Ringworld's Children (Known Space Series)by Larry Niven, Barrett Whitener
From the New York Times and multiple award winning author, welcome to the Ringworld, a world like no other.
From the New York Times and multiple award winning author, welcome to the Ringworld, a world like no other.
“After a decade, Niven returns to that marvel of engineering, a world consisting of an enormous circling star. . . . Action and clever world building should captivate newcomers to Ringworld, while returners will appreciate picking up loose ends from the previous Ringworld volumes.” Booklist on Ringworld's Children
“A writer of supreme talent.” Tom Clancy
“Great story telling is still alive in science fiction because of Larry Niven, and his finest work is the Ringworld series.” Orson Scott Card on Ringworld's Children
“An involving and engrossing addition to one of science fiction's grand sagas.” Kirkus Reviews on Ringworld's Children
“Niven's world has an inner logic grounded in science.” Entertainment Weekly on Ringworld's Children
“For three and a half decades, nobody's done it better than Larry Niven. Ringworld's Children is his latest triumphant gift to his fans, filled with characters we've grown to love, set in a world we're dying to explore further, and brimming with an extravagant, insightful imagination that seems to grow sharper and stronger with every passing year.” Steven Barnes on Ringworld's Children
“If there isn't a Ringworld out there somewhere, we ought to build one someday. Until then we have Larry Niven's. A rich and fantastic story.” Fred Saberhagen on Ringworld's Children
“A marvelous book packed with enough mind-boggling ideas to keep a dozen lesser writers working for years.” David Gerrold on Ringworld's Children
“Another fascinating and intriguing look at Ringworld, its implications, and its history, all while telling a fast-moving page turner.” L. E. Modesitt, Jr. on Ringworld's Children
“Ringworld's Children is the most exciting Ringworld novel since the first, which makes it one of Larry Niven's best ever” Spider Robinson on Ringworld's Children
Read an Excerpt
By Larry Niven
Tom Doherty AssociatesCopyright © 2004 Larry Niven
All rights reserved.
Louis Wu woke aflame with new life, under a coffin lid.
Displays glowed above his eyes. Bone composition, blood parameters, deep reflexes, urea and potassium and zinc balance: he could identify most of these. The damage listed wasn't great. Punctures and gouges; fatigue; torn ligaments and extensive bruises; two ribs cracked; all relics of the battle with the Vampire protector, Bram. All healed now. The 'doc would have rebuilt him cell by cell. He'd felt dead and cooling when he climbed into the Intensive Care Cavity.
Eighty-four days ago, the display said.
Sixty-seven Ringworld days. Almost a falan; a falan was ten Ringworld rotations, seventy-five thirty-hour days. Twenty or thirty days should have healed him! But he'd known he was injured. What with all the general bruising from the battle with Bram, he hadn't even noticed puncture wounds in his back.
He'd been under repair for twice that long the first time he lay in this box. Then, his internal plumbing systems had been leaking into each other, and he'd been eleven years without the longevity complex called boosterspice. He'd been dying, and old.
Testosterone was high, adrenalin high and rising.
Louis pushed steadily up against the lid of the 'doc. The lid wouldn't move faster, but his body craved action. He slid out and dropped to a stone floor, cold beneath his bare feet. Stone?
He was naked. He stood in a vast cavern. Where was Needle?
The interstellar spacecraft Hot Needle of Inquiry had been embedded in cooled magma when last he looked, and Carlos Wu's experimental nanotech repair system had been in the crew quarters. Now its components sat within a nest of instruments and cables on a floor of cooled lava. The 'doc had been partly pulled apart. Everything was still running.
Hubristic, massive, awesome: this was a protector's work. Tunesmith, the Ghoul protector, must have been studying the 'doc while it healed Louis.
Nearby, Hot Needle of Inquiry had been fileted like a finless fish. A slice of hull running almost nose to tail had been cut away, exposing housing, cargo space, docking for a Lander now destroyed, thruster plates, and the hyperdrive motor housing. More than half of the ship's volume was tanks, and of course they'd been drained. The rim of the cut had been lined with copper or bronze, and cables in the metal led to instruments and a generator.
