Lost In Translation by Edward Willett Read Free Book Online Page A

else occurred, the crowd surrounding the field dispersed, until, as the day slipped into dusk and at last the commander and Kitillikk emerged, only Jarrikk, Ukkarr, and the Hunters were left. The Hunters stood in silence, facing the equally silent Commonwealth soldiers, in a staring contest that might have been comical if it weren’t so deadly serious.
    When Kitillikk emerged, Jarrikk saw at once, by the suppressed anger in her stance and the ridge of raised fur on the back of her neck, that she had acquiesced. The rage that had filled him since the slaughter of his friends drove him forward, despite Ukkarr’s angry shouts and the sudden movement of Commonwealth beamers being trained on him.
    He faced Kitillikk in the gathering dusk, his hot breath forming clouds of white vapor in the chill air. “How could you? How dare you? The humans are murderers, they killed my friends, they skinned them—”
    Kitillikk’s hand lashed out, claws extended, ripping fur and flesh from Jarrikk’s upper arm. Shocked into silence, he grabbed the wound with his hand and stared at the Flight Leader as blood oozed between his fingers. “You forget yourself, youngling,” she growled. “We accept the Commonwealth Treaty because we must, because our destruction hangs over our heads. But the humans remain our enemies. Always.”
    â€œYou’re the youngling whose report started this war, aren’t you?” Lakkassikk said in his deep voice. “Be assured, cub, nothing is forgotten. Nothing is forgiven. There will be another day to fight.”
    â€œWords.” Jarrikk felt dizzy from pain and shock, only a little of it from the wound. “Nothing but words.”
    â€œNot words.” The Wing Leader opened his wings and his arms. “A promise.”
    â€œUkkarr!” Kitillikk shouted. The Hunter came over to them. “Take Jarrikk back to the fortress. Tend his wound, and see that he’s fed. I have matters to discuss with Lakkassikk.”
    â€œYes, Flight Leader,” Ukkarr growled. “Come on, youngling. And be thankful she didn’t rip off your ear.”
    Jarrikk followed Ukkarr into the dark, metal-ceilinged sky. Kitillikk could punish him for speaking, but she could not control his thoughts. Humans were coming back. The Wing Leader could talk about fighting in the far future, when his courage returns, Jarrikk thought. But he would not wait that long.
    When the humans returned, Commonwealth Treaty or no, they would find they still had one enemy willing to fight them.
    Â 
    Kitillikk flew with Lakkassikk to the entrance to his underground headquarters. Despite herself, she shuddered as they rode an elevator to the lowest level, a hundred spans below. The caves they had dwelled in for so long had been bad enough, but to deliberately bury yourself beneath the ground, to cut yourself off from the sky—it was not the S’sinn way. It should not be necessary.
    But, of course, it was; the humans had made it so. The inner depths of her own fortress, of every building in the city, were no better, though at least she had some rooms open to the winds. “How well do your Hunters adjust to this place?” Kitillikk asked as at last the elevator stopped and thick steel doors slid open to admit them into a featureless gray corridor.
    â€œWell enough,” Lakkassikk growled. “Those few who fail join the Flightless in oblivion.”
    Kitillikk nodded approvingly. “Their deaths do you honor.”
    â€œThank you.” He stopped before a door barely visible in the gray wall. “Open.”
    â€œWing Leader Lakkassikk identified,” a male voice replied, and the door swung inward. At Lakkassikk’s gesture, Kitillikk entered the sparsely furnished quarters beyond; two shikks and a computer terminal seemed its sole adornments. To her right, an arch led into a waste elimination cubicle; directly opposite, another arch led into a grooming