A Crash of Fate Read online

  The boy showed no fear of the creature, only opened his eyes wider and turned to his mother. “Cool. Can we get him, too? Can we please, please, please?”

  He was the oldest of the three, no more than five standard years by the size of him. The other two, twins, wrapped themselves around each of their mother’s legs and whimpered, “Mama, no! He will eat our new friendo!”

  “He will not!” the older kid snapped, ready to wrap his tiny hands around the cage bars.

  Izzy thought she saw fear in the clerk’s narrow black eyes. He held credits in one hand and a small cage in the other, so he was too occupied to yank the kid back, and so was the mother.

  It was Jules who swooped in and grabbed the boy as the fyrnock bit at the space where the kid’s hand had been. “Easy there, bud.”

  The mother was slender, with brown hair braided around her head and adorned with gold thread. Her clothes were rippling silk, and delicate pearls dotted her ears and circled her wrists. Everything about her seemed soft, and as she took her child back from Jules, Izzy saw a wealth of patience in her wide brown eyes.

  “Oh, thank you,” the mother said, pulling her son to her.

  “But I want a fry rock,” the boy whined, and Izzy was ready to run and hide as his trembling lip showed signs of impending waterworks.

  Jules threw up his hands as if to say, Fry rocks are no big deal. “I’m sure Volt wouldn’t steer you wrong, kid. What do you have in there?”

  The clerk brightened at the interruption. His thick, square eyebrows rose. “Puffer pig, only four months old and sweet as your own children.”

  Jules got down on one knee to be eye level with the kids. They turned to him like he was some great keeper of knowledge.

  “Did you know that puffer pigs have an incredibly powerful sense of smell for metals?” Jules tapped the youngest kids on their noses. “I bet you and your brothers can let them loose in your yard and dig up all kinds of treasures.”

  “Like pirates?” the older boy asked.

  Jules glances up at Izzy, and try hard as she could, she could not repress the laugh that bubbled from her lips.

  “Pirates that bathe their skins and brush their teeth and drink their milk,” their mother said.

  The smaller kids made a face and chimed, “I hate milk.”

  “Thank you, Volt. Rising moons to you,” their mother said.

  She carried the cage as the older boy wrangled his twin brothers. Volt hurried over to embrace Jules. They clapped each other on the back like they hadn’t seen each other in months.

  “Wasn’t expecting to see your ugly mug around here today,” Volt said, letting go of Jules to look at Izzy. He rubbed a hand across the shiny skin of his bald scalp.

  “Good run today?” Jules asked his friend.

  Volt growled. “Until those blasted bantha brains nearly started a riot. Every time I see one—”

  Jules squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “Easy, now.”

  Volt took a second to focus, the veins on his neck throbbing as he did some kind of meditation. Izzy looked away to give him a bit of privacy. As she took careful steps between the cages and crates of chittering creatures, Izzy noticed the scarring on the left side of Volt’s face, the marks pink against his otherwise light-brown skin.

  “And you brought me a new client. How kind of you, Jules.” Volt, recuperated from his spurt of rage, approached Izzy the way one might approach a curious bird one was trying to lure into a cage. With the smirk of a very charming feline, Volt looked like the kind of vendor who always made a sale—though Izzy was positive he’d be disappointed to learn the reason they were there.

  “Izzy, and sadly I’m not a client,” she said, and held out her hand in greeting. He took up her hand in both of his, and the surprise of cold metal joints against her skin made her jump. When she looked down she saw that the pinky and ring ringer of his right hand had been replaced by two mechanical digits. That kind of surgery was common, but Izzy imagined the procedure for replacements with synthskin would be harder to come by in the Outer Rim. Although, what did she know? Perhaps he preferred his hand that way.

  “You’re breaking my heart already,” Volt said, his deep voice welcoming. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in a critter? Everyone needs a pet. Perhaps a tooka cat. You’re a pilot, aren’t you? I’m sure my lovely Kishka here would make sure you never have another rodent problem no matter what corner of the galaxy you find yourself in, though I do hope you come back and visit.”

