Zoraida Cordova - A Crash of Fate

Izzy went to shake Belen’s hand, but the older Rakab sibling pulled her into a warm embrace.

“Please, please don’t tell me that my brother has roped you into one of his wild schemes.”

“I’m offended, Sister,” Jules said. “Izzy’s visiting and we’re only catching up.”

Julen Rakab was a terrible liar. Izzy almost wanted to laugh at all his tells. His eyes shifted from side to side, and his normally deep voice escalated in pitch when he said her name. He was too pure for this world, for any world probably. He scratched the back of his head to boot.

Belen’s gaze cut to the bird, then Izzy, who simply shrugged. The look they shared held an understanding that there was something more, but the woman would not pry—yet.

“Right,” Belen said, her tone underscoring that she knew her baby brother better than he knew himself. “Well, I’m working overtime today. A couple of the new hires took off this morning.”

“That seems to be going around,” Izzy said.

“Are you staying?” Shari asked Jules. “There’s plenty of topato stew left over.”

Jules rubbed a hand over the muscles of his abdomen. “If that’s all right.”

They had until the suns set, so Izzy saw no reason why not.

“I’ll be right back,” Jules said, leaving her at a table where the farm kids were congregated. Lucky flew down beside her, pecking at the small insects that crawled between wooden slats.

Izzy listened in, and found out that Shari was thirteen, as were the others, except for the Twi’lek boy who was sixteen and in charge of their little group. They were entrusted with harvesting the rows of the purple Surabat grain, which would be sweeter than the average one.

“I have the record for speed,” a Sullustan girl said. The half-circle jowls of her face split wider as she beamed with pride.

“What do you do, Izzy?” a young Gungan asked. His accent was the same as the other kids’.

She leaned forward and drummed her fingers on the table. “I’m in between jobs.”

“Then how did you get here?” the Sullustan girl asked.

“My ship. It’s called the Meridian .”

They all gasped. “You have your own ship?”

“You could work here,” the Gungan said. “Kat’s always making room for people and her farm is small, but Da says it’s going to be the biggest season yet.”

“Yes, Izzy!” Shari said. “Stay.”

There was something starry in their eyes. They were so—innocent and hopeful. It dug deep into Izzy like a bruise. When was the last time she’d felt that way? I always knew you were a little bit ruthless.

“Are you daft?” the Twi’lek boy said. “Why stay here when she could go literally anywhere in the galaxy?”

“This is our home,” Shari said, confused.

“Maybe for you,” the Twi’lek said. “Your grandparents needed somewhere to hide after the Clone Wars.”

That made Shari turn red. “Says you—”

Lucky squawked and flapped her wings. Izzy saw the argument was ready to turn ugly. Unlike in a cantina, though, she didn’t need to worry about a bunch of kids shooting the place up. She was the only one there with a blaster, after all.

“I already used to live here,” Izzy told them. Their shock was enough to settle them for the time being. “My ship has been my home for so long. It’s the only thing I have left of my parents. But it’s good to know that if I did stay, I’d have a friend. Thank you, Shari.”

That seemed to make the younger girl smile again, just in time for the Rakab siblings to return with food. Lucky took off chasing after field mice. They ate, and Izzy told them a story about the Meridian running out of fuel and being dead in space. If it hadn’t been for the Frinn Mak Traveling Circus heading to Cuyacan, she might have floated until she ran out of supplies. Belen was mortified, but the younger kids (and Jules) were amused.

As the day grew cooler, Izzy volunteered to fill some canteens for those working overtime. She walked to the well near the water tower with the Twi’lek boy named Jac Lodain.

“I don’t think you’re between jobs at all,” Jac told her as they trudged in the sun. He had the smirk of a kid who thought he knew it all. It reminded her of Damar for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve heard the whispers. There’s Resistance here.”

“You’ve got me all wrong, kid,” she said, laughing. “But you’re right about one thing. I’m not here between jobs. Or rather, a smuggler is always between jobs.”

“How’s that?”

“Well,” she said coolly, “even when you’re doing one job, you’re trying to figure out how to find the next one. So, you see, technically, you’re always between jobs.”

He seemed to like that. She’d been around enough Twi’leks to know their lekku were an extension of their emotions, and according to his, he was pleased as a Hutt counting credits. That kind of smugness was dangerous. As they filled the canteens, she realized he wanted someone to listen to him, to see him.

“Well, my mom said she heard about them.” The boy looked over his shoulder. He was trying to impress her, and she was going to let him. “She said she’s seen a couple out in the old ruins. But my da warned her to be quiet. Especially if these bucketheads are still here.”

“Your dad’s right,” she told him.

They made their way back to the long break tables. Only a handful of people remained.

Jac shook his head. “My dad and my aunt fought against the Empire. But she died. Da lost his arm. My parents brought us here. I want to be brave like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave enough to leave. To fight for something.”

She looked at him. He had energy to burn. She thought that the galaxy was so big, there would be someone out there to give him what he was looking for—a cause. Just like the people they’d seen in the Outpost before the stormtroopers put on their display.

“Fight for your family,” she said. She could not tell him what to believe in, but that was one thing she was sure of. “The ones who are blood and the ones who choose you.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Wait,” he said, “what family did you choose?”

“I still haven’t,” she said.

An alarm sounded. Izzy was about to stand and react out of worry, but the Twi’lek said, “That’s the end of the day for me and the overtime bell for the others. See you around, Izzy.”

She slapped the hand he held out as he flashed that smirk again. She decided it was less like Damar’s—kinder. “You could always choose us, you know?”

Izzy sat alone at a table and told herself that she shouldn’t get comfortable. This sort of camaraderie wasn’t real. It was liked platonic infatuation. Sometimes people like each other in the beginning, but then something went wrong. You loathe being alone. She hated to admit it, but Damar had been right.

“You seem to have made quite the impression on them,” Belen said, coming up beside Izzy. She took a seat, and they both watched the boy they had in common.

Jules was chasing the little Nautolan girl around, looking like a two-meter-tall toddler as he ran across the grass.

“Thanks,” Izzy said. Why did she feel like she wanted Belen to like her? To approve of her?

“I didn’t say it was a good thing.”

Izzy’s stomach clenched. Heat spread across her entire body. “Oh?”

“That came out wrong.” Belen sighed. “I’m sorry. But you don’t know my brother.”

Izzy wanted to argue. It was on the tip of her tongue. She knew that he was beautiful and honest and strong. She knew that he’d stuck by her even though he had no reason to. She knew that she cared about him more than she was willing to admit. But she surrendered those thoughts, because what could she truly offer Jules?