Zoraida Cordova - A Crash of Fate

“You’ll find everything is on the way around these parts,” Jules said, and winked. He never winked. Why had he winked? He cleared his throat and kept going. “Lucky for you I’m the best tour guide the Outpost has to offer. Come with me on my runs.”

She considered him with those bright green eyes, the yellow flecks like the golden lichen that only grew on the black spires of Batuu. “All right.” He didn’t miss the way she took in the rest of him, a smirk playing on her lips as she lifted a finger and motioned around her face. “But you might want to—uh—clean up the blood on your chin.”

Tap chortled in his corner, and Jules climbed up to the mezzanine of the den and found a fresh rag. He poured water from one of the canteens and checked his reflection in the foggy glass case that housed blue Oshiran sapphires. Ithorians weren’t exactly vain creatures, so there weren’t mirrors to go around. When he was sure he wasn’t a bloodied mess, he dumped the rag in a waste bin that would need to be emptied.

Dok’s work area was the kind of organized chaos that only made sense to the Ithorian, but it felt like something was missing. Though it did strike Jules as strange that Dok had left his comlink behind. It rested at an angle beside the giant magnifying glass and stacks of orders. Jules felt the urge to push the gold and silver beads of the abacus but knew better than to touch anything on the desk without permission. Rumor had it that Dok had a collection of fingers and digits of those who’d angered him. It was then that Jules noticed something he hadn’t when he’d rushed up there. Under the workstation was an overturned metal figurine of a goddess. Jules doubled back a few steps and found the empty shelf where she belonged.

The carved walking stick the Ithorian carried around was gone, and the door that led to Dok’s offices was closed, which meant Dok had definitely stepped out. Though it had been a while since his last job, Jules knew Dok was particular about the way everything was placed in his shop. Perhaps he’d knocked the statue over or it had fallen and he was in too much of a rush to right it. Jules made sure the dancing goddess, which was said to give great fortune to its owner, was propped up and facing the entrance of the office again as she was supposed to.

Jules hopped off the mezzanine and waved at Tap once before following Izzy outside. Dozens of people walked in opposite streams, filling the streets with early-morning chatter. Even there he could smell the simmering food from the market.

He led her to where he’d parked his speeder beside Tap’s bike and the dozens of crates that were always coming and going with Dok’s shipments. He stowed his pack in the cockpit, and Izzy did the same.

“It’s not much,” he told her, “but it rides like a dream. I bought it for three hundred credits off a farmer who’d come here from Tatooine. You should have seen it. It was missing the windscreen and the side panels. But I spent weeks digging through the salvage yard. Retrofitted it with new deluxe turbine engines.”

“It’s great, Jules,” she said. “Do you remember when we were little and would look for rocks shaped like speeders to pretend to race?”

He was surprised that she remembered that. “Unlucky for you, the year after you left, my sister and I got a used flight simulator.”

“I remember you always wanted to fly.” She tied her hair back and jumped in the speeder.

Jules followed suit and took off, still feeling like he was holding his breath. As he navigated through the traffic lanes that would take them to Salju’s, he stole a glance at Izzy.

She turned her head to the side as if caught watching him first. Warmth spread across his cheeks, though it could also be the rising heat of the day.

“I thought you’d have left the first chance you got,” she said. “You always said you would.”

He gripped the wheel tighter. Haal’s words reverberated through his mind, growing the seeds of doubt that had always been there. But he didn’t want that to ruin this moment with Izzy. It didn’t matter why he’d never left Batuu.

“It never felt like the right time,” he said. “For a while I kept saying I’d leave next season, and then the one after that. I’ve been saving credits since day one. Just this morning I was thinking about what my next move would be.”

She nodded. Did she understand, or was she being polite? The Izzy he remembered hadn’t been as tense or quiet. But then, how much had he changed in those years? He still felt like the same Jules.

“I hear you. I was at the academy on Eroudac. Small Mid Rim world. But it didn’t take,” Izzy said. “What’s your next move going to be, Jules?”

Next move? Before he could answer, his heart sank. A whirring noise erupted from his speeder as it came to a crawling halt, sputtering in the middle of the dirt road not halfway to Salju’s. The console flashed green and red, but at least the repulsorlift kept the speeder hovering.

“Right now?” He let out a slow breath, turned to her, and smiled. “Our only next move is to haul it.”

She jutted a thumb against her chest. “Our? Maybe you should put those muscles to good use.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “It’s good to know you’ve noticed my muscles, Izzy.” Before she was able to process what he’d said, Jules continued, “You owe me one.”

“How do you figure?”

“For breaking my very delicate nose this morning.” He hopped out, took off his jacket, and threw it on the seat, daring her with his grin.

And because there was still a fraction of the girl he knew buried under that dark exterior, she rose up to meet his challenge.

As Izzy peeled off her green leather jacket, she was grateful for something physical to keep her busy. She couldn’t very well stare at him the entire time they were together.

Her mind had reeled at the sight of him. She thought of Jules back then—a small wiry boy as thin as a reed, with too-big teeth and a high-pitched voice. He was nearly two heads taller than she was and broad-shouldered. Strong in a way that came with hard, physical work. Hadn’t he promised one day he’d catch up to her? Despite his appearance, the boy she’d known was still there. She was sure of it. Saw it in his kind smile, his flop of brown curls, and his brown eyes so dark that looking into them was like falling into a deep sea.

What she hadn’t expected was her reaction. The way she’d hugged him after bloodying his nose was a bit mortifying. She didn’t go around flinging herself at anyone. Fortunately, he’d been glad to see her. He’d remembered her, even after all those years.

Jules was the kind of handsome that made it hard for her to look at him for long. She’d tried to avert her gaze while in the shop, busying herself in a way that made her feel childish. She was eighteen. Besides, it was Jules . Julen Rakab. She repeated his name over and over in her thoughts as if to assert to herself that she hadn’t conjured a mirage. How many times had she wished she could run away to find him, angry at her parents for separating her from her best friend? Of course, those feelings had faded over time. But Batuu was a place where the past lived right alongside the present. Jules was a huge part of her past, and now he was beside her—and she had no idea how to act.

Then she realized that taking him up on his offer to see the Outpost while she waited for Dok might not be the best idea. She wanted to. But being with him would come with questions. How could she even start to fill in the blanks of their lives apart? Could she look into her old friend’s eyes and tell him everything she’d done since her parents had died? What would he think of her? Did she care? She shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. Still, when else would she return to Batuu?