The cut section had been pulled aside by massive machinery. The cut surface was rimmed in bronze laced with cables.
The hyperdrive motor had run the length of the ship. Now it was laid out on the lava, in a nest of instruments. Tunesmith again?
Louis wandered over to look.
It had been repaired.
Louis had stranded the Hindmost in Ringworld space by chopping the hyperdrive in half, twelve or thirteen years ago. Dismounted, it looked otherwise ready to take Needle between the stars at Quantum I speeds, three days to the light year.
I could go home, Louis thought, tasting the notion.
Where is everybody? Louis looked around him, feeling the adrenalin surge. He was starting to shiver with cold.
He'd be almost two hundred and forty years old by now, wouldn't he? Easy to lose track here. But the nano machines in Carlos Wu's experimental 'doc had read his DNA and repaired everything down through the cell nuclei. Louis had done this dance before. His body thought it was just past puberty.
Keep it cool, boy. Nobody's challenged you yet.
The spacecraft, the hull section, the 'doc, machines to move and repair these masses, and crude-looking instruments arrayed to study them, all formed a tight cluster within vaster spaces. The cavern was tremendous and nearly empty. Louis saw float plates like stacks of poker chips, and beyond those a tilted tower of tremendous toroids that ran through a gap in the floor right up to the roof. Cylinders lay near the gap, caged within more of Tunesmith's machinery. They were bigger than Needle, each a little different from the others.
He'd passed through this place once before. Louis looked up, knowing what to expect.
Five or six miles up, he thought. The Map of Mars stood forty miles high. This level would be near the roof. Louis could make out its contours. Think of it as the back of a mask ... the mask of a shield volcano the size of Ceres.
Needle had smashed down through the crater in Mons Olympus, into the repair center that underlay the one-to-one scale Map of Mars. Teela Brown had trapped them there after she turned protector. She had moved the ship eight hundred miles through these corridors, then poured molten rock around them. They'd used stepping disks — the puppeteers' instant transport system — to reach Teela. For all these years since, the ship had been trapped.
Now Tunesmith had brought it back to the workstation under Mons Olympus.
Louis knew Tunesmith, but not well. Louis had set a trap for Tunesmith, the Night Person, the breeder, and Tunesmith had become a protector. He'd watched Tunesmith fight Bram; and that was about all he knew of Tunesmith the protector. Now Tunesmith held Louis's life in his hands, and it was Louis's own doing.
He'd be smarter than Louis. Trying to outguess a protector was ... futz ... was both silly and inevitable. No human culture has ever stopped trying to outguess God.
So. Needle was an interstellar spacecraft, if someone could remount the hyperdrive. That tremendous tilted tower — forty miles of it if it reached all the way to the Repair Center floor — was a linear accelerator, a launching system. One day Tunesmith might need a spacecraft. Meanwhile he'd leave Needle gutted, because Louis Wu and the Hindmost might otherwise use it to run, and the protector couldn't have that.
Louis walked until Needle loomed: a hundred-and-ten-foot diameter cylinder with a flattened belly. Not much of the ship was missing. The hyperdrive, the 'doc, what else? The crew housing was a cross section, its floor eighty feet up. Under the floor, all of the kitchen and recycling systems were exposed.
If he could climb that high, he'd have his breakfast, and clothing too. He didn't see any obvious route. Maybe there was a stepping disk link? But he couldn't guess where Tunesmith might place a stepping disk, or where it would lead.
The Hindmost's command deck was exposed too. It was three stories tall, with lower ceilings than a Kzin would need. Louis saw how he could climb up to the lowest floor. A protector would have no trouble at all.
Louis shook his head. What must the Hindmost be thinking?
Pierson's puppeteers held to a million-year-old philosophy based on cowardice. When the Hindmost built Needle, he had isolated his command deck from any intruders, even from his own alien crew. There were no doors at all, just stepping disks booby-trapped a thousand ways. Now ... the puppeteer must feel as naked as Louis.
Louis crouched beneath the edge of some flat-topped mass, maybe the breathing-air system. Leapt, pulled up, and kept climbing. The 'doc's repairs had left him thin, almost gaunt; he wasn't lifting much weight. Fifty feet up, he hung by his fingers for a moment.
