The Hall of Heroes

by John Jackson Miller

  Vale looked back between commands. “I’d find a safe place to watch the fireworks, sir.”

  “Just headed for the balcony seats,” he said, taking advantage of a momentary break in the action to hurry up the steps of the command well toward the master systems display where an open chair awaited. Troi was back in her usual counselor’s seat, where he had been when the shooting started; he’d left to get a fuller status report from Starfleet Command.

  “It’s happening all across the frontier sectors,” Riker said, straining to be heard over the din. “Kinshaya battlespheres of a new class—just like these—striking multiple targets.”

  “Then I won’t take it personally,” Vale said. “Alter course, one-two-five mark six-six!”

  Titan banked hard, swinging around one of the Kinshaya battlespheres. Positioning wasn’t of much use against a spherical opponent that had weapons emplacements evenly distributed across its surface—but there were four Kinshaya warships on the scene, and by moving, Titan could keep at least one vessel always in another’s eclipse.

  General Kersh had resisted hails asking to coordinate their actions against the Kinshaya—and Gur’rok’s shields had paid the price for it. “We keep trying to take some heat off the Klingon battle cruiser,” Vale reported, “but then the Kinshaya chase down mining ships.”

  “I trust your judgment,” Riker said, and he did. The Klingon mining ships that had attempted to bar them from the Pheben system had scattered willy-nilly, and whenever Titan and Gur’rok weren’t double-teamed, the unoccupied Kinshaya had used the small ships for target practice. Titan had been forced to attract as much enemy attention as it could.

  As they swooped past another ebon globe, Vale asked, “Counselor, what are they thinking over there? Besides the obvious?”

  “I sense what you’d expect,” Troi said. “Exaltation, excitement. Religious fervor.” She paused, her brow wrinkling as she struggled to concentrate amid the chaos. “And something else. There’s a calmer presence there, more focused. A different sort of mind, different emotions.”

  “That could be the difference between the Kinshaya and their Kreel slaves,” Sarai suggested.

  “I’m not sure which is dominant. I think they both believe they are.”

  Riker studied the display behind him, trying to make sense of the storm of information coming in. “The Defense Force has rearguard units in motion, Captain. But for now we’re on our own.”

  He looked back to see Gur’rok fighting off its attackers, still heedless of any of Titan’s hails. Starfleet’s rift with the Klingons was real and visible right outside the ship. Riker could not imagine Pheben was the only place it was having an effect.

  His effort to preserve the Accords had failed. And both Federation and Empire would suffer.

  PHANTOM WING VESSEL CHU’CHARQ

  DEEP SPACE

  Valandris didn’t know much about the Federation, but she had already determined that its members certainly talked a lot. There had been the conference on H’atoria, intended to be all talk—where, when she was disguised as a Sentry, Starfleet Admiral Riker had apologized at length to her for something. She still wasn’t sure what that had been all about.

  After the Phantom Wing revealed itself to Enterprise and the other ship—Aventine, Worf called it—Valandris had been ready for anything. Instead, in the minutes following Kahless’s warning about the Kinshaya, the Starfleet captains had retreated from the viewscreen, off to confer with their superiors. It made no sense to her. If the people of Thane stopped to discuss every wild animal that charged the camp, they would quickly find themselves that day’s meal.

  “It is necessary,” Worf had said. “There are many choices before them.”

  “Kahless the Unforgettable says we should never hesitate.”

  That had prompted laughter from the emperor. “Kahless the Clone says that he who strikes blindly cuts only himself.”

  So the Starfleeters had talked, seemingly satisfied that Worf and Kahless were safe, and that while the two were aboard Chu’charq, the Unsung meant no harm. Time was not lost, as La Forge, now seated in the captain’s chair during Picard’s absence, explained the purpose of the third vessel nearby.

  “So that is how it was done,” Worf said. He had recognized the ship called Houdini earlier, and also a woman named Ardra, standing on Enterprise’s bridge, who had apparently owned the small craft. “Buxtus Cross created his Kruge illusions with such a ship.”

