Ringworld's Children

CHAPTER 5 Hanuman

As best he could tell, Probe Two was a perfect machine. Hanuman continued working on it anyway. Of all the fascinating machines in Tunesmiths domain, this was the one he felt justified in making his own. His own life would ride this ship.

He had watched Tunesmith at work on the Meteor Reweaving System.

Tunesmith talked while he worked. Hanuman almost felt he understood it. Inside a Ringworld puncture, vast numbers of minimally tiny components would weave strands of scrith out of lesser matter, pulling the vast structure back together, closing the holes. Something else would be going on while the nanomachines worked. Similarly tiny components would weave magnetic cables thinner than the hair on Hanumans body, following superconducting cables already in place inside the torn floor of the Ringworld.

A protectors nature was to act. It was all Hanuman could do, to stand away from the Meteor Reweaving System, to keep his hands off machines that could save the Ringworld and every species on it, including Hanumans own. He dared not touch what he didnt understand.

For fifteen hundred turns of the sky, Hanuman had lived in trees with others of his kind. He had loved; had sired children; had grown old. Then a knotted creature sheathed in leather armor had given Hanuman a root to eat.

Hanuman had only been intelligent for a falan or so. He knew this much: Tunesmith was a superior intellect. Hanumans touch on Tunesmiths machines could only ruin them unless he were explicitly directed and guided.

But he could work on Probe Two. This was the machine that might kill him. He was hoping to understand it better. Tunesmith — as much Hanumans superior as he was superior to his species breeders — didnt quite understand it either.

Hanuman heard a puff of air and turned around. Tunesmith had arrived, with visitors.

They were in the cavern beneath Mons Olympus. Tunesmith strode toward an individual half his height. He said, "Hanuman, these are friends. Folk, this is Hanuman, pilot for Probe Two."

The strangers voice was high-pitched but not childish. "Acolyte, Louis Wu, Hindmost. Hello."

Louis said, "A pleasure. Hanuman?" Still trying to decide what he was seeing. The stranger wouldnt weigh more than fifty pounds. Three feet tall, with two feet of tail, swollen joints and swollen skull and skin like cured leather pleated in folds. "Youd be a Hanging People protector?"

"Yes. Tunesmith made me and named me. Hanuman is a literary reference from the library in Hot Needle of Inquiry." Hanuman switched to another language: Ghoulish, spoken far too fast. As he and Tunesmith chattered, Louiss translator caught a word here and there.

"— haste—"

"—lower that into place."

"A single theory to be tested. If your vehicle survives—"

A cylinder waited beside the linear accelerator. It looked too small for a passenger, but the nose was fully transparent, and the magnet coils behind it — the linear accelerator — were more than a mile across.

Machines had already mounted the rebuilt hyperdrive motor in Needles belly. Now Needles missing hull section crawled forward to rejoin Needle.

Needles sliced-off wall had been breeched. A drum-shaped cylinder ran into and through it. The outer, hull side of the intrusion was opaque, painted with more of that bronze stuff. As the hull section moved to join Hot Needle of Inquiry, the intrusion eased into what had once been the garage for Needles lander.

The intrusion was an airlock, Louis saw. A big one, big enough to transfer a dozen humans at a time.

The bronze edges matched. Then the bronze edging oozed away, coiling on the lava like a snake. The bronze splotch on the airlock remained in place.

Louis said, "I cant stand it. What is that bronze stuff?"

Hanuman said, "Glue."

Louis waited.

Tunesmith spoke with a touch of reluctance. "Its more complex than that. Do you know about General Products hulls? Each variation is a molecule with its interatomic bonding artificially enhanced. Its very strong, but if the molecule is cut, it comes apart. Ive engineered a substance to replace the interatomic bonds. It does more than allow me to slice up a hull. I can bond one General Products ships hull to another. Hanuman, are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Only fulfill your mission, then save yourself if you can. Go."

Hanuman scampered across the stone floor, climbed into the tiny missile, and closed the transparent nose. His ship dropped below floor level.

Hanuman spared a moment to wonder about Tunesmiths companions. One was a breeder, species unknown, but all three showed their alien state. Starborn, alien to the Ringworld. Hanuman knew a little about them from Needle and its computer files.

Where did they stand with regard to Hanuman?

"Glue," Hanuman had said, to see if Louis Wu would extrapolate the rest. He didnt. Not that bright.

Hanuman was brighter than a Hanging People, but he couldnt see what Tunesmith saw: the right answer, every time. Louis Wu had chosen Tunesmith. Did that make him bright enough to trust? The big hairy alien was a youth; hed have little to say. The two-headed one was as old as seas and mountains…

Probe Two was ready to launch, and Hanuman had his instructions. But if he survived, he must come to know who to trust.

Hydrogen fuel flooded into Needles tanks.

Tunesmith waved at the tower of rings. "Bram built this to launch meteor defense and repair systems. Ive altered it. It will give us higher initial velocity than our fuel and thrusters would buy. Board Needle now, don pressure suits, strap down. Hindmost, up front with me. We should launch behind Probe Two."

Now Hot Needle of Inquiry was sliding across the lava. Louis wondered if theyd have to run after the ship, but Tunesmith led them to a stepping disk that flicked them aboard. The Hindmost and Tunesmith moved to the control room; Acolyte and Louis stayed in crew quarters.

While Louis was getting into his suit, Probe Two launched in a flare of lightning and was gone into the sky. The launch system was inefficient, Louis thought. Bad for the environment. Tunesmith must have power to throw away.

Needle sank toward the base of the launcher.

Tunesmith was suited up much faster than the others. "Eat before you close your helmets!" he shouted. "Theres time." He raced through some diagnostic programs, then began using stepping disks to flick through the ship, stopping to observe, to fiddle. In two or three minutes he was back.

Needles control cabin had been given place for a copilot. Tunesmiths bolted-in seat was a layer of plates that moved to accommodate him. He glanced around at his crew — in place, webbed down, the Hindmost beside him — and launched.