“Already inside the city?” Ennick’s eyebrows arched in alarm, then crashed again almost as quickly. “And you want to know if I was responsible for letting them in.”

“We do,” Pisces confirmed, and for the first time her discomfort left her steely demeanor frayed around the edges.

The man nodded as though the question were unsurprising even if it was disappointing. He studied the floor as he collected his thoughts, then drew himself up as though resolved to something unpleasant and spoke again. “Intake was my team, and if that’s how the bombs got in, then it was my fault.”

“Do you know what a pulse bomb is?” Pisces asked.

“Pulse bombs? I—” Ennick’s expression grew slack as he reconciled what he’d seen with what he knew of the bombs that destroyed Cloudbreak. The evidence was there on his face: he knew what pulse bombs were, and now he knew that he’d let their components pass through unhindered. “Hell. It was my fault,” he said, defeated.

“You did see them?” Caledonia asked.

“I know what those parts look like. I should have recognized them, but I didn’t,” he said, voice heavy with regret. He raised his head and cast a slow gaze from Pisces to Caledonia. “I left that life behind long ago, but if my ignorance led us here, then I will accept your punishment.”

He made no attempt to defend himself, but his response also revealed a ready well of remorse. And remorse suggested loyalty. In the deepest pockets of Caledonia’s mind, her mistrust of Bullets argued that this was all a ploy to win her trust and convince her to keep the traitor in her midst. It would be so easy to let that voice win, especially right now when they’d been defeated so painfully.

But the world she was fighting for was a world in which there always had to be room for trust. Mercy instead of glory.

“I don’t want to punish you.” Caledonia stood and took two steps toward the man, her ankle protesting the sudden motion. “You’ve been with us for many moons, and you have fought hard and well. We only need to know how this happened, so that we can prevent it in the future.”

“Yes, Captain.” Ennick’s answer was barely a whisper.

“Ennick,” Caledonia called as the man stood to leave. “This wasn’t your fault,” she offered, knowing it was weak comfort in the face of so much loss.

“Thank you, Captain.” His smile was wan as he left the galley.

“Do you really believe him?” Pisces asked Caledonia as they returned their empty mugs to the kitchen and called goodnight to Far before heading topside.

“I do,” Caledonia answered. “As much as I can.”