  Valandris still had trouble believing it. “Are you telling me a ship like that was cloaked above Thane for all of last year?”

  “And it was following the Phantom Wing wherever you saw Kruge,” La Forge said.

  She could not fathom how any spacecraft could create so convincing an illusion. She had spent countless hours with Kruge. But then, much outside preparation had gone into providing them with the birds-of-prey in the first place. Anything was possible.

  While they waited for the captains’ answer, Worf had decided that his colleagues should see a certain bit of evidence. Sarken appeared with it, entering onto the bridge with a padd in an open box. “It’s from that room no one ever went inside,” Sarken said. “I only touched it at the edges, Worf, like you said.”

  “Thank you, Sarken.” Worf lifted the box in his hands and held it so the observers on Enterprise could see it. “Commander La Forge, this padd is one of dozens the Unsung found aboard every Phantom Wing vessel. It is a tutorial on running the ships—narrated, in places, by whoever was responsible for providing the exiles with the starships.”

  La Forge looked at it with eagerness. “We’d certainly like to see that. But we’ll both need to drop our shields before you can—”

  Valandris made a gesture to Hemtara—and an instant later, the box disappeared from Worf’s hands and rematerialized on the deck in front of the engineer. “Oh,” La Forge said. “I’d almost forgotten about that little trick. Thanks—this’ll help us figure out more about who was deceiving you and why. And it could help with the Kinshaya.”

  “What do you mean?” Valandris asked.

  “We think the same ship that tricked you might have prompted the Kinshaya attack,” La Forge replied. “Maybe even the same way—by impersonating one of their deities.”

  “Kruge was no deity—just a mortal, whose face and reputation were used,” Kahless said. “Cross intended to do the same with me. It appears the blackguards have moved to other deceptions. Shameful.”

  “I saw the destruction they caused at the Klingon outpost,” Valandris declared. “Even if such people were misled into attacking, they must still be stopped.”

  She looked to her side and noticed Worf’s satisfied expression.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” But the look on his face did not change.

  Thirty-nine

  U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

  Picard’s face was ashen when he and Dax emerged from his ready room onto the bridge. The Unsung, so recently enemies, had been proven correct. When Starfleet Command spread the word about the Kinshaya attack on No’Var Outpost, the Holy Order had responded by revealing its ships everywhere and launching attacks.

  But both captains feared the alert had come too late.

  “Reports continue to come in,” Picard said. “The Kinshaya are striking at worlds all across the frontier—including Ketorix, the administrative capital of the House of Kruge. No warning. None—but yours,” he said, gesturing to the Klingons on screen.

  “The beginning of an interstellar war,” Worf said.

  “From what we’ve been told,” Dax said, “the Kinshaya are deploying forces we did not know they had, including ships of a design we previously have not seen. It doesn’t seem to be all of the Typhon Pact powers—at least so far.”

  “The Romulans seem shocked,” Picard said. “The Breen . . . who can tell? What I do know is that we have new orders.”

  Dax asked, “Are you listening, Sam?”

  “Never left,” Bowers said over
an open channel.

  Picard turned to face the Klingons on the viewscreen. “Under Starfleet’s instructions, our two starships are to accept the Unsung’s surrender.”

  “It is not surrender,” Kahless said. “That is not the Klingon way. But neither is striking from the darkness and fleeing. The Unsung will no longer do that. They stand behind their acts. They will hide no longer.”

  Hearing the emperor’s words, Picard wondered whether Cross was the only magician the exiles had met. “Very well. The Unsung will face Klingon judgment at the appropriate time. We will distribute their numbers between our brigs and disable the Phantom Wing. Then we are to leave immediately for the fronts.”

  “Fronts?” La Forge asked.

  Picard explained, “Enterprise and Aventine are by far the closest Starfleet vessels to two worlds currently under attack—Narendra III and Ketorix Prime. Both, for some reason, are stripped of their patrol ships.”

  “Command wants us to split up,” Dax said. “It’s our choice which worlds we go toward.”

