She made her way across the hangar, tracking snow across the floor.

“Brigadier,” Briggs said, “this is my assistant, Lyra Nekkar-Z1. She’s responsible for many of your ships running in top shape.”

And your enemies’ ships, Clo thought with an inward smile.

She bowed, with no idea whether the form was correct or not. Avern, she hated showing this muskeg the back of her neck. “It’s an honor, Brigadier.”

He ignored her. “I want you both finished by moonrise. In the meantime, show me your logs. I want to see every ship that’s come and gone.”

Damocles’s demeanor never changed, his expression a perfect, emotionless mask. Clo noted the way his eyes took in the boots in the corner, the blankets, the coveralls, and skidded right over the tarp that kept Sher’s ship hidden from view.

“Of course,” Briggs said smoothly.

He handed a tablet over to Damocles with a short bow. Clo admired how steady Briggs’s hand was, his easy confidence shot through with the right amount of deference. Her own heart felt as if it were going to beat out of her chest.

As Damocles scrolled through the logs, his guards watched closely while Briggs and Clo started on the repairs. As they worked with numb fingers, Clo’s nerves grew. The logs always looked like rubbish to her, nothing but time stamps. Hundreds of spacecrafts coming in and out, their models, the work required, and whether they were destined to be disposed of or launched into space.

Clo looked over at Briggs, catching the pinch of his frown. He glanced up, smoothing his expression with a small, reassuring smile.

She wasn’t fooled.

What had Briggs put into those logs? How had he hid the Novantae coming and going, making off with Tholosian supplies? Clo wanted to curse herself for not asking, for taking such little interest in the details of how their operation worked. All she’d wanted to do was build and repair ships.

And if anything happened today, the consequence for Clo’s incuriosity could be execution.

Clo tried to focus on her task. They got the ship fueled and checked over the engine. If it hadn’t been piloted by Damocles himself, it would have been a joy to see such a new ship up close. She might have lingered a bit longer on that engine, puzzled over its parts and how it worked. But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted, not with Damocles and those soldiers so close by. She hated being watched.

Briggs patted the side of the hull. “And she’s star-ready again.”

Damocles looked up from the tablet. “Finished?”

“It wasn’t too big a job. We’re happy to help, Brigadier,” Briggs said. He seemed to be holding his breath. “Is there anything else you require?”

Seeing him so diffident made Clo uneasy. No dirty jokes, his head bowed.

He was afraid.