The Hall of Heroes

by John Jackson Miller

  “Captain Sulu had some of the same concerns at Yongolor,” Tuvok said. “He determined that we should thwart whoever was transmitting the imagery. But he did so in such a way that their faith was not shaken.”

  “Do we have the ability to jam their illusion transmissions, as Captain Sulu threatened?”

  “Not that I know of,” Tuvok said. “We never had the chance to try aboard Excelsior. We merely threatened.”

  A gasp came from Ardra’s direction. “A bluff?” She shook her head in amazement. “Why, you little Starfleet scoundrels. Jilaan said our people were running about in a panic after that!”

  “Will Riker would say we are a card-playing people,” Picard said. Then something else occurred to him. “But what if we didn’t tell the Kinshaya they were being tricked—but simply made it obvious that that was the case?”

  Tuvok’s brow furrowed. “Please elucidate, Captain.”

  “We cast our own illusion, right in the same space as Niamlar. And then we show how the trick is done.”

  Ardra put up her hands. “Oh, no! We never do that. Jean-Luc, that is the cardinal rule.”

  “But a rule has already been broken, or so you say. If your order has any standards, they have certainly been violated.” He looked to Tuvok and La Forge. “Would you be able to take Houdini to Janalwa—cloaked—and do exactly that?”

  La Forge cleared his throat. “I’m not sure we have the capability to show the Kinshaya anything as convincing as that.” He gestured to Niamlar. “We only have access to the few characters who were in the system when Ardra was arrested.”

  “That’s because you’ve never found my archives, with the Annals,” Ardra said. “And you never will.”

  “Not without your help.” Picard studied the defiant illusionist. “Mister Yorta, I’m willing to pledge that Starfleet will do everything possible to change your client’s situation, should she help us to undo the mischief that a ship of her Circle has done.”

  Ardra spoke up. “Now, wait a second—”

  Yorta waved her off. “What does that offer mean, Captain? Are we talking freedom?”

  Picard looked at her and swallowed hard. “Yes, if possible.”

  “And Houdini restored to me?” Ardra asked.

  “That’s for Starfleet to decide. But I will personally speak for your liberation.”

  Yorta looked at his client, who conferred with him in agitated whispers.

  Picard cut the discussions short. “My offer is firm, Ardra. It will not change. You will render assistance to Commander La Forge and his team as they find necessary. You will seek to undo the harm that we suspect Shift may be doing with Blackstone. We might be able to locate Shift and resolve major questions in the Unsung matter.”

  Ardra shook her head. “I’m not sure I really want to—”

  “No?” Picard rose from his seat at the head of the table. “Very well,” he said, picking up his padd. He looked to La Forge. “The plan for Houdini is approved. Assemble a team and do what you can—without her help.”

  Ardra gripped her armrests. “Jean-Luc, you must see reason!”

  “I do see. You told me earlier that you are eternal. If losing the past nineteen years of your life has had no meaning for you, I can’t see why you would object to going back. Lieutenant Šmrhová, take her to the brig. Adjourned.”

  Thirty-five

  U.S.S. TITAN

  PHEBEN SYSTEM

  One thing about dealing with more than one crisis at a time, Riker thought: after a certain point, you don’t feel the weight of each additional calamity. The human mind could only process so much. Logically, he understood his difficulties were being compounded, but he only felt the burden of whatever he was grappling with.

  Switching focus from one crisis to another offered relief—even, perversely, when the other problem was bigger. If he needed to take a break from Titan’s search for the Unsung—an investigation being received with increasing antagonism by the Klingons—he went to his chavmajta preparations. Failure of the chavmajta would be cataclysmic and would most assuredly lead to his losing his commission, but at least it took his mind off scouring space for cloaked ships.

  Riker stared at the pile of padds. The presentation dealing with the most recent events was on the topmost one. The challenge seemed insurmountable. He had to put things in the best light, while also standing ready to defend Starfleet’s actions. The frustration he felt while observing on the bridge had crept into his office.

