Sagara glowered. “The same way I explain the downed communications and the power-out,” he answered. Park noticed that he had shifted his stance a little, as if he was expecting them both to lunge at him and attack. “Those things weren’t done by a stranger. They were done by people on this ship.”

Boone snorted. “He thinks it’s all a big conspiracy,” he said to Park. “He thinks everybody on the ship is out to get him.”

“I know,” Park tried to say; it was clear now that Sagara had gone a little power-mad, a little unbalanced. And who could blame him, considering what he’d said about his dead wife? His grief was still raw, it had to be; the incident on Halla could not have been more than two years ago. It was clouding his judgment. Keeping him from seeing the truth.

But Sagara saw what she was thinking, and headed her off before she could expose him. “I have my reasons,” he grated. “Whether or not those reasons will make any sense to you is a different matter.”

“Try us,” Boone said, folding his arms.

“No,” Sagara answered. “Everyone on this ship is a suspect. Any one of them—or you—could have done this. That’s why I have to act this way.”

Boone barked out a laugh. “Everyone is a suspect—except you. That’s convenient.”

“I know that I didn’t kill Wick, yes.”

“Wait, what about me?” Park demanded. “I was unconscious during all of this. Can’t you confirm that?”

“But you were the one who turned off the lights,” Sagara said. She saw now that his fingers were just touching the hilt of his blade.

“That’s insane,” Park cried—wondering frantically what she was going to do if he decided to draw that thing. “I had nothing to do with the lights! Or Wick!”

Sagara was shaking his head. “You could be working with the murderer,” he said. “You could have been providing darkness—and a distraction—to get me away from Wick and everyone else. I don’t know.”

Unstable, Park thought. Paranoiac. We have to get him under control.

Sagara looked away, towards Boone, who stiffened defensively, and Park felt her palms itch. How to grab his weapons from him without hurting him—or herself? “What I do know is that this ship needs to go on lockdown,” the security officer continued. “All of us in separate rooms until I can sort it out. Not scattered throughout the ship, with METIS and the inlays down.” He glared. “You can see how that’s a logical course of action, can’t you?”

She could, Park thought—if she hadn’t seen the stranger with her own eyes. If Boone hadn’t seen him, too.