Babel-17
for the world as if she were trying to climb the side. Brass rebounded lightly, caught himself on one paw, then pushed away.
    The globe flashed green, and Calli pounded the bar. "Look at him show that tinsel bitch!"
    Grappling limbs braided one another, and claw caught claw till the stifled arms shook, broke apart. Two more falls that went to neither side; then the Silver Dragon came head first into Brass' chest, knocked him back, and recovered on tail alone. Below the crowd stamped.
    "That's a foul!" Calli exclaimed, shaking the Customs Officer away. "Damn it, that's a foul!" But the globe flashed green again. Officially the second fall was hers.
    Warily now they swam in the sphere. Twice the Dragon feinted, and Brass jerked aside his claws or sucked in his belly to avoid her.
    "Why don't she lay off him?'' Calli demanded of the sky. “She's nagging him to death. Grapple and fight!"
    As if in answer. Brass sprang, again swiping her shoulder; what would have been a perfect fall got messed up because the Dragon caught his arm and he swerved off, smashing clumsily against the plastic surface.
    "She can't do that!" This time it was the Customs Officer. He grabbed Calli again. "Can she do that? I don't think they should allow—“ And he bit his tongue because Brass swung back, hauled her from the wall, flipped her between his legs, and as she scrambled off the plastic, he bounced on his forearm and hovered centrally, flexing for the crowd.
    "That's it!" cried Calli. "Two out of three!"
    The globe flashed green again. Snapping broke into applause. "Did he win?" demanded the Customs Officer. "Did he win?"
    "Listen! Of course he won! Hey, let's go see him. Come on. Captain!"
    Rydra had already started through the crowd. Ron sprang behind her, and Calli, dragging the Customs Officer, came after- A flight of black tile steps took them into a room with couches where a few groups of men and women stood around Condor, a great gold and crimson creature, who was being made ready to fight Ebony who waited alone in the comer. The arena exit opened and Brass came in sweating.
    "Hey," Calli called. "Hey, that was great, boy. And the Captain here wants to talk to you."
    Brass stretched, then dropped to all fours, a low  rumble in his chest. He shook his mane, then his gold eyes widened in recognition. "Ca'tain Wong!" The mouth, distended through cosmetisurgically implanted fangs, could not deal with a plosive labial unless it was voiced- "How you'd like me tonight?"
    "Well enough to want you to pilot me through the Specelli." She roughed a tuft of yellow behind his ear. "You said sometime ago you'd like to show me what you could do."
    "Yeah," Brass nodded. "I just think I'm dreaming." He pulled away his loin rag and swabbed his neck and arms with the bunched cloth, then caught the Customs Officer's amazed expression. "Just cosmetisurgery." He kept on swabbing.
    "Hand him your psyche-rating," Rydra said, "and he'll approve you."
    "That means we leave tomorrow. Ca'tain?"
    "At dawn."
    From his belt pouch Brass drew a thin metal card. "Here you go. Customs."
    The Customs Officer scanned the runic marking. On a metal tracing plate from his back pocket, he noted the shift in stability index, but decided to integrate for the exact summation later on. Practice told him it was welt above acceptable. "Miss Wong, I mean Captain Wong, what about their cards?" He turned to Calli and Ron.
    Ron reached behind his neck and rubbed his scapula. "You don't worry about us till you get a Navigator-One." The hard, adolescent face held an engaging belligerence.
    "We'll check them later," Rydra said- "We've got more people to find first."
    "You're looking for a full crew?" asked Brass.
    Rydra nodded. "What about the Eye that came back with you?"
    Brass shook his head. "Lost his Ear and Nose, They were a real close tri'le, Ca'tain. He hung around maybe six hours before he went back to the Morgue."
    "I see. Can you recommend anyone?"
    "No one in 'articular. Just

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