11

Deanna Troi followed the flash of her mother’s dress as she and Worf made their way through the crowd. Emotions crashed over her, leaving her feeling suffocated and breathless like the room was slowly losing air.

“Counselor,” Worf said as the Klingon dodged a woman in a towering glass headdress who was arguing with a security officer. “I have concerns about this.”

Troi forced herself to concentrate. The entire room was thick with anxiety, but his felt different: there was a professional distress, a swirl of quiet bafflement. It was the sort of emotional distress she was used to dealing with aboard the Enterprise.

She asked, “What exactly are you—”

A group of Betazoid teenagers careened between them.

“—worried about?”

Worf looked at her sideways. “I’m being asked to conduct an investigation.” Lwaxana Troi was just on the other side of a crush of Arcadian dignitaries, waving her hand wildly at them. Worf led Troi over to a relatively clear path past the dignitaries.

“You’ve done this countless times,” Troi said.

“I am unfamiliar with”—Worf took in a Betazoid woman wearing an enormous hoop skirt as she squeezed through the crowd—“Betazoid culture.”

“I can help you,” Troi replied. “If you don’t mind me being your partner.”

Worf looked down at her, his dark eyes serious. “You would do me a great honor.”

“Hurry, hurry!” Lwaxana swooped in, shattering the moment. “Commander Rusina is waiting.”

The ambassador led them up to a door being guarded by a pair of Betazed Security officers who stepped aside as soon as they saw who it was. Going through the door into the room beyond was like taking a deep breath; everything fell audibly quiet, and the air was cooler. Troi could feel Worf’s tension decrease.

But an audible quiet wasn’t the same as a telepathic one. Troi’s thoughts were filled with whispers. The place was awash with tension. A tall Betazoid man with streaks of gray at his temples stepped forward. He wore the gold-and-black uniform of Betazed Security. “You must be Lieutenant Worf,” he said. “Welcome to my command center.”

“I appreciate the opportunity.” The Klingon studied the room. Troi watched as he took it all in: three high-ranking security officers and a massive viewscreen showing the stage, littered with fallen curtains and the empty display case.

“Mister Worf will prove indispensable, I’m certain of it.” Lwaxana flashed Commander Rusina a dazzling smile. Troi wondered if her mother had put in the request for Worf’s help because she thought they were together. They weren’t. They were just friends.

Lwaxana looked over at Troi, her eyes twinkling.

“I’ll be assisting the lieutenant,” Troi said, forcing herself to concentrate.

“What?! You need to stay with Jean-Luc. It’s too dangerous out there.” Lwaxana gestured toward the stage door.

“Mother, the captain will be fine. This sort of thing is my job. My literal job.” She turned to Commander Rusina. “I serve as ship’s counselor aboard the Enterprise. I can help Lieutenant Worf navigate the Betazoid customs he might be unfamiliar with.”

I knew it! You are seeing Mister Worf!

“Mother!” Troi snapped back, her cheeks hot. She glanced over to see Commander Rusina and the other two security officers staring at them. At least Worf wasn’t telepathic.

Lwaxana looked pleased with herself.

Worf cleared his throat. “Have you spoken with anyone?”

“Not in any detail,” Commander Rusina replied. “I have the three Keepers and their entourages backstage—they were in hysterics, as you can imagine. We need to question them. The guests and front-row audience members might also have some insights.”

“The Keepers,” Worf said. “We should start with them.”

“Of course.” Commander Rusina gestured to the security officers. “I’ll send my men to assist you. I hope a pair of Starfleet officers will have better luck than we did.”

“Why would we have better luck?” Troi asked.

Commander Rusina shook his head. “You are not as… involved.”

Troi could feel her mother trying to wedge into her thoughts. She ignored her as best she could, focusing her attention on Worf. He caught her eye and she gave him a quick, encouraging smile.

“Officer Andra will take you to the Keepers,” Commander Rusina said.

A slim woman peeled away from the group that had just come into the room. She nodded briskly at her superior. “They’ve been in our custody since the unveiling. We—”

“Custody?” Lwaxana asked. “You don’t think a Keeper is responsible?”

