through.
"Something new, then." said Louis. "Chiron, how big is this ring? How massive is it?"
"The ring masses two times ten to the thirtieth power in grams, measures .95 times ten to the eighth power miles in radius, and something less than ten to the sixth power miles across."
Louis was not comfortable thinking in abstract powers of ten. He tried to translate the numbers into pictures.
He had been right to think of inch-wide Christmas ribbon, balanced on edge and strung in a loop. The ring was more than ninety million miles in radius -- about six hundred million miles long, he estimated -- but less than a million miles across, edge to edge. It massed a little more than the planet Jupiter ...
"Somehow that doesn't seem massive enough," he said. "Something that big should weigh as much as a good sized sun."
The kzin agreed. "One has the ludicrous picture of millions of beings trying to live on a construct no thicker than bookfilm."
"Your intuition is wrong," said the puppeteer with silver curls. "Consider the dimensions. If the ring were a ribbon of hullmetal, for example, it would be approximately fifty feet thick."
Fifty feet? That was hard to believe.
But Teela's eyes had been turned to the ceiling, and her lips had been moving silently but rapidly. "He's right," she said. "The math works out. But what's it for? Why would anyone build such a thing?"
"Room."
"Room?"
"Room to live," Louis amplified. "That's what it's all about. Six hundred trillion square miles of surface area is three million times the surface area of the Earth. It'd be like having three million worlds all mapped flat and joined edge to edge. Three million worlds within aircar distance. That'd solve any population problem.
"And what a problem they must have had! You don't go into a project like that one just for kicks."
"A point," said the kzin. "Chiron, have you searched neighboring stars for other, similar rings?"
"Yes, we --"
"And found none. As I thought. If the race that built the ring had known of faster-than-light travel, they would have settled other stars. They would not have needed the ring. Therefore there is only one ring."
"Yes."
"I am reassured. We are superior to the ringmakers in at least one respect." The kzin stood suddenly. "Are we to explore the habitable surface of the ring?"
"A physical landing might prove to be overambitious."
"Nonsense. We must inspect the vehicle you have prepared for us. Is its landing gear sufficiently versatile? When may we depart?"
Chiron whistled, a startled burst of discord. "You must be mad. Consider the power of those who built this ring! They make my own civilization seem savages!"
"Or cowards."
"Very well. You may go to inspect your craft when the one you call Nessus returns. For the time previous to that event, there are more data regarding the ring."
"You try my patience," said Speaker. But he sat down.
You liar, thought Louis. You take it well, and I'm proud of you. His own stomach was queasy as he returned to his couch. A baby blue ribbon stretched across the stars; and man had met superior beings -- again.
The kzinti had been first.
When men first used fusion drives to cross the gaps between the stars, the kzinti were already using the gravity polarizer to power their interstellar warships. It made their ships faster and more maneuverable than human ships.
Man's resistance to the kzinti fleet would have been nominal, had it not been for the Kzinti Lesson: A reaction drive is a weapon devastating in direct proportion to it's efficiency as a drive.
Their first foray into human space had been a terrific shock to the kzinti. Human society had been peaceful for centuries, for so long that they had virtually forgotten war. But human interstellar ships used fusion-powered photon drives, launched by a combination of photon sail and asteroid-based laser cannon.
So the kzinti telepathe continued to report that the human worlds had no weapons at all ... while giant laser cannon
"Something new, then." said Louis. "Chiron, how big is this ring? How massive is it?"
"The ring masses two times ten to the thirtieth power in grams, measures .95 times ten to the eighth power miles in radius, and something less than ten to the sixth power miles across."
Louis was not comfortable thinking in abstract powers of ten. He tried to translate the numbers into pictures.
He had been right to think of inch-wide Christmas ribbon, balanced on edge and strung in a loop. The ring was more than ninety million miles in radius -- about six hundred million miles long, he estimated -- but less than a million miles across, edge to edge. It massed a little more than the planet Jupiter ...
"Somehow that doesn't seem massive enough," he said. "Something that big should weigh as much as a good sized sun."
The kzin agreed. "One has the ludicrous picture of millions of beings trying to live on a construct no thicker than bookfilm."
"Your intuition is wrong," said the puppeteer with silver curls. "Consider the dimensions. If the ring were a ribbon of hullmetal, for example, it would be approximately fifty feet thick."
Fifty feet? That was hard to believe.
But Teela's eyes had been turned to the ceiling, and her lips had been moving silently but rapidly. "He's right," she said. "The math works out. But what's it for? Why would anyone build such a thing?"
"Room."
"Room?"
"Room to live," Louis amplified. "That's what it's all about. Six hundred trillion square miles of surface area is three million times the surface area of the Earth. It'd be like having three million worlds all mapped flat and joined edge to edge. Three million worlds within aircar distance. That'd solve any population problem.
"And what a problem they must have had! You don't go into a project like that one just for kicks."
"A point," said the kzin. "Chiron, have you searched neighboring stars for other, similar rings?"
"Yes, we --"
"And found none. As I thought. If the race that built the ring had known of faster-than-light travel, they would have settled other stars. They would not have needed the ring. Therefore there is only one ring."
"Yes."
"I am reassured. We are superior to the ringmakers in at least one respect." The kzin stood suddenly. "Are we to explore the habitable surface of the ring?"
"A physical landing might prove to be overambitious."
"Nonsense. We must inspect the vehicle you have prepared for us. Is its landing gear sufficiently versatile? When may we depart?"
Chiron whistled, a startled burst of discord. "You must be mad. Consider the power of those who built this ring! They make my own civilization seem savages!"
"Or cowards."
"Very well. You may go to inspect your craft when the one you call Nessus returns. For the time previous to that event, there are more data regarding the ring."
"You try my patience," said Speaker. But he sat down.
You liar, thought Louis. You take it well, and I'm proud of you. His own stomach was queasy as he returned to his couch. A baby blue ribbon stretched across the stars; and man had met superior beings -- again.
The kzinti had been first.
When men first used fusion drives to cross the gaps between the stars, the kzinti were already using the gravity polarizer to power their interstellar warships. It made their ships faster and more maneuverable than human ships.
Man's resistance to the kzinti fleet would have been nominal, had it not been for the Kzinti Lesson: A reaction drive is a weapon devastating in direct proportion to it's efficiency as a drive.
Their first foray into human space had been a terrific shock to the kzinti. Human society had been peaceful for centuries, for so long that they had virtually forgotten war. But human interstellar ships used fusion-powered photon drives, launched by a combination of photon sail and asteroid-based laser cannon.
So the kzinti telepathe continued to report that the human worlds had no weapons at all ... while giant laser cannon
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