This was the lowest floor of the Hindmost's cabin, his most private area. There would be defenses. Tunesmith might have turned them off ... or not.
He pulled up and was in forbidden space.
He saw the Hindmost. Then he saw his own droud sitting on a table.
The droud was the connector between any wall socket and Louis Wu's brain. Louis had destroyed that ... had given it to Chmeee and watched the Kzin batter it to bits.
So, a replacement. Bait for Louis Wu, the current addict, the wirehead. Louis's hand crept into the hair at the back of his head, under the queue. Plug in the droud, let it trickle electric current down into the pleasure center ... where was the socket?
Louis laughed wildly. It wasn't there! The autodoc's nano machines had rebuilt his skull without a socket for the droud!
Louis thought it over. Then he took the droud. When confused, send a confusing message.
The Hindmost lay like a jeweled footstool, his three legs and both heads tucked protectively beneath his torso. Louis's lips curled. He stepped forward to sink his hand into the jeweled mane and shake the puppeteer out of his funk.
Louis flinched violently. The voice was a blast of contralto music, the Hindmost's voice with the sound turned up, and it spoke Interworld. "Whatever you desire," it said, "instruct me. Touch nothing."
The Hindmost's voice — Needle's autopilot — knew him, knew his language at least, and hadn't killed him. Louis found his own voice. "Were you expecting me?"
"Yes. I give you limited freedom in this place. Find a current source next to —"
"No. Breakfast," Louis said as his belly suddenly screamed that it was empty, dying. "I need food."
"There is no kitchen for your kind here."
A shallow ramp wound round the walls to the upper floors. "I'll be back," Louis said.
He walked, then ran up the ramp. He eased around the wall above a drop of eighty feet — not difficult, just scary — and was in crew quarters.
A pit showed where the 'doc had been removed. Crew quarters were not otherwise changed. The plants were still alive. Louis went to the kitchen wall and dialed cappuccino and a fruit plate. He ate. He dressed, pants and blouse and a vest that was all pockets, the droud bulging one of the pockets. He finished the fruit, then dialed up an omelet, potatoes, another cappuccino, and a waffle.
He thought while he ate. What was his desire?
Wake the Hindmost? He needed the Hindmost to tell him what was going on ... but puppeteers were manipulative and secretive, and the balance of power in the Repair Center kept changing. Best learn more first. Get a little leverage before he reached for the truth.
He dumped the breakfast dishes in the recycler toilet. He climbed around the wall, carefully. "Hindmost's Voice," he said.
"At your command. You need not risk a fall. Here is a stepping-disk link," and a cursor arrowhead showed him a spot on the floor of crew quarters.
"Show me the Meteor Defense Room."
"That term is unknown." A hologram window popped up in the portside wall. "Is this the place you mean?"
Meteor Defense beneath the Map of Mars was a vast, dark space. All the stars in the universe ran round an ellipsoidal wall thirty feet high, and the floor and ceiling. Three long swinging booms ended in chairs equipped with lap keyboards, and those stood black-on-black before the wall display.
Past the edge of the pop-up window, under a glare of light, knobby bones had been laid out for study. This was the oldest protector Louis knew of, and Louis had named him Cronus. In the far shadows stood pillars with large plates on top, mechanical mushrooms. Louis pointed into the window. "What are those?"
"Service stacks," the Hindmost's Voice said, "each made from several float plates topped by a stepping disk."
Louis nodded. The Ringworld engineers had left float plates all through the Repair Center. If you stacked them, they'd lift more. Adding a stepping disk seemed an obvious refinement ... if you had them to spare.
Louis saw a boom swing across the starscape. It ended in a knobby, angular shadow.
All protectors look something like medieval armor.
The protector was watching a spray of stars. His cameras would be mounted on the Ringworld itself, maybe on the outside of the rim wall, looking away from the sun. He didn't seem aware that he was being spied on.
Louis knew better than to expect asteroids or worlds. Unknown engineers had cleared all that out of the Ringworld system. This drift of moving lights would be spacecraft held by several species. Now the view focused on a gauzy, fragile Outsider ship; now on a glass needle, a General Products' #2 hull, tenant unknown; now a crowbar-shaped ARM warship.