“The Keepers and the guests are the most likely to have witnessed what happened,” Officer Andra said. “The Keepers most of all.”

“Should I come along?” Lwaxana turned toward Troi. “Perhaps I can offer—”

“Mother, you should see to Mr. Syn,” Troi said quickly. “I’m sure he’s going to want to discuss how to salvage the ceremonies.”

“I agree,” Commander Rusina said, and Troi felt an inward sigh of relief. He put his hand on Lwaxana’s back and guided her toward the exit. “I appreciate you bringing Mister Worf to us, Ambassador. We can take it from here.”

Troi ignored the sound of her mother’s faint protest, while Officer Andra offered, “We’ve set the Keepers up backstage. Easiest way to get there is to go out in the crowd again. Come on.”

Andra led them past the main exit, where Lwaxana was still speaking with Commander Rusina about something. Troi couldn’t worry about it right now. They went out through a smaller door that deposited them, just as Andra promised, back in the crowd, in the front of the stage.

Stay close to the wall, Andra said. Let the lieutenant know.

Troi shouted Andra’s instructions over the din to Worf, who nodded in acknowledgment. He stepped around Troi so that he was between her and the crush of people. The force field was still up, protecting nothing.

Eventually, they arrived at the left side of the stage. Security officers, who kept their eyes on the crowd, opened a portal in the force field and waved them through when Andra said, “Keepers.”

Stairs had been set up, giving easy access to the stage. Worf let the commander go first behind Andra. Being onstage was disorienting. The curtains were piled up in messy lumps around the empty display. Andra strode right past it.

“We have some of our most psi-sensitive officers on duty. None of them sensed anything out of the ordinary.” Andra shrugged. “Whoever did this knew Betazoid limitations. And exploited them.”

“Agreed,” Worf said.

They slipped backstage, into a forest of old props and racks hung with costumes, then into a narrow hallway. To Troi, the air was stuffy and thick with alarm. She realized she was feeling the emotions from the officer standing in front of a closed door at the end of the hallway—and the Keepers behind the door.

“Panic,” Troi observed.

Andra grinned. “Overwhelming. At least they’ve calmed down some.” She paused. “Most of it was from Jarkko Sentis. He’s First House, Xiomara’s direct descendant and all that.” Andra hesitated. “By the way, the commander allowed them to bring in family and friends.”

“A mistake,” Worf muttered.

“Perhaps, but I needed something to settle them down,” Andra explained.

The Betazoid security officer swung open the door, revealing a dressing room crammed with people. Some of them were speaking verbally, others psychically. All conversations stopped when the Starfleet officers stepped into the room.

Then, instantly, a flurry of voices, in Troi’s head. Who are you? Who is that? Do you know anything about the robbery? Starfleet?!

“Quiet!” commanded Andra. “This is Lieutenant Worf and Commander Deanna Troi of the Starship Enterprise. They’re here to ask some questions—”

“No more questions!” shouted Onora Opeila, her small, birdlike features buried beneath a towering floral headdress. “Haven’t we suffered enough?”

One of her attendants patted her arm, murmured softly in her ear.

“I will not be quiet!” Opeila cried. “The Sacred Silver has been stolen.”

Her words were met with angry stares.

“We do not have time for questions!” she continued. “We have to catch this thief.”

“Madam, I agree.” Worf stepped forward, his posture straight and self-assured. “Which is why we’re both here. You were all backstage when the objects were taken—”

The room erupted.

Calm down! Andra said. And verbally answer Lieutenant Worf’s questions. The more you protest, the longer this is going to take.

While Andra pleaded with the Keepers and their various attendants, Troi swept her gaze around, trying to find Aviana Virox, daughter of the Third House. Three women in the corner were all wearing Third House regalia, layered dresses that looked like froths of steamed milk, but Troi didn’t know which one was Aviana.

“We don’t need to be calm,” snapped Jarkko. “We need to find our treasures!”

