Shanna (Heroes of the League Book 5)

by Frank Carey

  “No, I want to hire him,” Joshua said.

  “Oh, in that case, he's over there in the corner booth,” the keep said, pointing across the bar.

  “Thanks,” Joshua replied as he handed him another C-note.

  Joshua rejoined Gail who was rebuffing the advances of a member of some unknown species. The admirer quickly left when Joshua handed Gail a beer while smiling and partially extending his canines.

  “Thanks. It wasn't taking no for an answer.”

  “It? Do your charms extend across every gender?” Joshua asked.

  “You know me. I'm just Little Miss Popular. Did you find Jones?” she asked, before taking a large drink from the bottle. “Not bad.”

  “Jones is over here,” Joshua said as he walked over to the corner booth, which the barkeep had indicated. When they reached it, they found a human gentleman, about their age, reading through a stack of magazines and newspapers. Gail picked one up and read its cover. “League Journal of Xenoarchaeology,” she said, impressed.

  “Yeah, great want ads,” Hiram said from behind an open paper, which he set down to look at his visitors. He got out of his seat and shook their hands. “Hiram Jones,” he said. “What can I do for you?” He gestured to two seats opposite his.

  “We're here to offer you a job,” Joshua said as he pulled out a chair for Gail before sitting down next to her.

  “I'm all ears,” Hiram said while clearing a space on the table. All round him, including the seat next to him, were journals, newsletters, and communiques in several languages.

  Gail picked up one of the communiques and read it before almost spitting out her drink. “The Martok want to hire you? They don't hire non-Martok, ever.”

  “You just need to get to know them,” he replied while taking the letter from her. “The Queen and I are tight. I taught her how to knit.”

  Joshua and Gail just stared as they tried to wrap their brains around the thought of the four-armed, eight-foot-tall Martok Queen knitting. Giving up, Joshua explained the job he had in mind for Hiram.

  “Damn, you did it! You found Venlanta. Congratulations. I expect your people are going to elect you saint or something,” Hiram said as he rested his chin on his steepled hands. “Why me?”

  “Everyone I've talked to says the same thing: hire Hiram Jones. They say you're the best.”

  “Aw, shucks,” Hiram said as he signaled for three more drinks.

  “So, will you join our expedition? We'll pay you double your normal rate,” Joshua said as the drinks arrived—beers for Gail and Joshua while Hiram opted for ice tea.

  “Yeah, I'll come with you,” he said, shaking hands first with Joshua, then Gail, to seal the deal.

  “Excellent!” Joshua said as Gail handed Hiram an information packet.

  “Mr. Jones, what happened on Maltura?” Gail asked.

  “Maltura…” Hiram said as he got a faraway look in his eyes. “Maltura was a nightmare…”

  ###

  “Dammit, it has to be here,” Peter said as he threw a stick into the underbrush. “Orbital scans don't lie!”

  Hiram shook his head in amusement. Dr. Peter Mathewson had an IQ of one-sixty but the patience of a two-year-old. “Pete, trust me, it's here. The jungle has spent the last fifty centuries covering the ruins up, and you expect to find it in two days.”

  “You’re right,” Peter said, embarrassed at his outburst. He sat down on a boulder and sighed. He looked up and saw Hiram pointing to the rock underneath him while smiling that damn smile of his. Peter looked down and saw the rock was the head of a statue. “Oh my God. We found it!”

  Hiram pulled out a scanner and panned it around the area. He stopped and performed several quick small scans before walking over to the head. He handed Peter one of his League-famous Elven Industries robotic lock picks. “Place it here,” he said pointing to hole on the top of the head.

  Peter did as instructed, then waited as the small metal cylinder just sat there. He was about to say something when the cylinder—about the size and shape of a marker pen—grew legs and walked down into the hole. “How long will this take?” Peter asked as his impatience threatened a return engagement.

  “As long as it takes. Hey, how's the wedding planning coming along?” Hiram asked in an attempt at distracting his friend.

