Ringworld

by Larry Niven

  “Then the law was changed. For the past two centuries, between ten and thirteen percent of each human generation has been born by right of a winning lottery ticket. What determines who will survive and breed? On Earth, luck.

  “And Teela Brown is the daughter of six generations of winning gamblers ...”

  Chapter 3 -

  Teela Brown

  Teela was giggling helplessly.

  “Come off it,” said Louis Wu. “You can’t breed for luck the way you breed for shaggy eyebrows!”

  “Yet you breed for telepathy.”

  “That’s not the same. Telepathy isn’t a psychic power. The mechanisms in the right parietal lobe are well mapped. They just don’t work for most people.”

  “Telepathy was once thought to be a form of psi. Now you claim that luck is not.”

  “Luck is luck.” The situation would have been funny, as funny as Teela thought it was; but Louis realized what she did not. The puppeteer was serious. “The law of averages swings back and forth. The odds shift wrong and you’re out of the game, like the dinosaurs. The dice fall your way and—“

  “It is thought that some humans can direct the fall of a die.”

  “So I picked a bad metaphor. The point is—“

  “Yes,” the kzin rumbled. He had a voice to shake walls when he chose to use it. “The point is that we will accept whom Nessus chooses. You own the ship, Nessus. Where, then, is our fourth crewman?”

  “Here in this room!”

  “Now just a tanj minute!” Teela stood up. The silver netting flashed like real metal across her blue skin; her hair floated flaming in the draft from the air conditioner. “This whole thing is ridiculous. I’m not going anywhere. Why should I?”

  “Pick someone else, Nessus. There must be millions of qualified candidates. Where’s the hang-up?”

  “Not millions, Louis. We have a few thousand names, and phone numbers or private transfer booth numbers for most of them. Each can claim five generations of ancestors born by virtue of winning lottery tickets.”

  “Well?”

  Nessus began to pace the floor. “Many disqualify themselves by obvious bad luck. Of the rest, none seem to be available. When we call, they are out. When we call back, the phone computer gives us a bad connection. When we ask for any member of the Brandt family, every phone in South America rings. There have been complaints. It is very frustrating.” Taptaptap, taptaptap.

  Teela said, “You haven’t even told me where you’re going.”

  “I cannot name our destination, Teela. However, you may—“

  “Finagle’s red claws! You won’t even tell us that?”

  “You may examine the holo Louis Wu is carrying. That is the only information I can give you at this time.”

  Louis handed her the holo, the one that showed a baby-blue stripe crossing a black background behind a disc of blazing white. She took her time looking it over; and only Louis noticed how the angry blood flowed into her face.

  When she spoke, she spit the words out one at a time, like the seeds of a tangerine. “This is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of. You expect Louis and me to go charging out beyond known space with a kzin and a puppeteer for company, and all we know about where were going is a length of blue ribbon and a bright -spot! That’s—ridiculous!”

  “I take it, then, that you refuse to join us.”

  The girl’s eyebrows went up.

  “I must have a direct answer. Soon my agents may locate another candidate.”

  “Yes,” said Teela Brown. “Yes, I do refuse.”

  “Remember, then, that by human law you must keep secret the things you have been told here. You have been paid a consultant’s fee.”

  “Who would I tell?” Teela laughed dramatically. “Who would believe me? Louis, are you really going on this ridiculous—“

  “Yes.” Louis was already thinking of other things, like a tactful way to get her out of the office. “But not right this minute. There’s still a party going on. Look, do something for me, will you? Switch the musicmaster from tape four to tape five. Then tell anyone who asks that I’ll be out in a minute.”

  When the door had closed behind her, Louis said, “Do me a favor. Do yourselves one, too. Let me be the judge of whether a human being is qualified for a jaunt into the unknown.”

  “You know what qualifications are paramount,” said Nessus. “We do not yet have two candidates to choose from.”

  “You’ve got tens of thousands.”

  “Not really. Many disqualify themselves; others cannot be found. However, you may tell me where that human being fails to fit your own qualifications.”

  “She’s too young.”

  “No candidate can qualify without being of Teela Brown’s generation.”

  “Breeding for luck! No, never mind, I won’t argue the point. I know humans crazier than that. A couple of ‘em. are still here at the party. Well, you saw for yourself that she’s no xenophile.”

  “Nor is she a xenophobe. She does not fear either of us.”

  “She doesn’t have the spark. She isn’t—isn’t—“

  “She has no restlessness,” said Nessus. “She is happy where she is. This is indeed a liability. There is nothing she wants. Yet how could we know this without asking?”

  “Okay, pick your own candidates.” Louis stalked from his office.

  Behind him the puppeteer fluted, “Louis! Speaker! The signal! One of my agents has found another candidate!”

  “He sure has,” Louis said disgustedly. Across the living room, Teela Brown was glaring at another Pierson’s puppeteer.

  Louis woke slowly. He remembered donning a sleep headset and setting it for an hour of current. Presumably that had been an hour ago. After the set turned itself off the discomfort of having the thing on his head would have wakened him ...

  It wasn’t on his head.

