by Frank Carey
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Shanna
Heroes of the League Book 5
By Frank Carey
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2017 by Frank Carey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This story appeared previously in The League Foundation Trilogy 2.
League Tale #5
CHAPTER ONE
I opened the door to my office and immediately saw the bottle of Champagne sitting on my desk between the keyboard and monitor. Taped to it was a large brown envelope with “Congrats!” scrawled across the front. I carefully slit the envelope open with a claw and found an advanced copy of “Xenoarchaeology Today” inside, the one containing my paper on translating the ancient Venlanten texts.
“Damn fine work, Dr. Shanna Syron,” a male voice said from the open doorway.
“Well thank you, Dr. Preston Syron,” I replied as my brother took a seat on the opposite side of my desk. “I couldn't have done it without your invaluable computer help.”
“Some help. All I did was write the parsing code. It was you who spent three years digging through the archives before finding those ancient texts.”
“I seem to remember someone carrying large stacks of those texts into the sunlight so his sister had half a chance of seeing them, let alone reading them.”
“Aw, shucks. 'Twas nothing. So, what now? Is the department at least going to foot the bill for pizza?”
“No, but I am. You're invited to a small get together tonight at the Bloodsucker Inn for pizza and beer with your sister and her staff. Chloe will be there,” I said with a raised eyebrow. Everyone on the team knew about the thing Preston had for Chloe.
“Chloe? She's going to be there?” he said while twisting his face as if it were a hard decision. “I guess I could come, seeing you're my sister and all.”
I threw a beanbag at him, summarily missing him due to his cat-like reflexes. “Good, now leave me to my work. I have a six o'clock reservation, so don't be late,” I said.
“Fine,” he replied as he got up and headed to the door. “Remember to call the parents and let them know. Mother lives for this sort of thing.”
“Yes, sir,” I said with a salute, but he was already gone. I sat down in my desk chair and thumbed through the journal before picking up the phone and calling my mother.
“Hello?” Mom said from the other side of the planet, Karachi to be exact. Her and father had lived in the Pakistani metropolis since he retired from teaching ten years ago.
“Mom, it's Shanna,” I said as I leaned back and looked at my mom's image through the video feed. I can’t figure out how that woman doesn't age. Yes, I know we Venlantens don't age as fast as our human cousins do, but she has taken it to an extreme. I know a number of people who think we're sisters.
“Shanna!” How come you never call? It's been ages,” she said as she waved father over. “Darling, it's Shanna.”
A moment later, a tall, dark-haired man stuck his head into the camera's view. “Shanna! You're looking well. Isn't it early there in Boulder?”
“I pulled another all-nighter, Dad. You remember those days, don't you?”
“Ah, yes. Going days without sleep while tracking down some bit of data or trying to fit together potsherds. I remember. So, to what do we owe the pleasure of this call?”
I held up the Journal and flipped the page to the table of contents with my article's entry highlighted. “They published my paper!”
“By all that's holy. You finished the translation! Can you send me a copy?” he asked, stunned.
“Already done. You should get it today,” I said all a-jitter.
“I look forward to reading it. I can't believe we'll finally be able to read part of our people's history. Shanna, you have done the Venlanten people a service. You will go far in our adopted world,” he said with a smile on his face.
“Thanks, Dad. Let me talk to Mom for a bit,” I said. He nodded and put her back on. She and I talked for another hour before I had to head home to take a nap before the party. It was good to talk to them, but it would be better to get some sleep, so I hung up, grabbed my stuff, and headed back to my apartment.
CHAPTER TWO
After a snack, a nap, and a shower, I headed to the Bloodsucker. The Bloodsucker was a bar started by a group of Venlanten financiers with the aim of being the destination spot for Venlantens, though humans and any other race were welcome. The Bloodsucker had dishes that contained the nutrient Venlantens required to survive, the nutrient that, in the old days, could only be found coursing through the veins of humans. It’s funny how things change. A few centuries ago my kind were feeding off humans, then humans developed a seriously unhealthy preoccupation with vampire legends, legends we were the source of. Now, humans and Venlantens coexist in peace as if three thousand years of bloodletting never occurred. The historian part of me wonders how people can forget so quickly.
I walked in past the bouncer and my ears were immediately assaulted by the noise emanating from the throngs of people in the packed bar. Many of the patrons were Venlanten, but I saw a few humans, Tralaskans, Sokuhl, Martok, even a rather boisterous Alturan, who was juggling four empty bottles using only two tentacles. I caught the attention of the bartender and identified myself. He flagged down a waitress who led me out back to the private room I reserved.
“Doc!” one of my grad students yelled as I walked in. Before I could sit down, the room erupted in applause followed by several toasts. I eventually took a seat and ordered a glass of wine while I waited for the pizza to arrive.
