Chapter 11

Security Chief's Starlog - January 27th, 2161.

Lieutenant Commander Wallace Brown recording.

It is now the final day of our investigation before the base lockdown is lifted and our killer probably disappears into the wind.

T'Ves is still our prime suspect, but is refusing to answer any further questions and has declined legal counsel. Despite my personal opinion of her, I'm not entirely convinced she is our murderer. There isn't much time left to prove otherwise, however.

In lieu of any other evidence, I intend to re-examine the scene of the crime, to see if I can turn up anything new.

Brown stood in the middle of the living area in Bird's quarters, taking in the whole room. Reena Bird had been a spartan, prim woman, bringing with her no personal objects beyond her impenetrable computer. Her wardrobe was limited and business-like, and she had kept her quarters incredibly tidy. Brown found himself slightly envious in that regard - the best he managed in his own quarters was organised chaos.

He slowly drew his eyes across the walls for any holes. If some sort of energy weapon had been used to overload Bird's artificial heart, it must have been fired from outside this room, as no one had entered after Zrae on the security footage. Of course, he knew that the walls had already been thoroughly scanned by his team, so it was more for his own peace of mind.

The window, still tinted black, was also similarly uncracked, and he ran his hand over the smooth transparent metal as if to check. The panes were able to be ejected for emergency evacuation, but doing so would set off an alarm and it would be extremely difficult to re-install an ejected pane without being noticed.

Sweeping the room for any further clues, his gaze settled on the small vent in the corner, just under the ceiling. A possible entry point? He shook his head at such over-imaginative thoughts. The vent's cover and connecting shaft were only about a foot wide, much too small for a person to get through.

Sighing in resignation, he stepped back out into the corridor, sealing the door behind him. Even with a suspect in custody, he somehow felt further behind than when he started this case.

"Commander?"

Brown looked over to see Dan Keenan, Bird's assistant, coming out of his own quarters next door. He seemed a bit more composed than yesterday, but still justifiably unnerved.

"How, um, how's the investigation going?" Keenan asked.

Brown slowly strolled over to him, hanging his head. "We have detained a likely culprit, just need to tie up some loose ends."

"You don't sound convinced," said Keenan.

"Honestly, Mr. Keenan… I'm not. I'd like to have more time to properly investigate Ms. Bird's murder, but I've had a deadline forced on me for political reasons. If there's no other suspects by the end of today, our current detainee will be formally charged, and probably get off due to lack of evidence. If… this person is not the killer, then the real guilty party will escape when the base lockdown is lifted."

Brown hadn't intended to unleash his avalanche of anguish like that, and Keenan merely nodded, wide-eyed. "I… see. That is unfortunate."

"Don't you worry about it though, Mr. Keenan," said Brown with a small smirk, patting the younger man on his shoulder.

Just then, Brown saw Commodore North round the corner. The lanky CO stopped and sternly nodded for Brown to follow him.

Brown excused himself and approached North. The two of them began slowly walking away down the corridor.

"I understand you have a promising suspect in custody?" North said, hands clasped behind his back.

"Possibly, sir," said Brown. "There's still a few things that don't add up; the evidence is sketchy."

"Hm. Is that right?" There was an accusatory tone to North's words.

"Sir?"

"Is there actual uncertainty, or are you just trying to stretch out your investigation? Maybe get the deadline extended?"

Although Sal had said something similar, which had given him pause, Brown resented the implications made now.

"Commodore, I'm trying to catch a killer. To get justice for Reena Bird."

North looked down at him condescendingly without breaking his stride. "I don't doubt your intentions, Brown, but I wonder if this zeal for justice may be clouding your judgement. I knew plenty of 'adventure-seekers' during the war, to whom death and mayhem were excitements. They sought it out, savoured it, often to the detriment of others. They cared only for the chase, not the capture."

Although decidedly insulted now, Brown could not think of an immediate rebuttal. Sal's words had troubled him before too. Was he doing this for Bird or for himself? Was he avoiding the obvious resolution because he wanted a grander finale?

"This isn't a Dixon Hill novel, Brown," North continued. "Or one of your grisly operas. Don't go looking for intrigue and complication when there's a simple explanation. Now, the lockdown will remain in place until the end of today, but you are to focus your investigation on the suspect in custody in order to secure any possible evidence against her. Is that clear?"

Brown was about to reluctantly respond in the affirmative, when a blur of motion caught both men off-guard.

It was the pale Andorian Brown had seen at the expo two days earlier, the one who had demonstrated the laser pistol. He leapt out from an alcove in the corridor ahead of them and swiftly made for North, plunging a sharpened shard of twisted metal into the commodore's chest.

North gasped in pain, clutching at the shard and stumbling backwards. Brown was also stunned, but quickly recovered in time to charge the bolting Andorian.

Brown threw himself into the would-be assassin, slamming him against the wall. Brown grabbed for his arms, but the Andorian wrestled free and swung at the security chief. Brown cried out as the blow collided with his head, his ears ringing, and threw a hefty punch of his own into the Andorian's chest, then against his back.

It winded the Andorian enough for Brown to kick the back of his knees, dropping him to the floor. The light Martian gravity usually made the natives sluggish and more fragile compared to most Humans, although the thinner atmosphere meant that they didn't run out of breath so easily in Earth-type environments by way of compensation. This Andorian didn't seem particularly skilled in hand-to-hand combat either, for which Brown was grateful. He hastily restrained the alien's arms behind his back and looked back at North.

The commodore was lying supine, his uniform soaked in blood, but thankfully others had heard the commotion, emerging from their quarters, and were now tending to North. An officer was calling for medical and security teams on the intercom.

When his heart had stopped racing, he took a moment to wonder just what the hell was going on.

Was this Andorian their killer? Had he chosen North as his next victim? But then why attack so carelessly and openly? Was this incident even related to the murder at all?

He looked down at his captive and found a whole new mystery.

One of the Andorian's antennae had broken off in the fracas and was now lying, perfectly intact and bloodless, on the floor next to him.