Lost In Translation (26 page)

“As certain as I can be without having experienced it myself. Translator Bircher described it as being even deeper than the Translation bond, in fact.”

“This must be studied! The
Unity
must bring them back to Commonwealth Central at once!”

“It's not that simple, Guildmaster. Officially, Jarrikk has not rescinded his decision to take the knife. And politically, the Guild's position here might be strengthened more if he chooses to return to the Place of Flightless Sacrifice than if he chooses to live and leave the planet. The priests have been stirring up public sentiment against us for defiling a sacrifice to the Hunter of Worlds.”

“I know all that,” Karak said impatiently. “And under other circumstances, I would reprimand Translator Bircher severely for interfering, however much I might secretly applaud her. But this changes everything. If we can eliminate the symbiote from Translation, we could revolutionize the process. No more need for electromagnetic shielding, no more time limits on Translation . . .”

“I'm not so sure of that. They seemed exhausted when they finished, and they were only linked for seconds.”

“That's why we need more study. Jarrikk cannot be allowed the luxury of choosing for himself whether or not to take the knife, Ukkaddikk. He must return to Commonwealth Central. As Guildmaster, I order it.”

Ukkaddikk replied only after a longish pause. “I'm not sure ordering Jarrikk is the best way to gain his cooperation at this point in time, Guildmaster.”

“Explain.”

“I sense . . . doubts. In his hearts and Translator Bircher's. They seem to feel they have been manipulated by the Guild—manipulated to come together here and do what they did. I think, to a certain extent, they both feel betrayed.”

“Nonsense,” Karak said, but he said it uncomfortably. The Guild Council had known exactly what it was doing. He and Akkanndikk had both known exactly what they were doing. They
had
manipulated the two young Translators, played on their loyalty to the Guild to obtain the necessary results. But surely that same loyalty would help them understand . . .

“Perhaps,” Ukkaddikk said. “But that is the way they feel. And Kathryn, I think, feels that the Guild was too willing to let Jarrikk die after he was no longer of any use as a Translator. You know how humans are always so quick to judge the actions of other races by their own moral standards.”

In this case, a standard Karak shared. But he had a duty to seek what was best for the Guild and the Commonwealth, not for specific individuals. And that duty still drove him. “However they feel, they must return to Commonwealth Central,” he said slowly. “But perhaps we can convince them of the necessity without putting it in terms of an order. Tell them that there are still strong factions on both Earth and S'sin ndikk clamoring for repudiation of the treaty, that the Guild fears for their safety and the safety of the humans with them on the
Unity,
and that the
Unity
has therefore been ordered to return to Commonwealth Central and I hope they will come with it. Leave them the appearance, at least, of having a choice—but, Ukkaddikk, I am counting on you to insure that the ‘choice' they make is the correct one.”

“There is also the matter of the experimental regeneration technique the humans are anxious to try on Jarrikk, Guildmaster. If he is to make the right choice, that procedure must still be carried out.”

“It will be, it will be,” Karak said irritably. “But this new linkage takes precedence. I'll look into having this human doctor transfer his equipment to Commonwealth Central—I'm sure the Commonwealth medical college will want to observe the procedure in any event. None of that need concern you. Just get the pair of them off that planet as soon as you can and safely on their way here.”

“Yes, Guildmaster Karak. Ukkaddikk out.”

Karak waved a manipulator to kill the transmitter, then snagged one of the curious silverfins, bit it in two, and gulped down the head. There was a lot of truth in what he had just told Ukkaddikk, he reflected. The Humanity First party on Earth and the faction led by Kitillikk on S'sinndikk
were
still fighting to have the agreement overthrown. Akkanndikk seemed confident she could manage the situation on S'sinndikk and the Earth government seemed equally confident, but Karak did not share their confidence.

All it would take at this point is one small rupture in the wall we have built against the current for war,
he thought.
One tiny crack, and we'll all be swept into the ocean depths.

All he could really do was pray to the Great Swimmer that the wall held firm.

He let the tail of the silverfin settle to the floor for the scuttlers to eat, and swam back to his sleeping cave.

