either up or down without hurting anything. From that we can get the length of our orbit, as well as our speed. That'll be all the information we need to locate ourselves in relation to the nearest major gravitational influence. From there we can jump stasis- All our communications instruments for stasis are in working order. We can signal for help and pull in some replacements from a stasis station."
The amazed Navigators joined her in the corridor. "Count down," Rydra said.
At zero Ron released the magnetic walls. Slowly the spheres began to drift away, lining up slowly.
"Guess you learn something every day," Calli said. "If you'd asked me, I would have said we were stuck here forever. And knowing things like this is supposed to be my job. Where did you get the idea?"
"From the word for 'great circle' in ... another language."
“Language speaking tongue?'' Mollya asked. “You mean?"
"Well," Rydra took out a metal tracing plate and a stylus. "I'm simplifying it a little, but let me show you." She marked the plate. "Let's say the word for circle is: 0. This language has a melody system to illustrate comparatives. We'll represent this by the diacritical marks: v - " , respectively smallest, ordinary, and biggest. So what would 0 mean?"
"Smallest possible circle?" said Calli. "That's a single point."
Rydra nodded. “Now, when referring to a circle on a sphere, suppose the word for just an ordinary circle is O followed by either of two symbols, one of which means not touching anything else, the other of which means crossing—11 or X. What would OX mean?"
"Great circles that intersect,” said Ron.
"And because all great circles intersect, in this language the word for great circle is always OX. It carries the information right in the word. Just like busstop or foxhole carry information in English that la gare or Ie terrier—comparable words in French—lack. 'Great
Circle' carries some information with it, but not the right information to get us out of the jam we're in. We have to go to another language in order to think about the problem clearly without going through all sorts of roundabout paths for the proper aspects of what we want to deal with."
"What language is this?" asked Calli.
"I don't know its real name. For now it's called Babel-17. From what little I know about it already, most of its words carry more information about things they refer to than any four or five languages I know put together, and in less space." She gave a brief translation for Mollya.
"Who speak?" Mollya asked, determined to stick to her minimal English.
Rydra bit the inside of her lip. When she asked herself that question, her stomach would tighten, her hands start toward something and the yearning for an answer grow nearly to pain in the back of her throat. It happened now; it faded. "I don't know. But I wish I did. That's what the main reason for this trip is, to find out."
"Babel-17," Ron repeated.
One of the platoon tube-boys coughed behind them.
"What is it, Carlos?"
Squat, taurine, with a lot of curly black hair, Carlos had big, loose muscles, and a slight hiss. "Captain, could I show you something?" He shifted from side to side in adolescent awkwardness, scuffing his bare soles, heat-callused from climbing over the drive tubes, against the doorsill. "Something down in the tubes. I think you should take a look at it yourself."
"Did Slug tell you to get me?"
Carlos prodded behind his ear with a gnawed thumbnail. "Um-hm."
"You three can take care of this business, can't you?"
"Sure, Captain." Calli looked at the closing marbles.
Rydra ducked after Carlos. They rode down the ladderlift and hunched through the low ceilinged causeway.
"Down here," Carlos said, hesitantly taking the lead beneath arched bus bars. At a mesh platform he stopped and opened a component cabinet in the wall. "See." He removed a board of printed circuits. "There." A thin crack ran across the plastic surface. "It's been broken."
"How?" Rydra