Jules had once bent down to pick up a coin, some sort of currency that must have fallen from an off-worlder’s pocket. Because he’d moved out of the way at that precise moment, he’d narrowly missed getting hit by a runaway hover-raft full of scrap metal. He’d traded the coin to Dok for a used hologame. Another time, Jules had taken a wrong turn into Smuggler’s Alley and came up on a Togruta kid getting mugged. They’d both gotten pummeled by a couple of wannabe gangsters, but he’d made a lifelong friend. Haal didn’t believe that anything had a greater meaning or purpose. For Haal, days and nights blended together because that was the order of the world and nothing more than a string of coincidences. But wasn’t coincidence just a version of fate for those who didn’t believe in anything?
Izzy Garsea herself was standing right in front of him. If he’d left the shop a minute sooner, if he had swung by the fields to wave to his sister or grabbed some grub at Cookie’s like he had wanted to do from the moment he woke up—if he’d done anything different—he might have missed Izzy entirely. Granted, perhaps it was just the Force’s way of telling him he needed to be punched in the face, but Jules was nothing if not optimistic.
Tap exchanged Izzy’s credits and handed her a sizable pouch of spira, which she then divided between the inside pockets of her jacket.
“Thanks,” she said. “I have to go pay the lady at the filling station so I don’t get stuck here tonight.”
That stung. He wondered what their home planet might look like to her. Most people didn’t see past the craggy exterior of the spires, an outpost built among dusty old ruins, and market stalls patched with canvas that never quite matched the original. But Jules loved where he came from. Was that love why he’d never left as he’d planned? He pushed the thoughts away.
“Would that be so bad?” he asked.
“It’s been a rough couple of days. My plan was to keep moving.”
“I could give you a ride back to your ship,” Jules blurted out.
“I thought you were working.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. Truthfully, he couldn’t watch her walk away without at least talking to her. Where had she gone? What had her life been like off Batuu? Why had she had a rough couple of days?
“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?
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.
They folded into the foot traffic leading to docking bay seven, carrying their heavy packs. As much as he wanted to trust Salju, he knew better than to leave a parcel anywhere it could be snatched. He’d learned to spot pickpockets after the first time he’d been robbed while buying thread for Belen. The day’s crowd was quiet, and he sensed the dwindling clientele all over the Outpost by how much louder the vendors became, trying to lure passersby into spilling their credits.
A Crash of Fate Page 6