  He swept up his padd, deciding the best thing to do was to work on the bridge. Deanna vacated her seat, allowing him to sit. Vale had merely nodded to him, not objecting, possibly figuring that it was an improvement over his standing and literally looking over her shoulder. The first officer, Dalit Sarai, had initially looked concerned, but that had faded when it became clear that Riker’s focus was solely on his padd.

  It felt better to be here, hearing and seeing the search going on as he worked. And if he felt somewhat self-conscious in Troi’s chair, he knew she was not far away. It wasn’t as though they required an empath’s talents to read the receptions they were getting from the Klingons, anyway: hostility was hostility.

  Titan was currently in the Pheben system, an active area for miners working for the House of Kruge. Ironically, it had been where Riker had served in the officer exchange program with the I.K.S. Pagh with Klag. Earlier at Theta Thoridor, Klag had been the last friendly Klingon Titan had encountered. Here at Pheben, Titan had been attempting to run down yet another Unsung lead when several independent mining vessels had approached.

  “No threat,” Keru said. “But they are blocking our approach.”

  “Five ships,” Sarai said.

  “Full stop,” Vale ordered. “Hail the one in front of us.”

  “You are not welcome in this place,” declared the crusty Klingon prospector who appeared on the main viewscreen. “For years I sold to the Kruge family. Starfleet let the Unsung gut them at Gamaral!”

  “Captain, we are trying to find them,” Vale said in her most patient voice. “This system hasn’t been searched yet, and we have a report—”

  “Tell the Defense Force!”

  “We have. We’d be happy to talk to the home guard ship in this system. But we can’t locate them.”

  “They were gone when we arrived,” the miner said. “It is time for you to leave too. Get out of Klingon space!” The transmission ended, cut off from the other side.

  Vale looked to Riker. “This is an important mining system. Why would they leave it—”

  Keru interrupted, “New contact, arrival from warp,” he said. “Klingon battle cruiser. Captain, it’s the Gur’rok.”

  “General Kersh,” Riker said under his breath. Kersh, who had started out hostile to Riker before the Unsung crisis began, had only grown more irritated with him in the days since. Their every encounter had been a misery, and he wasn’t expecting this one would be any better.

  “Titan,” the general said on hailing, not bothering to hide her distaste. Then she saw who was sitting next to the captain. “And our favorite admiral. When we started getting messages from miners of an intruder in this system, I expected the Unsung. You are not welcome.”

  “We’re just following a lead. Same as you, General,” Vale said.

  “I should rephrase. You are welcome no more. Our forces here can—”

  Kersh stopped, midstatement, as the audio was cut. Several Klingons could be seen conferring with the general. When she looked up again, her cool resentment had been replaced by genuine wrath. “There is supposed to be a battle cruiser in this system—with three birds-of-prey!”

  “The miners tell us they suddenly left,” Vale said.

  “Suddenly left?” Kersh’s eyes blazed with rage. “A Klingon would never abandon his post!”

  “Ask them yourself,” Vale said.

  “Did they see them leave?”

  “General—”

  Kersh shook her head, her anger boiling over. “This is t
he limit. I have been getting word of home guard ships missing from their posts, with no flight plans filed and no orders to leave from the Defense Force.”

  Riker turned to Vale. She gestured for him to deal with General Kersh. “More ships are missing?” he asked.

  The sound of his voice set Kersh off. “Yes, more ships! I have also lost contact with D’pach, at the No’Var Outpost. The outpost itself is also not responding.” She leered at him. “You remember that place, Riker?”

  “Of course. You haven’t let me forget it.” The Takedown Incident would forever be under Kersh’s skin. “Have they reported in to Qo’noS?”

  “They haven’t reported to anyone! I’ve tried rerouting one of the ships from H’atoria—but it’s left station, too!” She glared at him. “That was the site of another of your triumphs, wasn’t it?”

  Riker stood, straightening his uniform. “General, what are you insinuating? That we had something to do with their departure?”

  “If they left.” Kersh’s volume lowered, but her tone grew more ominous. “My most loyal warrior is stationed at No’var. Thagon would never abandon his post. You should know: you faced him once before!” Kersh glowered, suspicion forming. “And now I find you here and our forces missing. I ask you again—where are the ships garrisoned at Pheben?”