 

With a hundred thousand others, Kitillikk roosted near the Temple. Unlike most of those others, no one crowded her, thanks to Ukkarr, who even when weap onless, as now, could intimidate most lesser S'sinn.

Like everyone else, Kitillikk gazed skyward, toward the topmost Temple tower, where three S'sinn circled on artificial thermals generated by heating vents in the Temple roof. Kitillikk kept her expression carefully neutral, but deep in her throat she growled. “Look at her,” she muttered to Ukkarr. “How dare she!”

The “she” in question was the Supreme Flight Leader, circling in formation with her Left and Right Wings. The thousands gathered below and the millions more watching on planet-wide vidcast had come to celebrate the most holy day in the worship of the Hunter of Worlds, the day when the Supreme Flight Leader symbolically brought, to feed the Hunter, the blood of all the Hunters who had died in the previous year.

Akkanndikk's wings flashed scarlet in the sunshine, covered from shoulder to tip with blood-red paint. The thousands with Kitillikk gazed raptly as somewhere a priest intoned a description of the ceremony, but Kitillikk preferred her own commentary. “In her reign Hunters die of old age, not in battle,” she growled. “When I am Supreme Flight Leader, the Hunter of Worlds will feast on the ugly flesh of humans and the sweet blood of our strong young warriors!”

Ukkarr gave her a sideways glance. “I confess surprise at this sudden surge of piety, Flight Leader.”

“If piety is necessary in a Supreme Flight Leader, then I will be pious, Ukkarr.” She sharpened her vision, bringing prey-sight to bear on Akkanndikk, now circling downward toward the platform that crowned the tower. Some time later she would emerge, supposedly having sacrificed to the Hunter in a ceremony only she and the High Priest would attend. Kitillikk sometimes wondered if they really just sat and passed a bottle of silverwine back and forth for a few hundred beats. Next year, she intended to find out in person.

The Supreme Flight Leader spread her wings to land—and Kitillikk stiffened. In her prey-sight, all was clear, and the sudden outbreak of shouting all around her indicated the crowd saw, too, as a shape suddenly sprang up on the platform. “Ukkarr, the time is at hand!” Kitillikk breathed. “Human, I salute you!”

A flash like lightning. The Supreme Flight Leader's wings collapsed and she dropped, crashing onto the next platform down on the tower, one scarlet wing draped over the edge. The Left Wing dove toward her, while the Right hurled herself at the human. The beamer lashed out again, and the Right Wing snapped into a fluttering spin that ended when one of the upthrust “fangs” of the Temple wall impaled her. Blood streaked the stones. Her wings jerked twice, then fell limp.

The thousands roosting around and below Kitillikk surged this way and that in confusion and shrieking horror. Some tried to fly and collided with others, sending both crashing into the S'sinn on the ground. There would be more dead and wounded in the crowd, Kitillikk thought. All of which could be laid at the human's feet. She raked her prey-sight over the spire again, but the human had vanished.

No matter. Jim Ornawka was the least of her concerns. She turned to Ukkarr. “Now,” she said. “Send the signals. First to our supporters in the Temple. Have them meet me where the Supreme Flight Leader lies. Then call Ikkilliss. The Supreme Flight must meet at once to discuss the succession. Go.” Ukkarr snapped his wings in salute and went.

Her hearts pounding fiercely with anticipation, Kitillikk threw herself into the air, climbing quickly to the tower platform. As she swept in, the Left Wing swung toward her, teeth bared. “Kitillikk,” he snarled. “Come to survey your handiwork?”

“Mine?” Kitillikk feigned astonishment, careful not to get too close to the angry bodyguard. “I was in the crowd at the base of the tower.”

“One of your assassins—”

“It was not her doing,” Akkanndikk whispered, and this time Kitillikk's astonishment was unfeigned, and followed quickly by anger. Bloody incompetent human—couldn't even kill a single unarmed S'sinn!

Instantly the Left Wing turned to his mistress, his wings blocking Akkanndikk from Kitillikk's view—which allowed her to shift her gaze to the only door into the Temple. They were certain to be inundated with priests at any moment—would have been already if not for the symbolic importance of the Supreme Flight Leader making her descent from the Tower unaided and alone. But which priests? Much depended on that—and that, in turn, depended on how quickly Ukkarr had gotten his message to her supporters.

