaching walls of the surrounding buildings become a maze. The captain leads them through a dizzying labyrinth of side streets, doubling back and turning in seemingly random directions. Soon, she's hopelessly lost.
"Um, guys, do we know where we're going?"
"Not far now, trust me!" Greez replies from ahead. "Just a few more blocks, uh… this way."
As they venture further from the vibrant main road, the number of passers-by dwindle until only their own footsteps are left echoing off the empty walls. Turning another corner, Anna's feet slow as the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Something isn't right. Glancing over at Cal, she finds him staring intently down the alley with a hand hovering over the hilt of his lightsaber.
"Greez?" Cal calls out in a wary half-whisper.
The Latero is staring up at a featureless grey wall about half a block down the street. Carefully, he raises one of his hands to touch the gleaming metal surface.
The instant Greez's fingers make contact, the wall explodes outward in a blur of movement. Two hulking forms unfold onto the street, knocking the captain roughly to the pavement. Blazing red eyes glower down on Greez's prone form as the huge cannon barrels emerge from beneath sliding plates.
"Unauthorized," intones a gutteral mechanical voice.
There's a flash of green as Cal's lightsaber hums to life. Anna's own pistol is in her hand in an instant as she backs away from the huge security droids. She grits her teeth as she flicks the switch to lethal mode. She'll be lucky if her bolts even scratch the paint on those things.
"Hans, Hans, it's me!" Greez shouts, tearing his hood off in a panic. He shields his face from the glare of the droids' ocular sensors.
The droids do nothing except adjust several of their cannons toward Anna and Cal with robotic precision, bathing them in the fine red grid projected by their targeting sensors.
"Time for plan B," Cal growls, igniting the other end of his lightsaber and spinning it in a blur as he crouches low to the ground.
"You have two of those?" Anna exclaims incredulously.
Before Cal has the chance to attack, however, the laser grids disappear. Both of the massive droids freeze, the cannons adorning their rectangular bodies folding inward and disappearing from view with a chorus of soft clicks. Red eyes flash blue as the droids turn in unison to face toward each other.
Anna twitches the barrel of her blaster nervously between the twin metal forms, still expecting them to open fire at any moment. Instead, a hologram almost the height of the wall fizzles into focus between the droids. It's the face of a human man, his coiffed hair and meticulously trimmed sideburns framing sharp features contorted into a welcoming smile.
"Greez Dritus. What a pleasant surprise! And I see you've brought friends."
The Latero in question pushes himself off the ground, dusting off his shoulders with an angry huff.
"That was a rather unpleasant surprise, I'll tell you what! You expecting a clone army to come knocking?"
The man in the hologram looks embarrassed at Greez's words.
"My apologies for the rough reception, I must admit I do not usually expect guests. But where are my manners? Come in, let's speak somewhere more comfortable."
The hologram flickers out and a seam immediately appears down the middle of the wall behind it. The smooth steel surface slides apart in a rectangular slit at least two storeys tall, revealing the backlit edges of polished stairs shining from the shadows beyond.
"Rough reception, I'll say…" Greez mumbles under his breath as he makes for the entrance.
Cal extinguishes the blades of his lightsaber, hesitantly returning it to his hip. He turns back and gives Anna a small nod before following the captain into the darkness of the doorway. The moment Anna's own feet pass the threshold, the wall seals behind them with a whisper of air.
"Okay, that's creepy," she whispers in the sudden deafening silence.
Slipping her pistol back under her cloak, she takes a step onto the stairs. Only when her foot falls straight through the floor does she realize that what she thought was an ascending staircase is actually the reflection of a descending staircase on a black, mirrored ceiling. Flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to regain balance, she narrowly stops herself from tumbling into the darkness.
"Giant killer droids, invisible staircases… do you think this place could scream 'evil lair' any louder?" she grumbles, gingerly toeing the next stair in case it also disappears under her boot.
"This guy definitely has way too many credits," Cal mutters back in agreement.
They continue the rest of their descent in tense silence.
The landing opens out into a wide, spacious lounge. A low couch of grey wood flows out of the floor off to one side, wrapping around a thin crystal aquarium filled with strange creatures with pulsing yellow bodies. A bar is laid out on the other end of the room, the wall behind the sleek countertop adorned with delicate bottles of various glowing fluids—most of which Anna would easily have mistaken for ion fuel in any other setting. The entire space is lit subtly from below by lighting strips tucked under the raised edges of the long flooring tiles, splashing streaks of sterile light onto the walls and ceiling. Like the stairwell, the walls are a black mirror finish, granting the illusion that the room stretches forever into the darkness in every direction.
