Legacy (Heroes of the League Book 12)

by Frank Carey

  "Things?" the dean and Tannith asked together.

  "Inventions, ships parts, robots, machine tools, hand tools, a pinball machine, a crate of hula girl bobble heads, a robot wombat, power suits, a 1950 CE Buick woody complete with two balsa boards..."

  The dean looked at Tannith.

  "Earth conveyance used to transport people and surfboards to and from ocean coastal areas."

  "You surf, my prince?"

  "No, I just collect things. Anyway, here's the inventory list, the plans for the shop, et cetera. Look it over, and if you're interested..."

  "We'll take it."

  "Great. I took the liberty of contacting your facilities engineer. He has four spots on campus which would be perfect to put her."

  "This is incredible. What do you want in return for this largess?"

  "One thing. If possible, name it The Lenora Irithyl Hall of Engineering."

  "You mother is interested in engineering?" Tannith asked.

  "She has two degrees in mechanical and electrical, but her duties as queen took her away from it. In fact, Dean, she might be persuaded to teach a few classes."

  Chalker jumped up and hugged Lucien, then turned his joy on Tannith. "Thank you, My Prince. I will get the paperwork started immediately."

  "And I will take care of moving her. Just let me know when and where. Good day, Dean Chalker."

  "Good day, My Prince."

  Harm kissed Tanni's cheek and walked out, leaving her to make sure the dean continued breathing.

  ###

  The Merchant Space Academy of Ventos Prime was located on a sprawling campus located not far from the castle residence of Queen Losira. In its building, halls, and hangers, cadets learn and practice skills needed to captain, pilot, and operate a freighter within the boundaries of the League.

  Harm hurried to his appointment with the chancellor, but stopped when he came to a pillar at the center of campus. It was a monument to the merchants who lost their lives in space.

  "It kinda makes you think, doesn't it, Harmon?"

  Lucien turned and saw Clystra standing next to him. She was wearing chancellor insignia. "Clystra! You're the academy chancellor?"

  "Yep. After you left the Cove to save your daughter, I was transferred here to track down a smuggling ring being run from the inside. One thing led to another and here I am."

  "First, let me say they're damn lucky to have you. Second, I now go by Lucien Irithyl."

  "Wait, you're Prince Lucien?"

  He nodded. "Go figure."

  She took him by the arm and led him over to a covered table next to a beverage vendor. After ordering two teas, she sat down next to him. "What brings you here, My Prince?"

  He opened his briefcase and removed a notebook which he handed her. "I have several ships which I would like to donate to the academy in my sister's name. Two of them have seen recent use, four are mothballed, and ten more are in pieces. The details are in there."

  She thumbed through the book, her eyes wide with wonder. "My God, the Gonc? The Space Vixen II. What happened to the Conquistador and the Mariposa?"

  "Destroyed saving the League from invasion. You know, the usual."

  She shook her head. "On behalf of the Academy, I accept your generous offer My Prince, and may I ask one favor?"

  "Sure."

  "Would you mind giving our commencement speech in three weeks?"

  "I would love to."

  She reached over and put the back of her hand on his forehead. "Who are you and what did you do with my friend? I'll let the hair pass, but the elf I know hates attending social functions."

  "Times change. People change. I've changed."

  "What does Marta think of this change?"

  "She's welcomed it. Harmon Aymar, the Smuggler Elf, is no more. Lucien Irithyl has returned from a long sleep and has taken his place."

  "What about Atmar?"

  Harm tapped his head. "In here, where he belongs. Still want me at the commencement?"

  "Oh yeah. I wouldn't miss it for the world. How about we grab a couple of drinks to go, then head back to my office to figure this out?"

  "Let's"

  ###

  Lucien arrived at the Sign of Maltor promptly at 1855 hours. He nodded to a few of the clientele while walking through the door into the worst dive bar on the planet.

  "Hey, pretty boy, aren't you a little off-course coming here?" A very drunk Sokuhl asked while blocking Lucien's path.

