The middle group began to move slowly forward. On the underspeakers now, punctuated with static, Rydra heard lower voices as the men began to report back to the Navigators on Tarik: Keep us on course, now, Kippi, and don' t get shook. Sure thing. Hawk, will you get your reports back on time!
Ease up. My caper-unit keeps sticking. Who told you to leave without getting overhauled?
Come on, ladies, be kind to us for once. Hey, Pigfoot, you want to be lobbed in high or low? Low, hard, and fast. Don't hang me up. You just get your reports in, honeybunch.
Over the main speaker Jebel said: "The Hunter and the Hunted have engaged—“ The red light and the blue light started blinking on the screen. Calli, Ron, and Molly a came from the head of the steps.
"What's going. . . ?" Calli started, but silenced at a gesture from Rydra.
"That red light's an Invader ship. We're attacking it in a few moments. We're the yellow lights down here." She left the explanation at that. "Good luck, us," Mollya said, dryly.
In five minutes there was only the red light left. By now Brass had clanked up the steps to join them. Jebel announced: "The Hunter has become the Hunted. Let the criminally-insane schiz out." The yellow group on the left started forward, spreading apart.
That Invader looks pretty big, there. Hawk. Don't worry. She'll run us out tough.
Hell. I don't like hard work. Got my reports yet? Right-o. Pigfoot, stop jamming Ladybird's beam! O.K. O.K. O.K. Did anyone check over tractor-nine and ten?
You think of everything at the right time, don't you? Just curious. Don't the spiral look pretty back there? "Neurotics proceed with delusions of grandeur. Napoleon Bonaparte, take the lead. Jesus Christ bring up the rear." The ships on the right moved forward now in diamond formation—"Simulate severe depression, non-communicative, with repressed hostility."
Behind her she heard young voices. The Slug herded the platoon up the steps. Arriving, they quieted before the vast representation of night. The explanation of the battle filtered back among the children in whispers.
"Commence the first psychotic episode." Yellow lights ran forward into the darkness.
The Invader must have spotted them at last, for it began to move away. The gross bulk could not outrun the spiders unless it jumped currents. And there was not enough leeway to check out. The three groups of yellow lights—formed, unformed, and dispersed—drew closer. After three minutes, the Invader stopped running. On the screen there was a sudden shower of red lights. It had released its own barrage of cruisers which also separated into the three standard attack groups.
"The life goal has become dispersed," Jebel announced. "Do not become despondent."
Come on, let them babies fry and gel us! Remember, Kippi, low, fast, and hard!
If we scare them into offensive, we got it made! "Prepare to penetrate hostile defense mechanisms. All right. Administer medication!"
The formation of the Invader's cruiser, however, was not offensive. A third of them fanned horizontally across the stars, the second group combed over their paths at a sixty-degree angle, and the third group moved through another rotation of sixty degrees so they made a three-way defensive grid before the mother ship. The red cruisers doubled back on themselves at the end of their run and swept out again, netting the space before the Invader with small ships.
"Take heed. The enemy has tightened its defense mechanisms."
What's with this new formation, anyway? We'll get through. You worried?
Static chopped out one speaker. Damn, they strafed Pigfoot!
Pull me back, Kippi. There you go. Pigfoot? Did you see how they got him? Hey, let's go.
"Administer active therapy to the right. Be as directive as you can. Let the center enjoy the pleasure principle. And the left go hang."
Rydra watched, fascinated, as yellow lights engaged the red which still swept hypnotically along their grid, net, web—
Webbing! The picture Hipped over in her mind and the other side had all the missing lines. The grid was identical to the three-way web she had torn off the hammock hours before, with the added factor of timing, because the strands were the paths of ships, not strings; but it worked the same way. She snatched up a microphone from the desk. "Jebel!" The word took forever to slide back and forth from postdental through labial stop and back to palatal fricative, beside the sounds that danced through her brain now. She barked at the Navigators beside her "Calli, Mollya, Ron, coordinate the battle area for me."
"Huh?" said Calli. "All right." He began to adjust the dial of the stellari meter in his palm. Slow motion, she thought. They're all moving in slow motion. She knew what should be done, must be done, and watched the situation changing.
"Rydra Wong, Jebel is occupied," came the Butcher's gravelly voice.
Calli said over her left shoulder: "Coordinates 3-B, 41-F, and 9-K. Pretty quick, huh?"
It seemed she'd asked for them an hour ago. "Butcher, did you get those coordinates down? Now look, in . . . twenty-seven seconds a cruiser will pass through—" She gave a three number location. "Hit it with your closest neurotics." While she waited for a response, she saw where the next hit must lie. "Forty seconds off, starting — eight, nine, ten, now an Invader cruiser will pass through—" another location. "—Get it with whatever's nearest. Is the first ship out of commission?"
"Yes, Captain Wong."
Her amazement and relief took no breath. At least the Butcher was listening; she gave the coordinates of three more ships in the' web. “Now hit them straight on and watch them fall apart!"
As she put the microphone down, Jebel's voice announced: "Advance for group therapy."
The yellow spider-boats surged into the darkness again. Where there should have been Invaders, there were empty holes; where there should have been reinforcements, there was confusion. First one, then another, red cruiser fled its position.
The yellow lights were through. The flare of a vibra-blast shattered the red glow of the Invader ship.
Ratt jumped up and down, holding on to Carlos' and Flop's shoulder. 'Hey, we won!" the midget Reconversion Engineer cried out. "We won!"
The platoon murmured to one another. Rydra felt oddly far away. They talked so slowly, taking such impossible time to say what could be so quickly delineated by a few simple—
"Are you all right, Ca'tain?" Brass put his yellow paw around her shoulder.
She tried to speak, but it came out a grunt. She staggered against his arm.
The Slug had turned now. "You feel well?" he asked.
"Sssssss," and realized that she didn't know how to say it in Babel-17, Her mouth bit into the shape and feel of English. "Sick," she said. "Jesus, I feel sick."
As she said it, the dizziness passed.
"Maybe you better lie down?" suggested the Slug.
She shook her head. The tenseness in her shoulders and back, the nausea was leaving. "No. I'm all right. I just got a little too excited, I think."
"Sit down a minute," Brass said, letting her lean against the desk. But she pushed herself upright—
"Really, I'm O.K. now." She took a deep breath. "See?" She pulled from under Brass' arm. "I'm going to take a walk. I'll feel better then." Still unsteady, she started away. She felt their wariness to let her go, but suddenly she wanted to be somewhere else. She continued across the gallery floor.
Her breath got back to normal when she reached the upper levels. Then, from six different directions, hallways joined with rolling ramps to descend toward other levels. She stopped, confused over which way to take, then turned at a sound.
A group of Tarik's crew was crossing the corridor. The Butcher, among them, paused to lean against the door frame. He grinned at her, seeing her confusion, and pointed to the right. She didn't feel like speaking, so merely smiled and touched her forehead in salute. As she started toward the right-hand ramp, the meaning behind his grin surprised her. There was the pride of their joint success (which had allowed her to remain silent), yes; and a direct pleasure at offering her his wordless aid. But that was all. The expected amusement over someone who had lost her way was missing. Its presence would not have annoyed her. But its absence charmed. Also it fit the angular brutality she had watched before, as well as the great animal grace of him.