  Peter sighed, forgetting about the pick for a moment. “We’re so behind. I've got this dig, and Shanna's finishing up that paper on the translation of the old Venlanten language.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Hiram said

  “What?”

  “Elope. You love her, she loves you, so go find a preacher in some small town and get hitched. You can do the wedding thing later.”

  Before Peter could reply, the area around them began to shake as the ground behind the head opened. Hiram pulled out a torch and shone it into the hole, revealing a triple-wide stairway leading down into the ground.

  “Hiram. We did it! We found…”

  Hiram raised his hand signaling silence. Peter recognized the look on Hiram's face. Hiram's danger sense was tingling.

  “We need to get back to camp,” Hiram said as he attached the torch to his belt and took out a formidable looking blaster. Thumbing it to full power, Hiram said quietly, “Don't look around, and don’t get spooked. Just slowly walk away.”

  Carefully, Peter turned, trusting Hiram completely. Unfortunately, he didn't see the rock on the path until it tripped him. He yelled as he fell to the ground.

  Hiram turned just in time to see death emerge from the tree line in the form of a wombat. This one was big—twenty feet long—with six legs, each terminating in six acid-dripping claws. Survey said nothing about wombats being on Maltura, dammit! The wombat screamed as it charged the hapless pair.

  Hiram realized that Peter was in direct line with the creature's attack, so instead of firing on it, he reached down, grabbed Peter, and threw him out of the way. Before he could turn back, the wombat reached out with its middle limb and raked three claws across Hiram's chest, throwing the hapless digger into a large tree. Stunned, Hiram watched as the thing advanced on Peter. Hiram looked around and saw his weapon on the ground nearby. He crawled over to it, grabbed it, and fired, vaporizing the wombat's massive fang-filled head into a cloud of mist. Seeing Peter safe, Hiram mercifully lost consciousness.

  ###

  “I woke up in the hospital on Cora three weeks later after five surgeries and my heart stopping twice,” Hiram said while sipping tea. He looked up and saw two very shocked people staring at him.

  “You survived a wombat attack?”

  “Yeah. The attack occurred several months ago, but I got out of the hospital only last week. I haven't heard from Peter, but I figured he and Shanna are on their honeymoon.”

  “Then you haven't heard?” Gail asked as she took his hand.

  “Heard what?” Hiram said as his danger sense started to sing in an odd tone.

  “Peter Mathewson died on Maltura. He and his team were killed by a pack of wombats.”

  “That's impossible,” Hiram said as he stared into space. “I have to find Shanna and talk to her…”

  “She's already aboard the LRS Tailtiu. We were going to take you there after this meeting. Do you need to get anything?”

  “Everything I need is in here,” Hiram said as he grabbed a rucksack from the chair next to him. “Please, take me to her now.”

  Gail dropped a wad of money on the table before running after her boss and Hiram as they ran out the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Dr. Syron, are you through with this crate?” Sampson asked.

  “Yes, David, I'm through. You can seal it and bring me the next one.” As the Expedition Manager nailed the crate closed, I sat back on the table and thought about how my life had flip-flopped over the last few months. First the Relapse incident, then the wedding, then my fiancé’s death. Now, I was doing something most modern historians would kill for a chance to do—visit Venlanta.

  “S
hanna, I'm so sorry…”

  I looked up and saw Hiram Jones standing in the doorway. Before he could utter another word, I screamed and leapt the length of the bay, my fangs and claws fully extended as my mind filled with visions of ripping his beating heart from his chest.

  Instead of running or fainting, Hiram just stood there while I landed in front of him with blood in my eyes and revenge flooding my soul. I grabbed him by his shirt and threw him roughly against the bulkhead. In a moment, my claws were pressed against his carotid artery. I could end his life with the flick of a finger.

  “You killed Peter,” I hissed, barely able to control my rage.

  “Peter was alive and well the last time I saw him. In fact, he was trying to save my life,” Hiram said in a maddeningly calm voice.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Hiram explained what happened. “I only got out of the hospital a short while ago.”