“I have to compliment you on having one happy crew, Dr. Syron. Congratulations on your paper. It is truly ground-breaking work.”
I turned and saw a tall, white-haired Venlanten male sitting next to me in a chair that had been empty only moments ago. “Thank you…?”
“Forgive me. My name is Joshua Ramses, and I'm one of your biggest fans,” he said with a large smile. Like most Venlanten males, he looked completely human with his eyes normal, and his fangs and claws retracted.
He didn't have to introduce himself. I knew him from countless vid interviews I had seen over the years. Joshua Ramses was the richest man on Earth and owner of Pangaea Corporation, the largest employer on Earth. Pangaea paid the bills for both my research, and my brother's research. The two of us, and our students, worked under partnerships with Pangaea who commercialized anything we found or developed. “It’s an honor to meet you in person, Mr. Ramses.”
“Please, call me Joshua. Doctor, have you heard of the UT2 projec
t?” he asked.
“Yes, my brother is working on it. UT2 is the search for the next generation of universal translator.”
“Correct. Your brother developed the key components of the translation engine while he was helping you with the Venlanten translations. He is extremely talented.”
More accurately, my brother is a freakin’ genius when it comes to computers. I sometimes wonder if he isn't one hiding in an organic shell. “And what does all of this have to do with my research?”
“Doctor, may I speak with you in private?” Joshua asked.
“Of course,” I said as I flagged down a waiter who pointed to a door at the side of the bar. Joshua and I adjourned to the side room where the waiter brought us drinks. When we were alone, Joshua started by saying, “First I would like to say how sorry I am for your loss. Peter was a good man.”
Peter. I was still trying to come to grips with his death. “Thank you. How did you know Peter?”
“We traveled in similar circles and our families knew one another. I am sorry I couldn’t attend his funeral, but I was called away on a family emergency.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s not serious,” I really had no idea how to handle this. Peter was unofficially in charge of the ‘handling people’ duties while I dealt with things long dead.
“I assume you have heard of the Syndrome?”
“Yes, of course. All Venlantens know of the Syndrome,” I replied. The Syndrome, one of the ancient scourges the Venlanten race brought with them when they came to Earth. Every so often, a Venlanten is suddenly unable to metabolize the nutrient. They go into a coma and die soon after. There is no cure.
“My daughter was diagnosed with it two weeks ago. She’s fourteen. I was called away when she had a bad reaction to one of the drugs they were giving her. She’s fine now.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said while inwardly amazed at his calm demeanor. I would be searching the world for a cure if it were my kid.
“Thank you. Tell me, Doctor, as a historian, what would you do if you found the arkship?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject
“Faint, scream, jump up and down while spitting nickels,” I said. The arkship was the greatest of all Venlanten legends. It brought us here from Venlanta three thousand years ago and has since been lost to time. I know certain historians who would give their canines or their first-born children for a chance to see the arkship in the flesh, so to speak.
“An expedition I sponsored found it six months ago in a cave located in north Ireland,” he said nonchalantly.
I spewed my drink across the room. The greatest news in the history of the Venlanten race and he tells me as if he was reciting the weather report.
“It’s intact, though damaged. We think it crashed just as the stories tell us. The survivors probably hid it to keep their identities secret.”
Wiping my mouth, I said, “You know that this find is probably greater than finding the Holy Grail inside the Ark of the Covenant during the excavation of Noah’s Ark.”
He smiled. “I figured something like that. You probably wonder what this has to do with my daughter, Penelope.”
I nodded.
“We made arrangements with the government of Ireland to bring the arkship back here to the States for unsealing and examination. Once it was in a secured lab, we proceeded to unseal it and have a look inside.”
I was like a kid at her first circus. “What did you find?”
“Oddly, not much,” he replied as he retrieved a messenger bag off a nearby chair and dragged out what looked like a coffee table book with metal covers and a lock across its front. It reminded me of the Necronomicon from the vids. He opened it flat on the table. Immediately a hologram of a planet formed above the book while writing appeared on the pages underneath. It was ancient Venlanten script. “This is where your work and UT2 come into play. I plugged your translations into the UT2 system and used it to access this book and translate the writing.”
“The green jewel of Venlanta as seen from space as the arkship Pentala leaves on its voyage to Earth this thirtieth day…” I stopped reading as I tried to catch my breath. I was looking at the ship’s log. I looked up at Joshua and saw him smiling.
“That planet is where we came from so long ago,” he said quietly. “We were able to read Venlanta’s coordinates and convert them to League Standard.”
I ordered another drink. This was beyond incredible.