Left Wing straightened and turned back toward Kitillikk. “My apologies,” he said stiffly. “Her Altitude tells me her attacker was a human.”

“May the Hunter spew him out of his mouth!” Kitillikk said fervently.

“Nevertheless, Flight Leader Kitillikk, I must insist that you stay back from Her Altitude until the priests arrive. You have made no secret of your enmity toward her.”

“There is a difference between political enmity and attempted assassination, Left Wing,” Kitillikk snapped. “In this hour, there is only the good of the S'sinn to consider. We must rally together. I came out of concern, not ambition.” She didn't really expect the bodyguard to believe her, but it never hurt to make the right sounds. You never knew who might be listening.

“Your concern is noted. I still will not let you near the Supreme Flight Leader.”

“As you wish.” Kitillikk heard the snap of wings from below; a moment later three priests popped into view and landed beside her, and she carefully kept from smiling: they were hers. Unreliable over the long term, like all priests, but certainly ready to seize the moment—which they did, no doubt thanks to Ukkaddikk's instruction.

“Quickly!” said the first. “We must move her inside! The human has been spotted nearby—he could fire at any moment!”

“Where?” Left Wing sprang up. “I will rip out his heart!”

“East Tower!” the priest said, and Left Wing, with a final glance at the Supreme Flight Leader, already surrounded by the other priests, flung himself into the air.

“Excellent,” Kitillikk said. “Get her inside and hide her.”

The priests who had been “treating” the Supreme Flight Leader straightened. “You want her alive?” said one in surprise. “It would be an easy matter to—”

“I want her alive.” In the few moments she'd had to think about that prospect, Kitillikk had seen how it could be used to her advantage. “It will keep her supporters off-balance, while we act. Now move her, before Left Wing comes back!”

Without further argument, the priests picked up Akkanndikk, who moaned and tossed her head, and carried her through the door. Kitillikk followed, pausing only long enough to scan the rooftops around them. “I hope Left Wing finds you, Jim Ornawka,” she said softly. “It will save me the trouble.”

Inside, a staircase spiraled down—a rare architectural feature in most S'sinn buildings, but common in the Temple; remaining on foot was a powerful symbol of humility before the Hunter. The Supreme Flight Leader would have been expected to descend the entire height of the Tower on foot; now she descended instead in the none-too-gentle grasp of the priests. They had not gone far when they heard a shriek above them—no doubt Left Wing had returned to find his mistress gone. “Move!” Kitillikk snapped, and they redoubled their efforts.

They reached what must have been ground level, judging by the size of the chamber into which they emerged, but instead of going out through one of the four large doors spaced equidistantly around it, the priests instead stepped off the staircase and turned sharply left, toward a small black door underneath the stairs. They carried the now limp Akkanndikk through it, and Kitillikk, following, closed it behind them—and, finding a bolt, bolted it.

Now they descended in utter blackness, but sound gave Kitillikk all the information she needed. The stairs continued spiraling down, and down, until she judged they must be forty or more spans beneath the surface—and then, finally, they came on light, a large, round torch-lit chamber with a half-dozen shikks scattered around it, a table in the center on which rested the day-old (at least) remnants of a meal, and nothing else.

“This is where we meet,” said the lead priest. “In darkness and dampness. We've suffered much to return our race to greatness, Flight Leader.” Unspoken, she heard his challenge:
do not disappoint us.

Unreliable,
she thought again.
Priests are unreliable.

It seemed, though, that with the Supreme Flight Leader unexpectedly alive, she would have to rely on them at least a while longer. “You have done well. And I promise I will remember your sacrifices when I am Supreme Flight Leader. But I must ask you to use this chamber a while longer. Keep her,” she gestured at the unconscious figure of Akkanndikk, “hid den down here, for now. Treat her wounds, but answer no questions, should she recover enough to ask them. She won't know where she is, or who you are, unless you tell her. Should I need her, I will tell you. Should I decide I do not need her, I will tell you that, as well, and . . .”