  He sat up abruptly.

  “I took it off you,” said Teela Brown. “You needed the sleep.”

  “Oh boy. What time is it?”

  “A little after seventeen.”

  “I’ve been a bad host. How goes the party?”

  “Down to about twenty people. Don’t worry, I told them what I was doing. They all thought it was a good idea.”

  “Okay.” Louis rolled off the bed. “Thanks. Shall we join what’s left of the party?”

  “I’d like to talk to you first.”

  He sat down again. The muzziness of sleep was slowly leaving him. He asked, “What about?”

  “You’re really going on this crazy trip?”

  “I really am.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “I’m ten times your age,” said Louis Wu. “I don’t have to work for a living. I don’t have the patience to be a scientist. I did some writing once, but it turned out to be hard work, which was the last thing I expected. What’s left? I play a lot.”

  She shook her head, and firelight shivered on the walls. “It doesn’t sound like playing.”

  Louis shrugged. “Boredom is my worst enemy. It’s killed a lot of my friends. but it won’t get me. When I get bored, I go risk my life somewhere.”

  “Shouldn’t you at least know what the risk is?”

  “I’m getting well paid.”

  “You don’t need the money.”

  “The human race needs what the puppeteers have got. Look, Teela, you were told all about the second quantum hyperdrive ship. It’s the only ship in known space that moves faster than three days to the light year. And it goes almost four hundred times that fast!”

  “Who needs to fly that fast?”

  Louis wasn
’t in the mood to deliver a lecture on the Core explosion. “Let’s get back to the party.”

  “No, wait!”

  “Okay.”

  Her hands were large, with long, slender fingers. They glowed in reflected light as she brushed them nervously through her burning hair. “Tanj, I’m messing this up. Louis, are you in love with anyone right now?”

  That surprised him. “I don’t think so.”

  “Do I really look like Paula Cherenkov?”

  In the semidarkness of the bedroom she looked like the burning giraffe in the Dali painting. Her hair glowed by its own light, a stream of orange and yellow flame darkening to smoke. In that light the rest of Teela was shadow touched by the flickering light of her hair. But Louis’s memory filled in the details: the long, perfect legs, the conical breasts, the delicate beauty of her small face. He had first seen her four days ago, on the arm of Tedron Doheny, a spindly crashlander who had journeyed to Earth for the party.

  “I thought you were Paula herself,” he said now. “She lives on We Made It, which is where I met Ted Doheny. When I saw you together I thought Ted and Paula had come on the same ship.

  “Close up, there were differences. You’ve got better legs, but Paula’s walk was more graceful. Paula’s face was—colder, I think. Maybe that’s just memory.”

  From outside the door came bursts of computer music, wild and pure, strangely incomplete without the light patterns to make it whole. Teela shifted restlessly, stirring the firelight shadows on the wall.

  “What have you got in mind? Remember,” said Louis, “the puppeteers have thousands of candidates to choose from. They could find our fourth crewman any day, any minute. Then, off we go.”

  “That’s all right,” said Teela.

  “You’ll stay with me until then?”

  Teela nodded her fiery head.

  The puppeteer dropped in two days later.

  Louis and Teela were out on the lawn, soaking up sunshine and playing a deadly serious game of fairy chess. Louis had spotted her a knight. Now he was regretting it. Teela alternated intellection with intuition; he could never tell which way she would jump. And she played for blood.

  She was chewing gently at her underlip, considering her next move, when the servo slid up and bonged at them. Louis glanced up at the monitor screen, saw two one-eyed pythons looking out of the servo’s chest. “Send him out here,” he said comfortably.

  Teela stood in one sudden, graceless motion. “You two may have secrets.”

  “Maybe. What have you got in mind?”

  “Some reading to catch up on.” She leveled a forefinger at him. “Don’t touch that board!”

  At the door she met the puppeteer coming out. She waved casually as they passed, and Nessus leapt six feet to the side. “I beg your pardon,” he fluted. “You startled me.”

  Teela lifted an eyebrow and went inside.

  The puppeteer stopped next to Louis and folded his legs under him. One head fixed on Louis; the other moved nervously, circling, covering all angles of vision. “Could the woman spy on us?”

  Louis showed his surprise. “Sure. You know there’s no defense against a spy beam, not in the open. So?”

  “Anyone or anything could be watching us. Louis, let us go to your office.”

  “There ain’t no justice.” Louis was perfectly comfortable where he was. “Will you stop bobbing your head around, please? You act scared to death.”

  “I am frightened, though I know my death would matter little. How many meteorites fall to Earth in a year?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “We are perilously close to the asteroid belt here. Yet it does not matter, for we have been unable to contact a fourth crew member.”

  “Too bad,” said Louis. The puppeteer’s behavior puzzled him. If Nessus had been human—But he wasn’t. “You haven’t given up, I trust.”

  “No, but our failures have been galling. For these past four days we have been seeking a Norman Haywood KJMMCWTAD, a perfect choice for our crew.”

  “And?”