  "Raynor, I didn't know Sokuhl could get blind drunk, and you must be blind to not recognize your buddy, Harmon Aymar."

  The Sokuhl gaped. "Aymar! What happened to your hair?"

  Harm felt the back of his head, his eyes wide. "Somebody stole my plarking braid!" He smiled. "New style. Likee?"

  Raynor leaned back and laughed. "Yes, likee. Excuse me, elf, for I must tinkle." Raynor staggered off in the direction of the bathrooms.

  Lucien turned to the maitre d. "Irithyl, table for two. Make it private, please." Yes, the worst dive on the planet had a maître d. It also had a sommelier, an extensive wine list, and steaks to die for.

  Go figure.

  The maitre d handed him off to a hostess who took him to a table in back. "May I start you off with a drink, My Prince?"

  "Iced tea, please. I'm waiting for a friend, a Goranthi by the name of Skoll. Make sure he finds his way back here, if you would." Harm said as he handed her a hundred-credit coin with his sister's likeness engraved on it.

  "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," the waitress replied with sparkles in her eye and a smile on her lips.

  She returned moments later with drinks in one hand and Glentar Skoll on the other. Harm took the drinks and thanked her before embracing his friend. "Glentar. It does my hearts good to see you. Sit! Order anything you like for it is my gift to you and your family."

  Glentar bowed. "Thank you, My Prince."

  They sat down. Soon food arrived, and they drank and talked of old times.

  "So, Lucien--I still want to call you Harmon--you said you wanted to discuss something," Glentar said through clouds of smoke emanating from a very large cigar. Lucky for those around him, the tavern had one of the best air cleaning systems available.

  Lucien took a sip of tea, then pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket. Opening it to a bookmarked page, he explained. "Remember when you and I would sit between jobs and talk about the future of moving and storage?"

  "Ah the heady days when we were going to change the world."

  "Well, I finally figured out how to do it." He pointed to a diagram. "One idea we had was to enclose a load inside some kind of force field so we could save time on the loading end of a job."

  Gentar leaned over and examined the diagram. "I remember. Force fields and tractor beams on an item-by-item basis were just too costly. We need to get the whole load into the carrier in one shot."

  "And this is how we can do that. Multiplex the force field and tractor beams so they grab each piece long enough to counteract the force of gravity. We can lift a whole load into the hold of a ship in one pass. Hell, we put a set of emitter pairs in a building and stabilize the load while we lift the damn building."

  Gentar took the notebook from Lucien and studied it. "This is incredible. What do you plan to do with this?"

  "Give it to you. Hell, it was your idea; I just fleshed it out."

  "I am honored. Thank you."

  "One more thing, I'm donating my shop to the college, and I'll need someone to pack and haul it. They're prepping the site as we speak. Think you and your people are up to helping me out?"

  "We shall do it for free!"

  "Old friend, your offer is beyond generous, but I insist on your standard rates. Please, stop by, look the shop over, and work up a quote while I arrange a schedule."

  "I like you, Prince Lucien. I don't even mind the hair."

  They raised their glasses and toasted a bright future.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  "Now, if there is no more discussion..
." the chairman of the ambassadorial committee that was discussing the Tralaska secession said, "we will put the question to a vote..."

  "Forgive me for my lateness," Lucien said as he burst into the room. "Traffic is a horror today."

  The chairman looked at Lucien with both eyebrows raised. "Your Highness?"

  Lucien pulled a letter of introduction out of his pocket and handed it to the chairman. "The Queen felt that I may be able to add something to this discussion." He sat down and pulled out a paper notepad and pen. "What did I miss?"

  "We were discussing how our representative should vote in the upcoming referendum regarding Tralaska's secession from the League."

  "Is this a binding vote? In other words, what we decide here will decide what our representative will do at the vote on Government World?"

  "Yes, My Prince."

  "OK, when I'm in this room and talking with y'all, call me Lucien, OK?"

  "Yes, my... Yes, Lucien."

