Chapter Two (cont.)
“Security personnel and peacekeepers arrived on the scene in minutes—but the family was gone, along with at least two wounded Klingons . . . one of which the forensics have identified as the Ambassador of the Klingon Empire to the Federation,” Jas Cruikshank reported to a wide-eyed Delena Mar. He shook his head. “Dahlgren did not stint on his house security—the moment phasers and disruptors were fired, alarms went off in Star Fleet Command as well as the local law enforcement headquarters in Hinton. Two hundred and eleven seconds
after the first exchange, the officers beamed on scene—but they were too late except to secure the site and collect the four dead assailants.”
He paused and shook his head. “And his eldest daughter is missing in New York, madame Ambassador. She was seen being accosted by two criminals and a Vulcan came to her aid; both she and the Vulcan have since disappeared.”
Mar closed his mouth and she shook herself in disbelief. “HOW did this happen? I gave NO orders for this!”
The sibilant voice of the Lorsham priest hissed from the dark corner of the room. “Do you forget your place, thrall
gave the order—Dahlgren’s family must pay for the sins of their husband and father—Ordan commands it.”
“Blessed be Ordan,” Mar replied as she bowed her head, but then she raised her eyes defiantly. “But this is not Hak’ta-thor, Prascius, this is Earth
. Murder is rare here, and they will find out who was behind it!”
The priest stood and he shook his head. “They will discover a member of the Orion syndicate arranged for this assassination attempt—and that the said Orion is no longer available to answer any questions . . . indeed he is past communicating with anyone, ever again. There is no chance of them tracing this attempt to us,” he paused and looked at Mar’s aide. “A Vulcan aided the daughter, thrall? Would this be the Vulcan?” he asked as he held up an image of Sepak.
Jas nodded slowly. “That matches the surveillance video, your Grace.”
“Ah,” Prascius hissed and he bared his teeth. “Forget the family—for now. Concentrate all efforts on finding this Vulcan—unharmed if you value your own lives!”
Mar shook her head. “We need to lie low for now, Security will be absolutely out of their minds that this was ev-. . .”
“DO NOT QUESTION ME, THRALL!” the Lorsham bellowed.
And then he collected himself. “This Vulcan is the repository of Ordan—the living Avatar of Ordan and She is alone; she must be returned so that She can be served and worshipped by the Host.”
Both Mar and her aide jerked in surprise. “They cured
Sepak!” the Ambassador sputtered. “The Gift failed!”
“There was an . . . unfortunate resistance to the Gift of Ordan, something in the Vulcan physiology which prevented a full conversion to the Faith,” the priest admitted. “Enough that Ordan was forced to turn her attention to breaking down the will of the Vulcan—and then Her relics were destroyed and she chose to inhabit his body. Their ‘cure’ removed the Gift, but not the presence of Ordan Herself. She possesses his knowledge, his memories, his physical body at Her command. The Vulcan is merely a shell for Ordan, for Her Knowledge and Her Wisdom—recovering Her is paramount to our task.”
Mar just stood there and then she knelt. “Then we will focus our efforts on finding this Avatar of Ordan, your Grace. Blessed be Ordan.”
“Blessed be Ordan,” the Lorsham replied with bared fangs.