A Question of Defense

Uluthu touched Tomu’s hand. “I believe you have something for the captain.”
“Indeed, yes. Uluthu says I would forget my hands if Jarlis hadn’t attached them to my arms.” Tomu reached into a large pouch-like pocket in his oversized multicolored jacket and drew out a book. By the looks of the wear, it must have been over a hundred years old.
“These are the words of Jarlis written down by his followers after his departure. This volume has been part of our family for six generations.”
I began to say how it must be too precious for us to take when the captain accepted it. “Thank you for your gift.” The Jarlidians appeared pleased, yet it both angered and saddened me to know that we wouldn’t be five parsecs out before this family heirloom, cherished by six generations of Jarlidians, would be jettisoned with the rest of the garbage.
“Captain, you have an impressive vessel,” Uluthu said. “My specialty is engineering. I would be lokuthin to see your ship.”
“Lokuthin means a mixture of pleased, happy, anxious, curious, and in awe,” I whispered to Captain Nelson. No translator can cover every language variation in a first contact situation.
The captain responded quickly, “Of course. I would be more than happy to show you the ship.”
What he meant was to show them the weapons which could devastate entire continents. More than one visiting dignitary begged for terms after a friendly tour of the ship. I was hoping Tomu would not be one of them.
“This is our armory.”
“We do not understand,” said Tomu. I checked my handheld interface with the translator. The word did not exist in Jarlidian.