Zoraida Cordova - A Crash of Fate

“I’m fine,” Jules said. “I’m totally fine. I want to hear my friends play. I’m going to sleep for an entire day, and I swear if anyone wakes me up I’m going to—”

“Whoa,” Volt said, and raised a glass, looking away as he said, “I’ve never heard you lie before. This is fascinating.”

Jules scowled and was ready to tell his so-called friend what to do with his accusation when DJ R-3X paused the music and leaned into the mic.

“Volt Vescuso, there’s a Kowakian monkey-lizard in the storage room that belongs to you. Please go and retrieve it.”

Volt whirled around to look at Oga, whose tentacled lips puckered into a snarl.

“Guess I missed one,” he said, and scurried away to take care of the problem.

Neelo and Fawn went off for their sound check. Some of the farmers surrounded Jules. They hadn’t had so much excitement in years, even vicariously, though they were glad nothing would be amiss when Kat returned.

Jules sipped his drink and realized that as much as he loved his people and as much as he loved his home, he didn’t want to wake up in five years and say that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an adventure or even heard of one .

“What was the name of the girl?” Ksana’s dad asked.

“Izal Garsea. Brave one,” said a Quarren who must be new. The tentacles of his lips were covered in beer foam. “Is she around? I’d like to buy her a drink, too. I rode past Salju’s and her ship was still there.”

“She’s long gone by now,” Jules said, and he blamed the bitterness in his mouth on the drink.

The Quarren shook his head. “I just got here, kid. I promise. It’s still there.”

They all turned to him. He blinked fast. Her ship was still there.

“I have to go.” Jules stood up. His body felt possessed. They called after him, then there was a volley of hollers as everyone realized where he was going.

As he stepped out of the cantina, the scent of cloves and flowery smoke clung to him. There was a flash of white in the dark. He recognized the stormtrooper first and then the man the stormtrooper was raising a fist to.

“Hey!” Jules shouted.

The trooper whirled around. Staring into those unseeing black eyes made Jules take a step back.

“Nate, everyone’s waiting for you,” Jules said, fear making him breathe fast. The same boy he’d helped on the road earlier that day was pressed against the wall. “Oga said drinks are on her. She was asking about you.”

Jules’s eye gave an involuntary twitch. He didn’t like to lie, but he wasn’t above it to save someone’s life. He smirked and thought, Lying is a skill .

Jules considered it a test on the state of the Outpost. If the First Order knew to respect Oga’s name enough to walk away, then perhaps things weren’t so bad. Though he wondered, how long would that last? Knowing what he knew now, Jules sensed that things wouldn’t be the same around Batuu for much longer.

Without another word, the trooper turned and walked away. Jules helped Nate dust himself off.

“That’s twice I am indebted to you,” Nate said, straightening his clothes. He grabbed hold of the rough-cut clear crystal. It was one of many necklace charms that twinkled against each other and caught the dim light of the holoboards. Something in that action of toying with his necklace reminded Jules why he’d stepped out. Izzy.

“Don’t mention it.”

“The Force does move us together and apart as it needs to,” Nate said.

After that day, Jules was certain it was true. When he looked at the sky, he saw a cluster of ships taking off, soaring across the sky to the stratosphere. Among them was a ship he’d not soon forget—a triangular freighter called the Meridian .

“Yeah,” said Jules, waving good-bye to Nate and turning back to Oga’s. “It sure does.”

She wasn’t used to dressing up, but after cleaning up vermin innards in the hold, Izal Garsea needed a shower. The only clean clothes she had were a simple black dress and a capelet her mother had once bought on Cloud City.

She walked through the market. Despite the lateness of the hour, there were still stalls open, and vendors who sold street food had customers gathered around small grills. A contortionist on a colorful rug was doing tricks for a horde of children, bending himself into a position that didn’t look physically possible. He looked the way her mind felt.

What was she going to say to Jules when she saw him? What if he wasn’t even there? What if he didn’t want to talk to her? Once she’d replayed her mother’s message enough times to memorize it, she could only think of one person she wanted to tell about it.

When she rounded a corner, she saw the obelisk. After her trip from the Outpost to the ruins and back again, she wondered if what she was about to do made her look like a tourist. She hopped up on the circular stone shelf carved with symbols similar to those she’d seen in Oga’s office. Then she reached out and rubbed the obelisk for good luck. She needed it.

Izzy didn’t stop again until she stood at the door to Oga’s.

The bouncer out front, a lizard-faced Trandoshan, took one look at her and opened the door. Entering through the front was a much nicer experience than being escorted through the back. It was dim, but far nicer than any cantina she had ever been to. Yes, there was wear and blaster marks on one wall, but the exposed metal around the bar and the colorful lights around the stage and tables gave it a romantic ambiance. No one noticed her as she walked in, but she didn’t expect them to.

The droid DJ she’d only heard on the radio earlier stopped the music. “Would the owner of an XP-38 speeder move it from the parking lot? You’re going to be towed in ten seconds.”

A skinny white creature with a long neck shot up from the gambling table and ran out the door.

That was when she saw him sitting at the bar.

Jules Rakab had cleaned up. Even in the dark she could see the bruise on his cheekbone, the cut on his lower lip. He was listening to some of the farmers she’d met earlier. She wondered what Oga had done with Damar and the others. She wondered if Ana Tolla would come seeking revenge—if she wasn’t dead. Perhaps that revenge would hurt Jules all over again.

That old fear of losing people raked its claws across her back, and she turned around. She couldn’t breathe. The smoke was too much. He would reject her. He would—

“Would Izal Garsea please come to the bar for a celebratory drink?” DJ R-3X said over the mic. Feedback and distortion made everyone cringe. “That’s it! No more special requests for the night.”

She could feel all eyes on her even before she turned around.

When she finally did, she told herself to be brave. She’d raced across Batuu to deliver a package to the Resistance. She’d stopped a chemical attack. She’d kissed a boy under three suns and two moons. She’d heard her mother speak again. She’d lived a thousand lives since her parents died, but she had never chosen to stay instead of run.

As she walked through the throng of bodies, they parted to make her way a little easier. Every step felt like wading across a wide sea. But she would do it because on the other side waited Julen Rakab.

They stood facing each other.

“This would be a lot easier without an audience,” she said.

“Nothing with you is easy, Garsea,” Jules said, the corner of his lip quirking as the giant, hairy bartender slid two drinks in front of them. They glittered with gold specks.

He handed her one glass and raised the other. Everyone in the bar was turned toward them.

“To Izal Garsea,” Jules said. His voice was confident and carried across the entire cantina. “Who saved a lot of lives tonight.”