Apollonia felt numb as she looked down at the body of Romon Xatier.

His body seemed wrong. Horizontal as it was, he seemed smaller, the outward calm and total self-confidence gone, leaving a neutral form that seemed . . .

Lifeless, she thought.

A bit on the nose, but it was just the right word.

Y stepped over. “Do not move any closer. The body must remain inviolate,” he told her.

From this point on, she thought.

“Of course,” she said, shuffling back a little. But still looking down at him.

Y had brought her back to the medical wing along with Jan Holdur and Xatier’s body. Drones had brought the latter and guards the former.

But Y had carried her back.

After he’d checked her over thoroughly, he’d allowed her to shuffle about the room a little.

Some kind of device still gently hummed on her temple, doing a constant check, but she didn’t know what for.

She felt fine now.

A scream of anger came through the open door and they both looked up. Jan Holdur, from another room, venting his spleen as Dr. Zyzus operated on him.

“So the crazy guy gets to be okay?” she asked.

“I only paralyzed Jan Holdur,” Y said. “He is being surgically stabilized right now – given that I am the one that paralyzed him, it is best if I am not involved in the actual surgery. Some believe it could be a conflict of interest.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Apollonia asked with a smirk.

“No. If I had wanted the man dead, I would have struck slightly higher,” Y replied.

It was his normal matter-of-fact voice, but it was also chilling, she realized.

His gaze had gone back down to Xatier and she followed suit.

“Weird how calm he looks when he’s dead,” she said, finally putting words to her thoughts of earlier. “Like a normal person.”

“He was a killer,” Y said.

“I know,” Apollonia replied.

She looked up at Y. “But you ever think, if some shithead like this was just . . . not raised in such a horrible place, they might not have turned out this way? I mean, was he born like that, or was he made?”

“That is a question that is still argued by many,” Y said. “In my opinion? He was made a monster. Statistically, if a society is healthy, oriented with humanity as its goal rather than merely a resource, then they do not have people like him.”

He leaned in, pulling a cloth over the coffin.

“But I cannot say with certainty.”

He turned away, moving towards a console.

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Apollonia watched him, wondering just how far ahead of them all he really was.

Far more than she even thought, she figured.

So he had to know.

“He had to die,” Apollonia said to Y.

He stopped working, but did not turn to look at her. “Yes, I know.”

“I don’t have any regrets,” Apollonia said.

He turned now. “My only regret is that I did not tell you my own plan.”

Apollonia blinked. “What?”

Y gestured, checking a hundred times that the room was bug-free, that no sensors were recording them.

“Since I met Romon Xatier, I was aware that he would not face justice. He was wealthy, he had the support of his fellow elite. The only thing that would make them turn would be if he threatened them. I could not change that.

“But I knew that I could stop him. I have been . . .” he hesitated, then plunged in. “I have been manipulating the man since we first spoke. I knew it would have consequences.”

“You were driving him to kill again?”

Y hesitated. “I was. I calculated that if I made him angry enough, he would become impatient. The murders fed a cruel, damaged part of his psyche. Whether he performed them himself or if he merely directed them.”

“Why?” Apollonia asked softly.

“I had to make him act with his own hands. You see, only by making him angry could I make him sloppy enough to put his own life in danger. And then I would make sure he was caught.”

“How?” Apollonia insisted, stepping closer.

“The Union has numerous messenger and courier drones in Gohhi. I knew that his targets would be poor prostitutes, and I knew his methods. Most importantly, I knew the man himself. I had a very good idea of his potential spots to strike, and I would be there, to sound the alarm just as he went to strike, but before he did – just as we caught Jan Holdur. It would only take an anonymous tip, and he would be caught red-handed.”

Apollonia looked down at the dead man’s coffin. “They would have let him go.”

“Only,” Y said, “If he survived the arrest. The right tip, a simple lie, and the security sent to arrest him would have fired first and checked identity later. After all, who would have expected one of Gohhi’s wealthiest men to be out in the poorest areas?

“His move of releasing Holdur surprised me, I admit. I calculated a chance he would try something during this transfer – but I put the chance as low. It was a more foolish move than I expected. He must have believed that Jan Holdur would not hurt him, yet – I believe if the two had been left alone for two minutes, Holdur would have taken his life.”

His words had a logic to them, but Apollonia was not convinced. For the first time, she felt conflicted towards Y.

“You were putting lives at risk . . . Innocent lives,” she said.

“Which was very bad,” Y admitted. “But the man would have killed again. In an environment entirely uncontrolled. I only manipulated the timing. I did not single out an individual to be a victim, consign them to death. I made certain in my planning that they would not be harmed. Even if it might result in his escape, I would not play a life so callously. Still . . .”

He turned back to his console. “No plan survives reality. I controlled all that I could, but it might not have worked. I can admit that.” He raised his head, his hands no longer operating the console.

“I violated the most important oath I took, to do no harm. Yet I always knew that it was a lie, Nor. I feel that a doctor’s true goal is to mitigate harm. And in this case, this was the only way I felt I could do that.”

Apollonia did not know if Y was speaking from hubris or the truth. Maybe there had been another way. Maybe . . .

But it didn’t matter now, she thought, looking back at the casket that held Romon Xatier. Since she had killed him.

Y tilted his head. “You know far more than you should be able to, Nor.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“You did make contact with his mind, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And through that contact was how you caused the dissolution of his neurons to such a startling degree.”

“He’s dead,” she said flatly. “That’s all that matters.”

“I notice,” Y said carefully, “That his cause of death was the same as that of the former Chief of Police of New Vitriol.”

Apollonia did not respond. Y wondered what she must be feeling. It was probably not happy.

“I will not tell anyone,” he promised.

Even without turning, he could see her, see the dark shadows on her face.

He wondered if Nor might turn against him if she was pushed hard enough.

He did not want that.

“I know you won’t,” Apollonia said. Her words were soft. With trust in them.

He was quiet for a long moment, his many calculations and simulations that he ran – that all sapient beings ran in some way in their minds – a jumble of conflict and confusing outcomes.

“Will you go rest now, Nor?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Doc, um . . . thanks.”

“It is I who should be thanking you, Apollonia Nor.”