  "Good. Now, informally, what do you think we should do?"

  "Sir?"

  "What should we do? Let them stay or let them go?"

  "They should stay," the committee members said.

  "Why?"

  "They are important to the League economy."

  "What do they provide, other than grief, that the other planets can't provide?"

  Silence.

  "You do know they hate elves?"

  Silence.

  "And humans."

  A pattern was forming.

  "Okay, what if we wanted to solve the hate problem and the need problem?"

  "We can do that?"

  "Yes, we can. Up until now, Ventos Prime has made little use of our volcanic resources due to the inherent elf dislike of sulfur, correct?"

  A room full of wrinkled noses gave ample answer to the question.

  "So we import a lot of raw materials which could be harvested from magma, correct?"

  The room nodded.

  "If memory serves, the Ventosian government took possession of a defunct magma mine on an island in the eastern sea. Computer, status of the Nortan Mining Complex on Vestra Island."

  "Working... Complex has been mothballed for the last five years."

  "Computer, access databanks. Breakdown top five elements mine could produce and compare to current imports. Question: potential cost savings if mine is reopened and operations handed over to skilled operators."

  "Working... Savings range from five hundred million to ten billion League Credits."

  "Ladies and gentlemen, in normal business, sellers attempt to persuade people to buy their goods. Today, we are buyers trying to persuade a planet to sell us something. Computer, secure connection with Ambassador Tessalyn at the Tralaskan mission."

  "Working..."

  "Tessalyn."

  "Nera, it's Lucien Irithyl. How are you doing this fine day?"

  "Prince Lucien? I am honored by this call, but if this is about the secession..."

  "Nope. This is business. I need someone to run the mining operations at Nortan Mining Complex on Vestra Island. Despite our loathing of sulfur, we have decided to develop our magma resources, but we need experts, and who better than our friends, the Tralaskans."

  "Your Highness, could you hold for a moment?"

  "Sure. Love the hair, by the way."

  She smiled and touched her hair before pausing the connection.

  "She is now running the same data that I ran. She will then make an offer, probably an outrageous percentage, but one that will allow us to make money ourselves. We'll banter and come to an agreement. That's when I'll drop the hammer."

  The screen shifted back to Nera. "We are interested in your offer. We will work the island for five years, then renegotiate. We offer fifty percent of profit with environmental guarantees."

  "Five at forty with guarantees."

  "Five at forty-five with guarantees."

  "Done. Renegotiation will occur if and when Tralaska secedes."

  "What?"

  "As a member of the League, Ventos Prime is required to put all contracts out to bid when dealing with non-League entities. It is one of the cornerstones of our treaty with the League."

  "Another moment, Your Highness," screen went back to a rotating picture of the Tralaskan seal.

  "What is happening, My Prince?"

  "The Tralaskans have been forced to consider the cost of having a hissy fit."

  "Chairman," the computer announced. "Incoming call from the League directorate."

  "Excuse me," the chairman said before stepping away to take the call.

  While the rest of the room talked amongst themselves, Lucien sat and stared at the viewer, waiting for what he knew was about to come.

  The chairman returned, his eyes wide. "The Tralaskans have formally withdrawn their request for secession."

  The view screen lit up with Nera's image. "My Prince, Tralaska finds your offer acceptable. We will send the paperwork through normal channels. It has been good working with you. We look forward to future mutual endeavors. Nera out."

  Everyone in the room stared at Lucien as if he were growing chickens from his forehead. "Well, that was fun. I probably should go and brief my sister," he said. He stood up, gathered his things, and walked out of the room while the other committee members just stared.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Lucien Irithyl sat amongst the attendees as the graduating class of merchant cadets slowly assembled in their assigned seating. He smiled at their caps and gowns having never formally graduated from anywhere, unless you count the school of really hard knocks. In front of the graduates was the stage where they would receive their diplomas before beginning the second part of their journey--apprenticeship aboard a working freighter. Lucien remembered when Aerith apprenticed aboard the Spindrift, the ship he thought he'd destroyed so many years ago. His thoughts then shifted to Shenda and her ordeals. Maybe his way to captainship wasn't so bad after all.