  “His health is perfect and vigorous. His age, twenty four-and-a-third terrestrial years. Six generations of his ancestors were all born through winning lottery tickets. Best of all, he enjoys travel; he exhibits the restlessness we need.

  “Naturally we tried to contact him in person. For three days my agent tracked him through a series of transfer booths, always a jump behind him, while Norman Haywood went skiing in Suisse, and surfing in Ceylon, to shops in New York, and to house parties in the Rockies and the Himalayas. Last night my agent caught up to him as he entered a passenger spacecraft bound for Jinx. The ship departed before my agent could conquer his natural fear of your jury-rigged ships.”

  “I’ve had days like that myself. Couldn’t you send him a hyperwave message?”

  “Louis, this voyage is supposed to be secret.”

  “Yah,” said Louis. And he watched a python head circling, circling, searching out unseen enemies.

  “We will succeed,” said Nessus. “Thousands of potential crew members cannot hide forever. Can they, Louis? They do not even know we are seeking them!”

  “You’ll find someone. You’re bound to.”

  “I pray that we do not! Louis, how can I do it? How can I ride with three aliens in an experimental ship designed for one pilot? It would be madness!”

  “Nessus, what’s really bugging you? This whole trip was your idea!”

  “It was not. My orders came from those-who-lead, from two hundred light years away.”

  “Something’s terrified you. I want to know what it is. What have you found out? Do you know what this trip is really all about? What’s changed since you were ready to insult four Kzinti in a public restaurant? Hey, easy, easy!”

  The puppeteer had tucked his heads and necks between his forelegs and rolled into a ball.

  “Come on,” said Louis. “Come on out.” He ran his hands gently along the backs of the puppeteer’s necks—the parts that showed. The puppeteer shuddered. His skin was soft, like chamois skin, and pleasant to the touch.

  “Come on out of there. Nothing’s going to hurt you here. I protect my guests.”

  The puppeteer’s wail came muffled from under his belly. “I was mad. Mad! Did I really insult four Kzinti?”

  “Come on out. You’re safe here. That’s better.” A flat head peeped out of the warm shadow. “Now, you see? Nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Four Kzinti? Not three?”

  “My mistake. I miscounted. It was three.”

  “Forgive me, Louis.” The puppeteer exposed his other head as far as the eye. “My manic phase has ended. I am in the depressive leg of my cycle.”

  “Can you do anything about it?” Louis thought of the consequences, if Nessus should hit the wrong leg of his cycle at a crucial time.

  “I can wait for it to end. I can protect myself, to the extent possible. I can try not to let it affect my judgment.”

  “Poor Nessus. You’re sure you haven’t learned anything new?”

  “Do I not know enough already to terrify any sane mind?” The puppeteer stood up somewhat shakily. “Why did I meet Teela Brown? I had thought she would have departed.”

  “I asked her to stay with me until we find your fourth crewmate.”

  “Why?”

  Louis had wondered about that himself. It had little to do with Paula Cherenkov. Louis had changed too much since her time; and he was not a man to force one woman into the mold of another.

  Sleeping plates were designed for two occupants, not one. But there had been other girls at the party ... not as pretty as Teela. Could wise old Louis Wu still be snared by beauty alone?

>   But something more than beauty looked out of those flat silver eyes. Something highly complex.

  “For purposes of fornication,” said Louis Wu. He had remembered that he was talking to an alien, who would not understand such complexities. He realized that the puppeteer was still shivering, and added, “Let’s go to my office. It’s under the hill. No meteors.”

  After the puppeteer left, Louis went looking for Teela. He found her in the library, in front of a reading screen, clicking frames past at a speed high even for a speedreader.

  “Hi,” she said. She froze a frame and turned. “How’s our two-headed friend?”

  “Scared witless. And I’m exhausted. I’ve been playing psychiatrist to a Pierson’s puppeteer.”

  Teela brightened. “Tell me about a puppeteer’s sex life.”

  “All I know is, he isn’t allowed to breed. He broods on it. One may assume that he could breed if there weren’t a law against it. Aside from that, he stayed off the subject completely. Sorry.”

  “Well, what did you talk about?”

  Louis waved a hand. “Three hundred years of traumas. That’s how long Nessus has been in human space. He hardly remembers the puppeteer planet. I get the feeling he’s been scared for three hundred years.” Louis dropped into a masseur chair. The strain of empathizing with an alien had exhausted his mind, used up his imagination.

  “How about you? What are you reading?”

  “The Core explosion.” Teela waved at the reading screen.

  There were stars in clusters and bunches and masses. You couldn’t see black, there were so many stars. It might have been a dense star cluster, but it wasn’t; it couldn’t be. Telescopes wouldn’t reach that far, nor would any normal spacecraft.

  It was the galactic core, five thousand light years across, a tight sphere of stars at the axis of the galactic whirlpool. One man had reached that far, two hundred years ago, in an experimental puppeteer-built ship. The frame showed red and blue and green stars, all superimposed, the red stars biggest and brightest. In the center of the picture was a patch of blazing white the shape of a bloated comma. Within it were lines and blobs of shadow; but the shadow within the white patch was brighter than any star outside it.