“You’re saying this holographic program is based on a security recording from two years ago?” Picard asked. “It hardly looks like it belongs in this century.”
“Thionoga is a place out of time,” Yorta said. “It’s part of the wreckage of the corrections experiments of the 2200s. It was a joint undertaking between the Federation and a number of nonaligned systems near the old Klingon Neutral Zone. The idea was to cross-fertilize different cultures’ methods of rehabilitation, in the hopes of achieving better results.”
“Did it?”
“No. Since the Federation didn’t have absolute say over the place, the penal colony became a stagnant pool, a place for the partner systems to dump the unrepentant. No efforts were made here to reform.”
Picard looked at the prisoners near him in line—a mix of sad faces and psychopaths; victims and predators. They were not reacting to him. As part of this holographic reconstruction, the other characters were simply doing as they had done at the time of the recording.
Apparently Thionoga spied on everyone, for he could hear every conversation he got close to. Most discussions were of violence or misery.
“I find it remarkable,” he told Yorta, “that the Federation would still choose to be involved with this place.”
“It isn’t. The Federation stopped sending people here in 2375 after a commission investigated. All Federation prisoners were removed from the facility—but there are several dozen people like Ardra who face separate charges from Thionoga’s operators, arising from their stays there. That’s why I left the defender’s office—I’ve been working on getting people moved, one case at a time.”
It looked to Picard like a noble cause, even if he remained dubious about Ardra. He saw her now: two of her. The holographic Ardra of 2384, looking surprisingly radiant given the circumstances and the drab gray clothing the offenders were allowed. She was holding court at a table with two other female convicts. Meanwhile, the true Ardra—as if there was anything about her that was true—was sitting leisurely atop one of the counters, idly tossing holographic forks and spoons against the back of the head of a mammoth Nausicaan guard with a bandage on his nose. The hologram paid her no mind.
Picard realized very quickly why he was being shown the recording. There was a young Orion woman at the table beside the holo Ardra, huddling close to the convicted fraudster and talking covertly. She matched the description given by Tuvok and Šmrhová. “Shift, I presume.”
“I knew her as Vella,” the real Ardra said. “When Emil showed me her image—right after telling me he’d been asked about Cross—I was certain it was her.”
Picard nodded. “You must let me show this image to our officers who saw Shift.”
“Very well,” Yorta said. He consulted his padd. “Vella—her only known name, probably an alias—had been sent to Thionoga for killing a Kinshaya dignitary. A member of the new Devotionalist administration, it says here, who had been traveling to a religious retreat in nonaligned space.”
“Does it mention a motive?”
“No. Robbery, one suspects.”
Ardra laughed. “If I remember Vella, the Kinshaya probably looked at her wrong.” She looked over at the holographic Orion. “That woman didn’t suffer fools gladly.”
Picard watched the holographic Ardra and “Vella” at the table together. Vella alternated between wariness when others were nearby, and rapt attention as she listened to the illusionist. The latter accounted for more time, as other prisoners seemed to give Vella a wide berth.
“You appear to have taken her under your wing,” Picard said as he watched the spellbound Orion listening to the holo Ardra.
“Spend enough time in prison and you can find yourself in the company of some of the most tiresome windbags,” Ardra said. “Vella was a woman after my own heart, smart and sophisticated, for what she was.”
“And that was?”
“Hard to tell. She didn’t say much about herself. And she certainly didn’t let anyone belittle her.”
“There is a report,” Yorta said, “of Vella breaking a guard’s nose with a cafeteria tray.” He consulted his padd. “I don’t seem to find any holographic record of that.”
“I remember it,” Ardra said with a broad smile. “I was there. It was this guy,” she said, pointing to the holographic Nausicaan she had been taunting. “That character was always with the hands. He deserved it.”
Noting that only one other person was at the table, Picard took the opportunity to get closer.
“This is the part we want you to listen in on,” the lawyer said.