  Riker thought for a moment. “This system is infested with subatomic bacteria that devour starship hulls. Perhaps that—”

  “The Empire has known about the organism for more than twenty years,” Kersh said. “Every ship here uses decontamination protocols.”

  “I know. Enterprise helped one of your ships deal with the problem.”

  “We do not need your help!” Kersh shouted. The transmission ended—and the image on the screen was replaced by the Gur’rok, now nose to nose with Titan.

  From behind, Keru reported, “The mining ships are moving away. Gur’rok has just raised her shields.”

  “What?” Riker looked back at the security officer in astonishment. “Hail her.”

  “Mister Keru, do it,” Vale said, her focus on her armrest controls. Titan had been in full-blown interstellar incidents before. Any false move could have profound consequences.

  “Audio only,” Keru said.

  “General Kersh, this is Admiral Riker.”

  “You will leave this system while we investigate.”

  “Titan is here at the chancellor’s invitation. The Khitomer Accords allow us to be here.”

  “The Accords be damned,” Kersh said.

  U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

  DEEP SPACE

  “Lieutenant Šmrhová is bringing her up,” Picard said.

  He had figured Ardra out, almost to the minute. She had lasted exactly through one replicated meal in the brig. While he had no doubt it was better than the fare offered at Thionoga, eating it behind a force field had reminded Ardra of what she was going back to.

  The Houdini task force was in his ready room. La Forge, Tuvok, and Aggadak representing those who knew how to work Houdini—and Chen and Dax, to advise on how best to influence the Kinshaya.

  “We shouldn’t start our illusion until we find out what Niamlar has been telling the Kinshaya,” Chen said. “We might have to have Ardra respond to it in our counter.”

  “This isn’t a magic competition,” Picard said. “We demystify this particular meddler’s trick and capture Shift. Once the Kinshaya know about her, I believe she would rather turn herself over to Starfleet.”

  “We would have a better chance of catching her with a starship,” La Forge said with resignation. “But we can’t pull ships away from the Unsung search.”

  “Speaking of, I’d better get back to it,” Dax said. She stood. “My job here is done. I’ve told you all I can remember of what Curzon saw. I wish you all luck—chasing wizards and dragons sounds like more fun.”

  “Thank you for bringing us Ardra, Captain.” Picard could not quite believe he had said those words. He rose. “The rest of you continue working here. Ezri, I’ll see you out.”

  When Picard and Dax walked out onto the bridge, Šmrhová was just stepping out of the turbolift with Ardra and her lawyer. Ardra looked little worse for her brief incarceration, yet she smiled curtly as the security chief removed her manacles. “Thank you ever so much,” she said.

  Picard and Dax approached the trio. “I understand we’ve come to terms,” he said.

  “I could never say no to you,” Ardra replied.

  “You understand you’re not getting the Houdini back—you’re just getting to use it,” Picard said. “And it will require you to do something you’ve said you will never do—something you and your people have gone to jail to avoid.” Picard studied her. “Are you willing to help us?”

  “Oh, I’ll go,” Ardra said. “Not because you want me to, Jean-Luc—although you are still darling. And not to save the Kinshaya, or the Klingons, or the whoevers. I won’t even do it to get out of prison.” Her lip stiffened. “I’ll do it to teach that little worm a lesson. No one tramples on the legend of Jilaan.”

  “Very well, then.” Picard turned and shook hands with Dax. “I wish you the best of luck in your—”

  Ensign Balidemaj called out from tactical. “Vessels decloaking, ten kilometers ahead!” Every pair of eyes on the bridge turned toward the main viewscreen. “Two—no, four birds-of-prey!”

  “Shields.” Picard stepped over to his command chair. They were in Klingon space, and the appearance of birds-of-prey, decloaking, wasn’t unusual. But something about four—

  “Vessels match the configuration of the Phantom Wing ships seen at Ghora Janto,” Balidemaj said. “It’s the Unsung.”

  “Red alert!” Out of the corner of his eye, Picard saw his Houdini task force emerge from the ready room. La Forge dashed to the first officer’s post beside the captain.

