Free Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany Page B

Brass, take her in."
    The saucer-disk slid down the ramp as she balanced easily in the four-fifths gravity. A breeze through the artificial twilight pushed her hair back from her shoulders. Around her stretched the major arsenal of the Alliance. Momentarily she pondered the accident of birth that had seated her firmly inside the Alliance's realm. Born a galaxy away, she might as easily have been an Invader. Her poems were popular on both sides. That was upsetting. She put the thought away. Here, gliding the Alliance War Yards, it was not clever to be upset over that-
    "Captain Wong, you come under the auspices of General Forester."
    She nodded as her saucer stopped.
    “He forwarded us information that you are at present the expert on Babel-17."
    She nodded once more. Now the other saucer paused before hers.
    "I'm very happy then, to meet you, and for any assistance I can offer, please ask."
    She extended her hand. "Thank you, Baron Ver Dorco."
    The black of his eyebrows raised and the slash of mouth curved in the dark face, "You read heraldry?" He raised long fingers to the shield on his chest.
    "I do."
    "An accomplishment. Captain. We live in a world of isolated communities, each hardly touching its neighbor, each speaking, as it were, a different language."
    "I speak many."
    The Baron nodded. "Sometimes I believe Captain Wong, that without the Invasion, something for the Alliance to focus its energies upon, our society would disintegrate. Captain Wong—" He stopped, and the fine lines of his face shifted, contracted to concentration, then a sudden opening. "Rydra Wong . . .?"
    She nodded, smiling at his smile, yet wary before what the recognition would mean.
    "I didn't realize—" He extended his hand as though he were meeting her all over again. "But, of course—'' The surface of his manner shaled away, and had she never seen this transformation before she would have warmed to his warmth. "Your books, I want you to  know—'' The sentence trailed in a slight shaking of the head. Dark eyes too wide; lips, in their, humor, too close to a leer; hands seeking one another: it all spoke to her of a disquieting appetite for her presence, a hunger for something she was or might be, a ravenous— "Dinner at my home is served at seven." He interrupted her thought with unsettling appropriateness. "You will dine with the Baroness and myself this evening."
    "Thank you. But I wanted to discuss with my crew—"
    “I extend the invitation to your entire entourage. We have a spacious house, conference rooms at your disposal, as well as entertainment, certainly less confined than your ship." The tongue, purplish and flickering behind white, white teeth; the brown lines of his lips,  she thought, form words as languidly as the slow mandibles of the cannibal mantis.
    “Please come a little early so we can prepare you—“
    She caught her breath, then felt foolish; a faint narrowing of his eyes told her he had registered, though not understood, her start.
    “—for your tour through the yards. General Forester has suggested you be made privy to all our efforts against the Invaders. That is quite an honor, Madam. There are many well-seasoned officers at the yards who have not seen some of the things you will be shown. A good deal of it will probably be tedious, I dare say. In my opinion, it's stuffing you with a lot of trivial tidbits. But some of our attempts have been rather ingenious. We keep our imaginations simmering."
    This man brings out the paranoid in me, she thought. I don't like him. "I'd prefer not to impose on you, Baron. There are some matters on my ship that I must—"
    "Do come. Your work here will be much facilitated if you accept my hospitality, I assure you. A woman of your talent and accomplishment would be an honor to my house. And recently I have been starved"—dark lips slid together over gleaming teeth—"for intelligent conversation."
    She felt her jaw clamp involuntarily on a third ceremonious refusal. But the