When the captain sat at the table, the holographic Ardra was in mid-spiel. “If you are interested in this path, my dear, you must know: it is by invitation only. The truthcrafters choose what practitioners they work with. And the practitioners choose their apprentices.”
“Truthcrafters?” Picard said. He looked to the real Ardra. “Your allies who were aboard Houdini.”
“Yes, yes.” She waved dismissively. “Listen.”
“Where do I find them?” Vella asked her friend.
“The Circle holds convocations every year,” the holo Ardra responded. “This time next month you would find them celebrating in a particular bar on Sherman’s Planet.” She lowered her voice. “But I would be cautious. Some of today’s practitioners have no scruples. Take Buxtus Cross, who visited me once—a little Betazoid monster. He’s the worst of the new lot. He would do absolutely anything.”
Yorta visibly went queasy at the name.
“But wherever I find a practitioner,” the Orion asked, “I will find a truthcrafter ship?”
“Mmm,” the holo Ardra said. “If you are looking for work on that side of things, darling, I do not think you have the skills. It’s highly technical. But you would be allowed to see a ship once you became an apprentice.”
Picard watched as Vella studied the holo Ardra. “Could you take me on as your own apprentice, Ardra?”
The holographic woman laughed. “I have no ship and no crew. Blame Jean-Luc Picard for that.”
“I still do,” the real Ardra piped in.
Picard looked up. “This is how Shift discovered the people aboard Blackstone. And Buxtus Cross.”
Ardra sighed. “She was looking for trouble.”
“She found it,” Picard said. He listened to the holos talk about the Circle of Jilaan—a new name to him—and its proud traditions. Until Tuvok and La Forge’s discovery of Blackstone, he had never imagined Ardra was part of a larger community.
Then the captain paid closer attention to the third person at the table, a female who seemed by far the oldest person in the room. She sat quietly eating—yet it was clear she was hearing everything. “This Klingon woman. What was she charged with?”
“Piracy,” Yorta said.
Picard raised an eyebrow. “She seems . . . advanced in years for such a profession.”
Ardra chuckled. “Anyone can be anything, Jean-Luc.” She hopped down from the counter and strolled up to the table.
Yorta consulted his padd. “She called herself Heghtar. She had hired a group of mercenaries to take a Cardassian transport. When they were captured, they gave her location up.”
“What was the transport carrying?” Picard asked.
“It was, ah . . . weapons and explosives,” Yorta said. “A lot of remote detonation equipment too. She never said why she wanted it.”
Ardra put her arms on the unnoticing Heghtar’s shoulders. “Little old Klingon woman, wanting all that. I expect I’ll be just as ambitious at that age—I never grow old, of course. I am eternal.”
“You were friends?” Picard asked.
“I’ve known gargoyles that talked more. She always looked cursed—like she was living a life that someone else had forced her into. But she had connections like you wouldn’t believe. She could get lines on things that no scrounger in Thionoga could.”
Yorta nodded. “Including the materials used in an escape attempt for the three.�
�
The real Ardra’s expression soured. “Yes, that. I created the perfect holographic illusion with the equipment Heghtar smuggled in—put all the guards on the wrong track. But we discovered the escape pod only held two. Vella took my place beside Heghtar just as the guards arrived.”
Picard looked at her. “She betrayed you?”
“Heghtar had accomplices in a freighter ready to beam the occupants out of the escape pod. Vella must have figured the old woman had to go along to make it work. But then she stole my spot.”
“My client pleaded guilty to the escape attempt,” Yorta said. “I believe it was her . . . sixteenth?”
“Details,” Ardra said. She glared at the Orion. “You’d think after all I taught her, she would show a little respect.”
“I suspect loyalty among thieves is hard to come by,” Picard said as the holographic projection, having reached its end, froze. “When my people encountered Shift, she had just killed Cross. We suspect the two of them may have engineered a massive deception, creating the violent Klingon cult known as the Unsung.”