  “You lie!”

  He leaned his head close to mine and said, “I don't lie. Read me or drain me. I'm getting tired of just hanging around.”

  My eyes went jet black as I read his soul. I looked hard and deep, but saw only sadness at Peter's death and worry about me. My anger was quickly replaced with shame and embarrassment as I lowered him to the floor while returning to human form. “I'm sorry. I thought…”

  “Shanna, it doesn't matter what you thought as long as you're okay,” he said as he pulled me close and hugged me. Damn, he felt good. I guess I missed the idiot. Instead of making assumptions I had no business making, I should have been trying to find him. I'm such a fool.

  “Have you two worked things out?” Gail asked from the ramp at the front of the bay. She was holstering her blaster as she spoke.

  I looked up and saw her and several heavily armed members of Port Security watching me. “It's all good,” I said.

  “Excellent. I’d hate to explain to Earth OSHA how Hiram ended up in pieces strewn across the deck,” Gail said as she released the guards. “So, how do you two know each other?”

  I looked at Hiram who nodded. “Hiram and I used to…date. Then I Relapsed,” I explained. “That was before I met Peter.”

  “Can I trust there won't be any more commotion if I leave you two alone?” she asked.

  Hiram raised his hand and said, “I promise! No shenanigans or commotion.”

  I raised mine and said, “What he said.”

  Gail shook her head and walked out. “Meeting in an hour in the main conference room. Sampson, make sure they don't get lost,” she said from the hallway.

  “Aye, ma'am,” Sampson said as he set another crate on the worktable.

  “Hiram, I’m so sorry no one told you about Peter, him being your friend and all.”

  “It is one downside to the life I live,” he explained. “Half the time people don’t even know I’m alive.”

  He was right. Hiram Jones had a habit of walking a path through the darker corridors of life. It was part of his mystique. Not so much the bad boy but more the lost boy. Maybe, I thought, I could bring him into the light.

  “Are you coming with us?” I asked. Before, I was so busy trying not to kill him that I forgot to ask why he was here.

  “Yep, couldn't pass up a chance to visit the mythical Venlanta. Do you think they’ll find a cure for Relapse?” he asked as he pried the lid off the crate.

  I looked at him and saw the man I once loved. “I hope so,” I said as I unloaded equipment.

  “So do I,” he replied. Grabbing a clipboard, he checked items off it as I set them down on the table. Damn, it felt good having him back in my life. Now, if I could only keep from killing him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I headed upstairs to meet with the Universal Translator. Considering she used my translations and my brother’s algorithms, she was sort of a part of my family.

  I walked into the UT2 control room and found myself standing behind a control console. On the wall opposite the console was a large viewer. I looked down and saw a yard-wide glass sphere filled with multi-colored streamers of light.

  “Ah, Shanna,” Joshua said as he walked in. “I see you’ve met Ule. Ule, this is Dr. Shanna Syron.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” a female voice said as the sphere pulsed in sync with the words.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” I said in an obscure dialect of Venlanten.

  “I was hoping to meet your brother, Preston. How is he?” she replied in a language I didn’t recognize, though it sounded oddly familiar. I looked up at the screen and saw the words “Ancient Venlanten” followed by the translation in Standard.

  “Preston is doing well. I’ll arrange for you to meet him when we return to Earth. Ule, how do you know Ancient Venlanten?” I asked. As far as I know, the ancient spoken language was lost soon after the arkship crashed.

  “Parts of the log book records contained audio files which we first assumed to be data stored as modulated sounds. Upon closer examination, we determined they were audio log files,” Joshua explained. “We ran them through Ule along with what we thought was corresponding text log entries, and she was able to correlate audio to text with what we think is a ninety-nine percent certainty. We won’t be sure until we find someone who speaks ancient, but we’re hopeful.”

  Wow. This was big. It usually took a team of linguists years to get past the pigeon stage, yet Ule was able to pull it off--assuming the translation holds--in weeks.

