Kovalic had unwound his scarf and unzipped the parka he was wearing, stowing his balaclava and gloves in one of the coat’s voluminous pockets.

Inside, however, it was perfectly comfortable tapped geothermal pockets provided efficient heating for much of the populace. Weather-related accidents were a close second. Blizzards were all too common on Sevastapol, and they were brutal and unforgiving there were more deaths from exposure than almost anything else. Through the thick, insulated windows Kovalic could see the snow hurling down outside. It didn’t really matter that it was a barren, snowy rock it had a breathable atmosphere and temperatures that were within the habitable range – if only barely. Even in their pre-Imperial days, the Illyricans had felt they’d had something to prove, and what better way to do so than to tame a wild planetoid to their whims. Mineral deposits were one reason, but when it came right down to it, Kovalic was pretty sure that they’d done it just because they could. Still, humanity – or the Illyrican portion of it, at least – had decided this rock was worth colonizing. But he went where the Commonwealth told him to go, even if it meant going deep into enemy territory to a moon where even the nice parts didn’t get far above freezing for much of the year. Though why anybody would voluntarily choose to visit Sevastapol he had little idea it wasn’t as if he would be here if it weren’t for the job. Regulars, most of them, he guessed, with a sprinkling of tourists from elsewhere in the Illyrican Empire. He took in the antique shop in a glance, eyeing the few other customers on this frigid false night.

Not so bored that somebody would want to engage him in conversation, and not so interested that he missed what was going on around him. Simon Kovalic’s gray eyes cast over the shelves with just the right mix of interest and vacancy. Especially when one was loitering with purpose.

The Bayern Agenda by Dan Moren