Shouts of agreement. Worf gave Troi an exasperated look, and Andra stepped forward, holding up her hands. “For the final time, that is why Starfleet is here,” she said. “The entire temple is secured with a force field to ensure no one gets in or out. Security is doing everything they can.”

“Why haven’t you found them?” one of the Third House women demanded. Aviana? Troi didn’t know much about her, but she had gathered, from various conversations with her mother, that Aviana adhered to the Third House tradition of being reclusive.

“The resources of Starfleet’s flagship are being put at the disposal of Betazed to aid in the recovery of the artifacts,” Troi announced. Had she just done that? Promised the resources of the Enterprise, without the captain’s approval? The panic, the despair, was overwhelming. But the objects needed to be found.

She glanced sideways at Worf, and he gave her a little nod. She added, “We are here to talk with you. To listen.”

“I am Onora Opeila, daughter of the Fourth House, Keeper of the Sacred Silver and protector of Xiomara’s legacy.” Onora’s voice quavered with indignation. “I have already made it clear to Officer Andra that I know nothing about the robbery.”

“Madam,” Worf said, “it is entirely possible that you know something without realizing you know something.”

Onora blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

Worf stepped up to her, his eyes level with the top of her headdress. She craned her head back to glare up at him. “Every detail is important, and the key to catching a thief is the details.”

Troi stepped up beside him. “We’re here to uncover the facts. We just want to talk.”

Onora’s heavy eyelashes fluttered. It’s just so distressing, she cried, and Troi took Onora’s gloved hand and pressed it between her own. Immediately Onora’s emotions flooded into her, anger and fear being the strongest. Woven through them both was a faint, pulsing shame. Not strong enough to call guilt.

“This was not your fault,” Troi said quietly.

“The Silver had never been taken out of our holdings in five hundred years.” Onora dabbed delicately at her eyes. “When I received word that the Historical Council was planning a viewing, I was so excited—”

“Of course you were.” Troi guided her over to the sofa where her three attendants were sitting, wearing less ostentatious versions of Onora’s dress. Very traditional.

A young woman threw her arms around Onora’s neck. “It’ll be all right, Mother,” she whispered.

Onora sniffled. “I wanted you to keep the Silver.” She looked over at Troi. “I was so thrilled, I had to find people to serve as my attendants. My family did away with this years ago, but I wanted to uphold the tradition for the ceremony.”

Worf lowered himself to Onora’s eye level. “There is great honor in keeping tradition.”

“I never in my wildest dreams—” Onora started verbally, and then there was a flood of telepathic agreement from the others in the room. —thought this would happen. Her sentence was finished inside Troi’s head by a dozen different voices.

Officer Andra was standing in the corner, her arms crossed, watching; Troi felt her approval.

“Did everyone feel that way?” Troi asked the room. “The excitement at being part of something so momentous.”

“How could we not?” said Jarkko. “This was meant to be a celebration of Xiomara, of Betazed history.”

Betazed wasn’t foreign to Troi, but it wasn’t home. She knew the history, the rituals, the costumes, the elaborate system of Houses—none of it had any appeal to her. But she knew the importance of Xiomara’s treasures to the Keepers and their Houses.

To hold one of the three treasures was to hold a piece of Betazed. Someone had snatched it away.

Troi offered, “Perhaps we can see this… difficulty as a chance to embody the principles that Xiomara taught us.”

Jarkko scowled. “Whoever stole the treasures wasn’t embodying any of the principles.”

“Of course not.” One of Jarkko’s party stood up, wound her arm through his. “Because certainly a Betazoid didn’t do this—”

A bolt of fear sparked in the back of Troi’s head. She could tell the others felt it too. A sense of discomfort filled the room, and Officer Andra stepped forward, her body tense.

“Who was that?” she demanded.

“What was—” Worf looked at Andra, then at Troi. “What is happening?”

The Betazoids in the room were all turning toward the women in the Third House regalia, still standing together in a tight knot in the corner. Immediately, Troi understood the fear was coming from all three of them.