As Anna watches, a doorway opens silently in the wall opposite the staircase. A blank-faced protocol droid of the same mirror polish as its surroundings waddles into view, fixing the visitors with its unblinking yellow eyes.
"Welcome, Greez Dritus and guests, to the estate of the esteemed Master Hans Westergaard," it states in a soft, feminine tone.
"Enough of that, five-ten," a gentle voice orders from beyond. "They're friends, not customers."
The man from the hologram emerges from behind the humanoid droid, dressed in a high-necked turquoise suit with tails that reach the back of his knees. His polished black shoes strike the floor crisply, gleaming as they catch the light emanating from the wooden floorboards.
This must be Hans Westergaard. For some reason, Anna expected someone older—this guy can't be more than thirty.
"Of course, sir," the droid answers smoothly, turning and walking behind the bar.
Hans Westergaard extends his arms toward Greez as if to invite a hug.
"Greez Dritus! It's been too long, my friend."
"Been a while," Greez agrees with a stiff nod.
"And who are these fellows? I don't believe we've been introduced."
The man's emerald eyes flit over Cal and BD-1 before catching Anna's gaze for a second longer than she likes. Greez grimaces at the question, but Hans chuckles.
"Oh, you know I jest, Mister Dritus. I know who they are, of course."
Cal tenses visibly as Hans steps forward in a single swift stride, extending a black-gloved hand.
"A pleasure to finally meet you, Master Jedi. That was quite the display back at the entrance! I'll admit, I was afraid I would have to put in an order for new security droids."
Cal glances down at the hand and back up at the man, finally accepting the handshake. Hans nods indulgently before turning his attention to Anna. As the man steps toward her, she can't stop herself from taking a tiny step back.
"And this must be the newest member of the crew. Imperial communications mentioned something about a human girl fighting alongside the infamous Cal Kestis on Sakiya." Hans fixes her with his sharp gaze as he offers his hand. "What's your name, dear?"
Something about the man's unnaturally perfect smile sets Anna's teeth on edge. She takes the gloved hand gingerly, shaking once before letting go as quickly as possible.
Hans laughs, showing neat rows of pearly teeth.
"Very well, I won't pry."
The protocol droid shuffles back up to Hans with a soft whirring of joints, carrying a silver tray laden with crystal glasses.
"Would the guests care for a drink?" it asks in a pleasant tone, presenting the tray.
Hans retrieves one of the half-filled glasses, raising an eyebrow when no-one else so much as moves.
"No, I think we're good. Thanks," Cal replies quietly.
"Suit yourselves," Hans says with a shrug, downing his drink in one swallow. Placing the glass carefully back down on the tray, he gestures over his shoulder with two fingers. "Leave us, five-ten."
The droid walks slowly out of the lounge, still carrying the tray. The doorway closes behind its chrome figure, completing the illusion of the infinite plain once more.
"My apologies, Mister Dritus, I know how you feel about droids. I really ought to hire an assistant. A human one, or at least a Twi'lek." Hans gestures toward the couch. "Please, everyone, make yourselves at home! You must be tired from your journey."
Greez plops himself down on the couch. Haltingly, Cal and Anna follow suit. Anna keeps her eyes fixed firmly on Hans, watching as the man walks across the lounge with carefully measured steps and seats himself, turning to face the captain.
"So, how is Cere Junda faring these days?" Hans crosses a leg over the other, leaning back in his seat. "If I recall, your charter with her ended quite some time ago, did it not?"
"Cere's fine," Greez answers curtly. "Look, I'm gonna cut to the chase. I need a thing traced. A symbol, can't find it in the ship database."
Hans raises a trimmed eyebrow.
"Ah, it seems I spoke too soon—you are here on business, after all." He smirks, and for the first time the expression seems real. Pressing the tips of his fingers together, he uncrosses his legs and leans forward. "Well, you should know my services aren't free, Mister Dritus. What are you offering in exchange?"
Greez's eyes narrow slightly.
"You still owe me for that time on Tatooine, Hans. You do this, consider us square."
"Hmm. Let's see this symbol of yours, then."
Greez glances to Cal, who nods.