  Volt pulled back the canvas on a crate of slumbering tooka cats, their tan fur striped with black. Jules was clearly trying not to laugh. She’d had enough of tooka cats for a lifetime after the one at Salju’s.

  “How do you know I’m a pilot?” she asked.

  Volt gave a shrug and sauntered over to a glowing tank of worrts. Their bumpy skin glowed in the fluorescent blue light. “I’ve met my share of flyboys—and, er, girls. I know the look. You walk like you’d rather be soaring through the atmosphere.”

  Izzy didn’t care to be analyzed, but she didn’t buy his act for one minute.

  “Don’t listen to him, Izzy. The first time we met, he tried to unload a barrel of scale fish because he took me as part of a group of divers that had just arrived from Mon Cala.”

  Volt pressed his hands to his chest, his metal fingers tapping out a quick rhythm. His black eyes turned to Izzy, then to Jules. “Do you or do you not spend an obscene number of hours in the sinkholes swimming with the catfish.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want a tank full of them,” Jules said.

  “It’s a yes-or-no question, my friend.” The sleeves of his red tunic had what appeared to be lizards stitched on them in black thread. Izzy noticed the rough scars peeking from his collar. She’d wager he was former military, and wondered how he ended up on Batuu unloading critters on tourists. Volt gestured to Izzy. “And, my dear, are you or are you not a pilot?”

  She crossed her arms and smirked. “I am. But I don’t have a rodent problem.”

  “All of you have rodent problems.”

  “If you count mynocks getting spark drunk off my wiring,” she said. “Anyway, we have to be going. We have something that belongs to you.”

  Volt cleared his throat, amused with her. He raised a brow and said, “Is it my heart?”

  “You’re embarrassing me, friend,” Jules said, carrying the barrel over to the clerk stand. He set it on the counter.

  “You embarrassed yourself last night when you couldn’t shoot a still target, but I still have nothing but love for you.” Volt gaped at the barrel. It was leaking streaks of brown liquor that appeared to be eroding the metal. “What—Where—This was a gift.”

  A Kowakian monkey-lizard above let out a squealing laugh. It sent the other animals into a small frenzy, their own concerto of hollers and shrieks. One of them even sounded like the scream of a person. Izzy noticed the foot traffic was moving faster. Some ladies in rippling silk kept glancing back, pointing at the foremost display cage, which housed a large purple bird with a reptilian tail Izzy had never seen before.

  Volt shoved past Jules to try to entice the ladies with a sale. “Loralora bird. A rare hybrid from the jungle moon of Ketz!”

  The ladies didn’t spare him a second glance. Jules clapped Volt on the shoulder. Izzy noticed the moment Jules did a double take down the street. She frowned, and he tilted his head to the stall’s entrance. She took that to mean that they needed to leave. But what had he seen to cause that reaction?

  “I’ll see you at the cantina tonight, Volt,” Jules said. Izzy made her way to him, but Volt showed no signs of letting them go.

  “What’s your hurry?” he asked.

  “Dok-Ondar is waiting for us,” Izzy said. “And by the way, Oga said to tell you not to send her that stuff anymore.”

  “‘Stuff’?” Volt repeated, incredulously. “Come, I’ll give you both a free sample.”

  Jules grabbed hold of Izzy’s wrist, but as they were about to step out ont
o the street, Izzy realized why he was in a hurry to leave. Delta Jeet stomped against traffic, shoving people aside when they got in her way. Izzy only got a good look at her boots before, but the rest of her was just as intimidating. Cropped brown hair framed her round face, at the moment puckered into a scowl as she searched the crowd.

  It was too late. Jules and Izzy had whirled around to go back into the shop when they heard a feral-sounding “You!” shouted in their direction.

  Meaty hands grabbed Izzy by her neck and yanked her back. Delta Jeet said, “The next time you think to shoot me, you better finish the job.”

  Jules took pleasure in watching Izzy get along with Volt. He pictured her belonging in this world, in his world. That all faded when he saw Delta. He hoped they could get out of there without drawing attention to themselves.