Tunesmith's concentration seemed total. He zoomed on starscape occluded by a foggy lump, a proto-comet. Tiny angular machines drifted around it, marked by blinking cursor circles. A lance of light glared much brighter: some warship's fusion drive. Here came another, zipping across the screen. No weapon fired.
The Fringe War is still cold, Louis thought. He'd wondered how long that could last. A formal truce could not hold among so many different minds.
The protector's arms jittered above the keyboard.
In the corner of Louis's eye, sunlight glared down. Louis spun around.
Above Needle the crater in Mons Olympus was sliding open, flooding the cavern with unfiltered light.
The linear accelerator roared; an arc of lightning ran bottom to top.
The crater began to close.
Louis turned back to the display. Looking over Tunesmith's shoulder, he watched fusion light flare from offscreen and dwindle to a bright point. Whatever Tunesmith had launched was already too far to see.
Tunesmith had joined the Fringe War!
A protector could not be expected to do nothing, even if the alternative was to bring war down on their heads. Louis scowled. Bram the protector had been crazy, even if supremely intelligent. Louis must eventually decide if Tunesmith was crazy too, and what to do about it.
Meanwhile this latest maneuver should keep the protector busy. Now, how much freedom had Louis been allotted? Louis said, "Hindmost's Voice, show me the locations of all stepping disks."
The Hindmost's Voice popped up three hundred and sixty degrees of Map Room. The Ringworld surrounded Louis, a ring six hundred million miles around and a million miles wide, banded in blue for day and black for night and broad fuzzy edges for dusk and dawn. Winking orange cursor lights were displayed across its face. Some were shaped like arrowheads.
This pattern had changed greatly since Louis had last seen it. "How many?"
"Ninety-five stepping disks are now in use. Two failed. Three were dropped into deep space and probes launched through them. The fleets shot them down. Ten are held in reserve."
The Hindmost had stocked stepping disks aboard Hot Needle of Inquiry, but not a hundred and ten! "Is the Hindmost building more stepping disks?"
"With his help Tunesmith has built a stepping-disk factory. Work proceeds slowly."
The blinking orange lights that marked stepping disks were thick along the near side of the Ringworld, the Great Ocean arc. The far side looked sparse. Two blinking orange arrowheads had nearly reached the edge of the Other Ocean. Others were moving in that direction.
The Other Ocean was a diamond shape sprawling across most of the width of the Ringworld, one hundred eighty degrees around from the Great Ocean. Two such masses of water must counterbalance each other. The Hindmost's crew had not explored the Other Ocean. High time, Louis thought.
Most of the stepping disks were clustered around the Great Ocean, and of those, most were in a tight cluster that must be the Map of Mars. Louis pointed at one offshore from Mars. "What is that?"
"That is Hot Needle of Inquiry's lander."
Teela the protector had blasted the lander during their last duel. "It's functional?"
"The stepping-disk link is functional."
"What about the lander?"
"Life support is marginal. Drive systems and weaponry have failed."
"Can some of these service stacks be locked out of the system?"
"That has been done." Lines spread across the map to link the blinking lights. Some had crossed-circle verboten marks on them: closed. The maze was complicated, and Louis didn't try to understand it. "My Master has override codes," the Voice said.
"May I have those?"
"Number these stepping-disk sites for me. Then print out a map."
As the Ringworld was vast, the scale was extreme. His naked eye would never get any detail out of it. When the map extruded, he folded it and stuffed it in a pocket anyway.
He broke for lunch and came back.
He set two service stacks moving and changed a number of links. The Hindmost's Voice printed another map with his changes added. He pocketed that too. Better keep both. Now, with luck, he'd have avenues of travel unknown to Tunesmith.
Or it might be wasted effort. The Hindmost, when he woke, could change it all back in a moment.
Excerpted from Ringworld's Children by Larry Niven. Copyright © 2004 Larry Niven. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Meet the Author
Larry Niven is the award-winning author of the Ringworld series, along with many other science fiction masterpieces, and fantasy novels including the Magic Goes Away series. His Beowulf's Children, co-authored with Jerry Pournelle and Steven Barnes, was a New York Times bestseller. He has received the Nebula Award, five Hugos, four Locus Awards, two Ditmars, the Prometheus, and the Robert A. Heinlein Award, among other honors. He lives in Chatsworth, California.