“It’s them!” shrieked Onora. She leaped up and grabbed Worf’s arm, yanking him toward the Third House women. “They did it!”

“We don’t know that.” Officer Andra stepped closer. “Madam Virox? What are you afraid of?”

Aviana Virox turned toward Andra, her face stricken. Emotions roiled off her, a bizarre, confusing mélange that made Troi’s head ache. It didn’t help that it was blending in with the onslaught from the others in the room: confusion, panic, concern.

“Commander,” Worf said in a low voice, “could you explain what is happening?”

“They’re afraid,” Troi whispered back. “All of the Third House women are afraid.”

Worf frowned as one of Aviana’s attendants stepped toward her. But Madam Virox shook her head, tears streaming down her face. Her emotions swelled, thick and overpowering. Her attendants looked utterly terrified, their eyes wide. And Troi felt a thrum from them.

They were communicating, speaking telepathically. But they were cutting their conversation off from the rest of the room. A rare skill, and a taboo at that.

“They’re talking to each other,” she whispered to Worf. “But not letting any of the other Betazoids hear. That’s not—”

Care to share what you’re discussing? Officer Andra asked the Third House women, her emotion cold.

Madam Virox wrung her skirt in her hands. She closed her eyes. Troi could feel the others in the room pressing forward; she could feel the weight of their questions.

“I’m not Aviana Virox!”

Troi froze, bracing herself against the onslaught of reactions. The slam of a dozen shocked Betazoids was followed a few milliseconds later by audible gasps and at least one fiercely hissed, “She wouldn’t!”

The woman collapsed on the floor, sobbing.

“Everyone out!” Officer Andra shouted. “Except for Starfleet officers and the Third House.”

“Where are they?” Jarkko demanded. “Where are the treasures?”

Worf acted quickly, catching Jarkko before he could move any closer. “There is no need for this.”

“She stole the treasures!” Jarkko bellowed.

“We don’t know that,” Troi said.

Worf loosened his grip on Jarkko, who made another attempt to reach the sobbing woman. Worf stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“Let me through!” Jarkko’s face had turned a vivid shade of red. “She didn’t steal them, but Aviana did! The real Aviana Virox!” He shoved at Worf. “Isn’t that what she’s saying? Why else would Aviana have a—a stand-in.” He spat the word. “I always knew the Third House was shifty.”

“Mr. Sentis, please.” Officer Andra put a hand on Jarkko’s shoulder. “Allow the professionals to get to the bottom of this.”

“Jarkko.” Troi sent over a pulse of gentleness, trying to soothe him. “Go outside with the others. We will find out what’s going on.”

“Don’t try that on me!” Jarkko tried to get past Worf, who squeezed harder. He glared back at the woman, still weeping on the floor.

“She used a double,” he snarled. “I’d heard the rumors but didn’t think it was true.”

“Mister Worf will find out what’s going on,” Troi said firmly, and sent another wave of calm in Jarkko’s direction. It did little to cool his anger, but at least she was able to corral him toward the door. Outside, the poor security officer who had been keeping watch looked at them with an expression of resigned confusion.

“What’s going on in there?” he said. “Do you need backup?”

“No.” Troi deposited a still-seething Jarkko along with the others and shut the door behind her.

“They will only speak telepathically,” Worf said.

“Even then, they aren’t saying much.” Andra sighed. “All I can get from her is that she’s a double and her real name is Loriana Virox. She’s terrified. They all are.”

Troi looked at the three women in their traditional dresses.

“Was the real Aviana Virox here?” Troi asked. “At the ceremony?”

A surge of affirmation from Loriana, who lifted her gaze up at Troi. She wanted to deliver the Disk herself.

It was very unusual, thought one of the other attendants—Troi couldn’t tell which one. Aviana never leaves her estate.

Troi knelt down beside Loriana, took her hand, and sent a surge of comfort in her direction. The Third House woman softened a little, but her fear and guilt were overwhelming. How had Betazed Security missed this?

“Tell me about Aviana,” Troi said softly; she also thought her question, as these women were clearly very traditional. “When was the last time you saw her?”