  Then he felt Izzy wrenched from his hold.

  “I’ll mount your heads on my wall as trophies!” Delta shouted.

  Izzy threw a punch, but Delta didn’t seem to register it. Izzy winced and ducked as Delta swung her arm around. The woman was used to fighting in the Galma vicinity, and Jules could already see the blood that would follow.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Volt shouted, and reached for the upturned cage where the loralora bird flapped around wildly. “Take this outside! You’re scaring the animals, for sky’s sake.”

  Jules had to do something. The animals were restless, hissing and growling and snapping their teeth. Curious passersby were crowding the exit, sticking out their necks and gasping as Izzy fell into the fyrnock cage. Jules knew Volt would forgive him for what he was about to do—or rather, he hoped.

  He pulled the pins keeping the cages locked and unraveled the ties that housed the orange-and-white momongs. The first one to fly out was the loralora bird, its reptilian prehensile tail swinging at Delta’s head, momentarily blinding her.

  “Izzy!” Jules shouted.

  She stepped over Volt, who was hunched over trying to protect a petrified dokma from getting its shell trampled as the crowds began to swarm closer. Mynocks leapt onto Delta and others, their leathery wings wrapping around her head. She fell into the melee.

  Jules ran ahead and barreled into bodies, trying to apologize on his way out. Behind them creatures hissed. Birds took off, finding freedom through the gaps of the canvas roof.

  “This way!” he shouted, running past Jewels of Bith and Kat Saka’s Kettle. For the first time in years, he’d taken a wrong turn in the alleys. The whole day felt like wrong turns. But they were so close to Dok’s. They rounded a corner and he’d never been happier to see the den.

  Jules slammed his fist on the door. “Tap! It’s me.”

  He could hear Delta in the distance, and Volt, too. All right, perhaps Jules’s friend would not forgive him any time soon.

  The cool air of the shop hit him square in the face. Tap did not look impressed by the sweaty, dirty sight of them, but the kid stepped aside and let them pass.

  “Took you long enough,” Tap muttered.

  Jules was almost glad. Tap needling him was the most normal part of his day. Izzy crossed the room and sank against the wall of the mezzanine to catch her breath. Tap glanced back and forth between them. Jules had never taken so long to go on a simple errand, but it was anything but a simple day.

  “Dok back yet?” Jules asked.

  “I closed up because I’m not authorized to price anything.”

  Jules patted the boy on his shoulder. “That was wise, Tap.” He removed the payment Oga had given him and handed it to the boy.

  Without Dok moving around the den making sure every item was polished, dusted, and meticulously arranged in an order that only seemed to make sense to him—it felt abandoned and strange.

  “Has your contact said anything?” Jules asked Izzy.

  She reached into her backpack and withdrew the circular holocomm. When she tried it, a blue light flickered before blurring into static. It might as well have been a coaster from the cantina.

  “There’s that,” Izzy said, tossing it back in the pack.

  “This doesn’t make sense.” Jules stood at the center of the den. His eyes scanned the display cases to see if anything had been moved or taken, but except for Tap’s tinkering, nothing was out of place. Jules grunted his frustration. Izzy stood and walked over to him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

  “Is there anything that feels wrong to you?” she asked.

  “Nothing’s been moved,” he said, “and Tap can attest to that.” The kid nodded in agreement.

  “Could he have been kidnapped?” Izzy asked.

  “Yesterday I would have told you that would be impossible, but after today? I wouldn’t rule it out.” Jules couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something. When he got to the den that morning, he hadn’t been worried. Dok was Dok, and he did things his own way.

  He ran up the steps where Dok’s desk was situated and went over everything with a sharper eye. Why hadn’t he thought to look more closely before? Because he’d been ready to come and go, and because Izzy had been waiting for him. He didn’t think Dok would leave the shop unattended for so long.