  “Phantom Wing shields are up,” Šmrhová declared, taking her station. “Disruptors are not charged.”

  Dygan looked up from ops. “They’re hailing, Captain.”

  “On-screen,” Picard ordered. It was not the Unsung’s practice to hail. But as surprising as that was, nothing could have prepared him for the figure who appeared on the viewscreen.

  “Greetings, Captain Picard. I have returned.”

  Kahless!

  Thirty-six

  The truthcrafters, Ardra had bragged, were capable of convincing anyone they had seen anything. That was on Picard’s mind when he saw Kahless, victim of the assassins on Thane, and Commander Worf, missing since H’atoria. They stood on a Phantom Wing bridge surrounded by Unsung.

  “La Forge?” Picard asked without averting his gaze.

  “No signals from an illusion projection unit. They’re real.”

  Kahless wore a sort of clothing Picard had never seen before; it looked handmade. Worf was still in his uniform, soiled and tattered. They were flanking a young Klingon woman, in the garb of the Unsung, seated in the bird-of-prey’s command chair.

  The scene left him tongue-tied. “Emperor” was all he could get out. He heard Dax activate her combadge, ordering. “Aventine, if you’re seeing this—stand by.”

  The Klingon woman spoke. “I am Valandris of the Unsung, who struck Gamaral and H’atoria. We have stepped into the open to stand for the acts we have committed.” Picard could tell she spoke with an unusual Klingon accent. “But there is something else.”

  “Commander Worf,” Picard said, “how did you find us?” It was the first question he could think to ask.

  “Your flight plan was reported in a Klingon Defense Force dispatch we intercepted,” Worf said. “Captain—”

  “We must tell you of what we have seen,” Kahless said. “The Kinshaya have invaded the Empire. They strike from black orbs with the ability to cloak. They have already destroyed No’Var Outpost.”

  Picard looked flummoxed.

  Dygan was already checking. “The Empire just now circulated a report. Loss of contact with the station and its battle cruiser, Captain. They’re
not sure if it isn’t a communications failure.”

  “It is no failure,” Valandris said. “We saw the dead.”

  Worf said, “We are sending you our sensor records, so you can spread the warning.”

  Picard left his chair and stepped up to Dygan’s station. The imagery came in.

  “I don’t know the class, Captain, but they’re definitely Kinshaya,” Dygan said.

  Šmrhová added, “Sir, if they have six . . .”

  Then they likely have more. Picard was already on his way back to his seat, ordering, “Get me Starfleet Command—and Qo’noS.”

  U.S.S. TITAN

  PHEBEN SYSTEM

  Riker stood before the viewscreen, staring down Kersh. “We don’t have to do this dance, General. I know I’ve disappointed you in the past—but I’m here, now, trying to do right by a friend. A friend and an ally.”

  “I don’t fire warning shots, Admiral. I want you out of this system. I’m not your friend and I’m certainly not your—” The audio was suddenly cut.

  “Sir!” Ethan Kyzak blurted.

  Riker looked at him. “What?”

  “Enterprise has a priority-one message for you,” Kyzak said. “My board here just lit up like wildfire. You’ve also got a priority-one message from Starfleet Command and from the Klingon Defense Force.”

  Riker looked up at the main viewscreen, where a Klingon was delivering a message to Kersh. “I guess we’re both in trouble,” he said, forcing a smile.

  “Let’s take the Enterprise first,” Riker ordered.

  “Captain Picard reports that he’s just found the Unsung,” Kyzak said, his voice rising in pitch. “Emperor Kahless and Commander Worf are alive. The Kinshaya have launched a raid on the Empire. He recommends we immediately go to—”

  “Red alert!” Vale called out.

  They’d avoided provoking the Gur’rok—but Titan’s crew responded immediately to the command, raising shields. Riker looked up at the viewscreen, concerned that Kersh would misunderstand—but he could tell from her expression that she had gotten the same message.

  The same impossible, befuddling message, with news both wonderful and terrifying. The hunt was over and his friends were alive—and the Empire was now at war.