Hesitation wafted up in a cloud. Loriana glanced back at the others, but whatever passed between them, Troi could neither hear nor feel.

Before the ceremony, Loriana thought. We helped her remove the Enshrined Disk from its traveling case.

She was so excited! one of the attendants added. She’s so proud of the Disk, she would never—

An overwhelming grief washed out of her and then, abruptly, vanished.

How are you doing that? Officer Andra demanded, the question riding in on a wave of aggression. Locking your emotions down. Hiding your thoughts.

It’s a skill of the Third House. The second attendant lifted her chin. Developed by Brice Virox five generations ago, when he was facing constant assassination attempts due to his role in the Tanton War.

Officer Andra’s aggression turned to unease. “That’s—” Her lip curled. “Why would the Third House do such a thing for so long?” She looked over at Worf. “They’re lying,” she said, the words breathy with disbelief. “What sort of Betazoid lies?”

Not a lie! Loriana’s voice rang out in Troi’s thoughts. A tradition! A safety measure! Aviana would never, ever steal the treasures.

The earnestness in Loriana’s thoughts was overwhelming, and Troi sent back, I believe you.

“Where is she now?” Troi asked. “You said you saw her before the ceremony. Did she instruct you to take her place afterward?”

Loriana Virox hesitated.

“She could be in danger,” Troi added.

I don’t know, Loriana said, and then sent a flood of impressions through Troi’s thoughts. Aviana Virox, looking identical to Loriana in a frothy dress and a tumble of curled silver hair, placing the Enshrined Disk in a case. The four of them walking into the temple. Aviana placing the Disk in the display case while Jarkko and Onora looked on, smiling. Then—the attendants climbing the spiral staircase up to balcony seating to watch the ceremony. Aviana wasn’t with them; she had opted to stay behind and watch from the wings.

And that was the last time we saw her, Loriana said. Deanna could sense agreement from the others.

Officer Andra was describing the thoughts to Worf. “Officers have confirmed that they saw Aviana Virox backstage during the ceremony,” she told him. “And so did the other two Keepers.” Her frown deepened. Unless that was you, she thought to Loriana.

Indignation flooded out of Loriana.

“You still haven’t explained why you chose to take her place,” Troi said gently. “Was it after the display case was revealed to be empty?”

Loriana nodded. One of the other attendants pressed her head onto Loriana’s shoulder and Troi knew, from the way Loriana’s head tilted ever so slightly toward the attendant, that they were speaking privately.

“They’re doing it again,” Andra said to Worf. “Talking without letting us hear.”

“I cannot hear any of these conversations,” Worf said. “It is very difficult to discover the truth if the suspects won’t speak.”

The attendants gave him a dark look, but Loriana sent out a burst of terror. Troi realized, after a few seconds of disorientation, it was Loriana’s reaction to seeing the display case empty. Images started to flash through Troi’s head: Loriana and the attendants grabbing at each other in shock, one of them gasping audibly. A frantic search for Aviana and not finding her. A frantic telepathic conversation where it was decided Loriana would go backstage as Aviana, hoping to find her.

Troi could sense Andra’s disbelief, but Loriana’s actions made sense to her; it was the only way she would have gotten backstage while the temple was going into lockdown.

Exactly, Loriana said. I had no other choice. But I was swept up by security and escorted to this room. Images accompanied her words: security officers swarming around her, believing her to be Aviana Virox and insisting that she had to be secured for her own safety.

Andra sighed and raked a hand through her cropped hair. “We need to find the real Aviana Virox,” she said to Worf. She then glared at Loriana. “You should have informed us of who you were immediately.”

Loriana stared back, her emotions, her thoughts, completely shut down.

“It’s not natural,” Andra said. “What you’re doing.”

“Officer Andra,” Troi said as she rose to her feet, “I don’t get the sense that Loriana is lying.”

“Neither do I, but that doesn’t mean much, does it?” Officer Andra tapped her combadge. “Andra to Rusina. Aviana Virox is missing. We need to find her immediately.”