The Ringworld Engineers

Twenty-three years ago, the puppeteer-built spacecraft Liar had crashed into the Ringworld surface at seven hundred and seventy miles per second. A stasis field had protected Louis and the other passengers—and the hull wasn’t even scratched.

“You’re a kzin warrior,” Louis said. His lips were thick and numb. “Can you batter your way through a General Products hull?”

“No,” said Speaker. (Not Speaker. Chmeee!)

“It was worth asking. Chmeee, what are you doing on Canyon?”

“I was sent a message. Louis Wu is in the gash on Warhead, living under the wire. There were holograms for proof. Do you know what you look like under the wire? A marine plant, with fronds stirring at the whim of the current.”

Louis found there were tears dripping down his nose. “Tanj. Tanj for torment. Why did you come?”

“I wanted to tell you what a worthless thing you are.”

“Who sent that message?”

“I didn’t know. It must have been the puppeteer. It wanted us both. Louis, is your brain so ruined that you did not notice that the puppeteer—”

“Isn’t Nessus. Right. But did you see the way it keeps its mane? That ornate hair style must cost it an hour a day, easy. If I’d seen it on the puppeteer world, I’d think its rank was high.”

“Well?”

“No sane puppeteer would risk its life to interstellar travel. The puppeteers took their entire world with them, not to mention four farming worlds; they’re going hundreds of thousands of years at sublight speeds, just because they don’t trust spaceships. Whoever this one is, it’s crazy, just like any puppeteer ever seen by humans. I don’t know what to expect from it,” said Louis Wu. “But it’s back.”

The puppeteer was on the flight deck, on a hexagonal stepping disc, watching them through the wall. It spoke in a woman’s voice, a lovely contralto. “Can you hear me?”

Chmeee lurched away from the wall, held his feet for an instant, then dropped to all fours and charged. He thudded hard against the wall. Any puppeteer should have flinched, but this one didn’t. It said, “Our expedition is almost assembled. We lack only one member of our Crew.”

Louis found he could roll over, and he did. He said, “Back up and start from the begi

“You may choose any name for me that pleases you.”

“What are you? What do you need from us?”

The puppeteer hesitated. Then, “I was Hindmost to my world. I was mate to the one you knew as Nessus. Now I am neither. I need you as crew for a return expedition to the Ringworld, to restore my status.”

Chmeee said, “We will not serve you.”

Louis asked, “Is Nessus all right?”

“I thank you for your concern. Nessus is healthy in mind and body The shock he suffered on the Ringworld was just what was needed to restore his sanity. He is at home taking care of our two children.”

What Nessus had suffered, Louis thought, would have shocked anybody. Ringworld natives had cut off one of his heads. If Louis and Teela had not thought of using a tourniquet on the alien’s throat, Nessus would have bled to death. “I take it you transplanted a new head onto him.”

“Of course.”

Chmeee said, “You would not be here if you were not insane. Why would your trillion puppeteers elect a damaged mind to rule them?”

“I do not consider myself insane.” The puppeteer’s hind leg flexed restlessly. (Its faces, if they showed any expression at all, showed only loose-lipped idiocy.) “Please do not refer to this again. I served my species well, and four Hindmosts served well before me, before the Conservative faction found power to replace my faction. They are wrong. I will prove it. We will go to the Ringworld and find treasure beyond their puny understanding.”

“To kidnap a kzin,” Chmeee rumbled, “is probably a mistake.” His long claws were extended.

The puppeteer looked at them through the wall. “You would not have come. Louis would not have come. You had your status and your name. Louis had his droud. Our fourth member was a prisoner. My agents inform me that she has been freed and is on her way to us.”

Louis laughed bitterly. All humor was bitter without the droud. “You really don’t have much imagination, do you? It’s just like the first expedition. Me, Chmeee, a puppeteer, and a woman. Who’s the woman? Another Teela Brown?”

“No! Nessus was terrified of Teela Brown—with reason, I believe. I’ve stolen Halrloprillalar from the mouths of the ARM. We will have a Ringworld native guide. As for the character of our expedition, why would I discard a wi

“All but Teela.”

“Teela stayed of her own choice.”

The kzin said, “We were paid for our efforts. We brought home a spacecraft capable of crossing a light-year in one point two five minutes. That ship bought me my name and my status. What can you offer us now, to compare with that?”

“Many things. Can you move now, Chmeee?”

The kzin stood up. He seemed to have shaken off most of the effects of the stu

“Are you in health? Is there dizziness or ache or nausea?”

“Why so anxious, root-eater? You left me in an autodoc for over an hour. I lack coordination and I am hungry, nothing worse.”

“Good. We were able to test the substance only so far. Very well, Chmeee, you have your payment. Boosterspice is the medicine that has kept Louis Wu young and strong for two hundred and twenty-three years. My people have developed an analogue for kzinti. You may take the formula home to the Kzinti Patriarchy when our mission is complete.”

Chmeee seemed nonplussed. “I will grow young? This muck is in me already?”

“Yes.”

“We could have developed such a thing ourselves. We did not want it.”

“I need you young and strong. Chmeee, there is no great danger in our mission! I don’t plan to land on the Ringworld itself, only on the spaceport ledge! You may share any knowledge we find, and so will you, Louis. As for your immediate reward—”

What appeared on the stepping disc was Louis Wu’s droud. The casing had been opened and resealed. Louis’s heart leaped.

“Don’t use it yet,” Chmeee said, and it was an order.

“All right. Hindmost, how long were you watching me?”

“Fifteen years ago I found you in the canyon. My agents were already at work on Earth, trying to free Halrloprillalar. They were having little success. I installed stepping discs in your apartment and waited for the proper time. I go now to enlist our native guide.” The puppeteer mouthed something in the array of controls, walked forward, and was gone.

“Do not use the droud,” Chmeee said.

“Whatever you say.” Louis turned his back. He would know he’d gone crazy when his need for the wire impelled him to attack a kzin. At least one good thing might come out of this … and he clung hard to that thought.

He’d been able to do nothing for Halrloprillalar.

Halrloprillalar had been thousands of years old when she joined Louis and Nessus and Speaker-To-Animals in their search for a way off the Ringworld. The natives who lived beneath her floating police station had been treating her as a sky-living goddess. The whole team had played that game—living as gods to the natives, with Halrloprillalar’s help—while they wended their way back to the wrecked Liar. And she and Louis had been in love.

The Ringworld natives, the three forms that the team had met, had all been related to humanity, but not quite human. Halrloprillalar was nearly bald, and had lips no more everted than a monkey’s. Sometimes the very old seek nothing but variety in their love affairs. Louis had wondered if that was happening to him. He could see character flaws in Prill … but, tanj! He had his own collection.

And he owed Halrloprillalar. They had needed her help, and Nessus had used a puppeteer’s peculiar brand of force on her. Nessus had conditioned her with a tasp. Louis had let him do it.