Sher was tall and lean, muscled from his past training as a soldier for the Empire. His dark brown hair was in desperate need of a cut and his stubble was longer than usual, meaning he’d probably been at some silthole of a forgotten outpost for the past month. His face was still unlined, his skin a light, golden brown, but he was older than he appeared—one of the first cohorts of soldiers completely genetically engineered and programmed for fighting. He’d been among the only survivors of that particular crop of infants, along with Kyla.

Kyla stood taller than her co-commander, even in flat-heeled boots. They were genetic siblings—born from vials within minutes of each other. After being forced to present as male during her time in the military, Kyla transitioned after escaping Tholosian rule fifteen years ago with Sher. Her skin was a warm brown, and her hair fell in long, black curls that no pin or hair tie could tame. What always struck Clo first was Kyla’s eyes: black as ink and so piercing, they made even the toughest soldier squirm.

“Okay,” Clo said. “I’m here. Hey, Kyla. Welcome back, Sher. And—wait a minute—” She reached for his face—an insubordinate move for anyone but her. “Look at that fuzz! You trying to grow a full beard?”

Sher dodged her hand. “Shut up, Alesca.”

“You are! Look, how patchy.”

“I was going for distinguished.”

“Of course you were.” She leaned in to him. “Distinguished. I’ll bet you’re trying to look all serious and broody for the troops, too.”

Kyla hid a smile.

Sher rolled his eyes and gave Clo a side-on hug—then immediately wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”

Clo glared at Kyla. “See? What did I tell you? She wouldn’t even let me wash, Sher. I’ve been at the engines since dawn.”

“This is more important,” Kyla said, serious again. “Before I brief you, I’m going to need you to remember your training: keep a clear head; stay calm; don’t act without thinking; don’t—”

A throat cleared behind her. Clo twisted, taking in the small woman in fragmented pieces before her mind put them together. Delicate features, deceptively doll-like, skin too pale for the harsh desert, hair night-black. But those eyes weren’t really green.

The last time Clo had seen that face up close, those eyes had blared a luminous gold. The cold, brutish expression was just the same.

If I ever see ye ’gain, I’ll drain ye t’ the dregs, Clo had vowed the last time they met.

She felt Kyla’s hand clamp hard on her wrist before Clo’s hand could stray to the blaster at her belt.