  “I have chosen Narendra III,” Picard said. “Another Enterprise fought until the bitter end to protect that planet. Starfleet has given us ten minutes to transfer the Unsung—but then we must go.”

  Tuvok, standing in the aft with Chen, Ardra, and Yorta, stepped down into the command well. “Captain, what about Houdini and our plan to end the Niamlar deception?”

  “On hold, Commander, indefinitely,” Picard said. “I explained as much as I could to Admiral Akaar while we were waiting for our assignments. Command feels that the Houdini is too slow to reach Janalwa in time to be helpful. By the time you arrived and surveyed the situation, the Kinshaya could be dug in. I agreed that we should not lose our senior officers before what is likely to be a pitched battle.” He looked back to Ardra and her lawyer. “Starfleet also regarded as remote the possibility that our new ‘partner’ would honestly contribute anything.”

  “I think I’m offended,” Ardra said. “But if you believe I’m tagging along as you run off to war, you’re mistaken. Give me a shuttle, so I can get away from this madhouse.”

  “Request denied.” Picard noticed she didn’t say anything about going back to prison. “Let’s start those transfers.” He moved toward his chair, which La Forge vacated.

  Before either sat down, the engineer spoke up. “Captain.”

  Picard looked at him. “Commander?”

  “Captain, Houdini isn’t fast enough on its own to reach Janalwa. But it could be tractored by the Aventine.”

  Tuvok stepped forward to La Forge’s side. “The Borg once tractored Voyager through warp. Titan assisted the Romulans in towing the Vanguard colony—”

  “I know the examples,” Picard said. “Aventine has a slipstream drive, another matter entirely.” He looked back to Dax. “Has any ship that size ever been tractored by a vessel using a slipstream drive?”

  “No.” Her brow furrowed. “But it could be possible. We’d have to watch the tractor beam—and the Houdini would have to be manned, standing by to use thrusters. ”

  His excitement for the idea building, La Forge stated, “We can do it, Captain.”

  Picard saw Šmrhová frown at tactical. “I don’t get it,” she said. “How can both ships go sauntering into Kinshaya space without sending up an alarm? Houdini has a cloaking device, not Aventine.”

  “You weren’t aboard the Enterprise at Ventax,” La Forge said. “Houdini has the ability to extend its cloaking field a considerable distance away.”

  Picard thought back. Yes, that had been one of Ardra’s more impressive tricks—one of her few that had not required Houdini’s illusion projection systems. She had caused Enterprise to disappear—or seemed to, by the use of Houdini’s cloaking device.

  “We just do it again,” La Forge said. “We have Houdini enter Kinshaya space with its cloak shrouding Aventine. Then she stays with us while we get into position over Janalwa.”

  “Use of a cloaking device aboard a Federation vessel is a violation of the Treaty of Algeron,” Picard said.

  “Houdini is not a Federation vessel,” La Forge said.

  “Perhaps,” Tuvok said, “we require the services of a legal expert.”

  All eyes turned to Yorta.

  “I do criminal law,” the older man said, shuffling uncomfortably under the attention. “But you needn’t consult me. Not when you have one of the negotiators on the treaty here.” He looked to Ezri. “Curzon Dax worked on several of the treaty drafts, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Our crew shouldn’t have even been using the cloaking device aboard Houdini when they were chasing Blackstone,” Dax said. “It was a Federation-commandeered ship.”

  “But it wouldn’t be in this case.” Ardra stepped forward. “Houdini is my ship. If you want me to set foot on it, you’d better believe I’m captain. You would be my passengers.” She looked to Dax. “And our cloaking of your ship would be my responsibility.”

  “Thin ice,” Picard said. “If the Romulans learn about it and protest—” He stopped himself. “I suppose that will all depend on whether the Kinshaya have gone off without the approval of the Typhon Pact.” He shook his head. “But even if we were to agree, two worlds remain in danger. I cannot defend both of them with one ship.”

  “You have five,” Valandris said.

  The officers turned to face the main viewscreen. The Klingons had been silent during the discussion, but now Valandris stood. “I do not understand all that you have discussed,” she said. “It was our people’s desire to go to Ketorix to stand before those we offended. The Phantom Wing will go in Aventine’s stead.”

