The kzin growled and hissed in Fellah’s direction. “Better this way, he says,” the alien translated, and then, speaking directly: “Thrintun power… Bad thing, yes? Bad in your world. Bad in his. Now, no more.”
The kzin stretched his lips without baring his teeth.
Cuiller looked down at the shattered tube and glittering shards of what could be electronic circuits—or perhaps conductors of some other energy. He nodded.
“Do humans eat their prisoners?” Fellah asked, again translating. “Or do you allow an… honorable death… in hunt for sport.”
“Neither,” Cuiller answered. “You—” He pointed at the kzin. “—will probably be interned for the duration of the coming war.”
“Kept in… confinement?” Fellah asked, still working through the Hero’s Tongue.
“Yes, certainly.”
Magnetic grapples seized the hull. Fellah gave out a glad, barking laugh that would translate the same in both Interworld and the Hero’s Tongue.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-0af05b-fcd3-2547-e182-488b-5a82-e35db0
Document version: 1.1
Document creation date: 15.12.2010
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, FB Editor v2.3 software
Document history:
1.1 - вычитка, KillerBeer. (HEY DIDDLE DIDDLE не сверялся по альтернативному источнику)
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