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I was disappointed in the plot of this book. Larry Niven was an excellent writer in his past "Ringworld" stories. This had very little new material and was just a rehash of the past. If he cannot think of any new plots he should just stop. Fans do not need to waste their time reviewing past glories of previous books.
The setting of this story is undeniably interesting. The artifact of the ringworld (take a piece of old orange Hot Wheels track and make it into a loop, then expand its size to match the path taken by the Earth orbiting the sun the dimensions are roughly equivalent) is a fantastic fictional creation critics of such artifacts in SF refer to them as BDO's--Big Dumb Objects--but, as he proudly declares in the introduction, Niven's was the first. Critics of the plausibility (read: stability) of such an object drove Niven to write a sequal ten years later this was basically a rewrite of the first book, in which he vouchsafes the characters (and through them the readers) some explanations to justify the ringworld's existence. About fifteen years after that he comes out with another book (really two short novels grafted together) that was all right if, you want to read stories about vampires in an alien setting or traders in a bartering culture sealing the deal with sex. Now ten years after that we get yet another adventure set on the ringworld. The characters somehow manage to be interesting, if one-dimensional for the most part. The story has some okay moments, some good moments, a couple of really good moments, and quite a few very bad moments. There's a sense that when Mr. Niven reaches a crisis point in handling a character he takes the easy way out (kill him or her.) The Kzin, Acolyte, gets moved offstage and is forgotten about [anyone who's read 'Gods of Riverworld' by Philip Jose Farmer, knows that he did the same thing to the character of Nur--just forgot to mention his status (alive, dead, present, missing)--at the end of that book]. The book has some virtues: the focus of the plot on the history, condition, and future of the ringworld the action involving the galactic forces poised to invade and exploit the ring for its resources, the story of Louis Wu (the one constant character of the series) finding his destiny by becoming the protector of the ringworld. But the road is rocky, to say the least when one of the major plot turns relies on a total coincidence occurring (one character, who has no knowledge of another character's presence, being at a precise location on the millions of square miles of surface area that comprise the ring) I don't care how you try to justify it (Niven does by saying that the character inherited his mother's propensity for good luck--now try writing that thought literally: Luckily he was at the one spot, out of the millions of square miles of land on the ringworld, where the invaders punched a hole through the surface after they saved him from being sucked out the hole, they transported him to the spot where he met other characters and advanced the plot. This, of course, is Niven's way of trying to justify the existence of that earlier character (Teela Brown) the fact that key elements of the plot in the first two books were dictated by her natural luckiness didn't sit well with critics...and why should it? Chance encounters are the kind of garbage they peddle on soap operas, not in the pages of quality fiction. If you are a fan of this series then I say this is the best book since book 1 but it still isn't that good.
The six hundred miles long and a million yards across ribbon-shaped Ringworld is home to fifty trillion hominids as well as many other species and most amazing of all it is man made. All of the sentient species want to learn the technology that went into making Ringworld but the protectors want to keep such people out. The Protector used to shoot down any ship that got too close but the new protector Tunesmoth is holding fire so as not to irritate the participants of the Fringe War, which is getting too close to Ringworld............................... The ARM, the military leg of the United Nations, is using anti-matter engines near Ringworld, something that could destroy the planet if an accident occurs. When a ship falls and puts a hole in the top layer of Ringworld the Protector must fix it or the place will cease to exist. As ARMs soldiers try to ferret out the secrets of the Ringworld, are, a group of RINGWORLD¿S CHILDREN work to repair the damage. One of the original engineering experts, together with Tunesmith try to figure out a way to move Ringworld away from sentient warmongers............................... People who have never read the Ringworld books will find the latest entry as a strong stand-alone book that gives enough information about other novels in the series so that new readers will want to buy and read them too. It is a fascinating place to visit, an engineering marvel so advanced that even in the year 2893, the technology is too sophisticated to duplicate. Larry Niven, one of the grandmasters of science fiction, has brought a classic to a new generation of readers.............................. Harriet Klausner