Larry Niven - The Trellis

Shooterwould grow home too, to be stripped for salvage. It wouldn't do to leave its diminished fleck of antimatter loose in the sky.

Henry beat them down by two days. He was at the table when Lark came in for her party wearing the yellow dress. Suriyah must have fussed over the table for hours; everything was perfect.

“Henry, couldn't they find you a wheelchair?”

“This place isn't outfitted for cripples, Lark. Suriyah, you know I can move around. You don't have to keep lifting me.”

“I know. Next you'll be climbing the Styx again.”

Henry sighed. “No, not that. But—you're going, Lark. And Kyle?”

“For what they're paying? Sure I'm going. This base'll be open a lot longer now. At least until the Styx dies, if it dies at all. Justine Jackson—nice woman, by the way, but a little freaky—she doesn't want someone beating her record in the Guinness Files. She's talking about climbing the full length.”

“Kyle? Twenty-seven thousand kilometers?”

Lark burst in. “Yeah, but we'll have a lot of support. Like swimming the Amazon, you take a boat alongside. She did that too, remember?”

Suriyah said, “You'd be years doing this!”

“Team of twelve. Big habitat, and a chef. We'll still have a social life. Lark can attend Yale Virtual. Henry, we're still talking, and I'm not even sure she's funded yet, but wow! We'd have a dedicated channel for three years or so, and then chop that back to thirteen hours of just the exciting parts and a voice-over, for reruns.”

“Do you remember,” Suriyah said, “that the atmosphere is changing? You'll be climbing through hurricanes.”

“No, don't sweat the wind. Pluto's atmosphere is thin as a dream and getting thinner.”

“You're all crazy. You started crazy.” She looked from one to the other, and suddenly smiled. “Can I have your autographs? Some day they might be worth a lot. Here, on this.” On Henry's medical readout.

Authors’ Note:“We learned of the Hoytether™ from Robert Forward. He taught Niven about mini black holes and integral trees. We miss him terribly.”