Larry Niven - The Ringworld Engineers

That explained Chmeee’s apparent panic. He was having trouble flying the lander. Not reassuring. But the spaceport ledge was far below, and an unnerving wobble at takeoff had almost disappeared. There was steady four-gee thrust under him… which suddenly cut off. Louis said “Wuff!” as the lander went into free fall.

“We must not rise too far above the rim wall. Search the lockers, Louis. Inventory our equipment.”

“You’ll warn me before you do that again?”

“I will.”

Louis disengaged the crash web and floated down the stairwell.

Here was living space surrounded by lockers and an airlock. Louis began opening doors. The biggest locker held what must have been a square mile of fine, silky black cloth, and hundreds of miles of black thread on twenty-mile spools. Another locker held modified flying belts, with repulsers over the shoulders and a small thruster. Two small and one large. One for Halrloprillalar, of course. Louis found flashlight-lasers and handheld sonic stunners and a heavy two-handed disintegrator. He found boxes the size of Chmeee’s fist, with a shirt clip and a microphone grid, and earplugs (two small and one large) in the same compartment. Those would be translators, with compact computers included. If they worked through the onboard computer they would have been less bulky.

There were large rectangular repulsion plates — for towing cargo through the air? Spools of Sinclair molecule chain, like very thin, very strong thread. Small bars of gold: for trade? Binocular goggles with a light-amplification setting. Impact armor. Louis muttered, “He’s thought of everything.”

“Thank you.” The Hindmost spoke from a screen Louis hadn’t noticed. “I had many years to prepare.”

Louis was getting tired of finding the Hindmost wherever he went. Funny: he could hear the sounds of a cat fight drifting down from the flight deck. The Hindmost must be holding two conversations at once, instructing Chmeee on the lander’s controls. He heard the expression for “attitude jets”—

Chmeee’s voice roared without benefit of microphone. “Louis, take your place!”

Louis glided up the stairwell. He was barely into his chair when Chmeee lit the fusion motors. The lander slowed and hovered just at the edge of the rim wall.

The top of the rim wall was broad enough for the lander, but not much more than that. And how was the Ringworld meteor defense taking all this?

They had been within the arc of the Ringworld, falling toward the inner ring of shadow squares, when violet light bathed the spacecraft Lying Bastard. Liar’ s hull had instantly enclosed itself in a bubble of no-time. When time began again, the hull and its occupants had suffered no damage. But Liar’ s delta wing, with its thrusters and fusion motors and pods of sensing instruments, had become ionized vapor. And the hull was falling toward the Ringworld.

They had speculated, later, that the violet laser was no more than an automated meteor defense. They had guessed that it might be based on the shadow squares. It was all guesswork, they had never learned anything about the Ringworld weapon.

The rim transport system was a late addition. The Ringworld engineers would not have taken it into account when programming the meteor defense. But Louis had seen old recordings of it in action, in a building abandoned by Halrloprillalar’s species. It had worked; the meteor defense had not fired on the linear accelerator loops or the ships they enclosed. And Louis gripped his chair arms hard, waiting for violet flame, as Chmeee settled the lander on the rim wall.

But it didn’t come.

From a thousand miles above the Earth — from, say, a space station in a two-hour orbit — the Earth is a great sphere. The kingdoms of the world revolve below. Details disappear around the horizon’s curve; other, hidden features rotate into view. At night, glowing cities outline the continents.

But from a thousand miles above the Ringworld, the world is flat, and the kingdoms thereof are all there at once.

The rim wall was of the same stuff as the Ringworld floor. Louis had walked on it, in places where eroded landscape let it show through. It had been grayish, translucent, and terribly slippery. Here the surface had been roughened for traction. But the pressure suit and backpack made Chmeee and Louis top-heavy. They moved with care. That first step would be a beauty.

At the bottom of a thousand miles of glassy cliff were broken layers of cloud, and seas: bodies of water from ten thousand to a couple of million square miles in area, spread more or less uniformly across the land, and linked by networks of rivers. As Louis raised his eyes, the seas grew smaller with distance… smaller and a little hazy… too small to see, until sea and fertile land and desert and cloud all blended into a blue knife-edge against black space.

To left and right it was the same, until the eye found a blue band swooping up from the infinity beyond the horizon. The Arch rose and narrowed and curved over and above itself, baby blue checked with midnight blue, to where a narrow ribbon of Arch lost itself behind a shrunken sun.

This part of the Ringworld had just passed its maximum distance from the sun. but a Sol-type star could still burn your eyes out. Louis blinked and shook his head, his eyes and mind dazzled. Those distances could grab your mind and hold it, leave you looking into infinity for hours or days. You could lose your soul to those distances. What was one man when set against an artifact so huge?

He was Louis Wu. There was nothing like him on all the Ringworld. He held to that. Forget the infinities: concentrate on detail.

There, thirty-five degrees up the Arch: a faintly bluer patch.

Louis worked the magnification on his goggles. They locked onto the faceplate, but you had to hold your head very still. The patch was all ocean, an ellipse stretching nearly across the Ringworld, with clusters of islands showing through cloud cover.

He found the other Great Ocean higher up on the other branch of the Arch. It was a ragged four-pointed star, dotted with similar clusters of tiny islands — tiny at this distance, at which the Earth would be a naked-eye object, barely.

It was getting to him again. Deliberately he looked down, studying the near distance.

Almost below, a couple of hundred miles to spinward, a half-cone of mountain leaned drunkenly against the rim wall. It seemed oddly regular. It was layered in half-circles: a bare, dirt-colored peak; far below, a band of white, probably snow and ice; then green spreading down and out into foothills.

The mountain was quite isolated. In the spinward direction the rim wall was a flat vertical cliff out to the limit of the binocular goggles — almost. If that bump at the very limit of vision was another such mountain, it was a futz of a long way away. At the distance you could almost see the Ringworld starting to curve upward.

There was another such bump in the antispinward direction. Louis scowled. File for future study .

Far to port (ahead) and a bit to spinward (right) was a region of glittering white, brighter than land, brighter than sea. A midnight-blue edge of night was sweeping toward it. Salt, was Louis’s first thought. It was big. It had engulfed a couple of dozen Ringworld seas, and those seas varied in size from Lake Huron to the Mediterranean. Brighter points came and went like ripples…

Ah. “Sunflower patch.”

Chmeee looked. “The one that burned me was bigger.”

Slaver sunflowers were as old as the Slaver Empire, which had died more than a billion years ago. The Slavers seemed to have planted sunflowers around their estates, for defense. You still found these plants on some of the worlds of known space. Cleaning them out was a difficult business. You couldn’t just burn them out with laser cannon. The silver blossoms would throw the beam back at you.