“We found something else in the log entries. There is mention of several passengers coming down with ailments similar to both Relapse and Syndrome. Based on this information, we ran some tests and found that, indeed, the two ailments are actually manifestations of a single illness—some people go into a coma, some try to kill their human lover, and some…”
“There's a third?” I asked, stunned.
“Yes. My people have run extensive searches through every database on the planet, down to scanning texts from pre-landing times. Since arriving here, and on rare occasions, Venlanten royals are driven to feed on any living being within reach, regardless of species. This includes other royals.”
I stopped breathing. This was impossible. The only reason we feed is to get Nutrient, and only Earth humans have Nutrient. “Impossible,” I gasped.
“Remember that terrorist attack in Montreal last year? Twelve League citizens killed including the son of a member of the Alturan Diplomatic Delegation?”
“Yes. It was a massacre. No group took responsibility, and no suspects were ever arrested.”
“That's because the son of a Venlanten industrialist turned and fed off everyone in the room. A security guard had to put him down with a pulse-blast rifle round to the head. The families were paid off after OffSec swept everything under the carpet at the behest of the Venlanten Council of Elders.”
I sat back in my chair and tried to grasp the scope of what he was telling me. “You said this was rare. What aren't you telling me?”
“Cases of royals turning have been growing in number for the last fifty years as have Syndrome and Relapse. It is about to become epidemic. There is talk amongst the humans of relocating all Venlanten royals to a colony planet until a cure is found.”
This was very, very bad. “How do the arkship and the home world fit into this?”
“The log mentions that a medicine had been developed in secret on Venlanta that could be used to fix the problem. Unfortunately, the log does not give any details about the cure.”
“What about the ship's dispensary? Surely…”
“It was destroyed in the landing,” he replied. “All we have is a set of three maladies that are really one, and the mention of a cure.”
I stopped and looked at Joshua as the wheels of my mind shifted to high gear. “You think the answer lies on Venlanta.”
“Yes. I have a ship and a team, and we leave for Venlanta in three days. Would you like to go?”
I dropped my drink as the room started to spin. Before I collapsed, I felt someone grab hold of me and lead me over to a small couch.
“Easy there, Doctor. You and the floor should really communicate via your feet. Are you okay? Should I call a medic?”
“No, I’m fine, really. Did you say you want me to come to Venlanta with you?”
“Yes, I need your expertise. UT2 is good, but not as good as you. We need you to help us find the answers we so desperately seek, but there may be danger waiting for us on Venlanta.”
“What kind of danger?”
Joshua took his commlink from his jacket and brought up a picture of a wondrous creature on an examination table. It had four eyes. “What is it?” I asked, spellbound.
“We don't know. We found the remains of a dozen or so of them in the damaged part of the ship. Each was in a cryotube. This one was the most intact of them. We think they died on landing.”
“Maybe they're guards?”
“Maybe. Computer simulations suggest that one could go one-on-one with an angry Tyen warrior. Some of these
guards may be waiting for us on Venlanta. Still interested in joining our little outing? We leave in three days as I said.”
“Yes, of course, but three days?”
“I’ve already made arrangements with your University and have informed your roommate. I have even taken the liberty of having her pack a bag for you while the University has supplied your field kit. All you need to do is come with me to the spaceport. Once there you will help prep the ship for departure.”
“How?”
“Your roommate was overjoyed at having your rent paid for the next year while the University will be naming the new History Annex after my mother. As for you, I was thinking of paying you double your normal rate. Will that be sufficient?”
All I could do was nod. If only Peter was here…
“Good. Come along Doctor and say your goodbyes. We have a planet to explore.”
CHAPTER THREE
Joshua and his assistant Gail stood in front of the bar as their driver parked, wondering if they were in the right place. Even by the less than stellar standards of the area of the spaceport they were in, this place was bad. Above their head a neon sign flickered—Mabel's--with the 'a' burnt out.
“I'm glad I'm armed,” Gail said as she checked the weapon she kept in a shoulder holster. As a precaution, she also checked the one strapped to her thigh under her skirt. “I think I'm overdressed, though.”
“I have to agree,” Joshua said. “I think Mabel’s hit a rough patch.” He took her by the arm and walked her through the front door, which had been fashioned from a ship's airlock. Once inside, they found themselves in a dimly lit dive with an Alturan band playing jazz tunes while the patrons talked to one another. On the dance floor, several people shuffled to the music.
Joshua walked up to the bar and ordered two beers. When the barkeep brought them, Joshua paid for them with a one hundred-credit bill. The barkeep tried to tell him he didn't have change, but Joshua replied, “Keep it. Can you tell me if there's a Hiram Jones about?”
“Are you going to arrest him or shoot him?” the barkeep asked with a squint.