Read Online Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Samuel R. Delany
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like out there?"
"It stinks. Nothing in this range. We've hit soup."
"Can you hear anything. Ear?"
"Not a peep. Captain. All the stasis currents in this area are at a standstill. We're too near a large gravitational mass. There's a faint ethric undertow about fifty spectres K-ward. But I don't think it will take us anywhere except around in a circle. We're riding on momentum from the last stiff wind from Earth's mango sphere."
"What's it look like. Eyes?"
"Inside of a coal scuttle. Whatever happened to us, we picked a dead spot to have it happen in. In my range that undertow is a little stronger and might move us into a good tide."
Brass cut in. "But I'd like to know where it's going before I went jumping off into it. That means I gotta know where we are, first."
"Navigation?"
Silence for a moment. Then the three faces appeared. Calli said, "We don't know. Captain."
The gravity field had stabilized a few degrees off. The silicon suspension collected in one comer. Little Diavalo shook his head and blinked. Through the contortion of pain on his face he whispered, "What happened, Captain?"
“Damned if I know, "Rydra said. "But I'm going to find out."
Dinner was eaten silently. The platoon, all kids under twenty-one, made as little noise as possible. At the officers' table the Navigators sat across from the apparitional figures of the discorporate Sensory Observers, The hefty Slug at the table's head poured wine for
the silent crew. Rydra dined with Brass.
"I don't know." He shook his maned head, turning his glass in gleaming claws. "It was smooth sailing with nothing in the way. Whatever happened, happened inside the ship."
Diavalo, hip in a pressure bandage, dourfully brought in the shortcake, served Rydra and Brass, then retired to his seat at the platoon table.
"So," Rydra said, "we're orbiting Earth with all our instruments knocked out and can't even tell where we are."
"The hyperstasis instruments are good," he re minded her. "We just don't know where we are on this side of the jum'."
"And we can't jump if we don't know where we're jumping from." She looked over the dining room. "Do you think they're expecting to get out of this. Brass?"
"They're ho'ing you can get them out, Ca'tain."
She touched the rim of her glass to her lower lip.
“If somebody doesn't, we'll sit here eating Diavalo's good food for six months, then suffocate. We can't even get a signal out until after we lea’ for hy’erstasis with the regular communicator shorted. I asked the Navigators to see if they could im’rovise something, but no go. They just had time to see that we were launched in a great circle."
"We should have windows," Rydra said, "At least we could look out at the stars and time our orbit. It can't be more than a couple of hours."
Brass nodded. "Shows you what modern conveniences mean. A 'orthote and an old-fashioned sextant could get us right, but we're electronicized to the gills, and here we sit, with a neatly insoluble 'roblem."
"Circling—"Rydra put down her wine.
"What is it?"
"Der Kreis," said Rydra. She frowned.
"What's that?" asked Brass.
"Ratas, orbis, Ucerchio." She put her palms flat on the tabletop and pressed. "Circles," she said. "Circles in different languages!"
Brass' confusion was terrifying through his fangs. The glinting fleece above his eyes bristled.
"Sphere," she said, "il gtobo, gumlas." She stood up. "Kule, kuglet, kring!"
"Does it matter what language it's in? A circle is a cir—''
But she was laughing, running from the dining room.
In her cabin she grabbed up her translation. Her eyes fled down the pages. She banged the button for the Navigators. Ron, wiping whipped-cream from his mouth, said, "Yes, Captain? What do you want?"
"A watch," said Rydra, "and a—bag of marbles!"
"Huh?" asked Calli.
"You can finish your shortcake later. Meet me in G-center right now."
"Mar-bles?" articulated Mollya wonderingly. "Marbles?"
"One of the kids in the platoon must have brought
"It stinks. Nothing in this range. We've hit soup."
"Can you hear anything. Ear?"
"Not a peep. Captain. All the stasis currents in this area are at a standstill. We're too near a large gravitational mass. There's a faint ethric undertow about fifty spectres K-ward. But I don't think it will take us anywhere except around in a circle. We're riding on momentum from the last stiff wind from Earth's mango sphere."
"What's it look like. Eyes?"
"Inside of a coal scuttle. Whatever happened to us, we picked a dead spot to have it happen in. In my range that undertow is a little stronger and might move us into a good tide."
Brass cut in. "But I'd like to know where it's going before I went jumping off into it. That means I gotta know where we are, first."
"Navigation?"
Silence for a moment. Then the three faces appeared. Calli said, "We don't know. Captain."
The gravity field had stabilized a few degrees off. The silicon suspension collected in one comer. Little Diavalo shook his head and blinked. Through the contortion of pain on his face he whispered, "What happened, Captain?"
“Damned if I know, "Rydra said. "But I'm going to find out."
Dinner was eaten silently. The platoon, all kids under twenty-one, made as little noise as possible. At the officers' table the Navigators sat across from the apparitional figures of the discorporate Sensory Observers, The hefty Slug at the table's head poured wine for
the silent crew. Rydra dined with Brass.
"I don't know." He shook his maned head, turning his glass in gleaming claws. "It was smooth sailing with nothing in the way. Whatever happened, happened inside the ship."
Diavalo, hip in a pressure bandage, dourfully brought in the shortcake, served Rydra and Brass, then retired to his seat at the platoon table.
"So," Rydra said, "we're orbiting Earth with all our instruments knocked out and can't even tell where we are."
"The hyperstasis instruments are good," he re minded her. "We just don't know where we are on this side of the jum'."
"And we can't jump if we don't know where we're jumping from." She looked over the dining room. "Do you think they're expecting to get out of this. Brass?"
"They're ho'ing you can get them out, Ca'tain."
She touched the rim of her glass to her lower lip.
“If somebody doesn't, we'll sit here eating Diavalo's good food for six months, then suffocate. We can't even get a signal out until after we lea’ for hy’erstasis with the regular communicator shorted. I asked the Navigators to see if they could im’rovise something, but no go. They just had time to see that we were launched in a great circle."
"We should have windows," Rydra said, "At least we could look out at the stars and time our orbit. It can't be more than a couple of hours."
Brass nodded. "Shows you what modern conveniences mean. A 'orthote and an old-fashioned sextant could get us right, but we're electronicized to the gills, and here we sit, with a neatly insoluble 'roblem."
"Circling—"Rydra put down her wine.
"What is it?"
"Der Kreis," said Rydra. She frowned.
"What's that?" asked Brass.
"Ratas, orbis, Ucerchio." She put her palms flat on the tabletop and pressed. "Circles," she said. "Circles in different languages!"
Brass' confusion was terrifying through his fangs. The glinting fleece above his eyes bristled.
"Sphere," she said, "il gtobo, gumlas." She stood up. "Kule, kuglet, kring!"
"Does it matter what language it's in? A circle is a cir—''
But she was laughing, running from the dining room.
In her cabin she grabbed up her translation. Her eyes fled down the pages. She banged the button for the Navigators. Ron, wiping whipped-cream from his mouth, said, "Yes, Captain? What do you want?"
"A watch," said Rydra, "and a—bag of marbles!"
"Huh?" asked Calli.
"You can finish your shortcake later. Meet me in G-center right now."
"Mar-bles?" articulated Mollya wonderingly. "Marbles?"
"One of the kids in the platoon must have brought
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