"Show him, BD."
The little droid clambers onto Cal's shoulder, the smaller of his eyes lighting up as he projects a flickering image of Anna's drawing into the air in front of Hans. As Hans stares at the floating symbol, his eyes widen by the barest fraction. A slight furrow forms in the man's immaculate brow.
"Oh, this will make us more than even, Mister Dritus," he murmurs. His gaze shifts from the hologram back to Greez. "Where did you even find this?"
"What does it matter? Can you trace it or not?"
Hans holds Greez's eyes for a long moment, pursing his lips. Slowly, he starts to nod, scratching his chin with a knuckle.
"This will cost you, Mister Dritus. More than my one favour can afford, I'm afraid." Hans rises smoothly from the couch, sweeping his hands to clasp them behind his back. "Let's discuss this somewhere more appropriate."
Hans waves his hand in the air and a different doorway opens in the wall behind the aquarium. He steps through without a backwards glance.
Greez pushes himself off the couch, cursing under his breath. Anna shares a look of confusion with Cal as they jump up to scramble after Hans and the captain. The hallway through the doors has a markedly different look compared to the lounge, with walls of matte steel lit brightly from above and below by glowing tiles of frosted glass. The doorway closes behind her and she feels a strange sensation, as if she's slightly heavier than usual. The doors at the other end of the corridor open right as Hans reaches them, revealing a thin railing overlooking a room so large it has its own breeze.
It's then that she realizes this isn't a hallway. It's an elevator.
Stepping out onto the balcony, her mouth drops open.
Long catwalks stretch across the enormous room, suspended from the ceiling by thin beams of crackling blue energy. A dark, polished floor gleams far below like the surface of a tranquil sea, split into a neat grid by criss-crossing lighting strips. Arranged within the grids is the most extensive assortment of weaponry that Anna has ever seen: racks upon racks of folded combat droids, gargantuan cannons the size of starfighters, clusters of vibrating mines suspended in a rippling force fields, wicked-looking missiles of every shape and size, even an entire TIE fighter positioned in the far corner. Sleek silver droids glide between the displays making inscriptions on translucent datapads.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" Hans's voice sounds from further along the railing, booming in the cavernous chamber. "And this is just the showroom!"
"You're an arms dealer," Cal states. Anna can hear the scowl in his voice.
"My father was an arms dealer. I am much more."
Hans continues his brisk pace until he reaches another set of doors where the balcony meets the far wall. Retrieving a cylindrical piece of metal from his breast pocket, he inserts it into a small port in the doorframe. The doors part with a blast of compressed air.
"Through here, if you please."
The room beyond is strikingly simple compared to what Anna's seen of the rest of the estate. A single wide desk sits in the center of the floor, its surface a glossy black that matches the faces of the hexagonal tiles that make up the wrap-around walls. As she steps past the threshold, the doors leap shut behind her with another hiss of air.
She resists the urge to try to pry them back open.
"You take us up here just so we could have a standing conversation in a smaller room?" Greez asks dryly.
"Hardly."
Hans places his key down onto the desk.
Immediately, every wall around them comes to life with points of light that leap off the black surfaces and into the air, illuminating the previously dim chamber in a pale blue aura. Anna feels a rush of vertigo as the holograms flit about the room like fireflies, swarming and configuring into a perfect replica of the Mantis atop the desk.
"I really do admire Cere Junda's work," Hans says as he walks around the other side of the desk, the light of the holograms reflected in his eyes. "On the run for thirteen years, equipped with not much more than a glorified subspace transceiver, and yet she's managed to compile what is probably the most complete record of Imperial operations outside of the Empire's own databases." The corner of the man's mouth twitches. "Well, except for my own, of course."
Hans smooths back a few strands of his hair, and for the first time Anna notices the thin strip of metal grafted to the skin just above his ear. Three points of light flash along the implant and suddenly the image of the Mantis explodes outward, reconfiguring into the image of the flower.
But this image isn't her sketch—it's sharper, more precise, with a jagged blur obscuring the lower portion of the symbol. Her heart thuds in her chest.
She finds Hans studying her from across the table. The man's smile widens.
"As my favour to you, Mister Dritus, I will tell you this. It is no surprise that even Cere Junda's database contains no record of this symbol. What you see before you is the only data I have been able to salvage on the subject myself, and this is Republic-era." There's a glint in Hans's eyes as he lets the words sink in. "However, if you are keen on this pursuit of yours, I can point you in the right direction. For a price."
