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“I apologize, Captain,” Pirra said.  “We had to put the man into a restraint suit – it’s the only thing that can keep him under control without just using heavy sedatives.”

“Did Sedative 12 help?” Urle asked.

“A bit.  It certainly slowed his reactions – which is nice, as he was stronger than any of us – took four of us and a dozen drones to immobilize him.”

“And you said his augments are not military?” Brooks asked, frowning.

“Definitely civilian, sir – just very, very high grade.  There’s platinum woven into the fibers of his muscles.  That’s . . . well, there’s no material advantage to it, but it can give you something of a silvery shine under the skin, which apparently is considered chic.”

“I’ve heard of this.  It’s very popular among the Gohhi elite,” Brooks added, grimacing.

He stepped over to look at the man.  The room he was in was only a little over two meters in any given direction, made of reinforced metal plates with no seams, only tiny ventilation holes, just a millimeter across.

The front wall was transparent titanium, a piece of lesser quality than they used for the ship’s outer windows, but still hard enough that it’d take a heavy cannon to pierce.

The man inside was sitting, a tight, clearish-yellow body suit on him that was using both reinforcements and muscle disruptors to render him immobile.

A barbaric technology, but apparently necessary right now.

“We’re dealing with capitalist aristocracy,” Brooks said.  “Which means this is now a diplomatic incident.”

Urle stepped up next to him.  “Cross-checking him against that narrow group, I think I can come up with an ID in a minute.”

The door opened behind them, and Brooks glanced back to see Jaya rush in, out of breath.

“Captain, Commander,” she said, offering a salute.

Brooks returned it.  “What do you have to report on this?”

“The man is Jan Holdur,” she said, stiff huffing.  “As I suspected as soon as I heard.”

“How do you know?”

She looked disgusted – with herself, Brooks recognized.  “I saw him before he embarked on the cruise.  Or rather – Apollonia did.  She seemed to have some idea that there was something wrong with him.”

“How?” Urle said.  “Did she know him?”

“No – I had to look it up.  Whatever his apparent tools for hiding from our sensors, he had not activated them yet.”

“And he destroyed them,” Urle noted.  “We have the wreckage but it’s not going to tell us a lot.  Though I think it must be some super-rich man’s custom work.”

Brooks remained focused on Jaya.  “Apollonia could tell he was trouble?”

“She had a gut feeling.  I took it seriously.”

Brooks took that in, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“My apologies Captain, for my failure,” Jaya continued.  “If Dr. Y had not happened to be watching, this man would have killed one of our own.”

“You can’t be everywhere or predict everything – we’ve never had a problem with the rich tourists besides their endless whining,” Brooks told her.  “But let’s get some Response personnel on all future tours no matter how much it annoys the moneyed – though I think we’ll be waiting awhile before the next one.”

“Already ordered, Captain, along with more thorough scans and searches.”

Brooks could imagine the complaints from the moneyed people over that, which amused him.  A feeling that did not last.

“Jan Holdur, hm?  Is that related to the Holdur Conglomerate?” he asked.

“He’s one of the sons of their current Lord Executive,” Urle confirmed.

“Shit,” Brooks muttered.

Jaya frowned.  “He committed his crime on a ship of ours, however.  Foolish of him – his father’s status does him no favors in our custody.”

“You’d be surprised,” Brooks replied.  “While we recognize his class as parasitic worms and they hate us for seeing it, his family will use everything in their power to save him.”

“Unless it ends up costing them too much,” Urle noted.  “Then they’ll drop him like a sack of bricks.”

Brooks approached the cell, activating the intercom.

“Jan Holdur,” he said.  “We know who you are.”

The man inside the cell clearly heard.  He looked towards Brooks – the first time he’d even given an acknowledgement of them outside of his cell.

He could only move his head a little due to the restraint suit, but Brooks stood where he could get a decent view.

“Do you know who I am?” Brooks asked.

“Captain-Mayor Ian Brooks,” the man croaked.  His voice was raw from his earlier screaming.

“Why did you try to kill one of my crew?” Brooks asked.

The man turned his head to look straight ahead, saying nothing.

“Do you have any defense of your actions?” Brooks next asked.

Holdur said nothing.

Brooks considered, then asked a final question; “What do you want?”

The man glanced back at him.

He remained silent for some time and Brooks held his eyes locked to the man who would be a killer.

But then the man spoke again.  His voice was just as hoarse, his words barely audible.

“Romon Xatier,” he said.  “I want to talk to Romon Xatier.”

Brooks held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded, and turned off the channel.

“Xatier . . .” Urle said.  “Isn’t he another Lord Executive?”

“Yes,” Brooks said.  “But I know nothing about him.”

“Is there any connection between his business and Xatier’s?” Jaya asked, eyebrows bunching together in concentration.  “I’m not seeing any.”

Urle put a hand up to the side of his head – an unnecessary habit, but one Brooks knew he did when he was sifting huge amounts of data.  “I can’t find any, except – they apparently had some social circles in common.”  He sighed and shook his head.  “Nothing that makes the request seem reasonable.”

Urle and Jaya were both watching Brooks, who was still contemplative.

“I suppose,” Brooks finally said.  “I’ll call up Xatier and see what he can tell us.”

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