Chapter 20

The Shuttlepod Hangar was dimly lit by the deceptively warm orange glow of Berengaria's morning suns as it crawled in the open main doors. Brown had come down to farewell his recent suspects, now all free from suspicion (of murder, at least), as the transport bound for Earth had arrived in orbit.

He felt as though he needed to see them off, both out of some sense of etiquette and a desire to tangibly put the case behind him.

The ever-cheerful, ever-colourful Wilbur Wrigley strode towards him. He bore a smile as bright as his clothes under that finely waxed moustache.

"Mr. Wrigley," said Brown, catching some of the other man's infectious smile. "You must be pleased about Mr. Abramson's investment."

"I only regret the circumstances surrounding it, Commander," boomed Wrigley. "Poor Reena Bird, alas! I intend to name a country after her when I eventually get my planet."

"I'm… sure she'd be honoured, Mr. Wrigley," said Brown.

"Fare thee well," Wrigley said, clutching his cases around him as he made his way towards the shuttle. "And be sure to visit once Wrigley's Pleasure Planet is up and running!"

Brown chuckled. "I'll do just that." Then, quietly to himself, "I could use a holiday."

The thin crowd continued to file past him to the various small craft, but he spotted the rounded head of T'Ves coming towards him.

"Commander Brown," she acknowledged.

"Heading for Earth?" he asked, curious. He hadn't been sure where she'd end up.

"I am. Willem Abramson has extended an… invitation to me. Regarding the Quadros Project."

Brown nodded. He already knew this, of course, as well as the fact that Abramson had offered to share stories of T'Ves' mother. The Vulcanesque young woman had left that part out though.

"Sounds like a good idea," he said. "I've been thinking about what I said to you… How sometimes we should leave our past behind us… Maybe I was wrong. About a lot of things."

She tilted her head, satisfied with this advice and semi-apology. "I believe Mr. Abramson may have the correct approach: Look to the future but do not forget the past."

Brown smiled tightly. This kid might just be better off for all that Vulcan logic. Either way, he knew now it was not his place to say.

T'Ves raised her right hand, parting her middle and ring fingers.

"Live long and prosper, Commander."

"Thank you," he said, unsure of how else to reply.

T'Ves also left for the shuttle, but he soon spotted another familiar face. One he was happy to see leave.

"Au revoir, Chief!" said Berlinghoff Rasmussen, grinning smugly. "Good job catching that killer, by the way. You're an excellent gumshoe. I'm glad I never ran into you on one of my old jobs."

It gnawed at Brown to have to let Rasmussen leave so easily, but the conman had tried to help, even if only to save his own skin.

"Just stay out of trouble, Rasmussen," he said, restraining himself.

"Oh I will. Trust me."

Brown snorted, but said nothing, only sneering as Rasmussen, still grinning, carried his cases away.

Only to be stopped by Supervisor Grum and three uniformed, armed Tellarites. Presumably, they were from the patrol vessel docked for repairs.

"Supervisor?" Rasmussen said, slightly nervous. "Something I can help you with?"

"You attempted to swindle me!" Grum said, poking a stubby finger at the skinny Human. "And the Tellar Space Administration, whom I represent! With that phoney transporter of yours! For this crime, I hereby place you under arrest on the authority of the TSA!"

Grum gestured to his cohorts, two of whom took Rasmussen's cases while the other handcuffed him.

Rasmussen struggled in protest. "Now wait just a minute! I had a deal! I got immunity!"

"Your deal was with me, Rasmussen," said Brown, now sporting a smug grin of his own. "Not Mr. Grum or the TSA. Did you forget you tried to con them too?"

Rasmussen's long face crumbled.

"That's not fair," he said glumly as the Tellarites led him away.

"Don't worry," Brown shouted after him. "I'm sure the Tellarite legal process is quick and painless."

He chuckled to himself and turned back towards the main entrance, to see the youthful, green, dappled features of Perra, no longer hiding her appearance. It earned her a few stares from passers-by, but she paid them no mind.

He was surprised to see her. "Perra! I…" He shuffled slightly. "I hope all's well now."

She smiled. Although different from the face she'd had as a Trill, he recognised that smile, albeit brighter. She was much prettier than when she had impersonated him, anyway.

"Don't worry, Commander. I don't blame you for anything. It would only be hypocritical of me. Actually, I'm grateful that you continued to pursue the truth, even though you had a likely culprit in custody."

He felt absolved by her forgiveness, having been slightly guilty over suspecting her, even if all the evidence supported that suspicion.

"Well, it was a team effort," he said, reflecting that perhaps Starfleet and the MACO could work together after all, if he and Kostopoulos were any indication. As much as he preferred working alone, he knew he couldn't have solved this case without the colonel's help, as well as that of several others.

"And the Tandarans thought we'd accept the easy answers," he continued. "But detective work is about finding the truth, not closing cases." He took a moment to absorb his own words.

Perra nodded. "I appreciate it."

"Off to Earth?"

"Yes. Abramson's offer still stands. Might as well put my knowledge towards something good. And I don't have anywhere else to go anyway."

"Time to make a new future, eh?"

Perra grinned. "I think so."

With that, she left, free as a bird for the first time in her life.

Wallace Brown returned to his quiet office in the Security Centre to finally write up his report on the whole affair.

He put on some Andorian opera to soothe himself. Although he lacked the organs to hear half of the notes, it always calmed him, as if there were solace in the gaps. Sometimes it was okay to admit you couldn't see the full picture yourself

As he sat behind his desk, there were a few other reports from his staff piled up. A couple of fights broken up, some minor lost property, one particularly rowdy party during the lockdown.

The usual stuff, in other words.

He knew now that, if there was ever any more excitement, he could trust in those around him to provide assistance, rather than try to solve everything himself. And he could also trust that he would see justice done for the victims, and not only for his own gratification.

For now, however, he was glad to get back to business as usual and disappear into the background.