Acknowledgements
My thanks, as always, to Kehlan, AmandaG96, and Biku-sensei-sez-meow for their continued support.
STARBASE ONE
"The False Heart"
Prologue
The opera singers both rose competitively in pitch as they neared the crescendo of "Ah, vendicar, se il puoi" from Don Giovanni, and the air in the small room vibrated with the urgency of the piece, relayed via audio speakers.
Lieutenant Commander Wallace Brown stood in the centre of his office as if conducting the performance himself; eyes closed, hands wafting back and forth. He was a stocky, middle-aged man with a bulbous nose, ruddy skin, and short, prematurely white hair. Despite his rough exterior, he had always enjoyed the opera, and while he rarely got to attend live performances, his job left him with plenty of time to listen to recordings.
Brown was Starbase 1's Chief of Security, and it was somewhat like being sheriff of a sleepy frontier town. Not that they didn't get their share of excitement, but the MACOs handled any serious threats. Starfleet was neither a military nor a law enforcement agency - their security personnel were essentially over-educated nightclub bouncers.
They were capable people, of course, but most had signed on as an excuse to travel to the stars, and usually ended up training in tactical systems just for something to do. Brown's staff were mainly occupied with occasional shoplifters or bar brawls in the Commercial Complex, and the rare theft from someone's quarters.
Nothing too exciting.
Brown had been born in Martian Colony 2 and had joined the United Colonies Police Service when old enough, quickly rising to become an inspector. But life on the Red Planet was also far from exciting. There hadn't been a serious crime on Mars in over 50 years, something he was very aware of from his family history.
His father, an educated man, had imparted a sense of culture on young Wallace, hence his love of the arts, while it was his mother, one of the founding members of the UCPS, to whom he owed his keen investigative senses, even if they were rarely used.
Thus, Brown had joined Starfleet in search of challenge and adventure. That had been the plan anyway. Now, when not filing uneventful security reports, he spent most of his time immersed in his opera.
The particular piece he listened to now had been performed by soprano Giuseppina Pentangeli and the Vulcan tenor Soral at the Opéra de Paris on Earth just a few days ago; part of cross-culture celebrations held in the wake of the recent announcement regarding the formation of the United Federation of Planets.
As Brown let the back-and-forth of the singers' voices soak into him, he recalled hearing that Pentangeli was known to be a massive diva - but then, the great ones always were. He wondered how she had gotten along with her reserved co-star Soral. One of her legendary tantrums would have been enough to destabilise Vulcan-Human relations, and thus jeopardise this Federation idea, all by itself.
Joining in these cultural celebrations, Starbase 1 was currently hosting a multi-species trade exposition, in an effort to increase commerce between various races. Several visitors, both Human and otherwise, had arrived to buy, sell, or just browse the wares on display. Brown's department were on their toes, but so far the expo had been quiet.
The recording reached its crescendo, and Brown remained still for a moment to savour it.
Then somebody cleared his throat and Brown opened his eyes, startled, to see Commodore North standing in the doorway.
North generally left Brown to run his department 'in the background' without interference, for which the Security Chief was grateful. It was rare for him to see the base's CO at all, and, while he enjoyed the independence, he sometimes worried that North saw him as asleep at his desk half the time. His present activity did not help that image.
"Oh, sir," Brown said in his inherited Scottish brogue, with just a hint of Martian lilt. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were there."
The tall commodore remained grim-faced. "You're trained in forensics and criminology, aren't you, Commander?" he asked, straight to business.
"Yes, sir. Why?"
North fixed him with a steely gaze. "There's been a murder on the base."