Yorta looked at his client, startled. “So that’s what this is all about! Starfleet had been so mysterious, asking about Cross.” He turned back to Picard. “It makes more sense now.”
Ardra stared at the immobile image of Vella. “So she looked him up after all. I knew Cross had hooked up with Gaw’s crew aboard Blackstone. Does she still have the ship?”
“We don’t know,” Picard said, standing up from the table. “We haven’t been able to find either of them.”
“Oh, she knows where it is,” Ardra said. “She’s smarter than anyone thinks.” She pursed her lips. “I should have been more careful.”
Yorta worked a control on his padd. “Captain, I can give you Thionoga’s biometric information on Vella—or Shift, as you call her.”
Picard looked at the frozen trio at the table. “Do you have the same for Heghtar?”
“I do.”
“Provide that as well. A Klingon connection could shed a lot of light on this.”
Ardra stepped toward the captain. “Now we will discuss the terms of my release.”
“Release?” Picard shook his head. “I don’t know if I can manage that. But your cooperation will be considered.”
“Come now, Jean-Luc. I’ve told you all I know. You don’t need me anymore.” She reached out for his collar and tugged it. “At least not as an informant. We both know you’ll always need me.” She winked at him.
Picard suppressed a shudder and called for the holodeck’s arch. He was about to tell the computer to end the program when the doors opened. He looked out to see Tuvok, Chen, and Dax standing there. Picard gestured to the room. “Welcome to Thionoga. A very enlightening place.”
“I think we may have found something else that will interest you, Captain.” Tuvok addressed Ardra. “And you, as well.”
Thirty-four
“That little scamp,” Ardra said as she stood staring at the image of Niamlar before the Kinshaya. “Vella, Shift, whatever you call her. I call her a thief.”
The observation lounge was packed. It was not Picard’s practice to invite prisoners—or their attorneys—to senior staff briefings. The room was made fuller yet by the addition of Dax, Tuvok, and Doctor Aggadak from Houdini. Doctor Crusher, working on a lead, was absent. The imagery Chen had been sent from Janalwa was momentous, and the captain suspected Ardra could speak to it in a way that no one else could.
“You call her a thief,” Picard said, “because you believe this is another larceny attempt? Or because you believe Shift stole Blackstone to make it happen?”
“That’s not it at all,” Ardra said, pointing back at the image hovering over the table. “That’s one of Jilaan’s greatest creations.”
“You have mentioned this Jilaan before. She was another of your so-called practitioners?”
“She was the last Illusionist Magnus, in whose honor the Circle is named.” Ardra got a faraway look in her eyes. “I was her last apprentice.”
“Jilaan is dead?” Picard asked.
“Magicians never die,” Ardra said. “They just disappear.”
“Buxtus Cross is in our morgue,” Šmrhová offered.
“He doesn’t count. He was a sociopath out for a cheap thrill—an embarrassment to the order.”
“You sought to enslave a planet,” Picard said.
“But I didn’t kill anyone.” She looked back at the images. “And I didn’t go about stealing other people’s ideas. Jilaan cast this illusion nearly a century ago.”
“It was ninety-three years, to be more precise,” Tuvok said.
“I was there,” Dax said. “I saw it.”
“And yet you look so young.” Ardra smiled primly at her. “No, I knew of it from the Annals—our Circle’s records. Jilaan herself even told me of it. I don’t know how our Orion friend found out about it.” Ardra put her finger on her lips and thought. “Unless she found it in the Annals. It’s possible she talked Cross into showing her his copies.” She shook her head. “What a fool he must have been.”
La Forge was piecing things together. “How do you know that’s Shift creating that illusion—or Blackstone? There are at least two of these ships out there. How many more exist?”
“I’m not telling you that,” Ardra replied tartly. “But I can tell from Niamlar’s movements that she’s being portrayed by an amateur. She’s tromping around like clowns in a horse suit. Jilaan never saw the day she looked that bad.” Ardra’s eyes flicked to the back of the room. “Er—who is this person back there and why is she so animated?”
