Zoraida Cordova - A Crash of Fate

Despite the rotten luck of his speeder malfunctioning, he didn’t seem worried. And she’d been surprised when he removed his deep red canvas jacket and practically dared her to help. She wanted to ask about the scar on his left forearm, pearly and white against tawny brown skin. What she needed to do was push harder and stop staring at him.

So she pushed the speeder with all her strength and did her best to stare at the uneven road ahead of them, lined with sheets of rock covered in patches of moss and pale grass.

“I swear, it’s like my speeder was waiting for this to happen. At least we’re halfway to the person who can get it fixed,” he said, his tone light despite the circumstance. If this had happened to her alone, she’d be furious. If she’d been with Damar, she’d have been better off just leaving the speeder and walking to her destination.

“Are there no tows in the Outpost?”

He considered this. “We could get a line from Savi and Son Salvage, but this early in the morning they’re out combing through mountains of scrap metal. And if Salju is working on your ship, she’ll be plugged in listening to that skies-awful music she broadcasts from Coruscant DJs. Tired already, Princess?”

Izzy glowered at the nickname. She snapped her head up to look at him, and he was positively grinning like a fool. “Don’t call me that.”

“If I recall,” he grunted, “you used to demand that we address you as princess.”

“That was before…I mean, only you and my father called me that.” She cringed at the little girl she’d been—demanding and kind of rude. Her mother, when she’d been around, had not humored her. Somehow, her father and Jules had let her be who she was. Most people didn’t get that luxury.

Though she missed her parents pretty much all the time, she didn’t expect that a small detail from her past would make her miss them even more. She had no extended family she knew of, no friends who’d called to send their condolences. She’d mourned them alone. But Jules remembered them.

Jules began to speak, but a pedestrian caught up beside them.

“Bright suns, young Jules!” The old Quarren male dressed in a brightly colored tunic waved as they pushed the speeder along. “Do you need assistance?”

“Not today, Mako,” Jules said, somehow flashing a genuine smile despite the sweat running down his temples. “We’re nearly there.”

Mako walked only a fraction faster than their sluggish pace. The tentacles that made up his chin had a fine layer of what looked like shimmering dust, and he carried some sort of pickax over his shoulder.

Two more beings walked by and offered help: one human woman with a heavy bundle over her shoulder and a bulbous-eyed Utai male. Jules declined on both accounts. A Dug on a low-riding speeder only stopped to mock them before taking off.

“Now there’s that Batuuan hospitality I’ve heard so much about,” Izzy said. Her arms were tired, so she turned around and pushed with her back, digging her boots into the ground. “I don’t remember this many people ever talking to my family when we lived here.”

Jules, still facing forward, glanced over at her. She could feel his eyes on her and blamed the suns for the heat on the tops of her cheeks. “Batuuans help each other. The ones who stay for years, at least. My dad used to say that it was the only way to survive. Together.”

Used to . Perhaps it was because of her own past, but she latched on to the phrase. She looked up at Jules and straightened. She forced herself to look into his eyes and say, “I’m sorry.”

He squinted against the clear skies and dusted off his hands. The speeder stalled ahead of them once again. “I’m sorry, too, Izzy.”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t.” He raked a hand through his soft mess of curls. “I had a feeling when I called you princess and you had this look about you. I figured you’d say something if you wanted to.”

A moment of understanding passed between them, like dust settling, fog rolling back to reveal the road ahead. She never talked about what happened to her parents—not to Damar, not in the short-lived friendships she’d had before that. It didn’t make sense that Jules could guess anything about her. By what? A feeling? Even she didn’t feel like she knew herself or what she wanted half the time. She wanted to both revel in that and reject the idea that someone might know her so well.

Izzy settled for avoiding it altogether. They pushed the speeder the rest of the way to Salju, whose booted feet were sticking out from under the Meridian . Izzy blinked twice, panting as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing: a blue feline creature prowling toward the girl with something metallic in its mouth.

“Look out!” Izzy shouted, and abandoned Jules and his speeder to chase off the critter.

“Izzy, wait!” Jules sprinted after her, running ahead to block her path. “He won’t hurt her.”

Salju rolled out from beneath the underside of the Meridian and shoved her goggles up. A music player slipped from her pocket and rattled to the ground. “Oy, Kuma, where’s that wrench?”

It was then that Izzy realized the creature was some sort of assistant or pet, or combination of both. It dropped the metal tool in Salju’s outstretched hand, then slinked closer to Izzy. It had blue and green stripes, talons better suited for a bird, and stark gray eyes. With its back arched and teeth bared, it hissed at her.

“Kuma does not seem to like you very much,” Salju noted, scratching her head with the wrench. She tucked it into her ponytail, then surveyed the two people standing before her. “I see you found your way easy enough, Izzy. Now you I haven’t seen in a while.” She saluted Jules with two fingers tapping on the side of her forehead.

“It finally happened, Sal.” Jules wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

Salju winced when she saw the speeder behind them. “No! You just changed the left turbine engine.”

“That’s not it.” Jules grimaced and patted the side of the speeder. “Can you take a look at it?”

Salju turned to Izzy, who already had a feeling what the mechanic was going to ask. “If Izzy here doesn’t mind?”

“It’s all right,” she found herself saying. It surprised her. There was a disconnect between her reason and her instinct. Perhaps she’d spend time with him and the spell of nostalgia would show her that they had nothing in common and their memories were nothing but days gone by, and they’d go their separate ways. Or she’d have her friend back, if only for a day. When faced with the decision, she was willing to take that chance. Besides, she wasn’t going anywhere until Dok-Ondar returned. “Jules needs the speeder for work. Can you fix it?”

Salju cracked her knuckles and said, “I’ve been known to work a mechanical miracle or two. Unless you two want to be pestered by my tooka here, I suggest you come back in an hour.”

Izzy looked at Jules, who had somehow subdued the furry creature. It nuzzled into his arms and purred, wagging its fat, short tail.

“He likes Jules enough,” Izzy said.

Salju rested her elbow on Izzy’s shoulder and winked suggestively. “Jules is easy to like.”

Izzy wanted to be offended by that, but had to reluctantly agree. She handed Salju her deposit.

“Sal’s animals have always been drawn to me,” Jules said. “I think it’s my hair. It reminds them of a nest. Now, how about that breakfast?”

Izzy’s gut squeezed when he smiled at her. Maybe she was hungry. Definitely hungry. Jules stood, and the tooka wove around his ankles. She formulated a new plan: devour much-needed food, see the Outpost with her long-lost friend, return to Dok’s, collect her money, and leave the past where it belonged.