Greez folds both pairs of arms over his chest with a huff.
"Name it." It's Cal who speaks.
"The girl." Hans's voice is impassive, as if he were requesting nothing more than a glass of water.
It takes Anna a whole two seconds to realize he's talking about her.
"Excuse me?" she sputters.
"That's not happening," Cal states instantly. Hans raises his eyebrows.
"You misconstrue my intentions, Mister Kestis. I wish no harm to the girl—quite the opposite, in fact." Hans meets Anna's eyes again. "Clearly, it's you who's most interested in this symbol. Is it something tied to your past? Are you a refugee? An orphan, perhaps?"
Something about the way Hans looks at her makes her feel like he's looking straight through her.
"I am so very curious to get to the bottom of your story, my dear. Let's discover it together."
He extends a hand. Anna shrinks away.
"I don't know what you think you know about me, but I don't need your help," she says lowly.
"Oh, but you clearly do. You're here, aren't you?" Hans chuckles, gesturing to the others in the room. "Come now, why not cut the middlemen? What have these people done for you except get you in trouble? I'm offering you everything I have—my resources, my assets, my knowledge. This flower, this Crocus is only the beginning. Without my help, what hope do you have of finding the answers you seek?"
The Crocus. Somehow the name just sounds right. Anna stares back at Hans, frozen. There's a strange intensity to the man's gaze, an obsessive gleam that seems to reach toward her like a physical presence.
How much does he really know about her past? She clenches her jaw beneath her bandana.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm fine where I am."
Hans holds her gaze for a few seconds longer before he drops his hand with a sigh.
"Very well."
In an instant, the intensity is gone, replaced once again by that perfect, unreadable smile.
"In that case, there's something else that you can do for me, Mister Dritus." Hans's implant flashes again and the holograms reform into a scattered starmap. "I must admit, I know very little about this symbol of yours. Whatever it is, the Empire was quite thorough in their efforts to hide it. But there is one place you could try looking. Several, actually."
The starmap zooms out until it encompasses most of the Outer Rim. Three points of pulsing red appear at the fringes.
"As you know, the Emperor ordered most of the Republic-era records purged when he first came to power. But only a fool would destroy centuries of aggregated knowledge, and the Emperor is certainly no fool. There are databases containing complete copies of the Jedi Archives scattered across the galaxy, their locations known only to a handful of high-ranking Imperial officers… and me."
Cal takes a sharp breath through his respirator. Hans walks around the side of the desk, his eyes never leaving the holotable.
"That's where you fellows come in. You see, I've had my eye on these archives for quite some time, but covertly breaking into an Imperial space station is regrettably still above the capabilities of my droids."
"That's where we come in?" Greez asks, stroking his chin.
"Naturally. Secure me a backdoor into the mainframe, and whatever information you find there is yours to use as you desire."
Hans taps on the desk and a touchpad materializes on its surface. With a flurry of presses, a small drawer slides open near his hand. Reaching inside, he retrieves a long pen-shaped device encrusted with exposed computer chips, offering it to Greez.
"This scomp drive contains the current coordinates of the nearest database, as well as a set of Imperial credentials to get you inside. The fun part is it also contains a worm that performs a brute-force decryption algorithm while simultaneously streaming the data to me in batched transmissions. Of course, that leaves all the data nice and visible for you as well. All you have to do is plug it in."
Greez snatches up the device, scrutinizing it.
"How are you sure this is gonna work?" he asks warily.
"I'm not." Hans shrugs nonchalantly. "But I guarantee it's better than whatever you can come up with from scratch. Have you no faith in an old friend?"
"Hmph. Fine. Deal." Greez pockets the scomp drive and turns toward the door. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"Hurry along now," Hans calls. "You should hurry, by the way. The space stations make periodic jumps, and I have no idea where this one is going next. Five-ten will see you out."
On cue, the doors hiss open to reveal the chrome protocol droid.
"Follow me, Greez Dritus and guests," it intones, turning and waddling back down the balcony.
Anna makes it to the threshold before Hans speaks again.
"Oh, another thing just occurred to me that might be relevant."
She turns back to find Hans leaning over the desk, the damaged image of the Crocus illuminating the side of his face. There's a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"A name. Arendelle."
It's Hans, in space! Space!Hans