  Dok’s desk held wide-open ledgers in languages that Jules couldn’t read. He wished he had Volt’s knack for languages, but it was Basic, some Huttese, and enough Ithorian to communicate with Dok. Under any other circumstances, he would never disturb Dok’s space. With his index finger, he closed the metal binder. Beneath that was a map of Batuu scrawled on a beige canvas scroll. Dok was old-fashioned in that he still used parchments when everyone else used holomaps. Jules recognized the Outpost, the farms, and beyond the river gorge, the outskirts of town and cenotes near the ruins. An old tome was on the edge of the desk, something wedged between the pages. When Jules flipped it over, he found a spoon in the middle. That belonged to the cup of green spiced tea that was barely touched.

  “It’s like he meant to come back,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He stepped around the desk and imagined Dok sitting there. “I mean it was like he was sitting here about to drink his tea. He doesn’t put anything in it, but he stirs it. I don’t drink tea, so I don’t know why you’d need to stir it, but maybe it’s an old Ithorian thing.”

  “Sure,” Izzy said, encouraging his train of thought. “Say more things like that. What does he do after drinking his tea?”

  “He gives out assignments to his apprentices. But no one showed up today. That’s why Tap came to fetch me,…But he didn’t give us assignments. He left a scrap of paper. I thought it was strange, but Dok’s a strange one. Tap, did Dok hand you the list today?”

  Tap shook his head. “He was still writing it when I left. I figured I’d impress him and get started without being asked to.”

  Jules remembered wanting to earn Dok’s trust and respect as a kid. Dok liked to test the way his apprentices handled different obstacles—rude customers, swindlers, even someone bold enough to try to rob the place. Tap was still too young to be put through those trials. But Jules couldn’t shake the troubling sensation that had itched its way beneath his skin. He turned to look at the closed door to Dok’s back rooms.

  The metal was scuffed, but it had always been. The automatic sensors had been disabled long before because Dok paced the length of the mezzanine so much.

  “What’s behind there?” Izzy asked from the main level.

  “Safe rooms,” Tap told her.

  Jules punched the door lock and it hissed open. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have dared. But he had a feeling. He turned to look over his shoulder at Tap and Jules. “Dok wouldn’t leave this unlocked if he was stepping out.”

  Izzy and Tap scrambled up the steps and flanked him.

  “What are you thinking, Jules?” Tap asked.

  He didn’t have a complete answer. He went through what he knew. Dok’s walking stick was missing. His morning tea was untouched. His comlink was left behind. His radio wasn’t turned on to listen to the Outpost broadcas
ts. Jules took a step forward.

  “We’re not supposed to go in there,” Tap warned.

  “Trust me, I know,” Jules said, nerves fraying. “But maybe there’s something back here that might give us a clue.”

  His stomach clenched as he led the way into the dark back room that held Dok’s safes, and beyond that his sleeping quarters. What if the reason why everything appeared normal in the den, at first glance, was because the real problem was back there? Dok was invaluable to the Outpost for trade, for work. He was a fixture, as much as the jagged old stone foundations and towering spires. But he had enemies.

  “Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge to settle?” Izzy asked.

  Tap and Jules looked at each other and chuckled. They could think of several someones.

  “Yeah, but his last assassination attempt missed,” Tap said.

  Snooping around the dimly lit space felt wrong to Jules, but he didn’t have another choice. The back room was filled with stacked crates and bins packed with items that needed to be cleaned and repaired. Dok’s sleeping area was behind a curtain. Jules held his breath as he pulled one panel to the side. He huffed a breath of relief.

  “What were you expecting?” Izzy asked, her green eyes amused.

  “A body I’d have to explain to Oga,” Jules muttered, but wished he hadn’t brought up the crime boss. He still didn’t know what she’d told Izzy. Right now he had to focus.

  Izzy crossed the room. She retraced their steps from the entrance and back. Her hand rested on the large safe room door.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m just trying to think—” She cut herself off and tapped her fingers on the surface. “If I wanted to get to Dok, I wouldn’t do it in the den where I could leave evidence. Maybe he was moved. I still say kidnapping.”

  “But there’s no sign of struggle back here,” Jules said.