  “Ule, on a different subject, what am I seeing in your hamster ball?” I asked, choking Joshua in the process. I think I just said something wrong. Before he could inform me of what my gaff was, Ule spoke up.

  “It’s all right, Joshua. I take no offense. You must understand, Dr. Syron, many of my kind resent hamster balls as you call them. I have no such concern.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “I need to get a copy of “AIs for Dummies.”

  “To answer your question, the hamster ball contains a microFTL field that holds a piece of other-space inside. Those ribbons are FTL streamers that represent my thoughts. This means you can literally see what’s on my mind at any given moment in time.”

  I laughed. The idea of an AI making a joke was just too silly to keep inside. “That was a good one.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been practicing.”

  “Shanna, if I may interrupt, I need to give you this,” Joshua said as he handed me a small metallic broach in the shape of a disk with an odd shape in the center. When he saw my furrowed brow he explained, “It’s supposed to be a map of Earth from three hundred million years ago. The odd shape is a representation of the Pangaea supercontinent, which had formed at that time.”

  Ah, yes, Pangaea. “But this isn’t your company’s logo,” I replied.

  “It’s the original one, which got changed when no one could figure out what it was.”

  “Got it. So, what is it?”

  “It’s a portable interface with Ule. She hears everything said around her and will translate and speak to the subject while relaying translations to the broach holder via an earcomm,” he said as he handed me one. “Just put it in your ear, and Ule will do the rest.”

  Yes, I’m a historian who dabbles in ancient languages, but this is completely off the hook. “Ule, what about written languages?”

  “The IT Department has tied me into the main computer’s data feeds, so I am now present on all datapads and scanpads. Think of me as a point-and-shoot translator,” she replied.

  “We’ve tested her against every known League writing system including cuneiform, hieroglyphs, even Byblos,” Joshua added. “She passed with flying colors.”

  Okay, I think I might need to find a new job if she’s even half as good as she sounds. “Ule, I’m impressed, and I look forward to working with you on Venlanta.”

  “As I am with you, Doctor. If I may say, your translations of ancient Venlanten were meticulous. I am honored to have them reside in my data banks.”

  Aw shucks. Ule really knows how to turn a
girl’s head. One of the techs took that moment to walk in. “Hello, Ule, how are you feeling this morning?” he asked with a smile that was almost as disarming as Hiram’s.

  “Ah, Dr. Syron, this is Nelson Hodges, the computer technologist in charge of keeping Ule happy,” Joshua said.

  “Dr. Syron, it’s so good to meet you,” Nelson said as he shook my hand.

  “Good to meet you as well, Nelson,” I said to the pleasant technologist.

  “Hello, Nelson. I’m doing fine this morning,” Ule said in a voice that could charm the birds from the trees. “How are you doing?”

  “We should go,” Joshua said as he took me by the arm and led me out into the corridor. Once out of the room he took the broach and earpiece and put them in a small box that he handed back to me.

  “Joshua, explain what just happened,” I said.

  “Yeah, about that. It seems our AI has a small...crush on Nelson,” he explained.

  “Is that possible? I mean she’s a machine, isn’t she?”

  He shrugged. “No one seems to know, except for the AIs, and they’re not telling us. I have much to do before we launch,” he said as he headed toward the bridge, leaving me to wonder what other secrets of the universe resided in my brother’s brain.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Three days later, we found ourselves in orbit around Earth waiting for permission to proceed to Venlanta. By now, word of Joshua's discovery was trending on social media across the League. Fortunately, news of the expedition was lagging behind; otherwise, Station One would be packed with people demanding to join us on our voyage to the Venlanten home world.

  “Attention in the ship! This is the captain. We have received clearance to proceed. May we have calm seas and fair winds.”

  With that, we began our journey to Venlanta. Hiram and I were in the library where I had set up the logbook from the Pentala. While I transcribed its translation into the computer, Hiram was busy reading the operations manual for Universal Translator Two.

  “Figure it out yet?” I asked as I took a break to stretch.