Picard looked to see his Nausicaan guest fidgeting with excitement. “Doctor Aggadak, who has been caring for Houdini during your incarceration.” The captain had already noticed that Aggadak had not been able to take her eyes off Ardra. “Doctor, do you have something to contribute?”
“Sorry,” Aggadak said. “I just got excited that there might be more of these ships out there.” The Nausicaan fixed her eyes on Ardra. “It’s so good to finally meet you. You are a legend.”
“It’s always nice to meet one’s fans,” Ardra said, adding coolly, “Such as they are.” She returned her attention to the image. “No, it’s one thing to create a tribute to one of Jilaan’s performances—that’s why the code is provided. Or even to use the same creation in support of another, larger illusion. That’s accepted practice. But to run the exact same ploy is unworthy of the Circle.”
“Is it the exact ploy?” Dax asked. “Do we know if there have been any demands for financial tribute on Janalwa?”
Chen straightened in her chair. “Starfleet Intelligence is in the dark. Except for official channels, all media in the Holy Order have gone completely silent. Worshippers are being allowed into the Cathedral of State by invitation only now—mostly supporters of the hardliners. I think my friend must have been the last Devotionalist to get in there. I haven’t been able to get back in touch.”
Picard clasped his hands on the table. He had played Dixon Hill many times; the past few weeks had given him far too many opportunities to play detective. “Let us look at these incidents. We have the Blackstone, used in an attempt to defraud a group of Klingon exiles into believing that an ancient hero had returned. We believe material gain was at least partially involved—given the Ark of G’boj—but clearly there were also acts of murder with political ramifications.”
Picard studied the writhing image. “We have an attempt to defraud the Kinshaya with an illusion of their god of war. The Kinshaya, whose official Shift was convicted of murdering, and who are often manipulated by the Breen.” He glanced around the table. “What if Shift is some kind of secret agent, whose friendship with Ardra was all about finding out how to get control of a truthcrafter ship?”
He was speaking while deep in thought, the words flowing as he considered the angles. “Is it possible the Breen could have found Blackstone and conveyed it out of the Empire, to use it to manipulate the Kinshaya? Could t
he Blackstone have made it from Atogra to Janalwa? Is there enough time?”
La Forge nodded. “If Blackstone has the same warp drive as Houdini, plenty of time. It’s easier than assuming there was a third illusion-generating ship involved.”
“There isn’t,” Ardra said. “No one in the Circle would disrespect Jilaan like this.”
“How can you be sure?” Dax’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been in prison for nineteen years.”
“I have my resources.” Ardra found an empty chair by the wall and sat next to her attorney.
Quiet fell across the room. Picard kept turning over the elements in his head. The Klingons. The Unsung. The Kinshaya. And somewhere in there, the Breen. He felt tantalizingly close to something—but what?
Ardra’s advocate finally broke the silence. “This is all very interesting,” Yorta said, “and I’m pleased my client could advise you. But I’m not sure there’s anything else we can assist Starfleet with.”
Picard’s eyes narrowed. “This is the second time the Kinshaya have been tricked. We don’t know to what end but if it is connected to the Kruge trickery, we can assume it’s a bad one. Should we tell the Kinshaya of the hoax?”
“They wouldn’t believe us,” Chen said.
La Forge snapped his fingers. “Ventax II. We used Houdini once before to show that Ardra was a fraud.”
“Watch your language,” Ardra said from her place by the wall. She gave him an icy smile.
The engineer continued, “What if we took Houdini there and fought fire with fire? Fake fire, I mean.”
“Creating our own character to countermand whatever instructions the false Niamlar is giving?” Picard asked. He mused over the concept. “I’m not sure how I feel about that. It would compound the victimization—and would be seen as an incredible sacrilege if it were ever found out. We can assume that Shift is already using the Kinshaya’s religion against them for some reason, just as Jilaan did for financial gain. I would not do the same, even for a good cause.”
The Hall of Heroes Page 18
