man she’d killed. But he had nothing to say to comfort her. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. He’d been through worse at Roach’s age, and if she lived, she’d be better for it. She’d be a better soldier, a better part of Twilight Company.
If she died, what did a few final hours of comfort matter?
“Roach.”
Brand’s voice was thick, but it cut through the night air. She’d lodged herself against a rock, sitting straight even through her pain.
Roach looked over at her, still silent.
“You want to know how I joined Twilight Company?”
Brand’s words caught Namir by surprise; if he’d been less ill, he might have shown as much. Roach bit her lip and nodded. She looked like a frightened child—which, Namir supposed, she was.
“I won’t repeat myself,” Brand said, “and you’ll respect my privacy.” It was a statement, not a question.
Roach nodded again. Brand spat a wad of phlegm onto the ground and began.
“I used to be a bounty hunter,” she said. “You know that. This is almost twenty years ago, not long after the Emperor took control. Not long after the Jedi died.”
Roach shook her head, frowning in confusion. Namir had heard the word
Jedi
mentioned by rebels before—they seemed to be some kind of religious warriors from before the Empire—but that was all he knew. Roach seemed equally uninformed.
“Forget it,” Brand said. “The point is, things were better then. Better than they are now. Better than they had been during the Clone Wars. People cared about the law. The Empire kept them safe.
“But the wars had done their damage. I worked Tangenine, mostly. Infrastructure there was hit bad by the Separatists and the syndicates stepped in, extorting folks in return for food, transport, basics. Imperial military tried their best, but the gangs and blackmailers still ran things below the surface.
“So they kept people like me on retainer. Empire didn’t like bounty hunters even then, but on Tangenine there were killers and smugglers to catch.
“I felt good about what I did.”
Brand’s head dipped forward, and for a short while Namir was worried she’d passed out. Finally, though, she squared her shoulders, looked into the distance, and resumed speaking.
“I don’t know when things went wrong. But as law came back to Tangenine, the Empire changed from what it was to … whatever it is we’ve got now. I brought a man in for stealing power converters and saw him jailed for life. I tracked down a gang leader, a spice dealer—the lowest of the low—and saw him pardoned because he bribed a magistrate.”
The words were simple and her tone was flat, as if she were describing horrors she didn’t want to relive. Namir saw Roach wanting to ask for more, for specifics, but she seemed to know better. Maybe she was afraid of what Brand would do if she pried.
But the pain and nausea in Roach’s face were gone.
Brand didn’t seem to notice the girl’s unasked questions. “A few years back,” she said, “I decided I needed a break. We’d finished rooting out one of the last big syndicates, and I was getting sick of the blood. Lot of people wouldn’t surrender, knowing what would happen in prison …” She trailed off, started again.
“I needed a break. So for my next job, I picked a target that would get me off Tangenine, out of the Core Worlds. Away from cities and crime and bureaucrats.”
“Captain Evon?” Roach asked.
“Captain Evon,” Brand said. “I hadn’t done much rebel hunting, but I figured it would keep me busy awhile.” A hint of a smile played across her lips.
“Tracking down Twilight Company took time,” Brand said, “but soldiers do stupid things when they’re on leave. Talk to the wrong people—”
“That’s a lesson for you,” Namir muttered in Roach’s direction, though he wasn’t sure she heard.
“—and get cozy, mention their next assignments. Wasn’t more than four months before I showed up at an open recruit on Veron
If she died, what did a few final hours of comfort matter?
“Roach.”
Brand’s voice was thick, but it cut through the night air. She’d lodged herself against a rock, sitting straight even through her pain.
Roach looked over at her, still silent.
“You want to know how I joined Twilight Company?”
Brand’s words caught Namir by surprise; if he’d been less ill, he might have shown as much. Roach bit her lip and nodded. She looked like a frightened child—which, Namir supposed, she was.
“I won’t repeat myself,” Brand said, “and you’ll respect my privacy.” It was a statement, not a question.
Roach nodded again. Brand spat a wad of phlegm onto the ground and began.
“I used to be a bounty hunter,” she said. “You know that. This is almost twenty years ago, not long after the Emperor took control. Not long after the Jedi died.”
Roach shook her head, frowning in confusion. Namir had heard the word
Jedi
mentioned by rebels before—they seemed to be some kind of religious warriors from before the Empire—but that was all he knew. Roach seemed equally uninformed.
“Forget it,” Brand said. “The point is, things were better then. Better than they are now. Better than they had been during the Clone Wars. People cared about the law. The Empire kept them safe.
“But the wars had done their damage. I worked Tangenine, mostly. Infrastructure there was hit bad by the Separatists and the syndicates stepped in, extorting folks in return for food, transport, basics. Imperial military tried their best, but the gangs and blackmailers still ran things below the surface.
“So they kept people like me on retainer. Empire didn’t like bounty hunters even then, but on Tangenine there were killers and smugglers to catch.
“I felt good about what I did.”
Brand’s head dipped forward, and for a short while Namir was worried she’d passed out. Finally, though, she squared her shoulders, looked into the distance, and resumed speaking.
“I don’t know when things went wrong. But as law came back to Tangenine, the Empire changed from what it was to … whatever it is we’ve got now. I brought a man in for stealing power converters and saw him jailed for life. I tracked down a gang leader, a spice dealer—the lowest of the low—and saw him pardoned because he bribed a magistrate.”
The words were simple and her tone was flat, as if she were describing horrors she didn’t want to relive. Namir saw Roach wanting to ask for more, for specifics, but she seemed to know better. Maybe she was afraid of what Brand would do if she pried.
But the pain and nausea in Roach’s face were gone.
Brand didn’t seem to notice the girl’s unasked questions. “A few years back,” she said, “I decided I needed a break. We’d finished rooting out one of the last big syndicates, and I was getting sick of the blood. Lot of people wouldn’t surrender, knowing what would happen in prison …” She trailed off, started again.
“I needed a break. So for my next job, I picked a target that would get me off Tangenine, out of the Core Worlds. Away from cities and crime and bureaucrats.”
“Captain Evon?” Roach asked.
“Captain Evon,” Brand said. “I hadn’t done much rebel hunting, but I figured it would keep me busy awhile.” A hint of a smile played across her lips.
“Tracking down Twilight Company took time,” Brand said, “but soldiers do stupid things when they’re on leave. Talk to the wrong people—”
“That’s a lesson for you,” Namir muttered in Roach’s direction, though he wasn’t sure she heard.
“—and get cozy, mention their next assignments. Wasn’t more than four months before I showed up at an open recruit on Veron
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