  Picard regarded the Unsung. “This is a major undertaking. You know how you will be received.”

  “If we are greeted by Klingons, we will take what comes. But if we are met by Kinshaya, we will make them regret they were ever born.”

  Beside her, Worf nodded. “Captain, the remaining four ships are the equal to one of ours. If Aventine has a mission that could end the conflict altogether, the Phantom Wing could take its place.”

  Picard’s eyes narrowed. “Emperor?”

  Kahless spread his hands before the Unsung visible in the background. “I vouch for these people, Picard. They are not who Cross tried to turn them into. Give them the chance to be the warriors they were meant to be.”

  Picard could not suppress an amazed smile. “I suspect there is a story behind this that will be fascinating to hear. But you know my orders: I am duty-bound to bring you in. You must understand—”

  Valandris sat back down and touched a control on her armrest. “We will do as I said, Captain Picard. Good-bye.”

  The image on the viewscreen vanished to be replaced by the sight of the four birds-of-prey. Picard watched as they disappeared under cloak, one by one.

  Šmrhová asked, “Captain, orders?” After a moment, she appealed to him again. “They still have Commander Worf and Kahless. We can stop them.”

  He studied the darkness on screen—and a determined expression formed. “We know where they’re going. With luck we can all reach our destinations in time.”

  Forty

  U.S.S. AVENTINE

  DEEP SPACE

  “The next time we leave for a long mission,” Sam Bowers said as the turbolift doors opened, “we should schedule an additional month just to be briefed on what’s happened since we’ve been gone.”

  Stepping with her first officer into main engineering, Dax knew exactly what he meant. Days earlier, she had convened a lengthy briefing following her initial conference with Tuvok to bring her crew up to speed about the Unsung. This time it was to explain the capabilities of Houdini and Aventine’s intended role in taking it to Janalwa—

  —and, oh yes, the small matter of the Kinshaya invasion of Klingon space. There had been some murmured objections, as she had expected, to the Unsung defending Ketorix rather than Aventine, but Command had quickly approved the slipstream-tow plan. It only served to reinforce that drastic measures
were necessary.

  She and Bowers had just gotten an update from the chancellor’s office, which tried very hard to convey the impression they were still in control. Pheben was seeing a pitched battle between starships and the Kinshaya, but no landings had yet taken place. Of Narendra III, it was known that Klingon satellite defense forces were putting up a valiant fight. Nothing was known of Ketorix at all.

  “The Romulans are condemning the Kinshaya and pulling their Unsung search ships out,” Bowers said. “If it’s a Typhon Pact attack, it makes no sense at all.”

  “Which is why it’s worth our trying to cut the Gordian knot,” she said.

  The captain’s presence caught the attention of the officers around an engineering table. Mikaela Leishman, Aventine’s chief engineer, was meeting with La Forge and Tuvok on the tractor beam problem.

  “Status, Mikaela?” Dax asked. “Did I promise too much?”

  “No, as it happens, slipstream towing was one of my side projects,” the human woman said. “I’ve been looking for a chance to test some ideas out.”

  “Glad to deliver,” Dax said. “How soon can we get under way? Enterprise has been gone for two hours.”

  “I think,” La Forge said, looking up from the numbers he was rechecking, “that Commander Tuvok and I have the Houdini side of things nailed down. I’ll be coordinating with Lieutenant Leishman’s tractor beam control. Tuvok will handle the cloaking. Doctor Aggadak is on the Houdini with Ardra and the Enterprise’s engineering task force preparing for what we have planned for Janalwa.”

  “Sounds crowded,” Dax mused. With Enterprise going into battle, Picard had told Šmrhová that her place was on the bridge. Aventine’s security chief, Lonnoc Kedair, had taken her place on Houdini, watching over their convict-turned-ally Ardra. “Tell Ardra her lawyer says hello from sickbay, and that he’ll confer with her just as soon as he feels better. I don’t think the man was expecting to head deep into hostile territory.”