Ringworld - Larry Niven Page 0,72

to me again.”

“You should not have laughed at her.”

“I know. You know what scares me the most about this whole thing? Not your there-ain’t-no-justice arrogance,” said Louis. “It’s the fact that you can make decisions of that magnitude, then do something as downright stupid as, as—”

“Can Teela Brown hear us?”

“No, of course not. Tanj you, Nessus! Do you know what you’ve done to her?”

“If you knew her ego would be so wounded, why did you speak?”

Louis moaned. He had solved a thought-problem and immediately revealed the solution. It had not occurred to him, it would never have occurred to him, that the solution was better hidden. He didn’t think that way.

The puppeteer asked, “Have you thought of a way to reunite the expedition?”

“Yes,” said Louis, and he switched off.

Let the puppeteer sweat over that one.

The land sloped down and became green again.

They passed another sea, and a great triangular river delta. But the riverbed was dry, and so was the delta. Alterations in the wind currents must have dried up the source.

As Louis dipped low, it became clear that all of the haphazard, meandering channels that made up the delta had been carved permanently into the land. The Ringworld artists had not been content to let the river dig its own channels. And they had been right; the soil wasn’t deep enough on the Ringworld. Artifice was necessary.

But the empty channels were ugly. Louis pursed his lips in disapproval, and flew on.

C H A P T E R 14

Interlude, With Sunflowers

Not far ahead, there were mountains.

Louis had flown all night and well into the morning. He wasn’t sure how long. The motionless noon sun was a psychological trap; it either compressed or stretched time, and Louis wasn’t sure which.

Emotionally, Louis was on sabbatical. He had almost forgotten the other flycycles. Flying alone over unending, endlessly changing terrain was no different from ranging alone in a singleship, beyond the known stars. Louis Wu was alone with the universe, and the universe was a plaything for Louis Wu. The most important question in the universe became: Is Louis Wu still satisfied with himself?

It came as a shock when a furry orange face formed above the dash.

“You must be tiring,” said the kzin. “Do you wish me to fly?”

“I’d rather land. I’m getting cramped.”

“Land, then. The controls are yours.”

“I don’t want to force my company on anyone.” As he said it, Louis realized that he meant it. The sabbatical mood had been too easily recaptured.

“Do you feel that Teela would avoid you? You may be right. She has not called even me, though I share her shame.”

“You’re taking it too hard. No, wait, don’t switch off.”

“I wish to be alone, Louis. The leaf-eater has shamed me terribly.”

“But it was so long ago! No, don’t switch off; have pity on a lonely old man. Have you been watching the landscape?”

“Yes.”

“Did you notice the bare regions?”

“Yes. In places erosion has cut through bedrock to the indestructible ring floor. Something must have badly upset the wind patterns a very long time ago. Such erosion cannot happen overnight, even on the Ringworld.”

“Right.”

“Louis, how could a civilization of such size and power fall?”

“I don’t know. Let’s face it: there’s no way to guess, not for us. Even the puppeteers never reached the Ringworld’s level of technology. How can we tell what might have knocked them back to the fist-ax level?”

“We must learn more about the natives,” said Speaker-To-Animals. “Our evidence thus far indicates that they could not possibly move the ruined Liar anywhere. We must find those who can.”

It was the opening Louis had hoped for. “I have some ideas on that score—an effective way to contact the natives as often as we like.”

“Well?”

“I’d like to land before we talk it over.”

“Land, then.”

Mountains formed a high, blocky range across the path of the flycycle fleet. Their peaks and the passes between glowed with a pearly sheen Louis recognized. Winds roaring over and between the peaks had polished away the rock, exposing the framework of ring floor material.

Louis dropped the fleet toward gently rounded foothills. If his target was the mouth of a silver stream that poured out of the mountains and disappeared into a forest, itself seemingly endless, that covered the foothills like green fur.

Teela called. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m landing. I’m tired of flying. But don’t hang up. I’d like to apologize.”

She switched off.

Best I could hope for, Louis told himself without conviction. But she would be more willing to listen now that she knew