  "Lucien!"

  Uh-oh, Lucien thought as he stood up to face his sister. "Hey, Losi. I'm glad to see you could make it."

  "Don't 'Losi' me! What the hell have you been doing? First, you solve the Tralaska problem in less time than it takes to make a cup of tea, and now, this!"

  "This, what?"

  She waved her hands to the general area behind the stage. An area filled with space freighters. "Hmmm, Space Vixen II, Algonquin, Dancing Unicorn, Pegasus Rising, and several more ships I don't recognize but I assume are yours. Tanni tells me you gave your shop to the college. What the hell is going on, Lucien?"

  "Have a seat," he said to his sister. "You too, Royce."

  They sat.

  "OK. First, since returning from the Alue universe, I find myself lacking in a few skills. I suspect they disappeared when Atmar and Harmon were reabsorbed into Lucien."

  "What skills?"

  "Piloting, mathematics, field theory, quantum FTL systems theory and practice, and multi-dimensional gravimeteric theory."

  "Oh my God," Losira whispered.

  "Lucien, you can still make scones, right?"

  "Royce!" she said as she cuffed her husband.

  Lucien laughed. "Yes, Royce, I can still bake, cook, make tea, and perform all the important things."

  "Is that why you retired from the Cube?"

  "Yeah. I had Ciara take a look, and she says everything looks fine except it’s different. We did an EEG and it is almost the same as before. Dr. Zernon and his team are putting together a paper on their findings. Bottom line, though, is I no longer can continue my work at the Cube. Try not to mention this to Gloria. It took me and Ciara an hour to get the woman to stop crying."

  Her hand shaking, Losira took his and formed a link. She held on for a moment before releasing it. "It's the same as when we found you on Alura. You seem more..."

  "Mature?"

  She nodded.

  "Isn't this where you say 'My little brother is growing up'?"

  She cuffed him. "Stop it. We need to get you to a
hospital. I can run tests..."

  "Losi, calm down. I'm fine. I just need to re-channel my newfound skills. These ships, the shop, the notes I gave Glentar, they are the Legacy of Harmon Aymar, the Smuggler Elf. I need to make my own legacy."

  "Shit, the Tralaskan thing is a good start," Royce noted.

  "Does Marta Know?"

  "We talked. She suggested talking to you."

  "How can I help? Name it."

  "I want you to appoint me Ambassador at Large for Ventos Prime."

  "Huh? AaL is the worst job imaginable. You do know that the AaL is responsible for diplomatic relations between Ventos Prime and the unaligned races, the ones who don't want to join the League, but want a toehold in it."

  "Welcome to the smuggler's world. We make deals with people we know nothing about except they have or want something someone else needs or wants. I know the risks and I want the job."

  "Then it's yours. How do you feel about using EMEF assets, you know, on the QT?" Royce asked.

  "Like Seque Six?"

  "Yes, like Seque Six, only you don't have to drive the bus."

  "Well, then count me in."

  The three of them laughed as the time for Lucien's speech quickly approached. Meanwhile, the tree rats were planning their raid on the hors d'oeuvre table.

  <<<>>>>

  About Frank Carey

  Frank Carey has been formally writing and publishing works of science fiction since late 2013. Over the years prior, he had dabbled in various forms of writing including haiku poetry, but that all changed when he and his wife, Jo, decided to try their hand at writing and self-publishing. All his work, to date, has been in the science fiction genre.

  Most of his stories take place about two centuries in the future when Earth joins the League of Planetary Systems. Many of his protagonists are strong females. He is an inveterate pantser who believes the story will go where the story wants to go.

  Frank’s background includes degrees in physics and extensive work as a scientific programmer and technologist.

  Frank and his wife produce a podcast—Xtreme Self-Publishing—which details their self-publishing efforts.