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“The restraint suit is operating normally,” Y said.

The two Response officers from Team Two nodded, their sidearms drawn all the same.  When the door opened, if Jan Holdur had been freed, he could probably kill them both before they could get them out of their holsters.

Y still marvelled at the level of augments the man had taken on.  They were hand-crafted, assembled with atomic perfection.  None of it was revolutionary tech, not beyond the Sapient Union’s ability – in some ways less elegant and functional, such as having the platinum woven in.  But the singular cost focused into one individual was equivalent to the productive wealth of entire worlds.

It was not about practicality.  It was about sending a message.  For one man to have so much effort put into him made him a monument to self-gratification.

Holdur was watching carefully, his eyes moving between them, gauging his ability to strike if given the chance.  There was no sense that he viewed them as anything more than targets, which Y found an incredible feat of mental conditioning.

Y kept his attention focused on the suit.  The man had been systematically testing it during his stay here.  Y knew he could keep him under control, but there were weaknesses in any restraint suit, and it was possible that he could exploit those and break free if Y did not pay attention.

Behind him, Romon Xatier stood quietly, the man chosen by his class to observe Holdur’s transfer.  The irony was not lost on either of them, and Romon was smiling smugly, not watching the officers and prisoner, but Y.

Y had scarcely acknowledged him.

“Opening door,” Y said.

There was no loud hiss or drama as the door opened.  The two Response officers moved to flank it.

“Get up,” one said to Holdur.

The man smiled darkly.  He rose.  His motions were stiff, half-controlled by the suit.

As he came out of the cell, two drones came in, attaching to his arms, helping to move them behind his back and link them together.

The officers stepped in, checking the man, preparing him for moving.

“I insist that we remove the restraints,” Romon said.  “He is not a common criminal, but a man of great wealth.”

“His wealth has no bearing here,” Y said.

Romon stepped closer, his voice a soft hiss.  “Could it be you are afraid of what will happen, machine?”

Y knew he did not mean what would happen with Holdur.

He did not reply, focusing on his work.

“It still boggles the mind to think that your captain viewed those three women as equal in value to Jan Holdur.”

“Three to one seems a favorable exchange, if one were to erroneously believe it was a trade,” Y replied absently.

“There is no need to hide the truth.  I cannot speak of this to others, or else it would break the privacy of our conversations – and you could speak freely.  It serves us both no good to lie.”

Y was silent again, and Romon continued.

“There are billions of women like those three.  But the Holdur Conglomerate has only two heirs.  Such a silly waste, really.  He’s a fool, but one day he’ll grow up and learn.  I will help him on that path, you need not worry.”

Y turned.  “Excuse me, Mr. Xatier, but you will have to step back.  We are preparing to move the prisoner.”

“And what a dangerous one he is, if you are to be believed.  If only I could have brought my guards in,” he said.  “Ah, but I suppose they would be of no defense against one so terrifying as Jan Holdur.”

He said the last words almost affectionately, and loudly enough to be heard by the room.  Y saw how Holdur perked up, almost puffing with pride.

The man had not been an intended puppet, Y knew.  But he practically worshipped Romon Xatier, and now, with even a little praise and a smile, he was gleefully a pawn again.

But more than that, Y knew that everything Romon was saying was a pre-admission of guilt.

He would kill again.  He would kill with his own hands.

“Women like those three die every day in Gohhi,” Romon said, his voice quieter again.  “Sad, but true, wouldn’t you agree?  They have chosen lives that are difficult, but it has to be someone’s lot, society argues.”

Y knew he was being goaded, and he decided he would rise to this bait.  “To say they chose is erroneous, when the other choice is death.  And only some societies normalize such things.”

Romon spoke again, the cold rage behind his eyes coming out for the first time.  “There’s nothing more you can do, you know,” he whispered fiercely.  “Whatever will happen will happen.  Even if there is bloodshed.  But do not be sorry, you have simply reached the edge of your abilities, Doctor.”

The two Response officers began to move Holdur.  Y transferred his work to a tablet and prepared to follow them.

As the official liaison of the transfer, Romon followed.  They trailed the man by three meters, reasoned a safe distance.

“I predict at least one whore will be murdered tonight.  Perhaps many more – the anger against their kind has risen to a fever pitch after what those three did.  It’s so sad, yet it is the natural result of their actions.”

His voice dropped lower still.  “If only you, Doctor, were powerful enough to stop it.”

Powerful enough, Y knew he meant, to stop him.

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